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JAMES FORBES 
 
 THE CHORUS LADY 
 
 THE SHOW SHOP 
 
 ^^ 
 
 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 
 
THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 
 
 AND OTHER PLAYS 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES FORBES 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 WALTER PRICHARD EATON 
 
 NEW Xar YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
ll 
 
 ^tuP 
 
 r -^fc 
 
 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR AND OTHER PLAYS 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTION BY WALTER PRICHARD EATON 
 
 Copyright, 1920, by George H. Doran Company 
 
 THE CHORUS LADY 
 Copyright, 1906, by James Forbes 
 
 THE SHOW SHOP 
 Copyright, 1914, by James Forbes 
 
 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 
 Copyright, 1919, by James Forbes 
 
 All rights whatever are reserved by the author and no use of this material 
 whether in the form of fniblic reading, recitation or representation may be 
 made without the permission of the author. Attention is called to the 
 penalties provided by law for any infringement of the author's rights, as 
 follows: 
 
 "Sec. 4966: — ^Any person publicly performing or representing any 
 dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, 
 without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical com- 
 position, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages therefor, 
 such damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one 
 hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent 
 performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful 
 performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such person 
 or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction be im- 
 prisoned for a period not exceeding one year." — U. S. Revised Statutes: 
 Title 60, Chap. 3- 
 
 g)CI,A804174 ^ 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
 NOV 17 1920 
 
TO 
 
 MY WIFE 
 
 AND TO 
 
 STEPHEN AND GRACE NOYES WRIGHT 
 
 IN GRATEFUL APPRECIATION 
 
 OF THEIR LOVING ENCOURAGEMENT 
 
 AND PITILESS CRITICISM 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Why print a play? The three plays by Mr. Forbes, col- 
 lected in this volume, give, it seems to me, a rather conclusive 
 answer. All three of them have been eminently successful 
 on the stage, for which, of course, they were primarily in- 
 tended, and upon which they must needs be seen, even by 
 those trained to read play manuscripts, in order fully to catch 
 their flavor or respond to their emotional appeals. Yet 
 when they are read in cold print they are seen to vary greatly 
 in merit, and what in the stage success of each one was 
 dependent upon the extraneous elements of an actor^s 
 personality, or the rush of living action that permits the 
 spectator no time for pause and reflection, or the passions and 
 idiosyncrasies of the day, becomes suddenly clear. There 
 is no magic in print. The dramatist who writes, indeed, 
 for the page rather than the stage, aspiring to be "literary," 
 is merely courting a very proper disaster. Yet the dramatist 
 whose plot and personages — their speech, their motives, the 
 lesson of their lives — will not stand the calmer and lingering 
 scrutiny of the reflective reader, is only a hack writer, after 
 all. In the high sense, a drama is "literature" not because 
 it can be read with pleasure, but merely because it can endure 
 close and reflective scrutiny. From the failure of our theatre 
 to keep its successful plays in a repertoire, there is no other 
 recourse to the dramatist who challenges such scrutiny — a 
 praiseworthy chaflenge, surely — but to print his plays. That 
 is why the number of printed plays is a fair indication of the 
 serious ambition of our dramatists. 
 
 Of the three plays offered here, "The Chorus Lady," no 
 reader will need to be told, can least endure the scrutiny 
 print affords. Yet it was enormously successful in our 
 
 vii 
 
J 
 
 viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 theatre, how successful readers who did not see the original 
 production in 1906 may be at some loss to guess. The title 
 part was played by Miss Rose Stahl, an actress who brought 
 to its impersonation so breezy and crudely wholesome and 
 dynamic a personality, tossing off its slang with such un- 
 studied and spontaneous zest, that she took the public 
 captive. The play, to be sure, had its origin in a magazine 
 sketch by Mr. Forbes, and this sketch was expanded into a 
 play upon a hint given to him by some picture he saw^-the 
 picture of a chorus girl interrupted at a supper by the arrival 
 of her obviously rural father and mother. It was not, then, 
 "tailored" to Miss Stahl's order. But it certainly fitted 
 her as no later play she acted ever did, and the reader of 
 today, noting the crudities or triteness of plot, the melo- 
 dramatic villain, the poverty and conventionality of essential 
 characterization, may well be excused for classing it as a 
 successful example of that type of play called "character 
 comedy," which is to say, a play in which some one or more 
 vivid and entertaining persons are allowed the run of the 
 stage, making the most of their eccentricities and thus always 
 conditioning the story to immediate theatrical demands. It 
 is a type of play flourishing essentially in the theatre, and sel- 
 dom enough able to stand up under a reader's scrutiny. The 
 stage version of "Rip Van Winkle," so marvelously acted 
 by Jefferson, is a poor, shabby thing in print. In spite of 
 Mr. Forbes' assertion that he always works from character, 
 not from plot or situation, in writing a play, evolving his 
 story from the sort of people he is presenting, one can hardly 
 escape the conviction that Patricia O'Brien, at least, became 
 known to his imagination with her makeup on — ^he saw her 
 as an amusing stage figure — and rather found a story to show 
 her off than tracked down her actual life. 
 
 "The Show Shop" is stuff of a different metal. The 
 present writer thought, when he saw this play first acted, that 
 it was a good-natured satire of American stage life, as deftly, 
 as truthfully and as humanly done as anything of a similar 
 nature in the Continental theatres. A present reading of the 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 manucript does not seem to him to call for revision of this 
 judgment. Mr. Forbes says that the germ of the comedy- 
 was a desire to put the ''stage mother" into a play. This 
 desire he has certainly realized; Mrs. Dean, even in print, 
 is a formidable object! But how neatly each one of his 
 characters is sketched, how diversified they are, how human, 
 from the little Hebrew manager who doesn't believe he knows 
 how to pick a failure, to the gloomy and unimportant author 
 who haunts the flies as his manuscript is slaughtered to make 
 an ingenue's holiday. It may well be that the average 
 audience is not sufficiently sophisticated to appreciate in full 
 either the truthful character pictures or the satire of "The 
 Show Shop"; but that is nothing against its technical 
 merits. It remains the most pungent, amusing, and yet the 
 most kindly satire of stage life and the shams of theatrical 
 production, yet written by an American. There can be no 
 question in the reader's mind whether this play was tailored 
 for an actor or actress. It was quite obviously written out 
 of a first hand acquaintance with the characters, who con- 
 ditioned the story quite according to their weaknesses and 
 amiable failings, as the author felt them. Accordingly, it 
 stands up four square under the test of print. 
 
 Mr. Forbes says that after he has become acquainted with 
 his characters, knows all about them and their antecedents, 
 and has found out what their story is, he is extremely un- 
 happy and dissatisfied if he cannot put that story into a 
 sentence. The preliminary sentence which summed up, for 
 him, "The Famous Mrs. Fair" was, he says, something as 
 follows: — "A woman actuated by duty engages in war work, 
 winning honors and the loving admiration and encourage- 
 ment of her family; but when on her return she, actuated by 
 selfish vanity, again leaves them, the realization is brought 
 home to her tragically that a wife and mother can have a 
 career but not at the expense of her obKgations to her home 
 and family." 
 
 That sentence, it seems to me, clears away a good deal of 
 the dispute which has gone on regarding this latest and most 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 serious of Mr. Forbes' plays. Written immediately after 
 the World War, it was quite natural that the author chose 
 war work as the unselfish career his heroine had been follow- 
 ing without disaster to her home, but war work was not 
 essential to his story; it might have been something quite 
 different. The whole point was that during Mrs. Fair's 
 first absence from home she left behind a sustaining devotion, 
 and during her second absence this sustaining devotion was 
 quite naturally absent. The author did not argue that a 
 married woman cannot have a "career" (indeed, he showed 
 the son's wife to be quite successfully holding down her 
 job), meanwhile contradicting himself by stating that his 
 heroine had already followed a career for four years. Critics 
 of the play have assumed a contradiction that does not exist — 
 possibly because Mr. Forbes has, in reality, not argued at 
 all, but merely told his story and left all to inference; not 
 always a safe proceeding in this world so dependent on sign 
 boards. It does not appear from a reading of the play that 
 Mrs. Fair was anything more than an ordinarily capable 
 woman, as her family were certainly nothing more than 
 ordinary folk. Under the impetus of the war, Mrs. Fair 
 became a hero — war makes many heroes out of ordinary 
 material — and her family, in one way or another, were moved 
 by exactly the same impetus to transcend the normal. The 
 play began with the coming back to normal, the very com- 
 monplace normal of the Fair family. The real trouble 
 seemed to be that Mrs. Fair never knew she was common- 
 place. The woman who, under normal conditions, can look 
 after a "career" and a family at the same time, doing justice 
 to both, is exceptional; she cannot be commonplace, for she 
 has got to furnish to her flock the same sustaining stimulus 
 that war had previously furnished to the Fairs. One rather 
 suspects that Mrs. Fair's daughter-in-law had capacities in 
 that direction, for she possessed the hard common sense 
 and direct vision which come from contact with realities, 
 a privilege denied to the wealthy. Certainly there is no 
 evidence in this play that Mr. Forbes believes it cannot be 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 done, that he is an anti-feminist. All he says is, that Mrs. 
 Fair, under normal conditions, was too shallow and vain a 
 woman to do it, and by a set of almost tragic circumstances 
 he brought the lesson home to her and put her on the possible 
 road to finding an ultimate solution. Why, then, should 
 many spectators have felt his play did not hold together? 
 Perhaps the trouble is that we have been so accustomed of 
 late to direct preachment in our serious drama that we are 
 a bit bewildered when the preaching is done by the more 
 artistic method of a story without footnotes. 
 
 At any rate, such controversies as have followed the pro- 
 duction of "The Famous Mrs. Fair" were quite impossible 
 over "The Chorus Lady." In the thirteen years which 
 elapsed between the composition of those two plays, it is 
 quite evident that Mr. Forbes considerably deepened his 
 conception of what he means by "character," moving from 
 the superficial to the fundamental, from externals to internals, 
 from mannerisms to manners. He has thus moved from a 
 play which suffers severely under the test of print to one which 
 can meet the test with the assurance born of a reasoned 
 reflection on life and human motives. One wishes that from 
 this individual case, he could draw an analogy taking in the 
 whole field of American drama; that he could say it is with 
 all our playwrights as it is with Mr. Forbes. But such a 
 statement, alas! would be the measure of hope rather than 
 judgment. 
 
 Walter Prichard Eaton. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Chorus Lady . . . . . . "\ . 17 
 
 The Show Shop .... . • .'^_. . 93 
 
 The Famous Mrs. Fair .... • f . • 203 
 
 XIU 
 
THE CHORUS LADY 
 
 A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS 
 
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 
 
 Patricia O'Brien 
 Nora O'Brien 
 Mrs. O'Brien 
 Patrick O'Brien 
 Dan Mallory 
 Dick Crawford 
 Sylvia Simpson 
 Georgie Adams Coote 
 MiLLY Sultzer 
 Inez Blair 
 Evelyn LaRue 
 Lou Archer 
 Rita Nichols 
 Mai Delaney 
 Rogers 
 The Duke 
 Jakey 
 Shrimp 
 A Call Boy 
 A Laundryiman 
 
 The Scenes of the First Act are laid in the home of the 
 trainer at the Mallory Racing Stables, on Long Island, 
 in the month of November; those of the succeeding acts 
 occur in New York City between the hours of 7:45 and 
 midnight of an evening in the following April, beginning in 
 a dressing room of the Longacre Theatre, continuing in 
 the apartment of Richard Crawford, and concluding in 
 the Harlem flat occupied by Patricia and Nora O'Brien. 
 
THE CHORUS LADY 
 
 Original cast, as first presented at the Savoy Theatre, 
 New York, September ist, 1906. 
 
 It is arranged in the order in which the characters first 
 speak. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien Alice Leigh 
 
 Nora O'Brien Eva Dennison 
 
 Shrimp George Colton 
 
 The Duke Thomas Magtdre 
 
 Jakey Frank Fay 
 
 Patrick O'Brien .... Giles Shine 
 
 Dick Crawford .... Frank Byrne 
 
 Patricia O'Brien .... ROSE STAHL 
 
 Dan Mallory Wilfred Lucas 
 
 MiLLY SuLTZER .... Amy Lesser 
 
 Inez Blair Claire Lane 
 
 Evelyn LaRue .... Helen Hilton 
 
 Rita Nichols Annie Ives 
 
 Lou Archer Margaret Wheeler 
 
 Mai Delaney Carolyn Green 
 
 Georgie Adams Coote . . Amy Lee 
 
 A Call Boy Thomas Maguire 
 
 Sylvia Simpson .... Maude Knoidton 
 
 A Laundryman .... George Colton 
 
 Rogers Thomas Lawrence 
 
THE CHORUS LADY 
 
 THE FIRST ACT 
 
 The kitchen in the home of Patrick O'Brien, the trainer 
 of the MaUory Racing Stables. It is a low ceilinged 
 room with a long recessed window at the back through 
 which can be seen a bleak, November landscape. In 
 an angle at the right of the room is a large chimney, 
 its huge old-time fireplace filled now with a kitchen 
 range, in which a fire is lighted. Beside the fireplace 
 is a door opening into a hall in which are the stairs. 
 Across the hall is the parlor. There is another door in 
 the rear wall to the right of the window. It opens on 
 to a porch. On the left wall is a dresser for china and 
 a kitchen smk. Above the sink hangs a small mirror, 
 a towel rack and a dishpan. In the centre of the room 
 is a large table. There are a half dozen kitchen chairs 
 with rush seats, an armchair and a rocking chair. The 
 room serves as kitchen, dining-room and living-room, 
 and with its freshly starched white window curtains, its 
 shining pots and pans is the ''pink" of neatness. 
 
 Shrimp, Jakey, The Duke, stable-boys and Mrs. O'Brien, 
 the wife of the trainer, are seated at breakfast. 
 Shrimp and Jakey are products of New York's East 
 Side; The Duke is a cockney importation, an ex- 
 jockey. Mrs. O'Brien is a stout motherly soul in the 
 fifties clad in a maroon-coloured merino dress over 
 which is a large kitchen apron. The boys are gob- 
 bling their food, Mrs. O'Brien heaping their plates 
 with hash, 
 
 17 
 
18 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Calling.] Nora — No — ra — Nora, are 
 yees asleep? 
 
 Nora. [Outside.'] Ye-es. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Then stir yourself. 
 
 Nora [Outside.] Yes, yes, I'm coming. 
 
 [Nora, Mrs. O'Brien's daughter, a very pretty girl 
 of eighteen, comes in sulkUy. 
 
 Nora. [Peevishly.] A person can't get time to dress in 
 this house. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Dress, is it? It's primpin' ye were, and 
 for a lot o' stable boys. 
 
 Nora. Stable boys! The idea! Dirty little brats! 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. The airs of her! Look to the boys, now, 
 while I go skim a pan of milk. 
 
 [She takes a pitcher jro^m the table and goes outside, 
 Nora gets the coffee pot from the stove and pours 
 herself a cup of coffee. 
 
 Nora. Shrimp, who won this morning? 
 
 Shrimp. Ginger, wid de Duke up. 
 
 Nora. Who was on Lady Belle? 
 
 Shrimp. Me. Wuz you in wrong? 
 
 Nora. You've lost me five dollars to the Duke and I'll 
 never speak to you again. 
 
 Shrimp. At dat if she hadn't been forced to de deep 
 goin' on de rail I'd a bodered de Duke a few. 
 
 The Duke. You'd bothered me a few. You'd bally well 
 have to know 'ow to sit a mount, old top, afore you can 
 bother the Duke. 
 
 Shrimp. Ah you I [To Nora.] And Jakey tangled me 
 at de start. 
 
 Jakey. Tangled nuttin'. Don't go tryin' to queer me 
 cuz you's an onion. 
 
 Nora. [To Shrimp.] You nearly made a nice mess of 
 things. For two pins I'd shake you good. 
 
 The Duke. [Rising.] Let me 'ave the pleasure. 
 
 Shrimp. Just try it once. 
 
 The Duke. You ain't fit to 'andle. [Going to Nora.] 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 19 
 
 I say you know I don't want to be too pressin', but I needs 
 the coin. 
 
 Nora. You'll have to wait a while. 
 The Duke. See 'ere, are you welchin'? 
 Nora. Haven't I always paid you? 
 The Duke. Can't you get it from Pat? 
 Nora. I promised her the last time I wouldn't ever bet 
 again. 
 
 The Duke. I say, think I'm going to get out there an' 
 ride like 'ell for nothing? 
 
 Shrimp. See here, "old top," that's no way to talk to a 
 goil. 
 
 Jakey. Give him de rinky dink, Nora. 
 
 [The Duke folds his fist and looks threateningly at 
 Shrimp, who glares at him. 
 The Duke. I'll tell your father meself. 
 Nora. Go on, tell him. 
 
 [She bursts into tears. Shrimp rises and goes to 
 The Duke. 
 Shrimp. Say kid, stop abusin' de loidy. 
 
 [The Duke makes a pass at Shrimp who retttrns it. 
 
 Jakey rises to watch the fight which is interrupted 
 
 by the return of Mrs. O'Brien carrying the pitcher 
 
 of milk. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Stop your scrappin', or you'll regret it 
 
 fer it's no breakfast you'll get. 
 
 [The boys scurry to their places. Nora and Mrs. 
 O'Brien sit at opposite ends of the table. All re- 
 sume their breakfast. 
 Shrimp. Look at de Duke, eatin' wid a fork. Trowin' 
 on a lot of lugs cuz he wins five dollars. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. What's that? Who won five dollars? 
 
 Jakey. De Duke. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Who off a? 
 
 [There is a pause and the boys look covertly at Nora. 
 Mrs. O'Brien, who is filling the glasses with milk, 
 stops. She looks at the boys, then at Nora. 
 
20 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Nora, have you been bettin' again? 
 
 Nora. [Innocently.] Me? I'd like to know where I'd 
 get five dollars. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Well, I'm thankful. I don't want an- 
 other row on me hands, an' you know well what happened 
 last time your father caught ye gamblin' on the trials. 
 
 Nora. Shrimp, who was that man at the stables, with 
 Mr. Mallory, this morning? 
 
 Shrimp. De one dat was watchin' de trials? 
 
 Nora. Yes. 
 
 Shrimp. Soich me. 
 
 Nora. [Coquettishly.] What like a looking man was he? 
 Handsome? 
 
 The Duke. Fair lookin', if you likes ^em big an' mushy. 
 [Rising and striking an attitude.] Most wimmen I've 
 knowed preferred 'em small an' jaunty. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Ye'd better keep them complimentary 
 remarks to yerself. He's your new boss. 
 
 Nora. Is that Mr. Crawford? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. None else. 
 
 The Duke. 'Oo's 'e? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. He's Mr. Mallory^s new partner, an' see 
 you don't be makin' O'Brien blush fer yees. 
 
 [The outside door opens to admit Patrick O'Brien. 
 He is in the sixties, spare of figure, with a kindly hu- 
 morous face. He is in corduroys. Before going to 
 the table he hangs up his cap. 
 
 O'Brien. Still at it, are ye? It's lucky I'm here, or it's 
 no breakfast I'd be havin'. 
 
 The Duke. The 'ash is uncommon fine, sir. Could I 
 trouble you, Mrs. O'Brien? 
 
 [He holds out his plate. O'Brien takes it from him 
 and lays it on the table. 
 
 O'Brien. You've had enough. Off with the lot of ye. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Oh, Patrick, lave the poor darlin's have 
 their fill! 
 
 O'Brien. All right. Oh, mother, Danny and Mr. Craw- 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 21 
 
 ford's goin' to stop on their way back from the stables for 
 a cup of your coffee. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Indignantly.] It's a wonder you 
 wouldn't say so. Skedaddle, the lot of ye. Do you want 
 to be eatin' all day? 
 
 [The boys grab their caps and run out. Nora, unob- 
 served y darts into the hall and runs upstairs. Mrs. 
 O'Brien bustling about placing chairs against the 
 wall approaches O'Brien, who has just sat down to 
 eat his breakfast. 
 
 O'Brien. Oh, wife 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Don't be talkin', Patrick. Take your 
 plate in your lap. [O'Brien does so meekly.'] It's a 
 fresh place I must be layin' for Mr. Crawford. [Calling.] 
 Nora, No-ra. She's primpin' agen. 
 
 [She gets the coffee mill. 
 O'Brien. Lave her be. Don't be naggin' her. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Coming to him.] When I need your ad- 
 vice about me own child I'll ask for it. Give this a twist 
 while yer idlin'. 
 
 [She hands him the coffee mill. O'Brien is indig- 
 nant. He has not had a chance to have a mouth ftd 
 of food. 
 O'Brien. Where's Nora? [Calling.] Nora — come here 
 an' help your mother. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Lave the child alone. It's the queer 
 girl she'd be, if she didn't want to spruce up a bit when 
 a strange young man comes callin'. 
 
 [Nora comes in. 
 Nora. [Peevishly.] Well, what do you want now? 
 
 [O'Brien offers the mUl to Nora. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Grind that coffee yourself, Patrick. [To 
 Nora.] I want you to lay a fresh place for Mr. Crawford. 
 [Nora and Mrs. O'Brien begin to remove the break- 
 fast dishes. O'Brien sits grinding the coffee. 
 Nora. [Sulkily.] More work. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. "More work!'^ An' why not? You're 
 
22 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 a workin' man's daughter. Don't I work? Doa't your 
 sister work? Poor girl! 
 
 Nora. Poor girl! I'd like to trade places with her. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Oh, you would, would you? An' who's 
 goin' to give you a job on the stage? Sure, you can't sing 
 nor dance like Patricia? You're the spit of your father. 
 [Proudly.] It's me Pat takes after. 
 
 Nora. I'm lots prettier than she is. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Mockingly.] You an^ your father set- 
 tin' up to be the beauties of the family. 
 
 Nora. Pat says if she had my face she'd have every 
 soubrette on Broadway beat a mile. I don't think it's fair 
 to expect me to spend my life waiting hand and foot on 
 a lot of stable boys, an' Pat having all the clothes she wants 
 and off enjoying herself. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Ain't she always sendin' you things? 
 
 Nora. [Scomjtily.] Cast-offs! 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. You ungrateful girl. An' do you call 
 gallivantin' all over the country with the "Moonlight 
 Maids" enjoyment? 
 
 Nora. I'd like to try it for a change. An' if I have to 
 earn my living 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. What talk have ye? What's this about 
 earnin' a livin'? 
 
 [She looks with suspicion at O'Brien, who is confused. 
 
 Nora. Daddy said I'd soon have need to be thinking 
 of it. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Oh, he did, did he? Let him pay at- 
 tention to his horses, I'll run me children. Nora, get the 
 butter. [Nora goes.] It's you that spoilin' her, puttin' 
 this nonsense in her head about goin' on the stage. 
 
 [She jerks the coffee mMl out of his hand. 
 
 O'Brien. [Rising.] Oh, the idea's not a bad on. It's 
 good money Pat's earnin'. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. I misdoubt Nora's knowin' how. 
 
 O'Brien. What talk have you? Sure, actin's no trick 
 at all. I've seen babies do it. 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 23 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Sitting.] Sure it's glib ye are to have 
 them leave me. [Crying.] No one thinks of a mother's 
 heart. Me baby's goin' away from me. 
 
 O'Brien. [Going to her.] Whist, woman, whist, she, 
 ain't gone yet! 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Wailing.] But she will. 
 
 O'Brien. [Annoyed.] Whist! Sure, Mr. Crawford '11 
 be here any minute. I don't want him to think I've been 
 abusin' ye. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Cmosity getting the better of grief.] 
 What sort is this Crawford? 
 
 O'Brien. I've took a dislike to him. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Then God preserve us all. Ye'U glory 
 in showin' it. 
 
 O'Brien. I'm learnin' diplomacy. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. It's high time. Use a bit of it now and 
 then. Was it you invited him over? 
 
 Mr. O'Brien. It was not. He's comin' for a cup of 
 coffee to take the chill off. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Proudly.] I suppose you was braggin' 
 about me coffee. 
 
 O'Brien. I was not. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Angrily.] An' why not? You might 
 know you'd never say a good word for a body. 
 
 O'Brien. It was Mallory. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Smiling.] My boy, Dan, bless his heart. 
 [Steps are heard outside.] That's Crawford. Now smile, 
 though you could choke him. 
 
 [Dick Crawford appears at the door. He is a hand- 
 some man of thirty-five, and has great charm of man- 
 ner, but IS rather a "bounder" and somewhat 
 "sporty^' in attire. O'Brien greets him. 
 
 O'Brien. Come right in, sir, an' welcome. Wife, this is 
 Mr. Crawford. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. 'Tis an honour to know you. Where's 
 Danny boy? 
 
 O'Brien. She means Mallory, 'Tis foolish she is about 
 
24 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 him. [Nora enters.] Mr. Crawford, this is my daughter. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Smiling.] She's the baby. 
 
 Nora. [Embarrassed.] Oh, mother. [To Crawford.] 
 Where is Dan? 
 
 Crawford. He was detained at the stable. 
 
 O'Brien. Nora, take Mr. Crawford's coat. [Nora hangs 
 it up.] Draw up your chair, Mr. Crawford. Wife, pour the 
 coffee. 
 
 Crawford. I'm afraid you've been put to a lot of 
 trouble, Mrs. O'Brien. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, I like to fuss for any man that ap- 
 preciates it. 
 
 [She looks meanmgly at O'Brien, who smUes sarcas- 
 tically at her. 
 
 Crawford. Mallory will be right along. 
 
 [He politely passes the cup Mrs. O'Brien has fitted 
 to O'Brien who is seated at the table. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Keep that. O'Brien's had his breakfast. 
 
 Crawford. Oh, you've breakfasted, O'Brien? 
 
 O'Brien. So she says. 
 
 Crawford. [Politely.] Is this all of your family, Mrs. 
 O'Brien? 
 
 Nora. Oh, no, there's Pat. 
 
 Crawford. Oh, a son. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. No, it's her sister Patricia. Nora, run 
 an' get her photograph for the gentleman. Get the one 
 in costume. 
 
 Nora. [Going to the door to the hall.] Where is it? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. It's in the lower drawer. Lift up the 
 waist of my black silk. It's wrapped in the Paisley shawl. 
 
 O'Brien. And, Nora, look in me hat box, you'll find a 
 couple. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Father, the man'll think you're daft. 
 Sure, one's enough. 
 
 Crawford. Not at all. I'm very much interested. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. All right, Nora. [Nora goes.] Pat- 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 25 
 
 rick, you may as well step into the parlour and bring the 
 crayon enlargement. 
 
 [O'Brien, delighted, follows Nora. 
 Crawford. Pat is rather an odd name for a girl. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. She's named for Patrick. 
 Crawford. Oh, I see, a sort of a substitute for a son? 
 Mrs. O'Brien. A substitute, is it? Sure, I wouldn't 
 take a half a dozen of the lovin' sons me friends has for 
 the likes of Pat. 
 
 [Nora enters, with the photographs wrapped in tissue 
 paper. She gives them to Mrs. O'Brien. O'Brien 
 follows with the crayon enlargement, which he dis- 
 plays proudly in all lights and positions. It is a 
 fearful wffair. Crawford looks at it, starts to laugh. 
 They look at him. He coughs, 
 Crawford. [Quickly.'] She must be a very pretty girl. 
 O'Brien. [Proudly.'] I've seen homelier. 
 
 [He moves the picture into what he thinks is a better 
 
 position. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Don't be squidgin^ it an' bobbin' it. You 
 
 fair 4azzle one. [Critically.] It's a rale deceivin' thing. 
 
 WheA she's away from me I think it's the livin' image of 
 
 her, but when she's alongside, I 
 
 Crawford. It's the difference in the colouring. 
 Nora. Pat says it gives her the "Willies." 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Proudly.] It's real plush on the frame. 
 [O'Brien smootlts it.] Don't be rumplin' it. You'd bet- 
 ter put it down before you break the glass. 
 
 [He puts it down. Crawford looks at the photo- 
 graphs which Mrs. O'Brien has given him. 
 Crawford. Oh, taken in fancy costume. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. No, them's her workin' clothes. 
 
 [Crawford looks at O'Brien inquiringly. 
 Nora. Pat's on the stage. 
 Crawford. Oh, an actress. 
 
 O'Brien. [Very proudly.] Oh, not at all. She's a Queen 
 of Burlesque. 
 
26 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Impressively.] With the "Moonlight 
 Maids." 
 
 Nora. Perhaps you've heard of them? 
 
 Crawford. [Lying.] Oh, yes, yes, a very fine com- 
 pany, lots of clever people. 
 
 O'Brien. They pays Pat twenty a week. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. An' her costumes. 
 
 Crav^ford. [Examining the photographs.] Oh, they 
 won't amount to much. 
 
 [The O'Brien family puzzled, look at one another, 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. I've seen few grand ladies with finer silks 
 on their backs. 
 
 O'Brien. Sure the stockings are all silk and that long. 
 [He indicates their length. Mrs. O'Brien, shocked, 
 reproves him. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Patrick! take the crayon into the par- 
 lour. Put it back on the aisel, an' be sure you put the 
 cloth over it. 
 
 [O'Brien goes, carrying the picture carefully. Jakey 
 rushes in with a telegram. 
 
 Jakey. A telegram for Mrs. O'Brien. 
 
 [He gives it to Mrs. O'Brien and goes. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. A telegram. [She holds it in her hand, 
 looks at it, turns it over, then without opening it, clasps it 
 to her breast and begins to wail.] She's killed! She's 
 killed! Oh, the black day I let me Pat go trapsin' all over 
 the country. 
 
 O'Brien. [Running in excitedly.] What ails ye? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. I have a telegram, a telegram. She's 
 killed! She's killed! 
 
 Crav^ford. Wouldn't it be as well to open it? 
 
 O'Brien. [Grabbing it.] Woman, give it to me. 
 
 [He opens it. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Grabbing it.] How dare ye be open- 
 in' a telegram addressed to me? 
 
 Nora. Oh! Is she alive? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Praise be. She is. It's signed "Pat." 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 27 
 
 Nora. What does she say? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Reading.'] "Show's on the pazaz, 
 comin' on the 7:06. Me for home and mother. Pat." 
 [Turning upon O'Brien.] Wake up, Patrick O'Brien. 
 Half past seven an' your poor child waitin' in a cold daypo, 
 an' you standin' there like the ninny ye are. 
 
 O'Brien. [Wildly excited.'] Nora, where's me overcoat? 
 Wife, where's me hat? You'll excuse me, sir, I must go 
 hitch up. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Hold your horses. You'll go ask Danny 
 to meet her. It's dyin' glad o' the chance he'll be. I've 
 use for you here. 
 
 O'Brien. [Indignantly.] And what '11 Nora be doin'? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Nora'll be entertainin' Mr. Crawford. 
 
 [She rises. 
 
 Crawford. Oh, you mustn't let me interfere. 
 
 [He rises. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. It's a man's work. 
 
 O'Brien. [Very stdkUy.] What work? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. If you must compel me to reveal the se- 
 crets of the home, the spare room bed's to be put up. 
 
 O'Brien. I'll go tell Mallory. 
 
 Nora. Tell him to hurry here. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. He'll do that, never fear. Tell him to 
 hurry back. 
 
 [O'Brien gets his cap and goes. 
 
 Crawford. I fear I am in the way. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Not at all, Mr. Crawford. Stop an' have 
 a bit chat with Nora. She'll have the chance to say a word 
 for herself now her mother's lavin' the room. 
 
 [She goes. Nora begins to "clear'' the table. 
 
 Crawford. So it's your sister and Mallory, eh? I must 
 congratulate him. 
 
 Nora. Isn't Dan nice? He'll make such a good husband, 
 and Mom says, good husbands are awful scarce. 
 
 Crawford. I wouldn't worry about that, if I were you. 
 
 Nora. I'm not. I'm goin' on the stage. 
 
28 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 Crawford. [Satirically.'] It's not a bad place to get husr- 
 bands these days. 
 
 Nora. I'm not going on the stage to get married. 
 
 Crawford. [Amtised.'] Oh, I see, for fame. 
 
 Nora. No, indeed. For twenty dollars a week. Just 
 think of all the pretty clothes you could buy for that. 
 
 Crawford. Can you? I wish I had known it. 
 
 Nora. Pat says I ought to stay at home, that I don't 
 know when I'm well off. 
 
 Crawford. I fear that I agree with Pat. 
 
 [Nora begins to fold the tablecloth. Crawford goes 
 to her to help her. 
 
 Nora. That's all very well, but how'd you like to wear 
 your sister's old dresses? 
 
 Crawford. I don't think I would like it. 
 
 Nora. There, you see, Pat or no Pat, I'm going to New 
 York. 
 
 Crawford. You might not like it. 
 
 Nora. Not like New York! The idea! Why even Pat, 
 who loves the country, says New York's the one best bet. 
 
 Crawford. It's a pretty good little town. [Meafdngly.'] 
 Yet I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a long while as I 
 did this morning. 
 
 [He advances with the cloth and as he hands it to 
 Nora, takes her hands in his. Nora, embarrassed, 
 shyly moves away from him. 
 
 Nora. Did you see all the horses? Which one did you 
 like most? 
 
 Crawford. They're a fine string. Still, I think Lady 
 Belle took my eye. 
 
 Nora. Isn't she a little beauty? I love her, but she 
 doesn't get any sugar from me this morning. 
 
 Crawford. No? Why not? 
 
 Nora. Because she lost me five dollars to the Duke. 
 
 Crawford. Oh, the little English boy! Do you bet? 
 
 Nora. [Imptdsively.'] I love to. But I shouldn't have 
 told you that. 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 29 
 
 Crawford. Why not? 
 
 Nora. It might hurt father in your eyes. 
 
 Crawford. How? 
 
 Nora. He thinks it dishonourable for any of us, he being 
 a trainer, to put money on a horse. I don't know what he'd 
 do if he found out I'd disobeyed him again. 
 
 Crawford. I won't tell him. 
 
 Nora. But the Duke will, if I don't pay him. I don't 
 know what I'm going to do. 
 
 Crawford. Let me lend it to you? 
 
 Nora. Oh, Mr. Crawford. I wasn't hinting. I couldn't 
 think of taking money from you. What would father say 
 if he found out? 
 
 Crawford. He needn't know. 
 
 Nora. [Hesitatingly.] You're a stranger. 
 
 Crawford. Surely, as I am to be Mallory's partner, I am 
 also going to be a friend of the family. 
 
 Nora. Yes, of course, I suppose so. You aren't quite a 
 stranger. I hate to tell father or Pat. You're sure it would 
 be all right for a girl to borrow money from a gentleman? 
 
 Crawford. Certainly. 
 
 Nora. Of course I would pay you back. 
 
 Crawford. Don't let that worry you. 
 
 [He takes a roll of bills frofrp Ms pocket. Mrs. 
 O'Brien's voice is heard outside. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Nora! 
 
 Nora. Oh, don't let her see. 
 
 [Mrs. O'Brien enters. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. You'll have to dust the parlour. Oh, Mr. 
 Crawford, I thought 
 
 Crawford. [Putting the money in his pocket.} You 
 thought I was gone. I'm just going. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, I'm not meanin' to drive you away. 
 You'll come back later. It's proud I'd be to introduce you 
 to Pat. 
 
 Crawford. I shall be delighted to come back. Good-bye 
 for the present. 
 
so THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 [He smiles at Nora as he goes. Nora gets the duster 
 and starts to leave the room, 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Eagerly.'] What was he sayin' to you? 
 Nora. Oh, nothing much. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, he was a long time sayin' it. What 
 were you talkin' about? 
 Nora. Pat and the horses. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. What about them? 
 Nora. [Impatiently.'] Oh, nothing much. 
 
 [She goes. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Annoyed.] Nora, it's maddenin' ye are. 
 Here I am starvin' for a bit of news and the best I get is 
 "nothin' much." 
 
 [Grumbling J she follows Nora into the hall, closing 
 the door. There is a slight pause, then a voice is 
 heard outside calUng ^'Oohoo." In a moment it is 
 repeated and a figurs is seen to pass the window. 
 The door is thrown open and Patricia O'Brien 
 enters. She is vivid, magnetic and, unmistakably, the 
 "seasoned" chorus girl. Perched on an elaborate 
 coiffure of bleached blonde hair is a large picture 
 hat. She wears a short, tightly-fitting coat of tan 
 cloth and a trailing skirt of black satin. Around her 
 throat and tied in a flaring bow is a scarf of pink 
 tulle. She carries a dress suit case and an umbrella. 
 She looks about the empty room and her expression 
 of happy anticipation gives place to one oj disap- 
 pointed annoyance. 
 Pat. Well, wouldn't this frost you? Me havin' to beat it 
 all the way from the daypo' an' then not a soul to hand 
 me the welcome mit. I usta think I was the big screech in 
 this family but looks like I'm the false alarm. [She goes 
 to the door at the left and throws it open.] Mom! 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Upstairs.] Nora, 'tis Pat, 'tis Pat. 
 Hurry, Nora. 
 
 Pat. [Witheringly.] Don't hurry on my accoimt. 
 
 [She assumes a manner of spurioi^ elegance and moves 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY SI 
 
 away with a '^stagey air of tragic dignity, as Mrs. 
 O'Brien enters. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Oh, Pat, me darlin', me darlin'. 
 
 [Ske throws her arms around Pat, who submits to the 
 embrace. 
 Nora. [Running in.] Pat, dear, I'm so glad. 
 
 [She kisses her, 
 Pat. [Half crying.] Someone might 'a' met me. 
 Nora. Wasn't there anyone at the train? 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Where was Danny? 
 Pat. Don't speak his name. Didn't you get my wire 
 sayin' as I'd be here on the seven six? 
 
 Nora. Yes, but it wasn't deHvered until half-past seven 
 this morning. 
 Pat. Half-past seven? Wouldn't that scald you? 
 Mrs. O'Brien. An' Danny rushed right away for the 
 train. He musta missed you. 
 
 Pat. Looks that way. [SmUing.] I'm sorry I was so 
 grouchy, but I'm so temperamental. 
 
 [She removes her hat and coat, Nora takes them. 
 Mrs. O'Brien goes to her. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. There, there, Pat. I don't blame ye. 
 Sure, 'twas a cold welcome ye had from yer loved ones! 
 
 [Pat smiles and kisses her, 
 Pat. I had it all framed up. Me descendin' from the 
 caboose an' fallin' on everybody's neck, an' wen I got off 
 the train the only neck in sight belongs to that village cut- 
 up as propels the hack. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. 'Twas a black shame. 
 Pat. Wait! The worst is yet to come. I'd .been handin' 
 it out all season to that bunch of frails in the company 
 about my finance as owned a racin' stable an' 'at I wired 
 him to meet me. An' wen that rabbit-faced hackman comes 
 up and hands out his mit to me — ^well, never to my dyin' 
 day will I forget the way that bunch of burlesquers hands 
 me the merry "ha, ha!" 
 
S2 THE CHOHUS LADY [act i 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Ye poor lamb! 
 
 [She sits, 
 
 Pat. Where's Pop? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Nora, go find your father. 
 
 [Nora goes. Pat comes down to her mother and put- 
 ting her arms around her, kisses her. 
 
 Pat. Gee, it's good to get home again. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Patsy, dear, it's your mother that misses 
 you sorely. 
 
 Pat. [Imitating her mother's brogue.] Sure, I'll soon be 
 Mrs. Mallory an' won't be lavin' you at all, at all. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. You'll be havin' to wait a while. 
 
 Pat. Wait a while? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Hasn't Danny told you? 
 
 Pat. Told what? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. He's had to take a partner. 
 
 Pat. I knew he got bumped bad at Sheepshead, but he 
 never told me nothin' about a partner. Who is he? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Mr. Crawford. Your father says Danny'll 
 get little out of the stable but his board and keep. 
 
 Pat. Ain't that punk luck? 
 
 [Nora runs on, j allowed by O'Brien. 
 
 O'Brien. .Hello, Pat. 
 
 Pat. [Rushing to him.] Hello, Pop. [She throws her 
 arms around him, then holds him away from her, looking at 
 him.] Say, Mom, he's gettin' fat. 
 
 O'Brien. You're lookin' fine, girl. 
 
 Pat. I feel immense. 
 
 [She sits. The others cluster around her ta hear the 
 news. 
 
 O'Brien. What happened to your show? 
 
 Pat. The financial party as was back a the "Moonlight 
 Maids" got chilblains. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Poor creature, where did he catch them? 
 
 Pat. In the box-office. 
 
 O'Brien. [Laughing.] She had you there, mother. 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY S3 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Wasn't the play comical? 
 
 Pat. I never noticed anyone laff themselves to death. 
 The comedians was a couple of morgues. The best joke in 
 the show was the star, one of them hand-made blondesi 
 She was in the original "Black Crook" company an' she had 
 a daughter at school then. I called the toin on the show at 
 rehoisal, but the manager was one a them bull-headed guys 
 that knowed it all. 
 
 Nora. Was that all there was in the company? 
 
 Pat. No, there was a couple o' song-and-dance kikes, a 
 team a acrobats, a troupe a moth-eaten dogs, an' a chorus 
 that looked like the Chamber-maids' Union. 
 
 Nora. Wasn't the scenery nice? 
 
 Pat. [Patronisingly.'] Yes, the scenery was nice, an' I 
 made a great personal success. I had three lines in the 
 after piece. 
 
 O'Brien. What are you goin' to do? 
 
 Pat. I gotta get back to New York tomorrow. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Oh! Pat, lavin' me so soon? Can't you 
 stop a bit? 
 
 Pat. Mom, I can't keep men like Henry W. Savage an' 
 Klaw & Erlanger waitin' to know what I'm goin' to do. 
 
 Nora. Will you play a part in the play? 
 
 Pat. That depends on the part. Like as not I'll just go 
 back in the chorus. What's the use a bein' ambitious? Only 
 makes you uncomfortable in your mind. I've thought some 
 a going into vodeville. I've a friend that's close to B. F. 
 Keith's stenographer, an' he thought he could book me some 
 dates. Maybe I'll frame up a sister act. 
 
 Nora. [Delighted.] Oh, Pat, a sister act. You're going 
 to take me? 
 
 Pat. Why, honey lamb, you couldn't do a toin in vode- 
 ville. The stage is no place for you. 
 
 Nora. [Furiously.'} You needn't think you're the only 
 person in this family that can do anything. I'll just show 
 you. You're jealous because I'm better looking than you 
 
S4. THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 are. I'll go in the chorus, too, just to spite you, you see if 
 I don't. 
 
 [She runs out of the room, raging. 
 
 Pat. [Rising.'] Why, Nora! Honey lamb! [She turns 
 to her mother.'] Mom, you haven't been encouraging her? 
 Pop, you won't let her go? 
 
 [O'Brien and Mrs. O'Brien exchange guilty looks. 
 
 O'Brien. She's got to be thinkin' of eamin' her livin'. 
 
 Pat. [Firmly.] Nix for the stage, Pop. She ain't wise 
 to takin' care of herself. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. What d'ye mean, Pat? 
 
 Pat. I mean I don't want my little sister in the chorus. 
 
 O'Brien. If it ain't fit for Nora, it ain't fit for you, an' 
 it's here you'll stay. 
 
 Pat. [To O'Brien.] The chorus is all right, all right. 
 It's like every thin' else: it depends on the kind of person 
 that goes in it. [To Mrs. O'Brien.] An' she's so sweet! 
 It seems a shame she can't stay home till she marri^ some 
 nice fella. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Sure you done well. 
 
 Pat. I'm different. I'm wise. I can tell the goods from 
 the phoney every time. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Going to Pat.] Couldn't you teach 
 Nora? 
 
 Pat. I'd just as lief she wouldn't learn. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Ah, Pat, me darlin', you're forgettin'. It's 
 a lesson women must learn, somehow, somewhere. Better 
 you nor someone else to stand by an' watch she ain't 
 harmed. 
 
 Pat. That's right. [A noise of a cart is heard approach- 
 ing. A man's voice calls to the horse, "Whoa, girl."] I've 
 a hunch that's Dan. Skidoo, Pop. [She kisses him and 
 shoves him to the door. O'Brien goes.] Thai goes for you, 
 Mom. Guess I don't need no chaperoney. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, I'd trust you anywhere. Ain't you 
 good as gold? 
 
 Pat. Gee, Mom, you're there strong with the blarney. 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 35 
 
 [Mrs. O'Brien goes, Pat runs across to the mirror, 
 
 fixes her hair, 
 Dan. [Outside.'] Where is she? 
 O'Brien. [Outside.'] In there, 
 
 [Dan Mallory, a splendid specimen of out-door 
 manhood, rushes in and before Pat can say a word 
 he has her in his arms, kissing her. 
 Pat. Say, do you know you're takin' my breath away? 
 Dan. Am I? 
 Pat. I'm supposed to have a mad at you. 
 
 [She moves away. 
 Dan. [Following her.] Are you? 
 
 [He takes her in his arms again. She snuggles against 
 him, her head on his shoulder. 
 Pat. [Sighing.] After seventeen weeks a tourin' imita- 
 tion towns, this is certainly peach preserves. 
 
 Dan. [Tenderly.] To me you're the only girl in the 
 whole damned universe. 
 
 Pat. [Looking at him proudly.] When I think a the men 
 I see other women stacked up against, you win, easy. 
 
 Dan. I never saw anythin' that was in your class, Patsy. 
 You look like a four-time winner yourself. 
 Pat. Honest? 
 
 [She goes to the mirror. 
 Dan. You're prettier than ever. 
 
 Pat. I do think this way a wearin' my hair is becomin'. 
 Dan. Becomin'! It's beautiful. You're beautiful. Every- 
 thing about you's beautiful. 
 
 Pat. Say, ain't you afraid a gettin' pinched for peddlin' 
 hot air without a license? 
 
 Dan. You don't know how I missed you. 
 Pat. Don't I? You missed me this mornin', good an' 
 plenty. 
 
 Dan. That was too bad. How long are you going to 
 stay? 
 
 Pat. I must hump back to the real puddle tomorrow. - 
 Dan. Tomorrow! Why? 
 
S6 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 Pat. To connect. The ''Moonlight Maids" goes into cold 
 storage. 
 
 Dan. So I gathered. Seems to be a bad season for shows. 
 
 Pat. [Sagely.] It's always a bad season for bad shows 
 with bum backin'. This everlastin' huntin' a job gets on 
 my nerves. I'm tired missin' you, Dan, only seein' you once 
 in a dog's age. 
 
 Dan. [Going to her.] Pat, I can't have you go. Marry 
 me now. We'll get along, some way. 
 
 Pat. An' put a crimp in your prospects? I ain't such a 
 weak-minded slob as that. I was foolish to let that rave 
 outa me. I'm just tired. 
 
 Dan. [Taking her in his arms.] It breaks me all up, Pat. 
 I know we would make it a go. 
 
 Pat. Not by beginnin' wrong on the money proposition. 
 [She goes to the door to the hall, closes it.] Just how do we 
 stand? Mom's been hintin', but let's get down to cases. 
 
 [She sits. 
 
 Dan. [Sitting.] It began at Sheepshead. I thought I 
 had a string of good ones 
 
 Pat. An' they turned out skates. 
 
 Dan. I didn't pull off a purse that was more than chicken 
 feed. I had to take in a partner, an' it doesn't look like I'll 
 earn more than my keep for the next six months. 
 
 Pat. Where did you dig up this Crawford? How's he 
 goin' to boost your game? 
 
 Dan. He's lent me money an' I've given him a half in- 
 terest in the stables. It was a case of take someone in, or 
 get out myself. But we've some promisin' youngsters that 
 ought to bring a good price. Then I'll pay him up, or sell 
 out to him. But I'm strong to quit this game. Me for a 
 stock farm. 
 
 Pat. a stock farm? Where'd Pop and the folks get off? 
 
 Dan. They'd come right along with us. 
 
 Pat. [Thought jully.] Then we'd settle down like a cou- 
 ple of Reubens, us an' the cows. 
 
 Dan. [Laughing.] Not cows, horses. 
 
ACT i] THE CHORIUS LADY 37 
 
 Pat. [Regret ftdly.] No more playin' dates at Sheepshead 
 or New Orleans? 
 
 [Dan goes to her, lemts over the back of her chair and 
 puts his arms about her. 
 
 Dan. No travel at all. [Tenderly.] Just stayin' home. 
 
 Pat. [Wistfully.] ''Just stayin' home." Oh, Dan, do 
 you s'pose it would last? 
 
 Dan. Why, sure. 
 
 Pat. I dunno. 
 
 Dan. [Surprised.] What? 
 
 Pat. I've met more than one doll as has thrown a good 
 man down hard just to get back to the bright lights. They 
 hand out a lot a junk about love for their art, when it's 
 nothin' but a hunch for the excitement. Dan, I ain't no 
 better than anyone else. I'm kinda afraid. 
 
 Dan. But I'm not afraid. I know you love me. 
 
 Pat. That's no idle dream. 
 
 Dan. And that's what counts. Don't you go gettin^ all 
 stewed up. 
 
 Pat. [Rises.] I am a little up-stage today. I'm upset in 
 my mind. 
 
 Dan. Anythin' gone wrong? 
 
 Pat. Nora's thrown a scare into me. 
 
 Dan. Nora? 
 
 Pat. Yes, she's got a stage career all doped out an^ Mom 
 and Pop's been lettin' her dream. And it's all dead wrong. 
 
 Dan. What's wrong about it? 
 
 Pat. Every old thing. Say, don't tell me you've encour- 
 aged her, too? 
 
 Dan. O'Brien asked my advice and I didn't see anythin* 
 to stop her. 
 
 Pat. Well, you are a lot of yaps. Can't you see she 
 ain't to be trusted outside the front yard? Not that she 
 ain't good and sweet, but she ain't got any head. I don't 
 know where she gets it, but she's shy on knowin' the dif- 
 ference between right an' wrong. 
 
 Dan. But if she went with you, Pat? 
 
88 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 
 
 Pat. But I can't stay with her, Dan; I'm comin' to you. 
 
 Dan. Nora's all right. 
 
 Pat. I've seen too many just her kind, sweet and pretty, 
 begin well an' end bad. 
 
 Dan. If it's as bad as that I'm not going to have you in 
 it. 
 
 Pat. [Indignantly.] What do you mean, Dan Mallory? 
 I didn't say every girl was bad or wanted to be. Do you 
 think I, oh, Dan, that hurts. That hurts. 
 
 [She moves away. 
 
 Dan. [Following her,} I'm sorry, Pat. You know I trust 
 you, but I get to worryin' for fear some rich fellow'll want 
 to marry you an' 
 
 Pat. [Gaily,] Well, they don't. Though I'm a chump to 
 put you next to the fact. You're the only man as wants me 
 an' you can't lose me, Mr. Mallory. 
 
 [She goes to him. He kisses her. 
 
 Dan. I guess we'll tandem pretty well. Crawford will 
 wonder what's become of me. 
 
 Pat. Is he down here? 
 
 Dan. Yes, lookin' the string over. 
 
 Pat. Don't take all day to do it. 
 
 [Dan leans over her to get a kiss. 
 
 Dan. [Coaxingly.] Just to keep me goin'? 
 
 Pat. [Dodging Mm,] Nix, come back for it. [He laughs 
 and goes, Pat watches him from the window.] He's the 
 goods, all right, all right. 
 
 [Nora enters. 
 
 Nora. I'm awfully sorry, Pat. 
 
 Pat. [Going to her,] Here too. I didn't mean to sit all 
 over you. Forgive me, won't you? 
 
 Nora. And you'll take me tomorrow? 
 
 Pat. We'll see. We'll have a talk about it all an' maybe 
 then you won't want to go. Where's Mom? 
 
 Nora. In the spare room. [Pat goes. Nora begins to 
 busy herself about the kitchen. There is a knock at the 
 
ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 39 
 
 door. Nora, opens it and Crawford enters.'] Oh! Mr, 
 Crawford, you've come to meet Pat. I'll call her. 
 
 Crawford. Wait a moment. I want to give you that 
 loan. 
 
 Nora. Oh, no, thank you, Mr. Crawford. I've been 
 thinking it over and it doesn't seem right. 
 
 Crawford. Has Pat helped you? 
 
 Nora. No. 
 
 Crawford. Then you still owe the Duke? 
 
 Nora. Yes. 
 
 Crawford. Suppose you lay another wager, or let me lay 
 it for you? 
 
 Nora. But I mightn't win and I'd be worse off than ever. 
 
 Crawford. No, I'll give you a sure thing. I'll put up 
 five dollars and I think I can get four to one. 
 
 Nora. [Delighted.'] I'd have twenty dollars. \^Anx-- 
 iously.] You're sure I couldn't lose? 
 
 Crawford. Positive. Then it's a go? I'll run down to- 
 wards the end of the week and give you the money. 
 
 Nora. I mightn't be here. Maybe Pat's going to take me 
 to New York tomorrow. 
 
 Crawford. If she does, come to my office. If not, I'll be 
 here. 
 
 Nora. It's too bad for you to take all that trouble. 
 
 Crawford. [Going to her.] I'd take more trouble than 
 that to see you. 
 
 Nora. [Shyly.] You're awful sweet about it. 
 
 Crawford. So are you, awfully sweet. 
 
 [He leans over and kisses her as Pat enters unob- 
 served. 
 
 Pat. [Sharply.] Nora! 
 
 Nora. [Embarrassed.] Oh, Pat, this is Mr. Crawford. 
 
 Pat. [Frostily.] Delighted to meet you. This your first 
 visit? 
 
 Crawford. Yes. [Meaningly.] But not -ny last, 
 
 Pat. [Imolently.] That so? [She turns to Nora.] 
 
40 THE CHOKUS LADY [act i 
 
 Nora, go pack your trunk. [Nora runs off delightedly. 
 Pat turns to Crawford.] Won't you sit down? 
 
 [They sit facing each other across the table in mutual 
 antagonism as the curtain jails. 
 
THE SECOND ACT 
 
 A dressing-room in the Longacre Theatre. It is arranged 
 for the accommodation of eight chorus girls. On the 
 wall at the left of the room is a sheet of mirror and 
 underneath it a shelf covered with the litter of theatrical 
 make-up. At the shelf are four chairs. There is a 
 similar arrangement on the right of the room and in 
 the centre of it is a long marble stand with wash-basins 
 four to a side. Over the mirrors are electric-light fix- 
 tures unshaded and on the rear wall are rows of hooks 
 for costumes and street clothes. At the back of the 
 room is a door opening into a hall, across which is a 
 door to another dressing-room. 
 
 It is a quarter before eight of an April evening. Mai De- 
 LANEY and MiLLY SuLTZER, "ponics" Evelyn LaRue, 
 Rita Nichols and Inez Blair, show-girls, are in vari- 
 ous stages of dress and undress, preparing for the even- 
 ing performance; Mai is seated on the floor, putting on 
 her slippers, Rita adding a final touch of rouge, 
 Inez washing her hands, Evelyn applying a liquid- 
 white to her arms and shoulders, and Lou Archer, 
 another show-girl, completely dressed, is seated with her 
 feet cocked up on the wash-stand, engrossed in a paper- 
 covered novel and smoking a cigarette. In a corner 
 of the room, reading a newspaper which conceals her 
 face from the spectators, is another girl, evidently, from 
 what can be seen of her costume, a dancer. There is a 
 high-pitched babel of conversation, which has followed 
 upon Inezes recital of an adventure of the previous 
 evening. 
 
 41 
 
42 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 MiLLY. What'd you say to him, Inez? 
 Inez. "What d'you think I am?" says I. "You beat it 
 before I call my brother an' a policeman." 
 Evelyn. The nerve a' these rah-rah-rah boys! 
 Rita. Ain't it the limit? 
 Lou. Fresh Ike. 
 
 Mai. Ain't he got a crust, tryin' to kiss a girl an' him 
 ain't got a cent in the world! 
 
 MiLLY. [Singing.] "Would you care if I should leave 
 
 you? Would " 
 
 Rita. Not if you took your voice with you. 
 
 MiLLY, Mai, Evelyn and Inez. [Singing.] "Would you 
 
 care if I should leave you " 
 
 Lou. Oh, shut up! You dressin'-room prima donnas 
 give me a pain. 
 
 [Enter Mrs. Georgie Adams Coote, a one-time sou- 
 brette, now the wurdrobe ^'lady^' of the Longacre 
 Theatre. She is a jat, jovial gossip in an illy fitting 
 skirt and crumpled white shirtwaist. From her belt 
 hangs a pair of scissors, a tape-measure and a pin- 
 cushion. She is carrying over one arm* a costume 
 which she has been repairing; in one hand is a pair 
 of slippers, in the other a hat, and on her head is a 
 large picture-hat gaily coloured and elaborately 
 trimmed, looking sadly out of place on her totcsled 
 hair which was originally brown, then blonde, after- 
 wards red, and is now a mixture of all three shades 
 and plentifully streaked with grey. 
 Evelyn. Say, Georgie'd you mend that waist? 
 Georgie. [Crisply.] I certainly did, Miss LaRue. 
 Evelyn. Well, I hope it stays up. You musta used a 
 red-hot needle and a burnt thread last time fer it fell right 
 offa my shoulders. 
 
 Geosgie. Most a' your clothes seem to get that habit, 
 Miss LaRue. You oughta leave somethin' to the 'magina- 
 tion. 
 
 [She has thrown the costume over the back of a 
 
ACT II] THE CHOR,US LADY 43 
 
 ch(df at the dressing-table on the left of the room, 
 placed the slippers on another chair, and one hat on 
 the shelf y then catching sight of her reflection in the 
 mirror has adjusted the one she is wearing at a very 
 rakish angle and with the aid of a hand-mirror is 
 admiring the back view. 
 Georgie. Rita, seen Miss Simpson tonight? 
 
 Rita. Ain't she [Turns and sees her hat on Georgie's 
 
 head.] Well, you've got your nerve with you, wearin' my 
 hat! 
 
 [She snatches the hat off Georgie's head. The girls 
 guy her and Georgie stares after her in speechless 
 indignation as Rita flounces out of the room and 
 goes into the dressing-room across the hall. There 
 is a general movement. Mai rises, sits at the dress- 
 ing-table, paints her lips; Evelyn adjusts her hat, 
 MiLLY powders her neck, Inez throws off her kimono 
 and gets her costume. Georgie hooks her into it, 
 Georgie. Anyone seen Miss Simpson tonight? 
 MiLLY. Ain't she in her dressin'-room? 
 Inez. Simpson don't go till the second act. 
 Mai. She'll be late tonight. She's being bridesmaid to 
 Maizie Jones. 
 
 Georgie. For goodness' sake, Mai, that man ain't mar- 
 ried Maizie? 
 
 Mai. Looks that way. 
 
 Georgie. Ain't them saucer-eyed blondes wonders? 
 Lou. It's momma that's the wonder. 
 Evelyn. That's right, Lou, I tell you what a mother 
 can't do for you in this business. 
 Georgie. Anythin* from makin' you a star to a Duchess. 
 Milly. Has he money? 
 Lou. He's from Pittsburgh. 
 
 Georgie. No use cryin* over spilt milk, but I wisht we'd 
 a played Pittsburgh when I was with Evangeline. I usta 
 make a real cute boy. 
 
44. THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 Evelyn. You'd make about a dozen now. 
 
 [The girls laugh. 
 Georgie. Serves me right for wastin' breath on a lot a 
 chorus girls. 
 
 Evelyn. [Coming to Georgie.] Looka here, don't go 
 callin' me a chorus girl. 
 Georgie. What are you? 
 
 Evelyn. I'm a specialty lady. IVe been in the front 
 row fer five years. 
 
 Georgie. An' you'll stay there another ten. 
 Evelyn. You animated balloon! 
 Georgie. You red-headed spear carrier I 
 [They glare at each other. Inez, between them, inter- 
 feres. Lou turns, sees them, rises. 
 Lou. Hands off, Blair; let 'em scrap it out. 
 Georgie. [To Evelyn.] I'd hand you a ^lam in the map 
 if I wasn't a lady. 
 
 MiLLY. [Rising and going to them.] Please don't. Every- 
 body's always fightin'. 
 
 Inez. The scraps in here is certainly the limit. 
 MiLLY. I'm goin' to ask to have my dressin'-room 
 changed. Pat and Simpson fights every performance, an' 
 now you two's beginnin'. [Crying.] My nerves is just all 
 gone to the devil. 
 Georgie. Too bad about you. 
 
 Call Boy. [Off.] Half hour! Half hour! Half hour! 
 [Georgie stares pugnaciously at Evelyn, who looks at 
 her contemptuously and moves away with Lou. 
 MiLLY returns to her place at the dressing-table. 
 Inez puts her foot on the chair from which Lou 
 hcLs risen and ties her shoe-string. Mai makes up 
 leispjrely, and Rita, having complained about Geor- 
 gie to the girls in the other room, strolls in, her hat 
 on, and lolls in front of her mirror, admiring herself. 
 The figure reading the newspaper has paid no atten^ 
 tion to anyone. 
 Georgie. Pat's late, too. Is she at the weddin'? 
 
ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 45 
 
 Inez. She can't stand for Maizie's push. 
 MiLLY. I wonder what Simpson wore at the weddin'? I 
 hope she comes straight here. 
 
 Inez. She won't lose any chance to make a gallery play 
 to us. 
 
 [Rita, bored, rises and again pays a visit to the other 
 dressing-room. Evelyn washes her hands. Lou 
 joins Mai. Georgie sits in the chair at the lower 
 end of the dressing-table beside Mai and begins to 
 mend the costume she has brought in. 
 Evelyn. Talk about havin' coin in bundles, Simpson's 
 goin' to buy a Duke. 
 
 Mai. She's awful aristocratic in her ideas. 
 Georgie. Her mother used to wash for the best families. 
 MiLLY. She made it in Wall Street. 
 Georgie. Humph! 
 
 Lou. Milly, when it comes to a stall, you're a tapioca. 
 MiLLY. [Proudly. 1 She's goin' to give me a tip in stocks 
 soon as I make a lot a money on the ponies. Girls, don't 
 you wisht we knew who'd win tomorrow? 
 
 Evelyn. I wouldn't mind knowin' the name an' address 
 of a horse that's goin' to win. 
 
 Inez. Say, Nora, you don't know of a hundred-to-one 
 shot that's due to be uncorked tomorrow? 
 
 '{The person behind the newspaper drops it in her lap, 
 revealing Nora in the costume of a dancer. 
 Nora. No, I wish I did. 
 
 {She rises and walks down to the chair beside the wash' 
 stand. 
 Inez. [Sympathetically.'] Say, you look all to the bad 
 tonight. Kinda worried? Can't you figure out the dope? 
 Nora. [Sitting wearily.'] Just tired, that's all. 
 Inez. Brace up! What's the one best bet for tomorrow? 
 Nora. [Reading.] "First race, Sis Lee, straight; Fourth 
 race. Little Wally to show, the Veiled Lady straight." 
 Mai. [Petidantly.] I don't like none a them names. 
 Milly. Veiled Lady's kinda cunnin'. 
 
46 THE CHOR\US LADY [act ii 
 
 Inez. What's the entry? 
 
 MiLLY. Inez, what'd ye mean by entry? 
 
 Inez. [Impatiently.] I've told you a million times. Go 
 on, Nora. 
 
 Nora. "Sis Lee, Sailor Boy, Milady Love, King Leopold, 
 Bensonhurst, Immortelle " 
 
 Lou. That's a dead one. What's the dope on the race? 
 
 Nora. [Reading.] "The opening two-year-old scurry at 
 half a mile shows a well-set field of fair class, with Sis Lee 
 the most probable winner, though scarcely the best horse in 
 the race. In " 
 
 MiLLY. How can it win if it ain't the best horse? 
 
 Lou. Somebody gag her. 
 
 Nora. [Reading.] "In March she was beaten a nose at 
 New Orleans by Merrie Lassie." 
 
 MiLLY. What'd I tell you? You can all do as you like, 
 but none a my money on Miss Sis Lee. D'you hear, Nora? 
 
 Nora. All right. [Reading.] "Sailor Boy is as good as 
 the day he beat Follow On. Miladi " 
 
 Georgie. I used to make a real cute Sailor Boy in pale 
 blue tights, an' a dark blue blouse all trimmed with anchors. 
 I remember 
 
 Inez. Forget Evangeline fer a moment, as a favour. 
 
 Nora. [Reading.] "Miladi Love beat Eling Leopold last 
 summer and raced as well as Bensonhurst. Hard thing to 
 get anything of consequence in this division so early in the 
 year." 
 
 Inez. Well, I should say so. 
 
 Lou. To hear him tell it, there ain't a dog in the race. 
 
 Nora. The more you read the less you know about it. 
 
 MiLLY. I'll take Bensonhurst. I was there once an' had 
 a grand time. I wonder if it's a pretty horse. 
 
 Nora. Bensonhurst, to win? 
 
 MiLLY. Why, of course, to win. You ask the silliest 
 questions. 
 
 Nora. Inez, give me a piece of paper. 
 
 [Inez crosses to her place, looks for a bit of paper ^ 
 
ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 47 
 
 Rita retttrns and exposttdates with Evelyn, who has, 
 in her absence, gone to her place and taken some 
 of her lip salve. Mai rises and goes to Nora. 
 Mai. I'm going to pick 'em the old way. Where's the 
 programme? 
 
 Lou. Programme? You're a weird bunch of sports. 
 Mai. Smarty! I picked mine this way yesterday an' I was 
 the only girl that won, wasn't I, Nora? 
 
 [She closes her eyes and places her finger on the racing 
 chart in the newspaper. 
 Nora. [Reading.'] "Immortelle." 
 
 MiLLY. Immortelle! Oh, Mai, don't take that one. Don't 
 take a creepy horse. 
 
 Lou. He wouldn't run one, two, six, in a goat race. 
 Mai. I'll try again. [She does so, then looks at the place.'] 
 King Leopold. 
 
 Evelyn. [Coming to them excitedly.] Ain't that the 
 King that liked chorus girls? 
 Lou. Me for the King. 
 Rita. Me, too! 
 
 [Mai, smiling complacently, returns to her dressings 
 table. Rita joins Lou, then they go to the other 
 dressing-room. Inez brings a pencil and sheet of 
 paper to Nora, who makes a memorandum of the 
 wagers. Georgie rises, shakes out the costume and 
 hangs it on a hook at the rear of the room. 
 Georgie. Ain't anyone goin' to make a pool? I'm a 
 little sl;ort. I'll go in with someone. 
 
 Inez. If you saved the wad you blow on beer every night 
 
 after the show 
 
 Georgie. [Indignantly.] Why, it isn't that I like it. 
 It's the doctor's orders. I have to take a quart or so for 
 insomnia. [Going to Nora.] Nora, could you trust me for 
 seventy-five cents? I'd like to split it three ways on Sailor 
 Boy. I s'pose it's foolish to be superstitious, but it's a sure 
 hunch. I usta make a real cute sailor boy. 
 
48 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 Evelyn. We know, all trimmed with anchors. You may 
 find some on Sailor Boy at that. 
 
 [The girls laugh. 
 Georgie. That's right. Sneer at a poor woman with a 
 husband that ain't workin'. Pikers! 
 
 [She flounces out angrily; the girls hoot after her. 
 Inez. Nora, put me down for the usual. Sis Lee across 
 the board. 
 
 MiLLY. What's across the board? Say, Inez, tell what's 
 across the board. 
 
 Inez. Haven't time. The race is called for three tomor- 
 row. 
 
 MiLLY. I think you're horrid. It isn't fair. I've just as 
 much right to play across the board as anyone. 
 
 Nora. All right, Bensonhurst across the board. I'll get 
 the money after the show. 
 
 Lou. [Running on, followed by Rita.] Nix with the 
 racing news. Somebody's comin'. 
 Nora. Maybe it's Pat. 
 
 [She throws the newspaper under the wash-stand and 
 scurries to her place beside Milly and begins to 
 rouge feverishly. Inez and Rita follow her and sit. 
 Lou and Evelyn rush to sit at their places beside 
 Mai. All of them begin to make up and to gabble 
 of everything except racing. 
 Voice. [Outside, in respectful tones.'] Good evening. Miss 
 Simpson. 
 
 Lou. [Disgusted.'] It's only Simpson. 
 Miss Simpson. [Outside, in a drawling voice.] I fear I'm 
 a trifle late. 
 
 Voice. [Outside.] Don't worry; you needn't go on till 
 the second act. 
 
 [The girls turn and look at one another. 
 Miss Simpson. [Outside.] So good of you. 
 Evelyn. Always knew she had money in this show. 
 Inez. Cinch. 
 
 [Sylvia Simpson, a tall and strikingly handsome wom^ 
 
ACT ii] THE CHORIUS LADY 4& 
 
 an of the "show-girl'* type, bejewelled and gorgeously 
 attired, appears in the doorway, where she poses 
 briefly, to give the girls who turn to look at her an 
 opportunity to get the full effect of her magnificence. 
 
 Girls. Hello, Simpson. 
 
 Simpson. Hello, girls. i 
 
 [She saunters in. 
 
 Mai. Did you have a good time? 
 
 Simpson. [Affectedly.'] Ciel! Weddings are such a bore. 
 
 Nora. Oh, I think they're lovely. 
 
 Simpson. They're getting frightfully common. Every 
 chorus girl you know is getting married. 
 
 Nora. {Going to her.] Oh, what a love of a coat! 
 
 Simpson. [Sweeping across the room.] Do you like it? 
 
 Inez. What'd Maizie wear? 
 
 Simpson. The tightest "Princess" I ever saw. 
 
 Evelyn. What else did she have on? 
 
 Simpson. Not much of anything. As for jewellery ■' 
 
 Mai. Much? 
 
 Simpson. Much? She looked like a Tiffany showcase. 
 
 MiLLY. Just like our Prima Donna in the last act. 
 
 Simpson. Yes, quite vulgar. 
 
 Inez. Was her nibs there? 
 
 Simpson. The Prima Donna? Oh, dear, no. She's not 
 in our set. 
 
 [She removes her coat. The girls gasp at the costly 
 beauty of the gown that is revealed as she parades 
 languidly across the room. Nora, who has taken 
 the coat, runs over with it to Milly. The other girls 
 cluster about, admiring it; finally Evelyn, at the 
 suggestion of Inez, puts it on. 
 
 Evelyn. Lots a people there? 
 
 Simpson. Oh, crowds! Not a bit classy or smart. I'm 
 sure to half of them Rector's is only a name. 
 
 [She sits. 
 
 Lou. Many you knew? 
 
 Simpson. [Getting a cigarette from het case."] No, but 
 
50 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 lots I expect to. Loads of men introduced themselves to me.> 
 Maizie did a real mean thing. She tried to cut me out of 
 my entrance. 
 
 Evelyn, Mai and Milly. [Sympathetically.] The idea! 
 
 Lou. That's an old trick a hers, crowdin' you on. 
 
 Simpson. I just told her if she thought I blowed in five 
 hundred dollars for this dress, just to be a bridesmaid, she 
 was good and well mistaken. I was there to be looked at, 
 and you bet I was. 
 
 Nora. Did that cost five hundred dollars? 
 
 Simpson. It is rather a roast. But it's a good investment. 
 You've got to look well if you want to get any kind of a 
 salary in this business. [Inez giggles. Simpson twrn upon 
 her.] Did you see anything humorous in that last remark? 
 
 Inez. No! I was thinkin' a somethin' funny. 
 
 Simpson. If it's a good joke, put us all next. 
 
 Nora. [Trying to stop the impending row.] Miss Simp- 
 son, what horse are you going to play tomorrow? 
 
 Simpson. [To Nora.] I don't know. [Springs to her 
 feet, blazing mad.] If anybody has anything to say about 
 me, just speak right out, that's all. [She sees Evelyn in 
 her coat.] Say, when you girls get through wearing out that 
 coat I'd like what's left of it. 
 
 Inez. Take your old coat. 
 
 [She jerks the coat off Evelyn and throws it at Simp- 
 son. Then she, Lou, Evelyn and Rita, talking 
 viciously about Simpson, leave the room and disap- 
 pear in the direction of the stage. Milly gets her 
 costume and Mai helps her to adjust it. Simpson 
 places her coat on a chair, then sits and lights another 
 cigarette. 
 
 Simpson. Got anything good, Nora? 
 
 Nora. Here's the entry. 
 
 Simpson. Don't bother me with the entry. Hasn't that 
 friend of yours tipped you off to anything? 
 . Nora. No. 
 \ Simpson. Say, Nora, I met your friend today. 
 
ACT n] THE CHORiUS LADY 51 
 
 Nora. What friend? 
 
 Simpson. What friend? Mr. Crawford. 
 
 Nora.. You met Mr. Crawford? 
 
 Simpson. Thought I'd surprise you. He's a friend of 
 Maizie's husband. Soon as he knew I was in this company 
 he asked right away if I knew you, and I said we were great 
 friends. He's asked us out to supper some night. 
 
 Nora. I couldn't go. 
 
 [She moves quickly to the dressing-table and sits, 
 
 Simpson. Why not? You been out to lunch with him. 
 He don't like Pat a little bit, does he? 
 
 Nora. Pat met him only once. 
 
 Simpson. [Going to Nora.] I guess once was enough for 
 him. [Whispering meaningly.'] Crawford's a good thing if 
 you work him right. 
 
 Nora. [Indignantly.'] Why, Miss Simpson! I wouldn't 
 think of such a thing. 
 
 [She rises and moves away from her^ 
 
 Simpson. You've been working him for tips, haven't you? 
 
 Nora. It isn't the same thing. 
 
 Simpson. I don't see much difference between tips an*" 
 diamonds. He's in love with you. Maybe he'd be just fool 
 enough to marry you. His family have money. I think 
 they'd settle if you bluffed good and hard. 
 
 Nora. Please don't talk like that. 
 
 [She goes out in the direction of the stage^ 
 
 Simpson. [Calling after her.] Oh! Don't be silly. 
 
 Voice. [Outside.] You're late, O'Brien. 
 
 Pat. [Outside.] Miss Obreenne, to you, Mr. Stage Man- 
 ager. 
 
 Voice. [Outside.] You get a move on. 
 
 Pat. [Outside.] Don't you dare! I'm not your slave. 
 [Pat appears at the door, meeting Evelyn and Inez.. 
 
 Voice. [Outside, nearer.] That'll be about all from you. 
 
 Pat. You can take my two weeks now. If you can get 
 anybody to lead this chorus better'n me, get 'em an' get 
 'em quick. 
 
52 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 Voice. [Outside.] Do you mean that? 
 Pat. Sure I means it. I don't take nothin' from no one. 
 Simpson. That's a good bluff. 
 
 Pat. You ought to be wise to bluffs, Simpson; you throw 
 a few. Good evenin', ladies. 
 
 [Followed by Evelyn and Inez, Pat walks airily into 
 the room. She is wearing a new suit of brown cloth, 
 a new hat over which is draped an elaborate veil, a 
 small scarf of fur and a muff. The girls gaze at her 
 in admiration, Pat enjoying keenly the sensation she 
 is making. 
 MiLLY. Don't you look grand? 
 Evelyn. Mighta just stepped out of a suit-case. 
 
 [Lou strolls in. 
 Pat. Say, girls, are you pipin' the veil? Ain't it a Susie 
 Smitherino? I don't think it's at all loud, do you? 
 Mai. [Going up to get her costume,] Oh, nol 
 MiLLY. It's sweet. 
 Evelyn. You look elegant. 
 Lou. It's a corker! 
 Pat. Come at me light, girls. 
 
 Inez. I never seen you look sweller. Have you, Simpson? 
 Simpson. [Sarcastically.] O'Brien's a tremendously smart 
 dresser. 
 
 Pat. Don't get petulant, sweetheart. You ain't the only 
 Daily Hint from Paris. 
 
 MiLLY. [Going to Pat.] Oh, Pat! Them's new furs. 
 Simpson. Isn't it rather late for furs? 
 Pat. [Ignoring her.] Milly! I struck a clearin' sale of 
 furs today at Macy's, cravat an' cushion muff, four ninety- 
 six. Best Adirondack sable! [Simpson laughs derisively. 
 Pat advances on her belligerently.] Say, are you passin^ 
 me the giggle? 
 
 [Simpson subsides, to the delight of the girls who 
 
 resented her sneer at Pat's furs which Milly, after 
 
 examining appreciatively, has reverently put away, 
 
 Pat. Say, Lou, talkin' a sales, ain't that a peach coat? 
 
ACT II] THE CHORUS LADY 53 
 
 Nine sixty-eight, silk-lined! Feel that linin'. Ain't it 
 immense? [She drops the coat in Simpson's lapj\ Try 
 it on, Simpson; it might look good on you. 
 
 Simpson. [Brushing the coat off her lap.] I can't wear 
 ready-made clothing. 
 
 Pat. You can't wear ready-made clothin'? Girls, ziin't 
 that a shame! [The girls laugh. Lou rescues the coat. 
 Pat admires herself in the mirror.] Well, a perfect figure 
 certainly saves you money. 
 
 [Lou hangs the coat on a hook. Pat slips off her skirt, 
 showing a petticoat of violent hues. 
 Evelyn. Why, you got a new petticoat, too. 
 Pat. Three forty-three. One of them invisible plaids. 
 Maybe it wouldn't put Fifth Avenue on the blink! [As 
 Pat turns to hang her skirt on a hook, Rita enters.] Hello, 
 Rita. Welcome to our city! 
 Rita. Hello, Pat. 
 Mai. That's an awful sweet hat. 
 
 Pat. It is a swell lid. I blew myself there. Two ninety- 
 eight. Imported model! They wanted to put a bunch a 
 peacock feathers on the side, but I'm that superstitious. 
 MiLLY. So am I. 
 
 Pat. An', what's the use a trimmin' when I have the 
 veil? 
 
 [She takes off her hat and her shirtwaist, hangs them 
 up carefully, then puts on a kimono, steps out 
 of her petticoat, shakes it out admiringly and places 
 it carefully on another hook, talking all the time. 
 The girls are very much interested, Simpson taking 
 great pains to show that she is horribly bored. 
 Pat. Girls, I seen some waists today at Siegel-Cooper's; 
 beauts, all-over lace, three dollars. Real lace! I had to 
 pass them up. After I bought these yellow kicks my pocket- 
 book looked like a disaster. 
 
 [She sits at her place, which is at the lower end of the 
 dressing-table on the left side of the room. The 
 girls, sensing that Pat and Simpson, who invariably 
 
54 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 indulge in a verbal battle when they meet, are about 
 to stage another, are seated at their places in eager 
 expectancy.'] 
 Inez. You certainly was good to yourself. 
 Pat. I've been savin' on car-fare an' lunches. I just said 
 it was up to me to refurnish from cellar to dome. 
 
 [Blanche, Simpson's ''coloured^' maid, enters from 
 
 the dressing-room across the' hall, bringing several 
 
 letters to her mistress. 
 
 Simpson. Take my coat, Blanche. [Blanche, taking it, 
 
 goes. Simpson looks at the letters.'] People write for 
 
 autographs. Mon Dieu, what a bore! 
 
 [Pat turns and winks at the girls. She is removing 
 
 her hair-pins and loosens a bunch of false curls, 
 
 which she displays. 
 
 Pat. [Rising.] Girls, how do you like my Fritzi Scheff's? 
 
 Take it from me, Silas, them puffs is goin' to be the dead 
 
 swell article, an' such a bargain ! When I teil you the price 
 
 you'll pass away. I got the puffs the 
 
 Inez. [Going to her.] Real hair? 
 
 Pat. [Indignantly.] Si:^e, it's real hair. Feel it. T got 
 the puffs, the bunch a curls — ^just flash your glims on them 
 curls — and the bayrette, for one seventy-five. 
 MiLLY. [Going to her.] Where to? Macy^s? 
 Pat. No. Got 'em from a lady friend at the Casino. 
 She's lettin' her hair go back to brown this season. 
 
 [She returns to the dressing-table. 
 Inez. Oh, say, Pat, I brought up a letter fer you. 
 Pat. Guys writin' fer autographs. Mon doo, what a bore! 
 Simpson. [Angrily.] Are you mimicking me. Miss 
 O'Brien? 
 
 Pat. Mimickin* you. Miss Simpson? You ain't got the 
 French language copyrighted, have you? Maybe it's some 
 newspaper guy wants my picture. [Simpson laughs scorn- 
 fully, Pat resents it.] I been in the Sunday Telegraph 
 twict this season. 
 
 MiLLY. Oh, didn't you love it? 
 
ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 55 
 
 Pat. No. I hate publicity, but anythin' to help the 
 manager along. 
 
 MiLLY. [Going to her.] Do you know any real reporters? 
 
 Pat. I got a couple on me staff. 
 
 MiLLY. Say, who's your letter from? From your gentle- 
 man friend? The one you told me about, you know. Dan? 
 
 Pat. [Reading.] Sure, he writes me every day, some- 
 times twict. He's got a surprise for me, something swell. 
 He's goin' to be out in front tonight. Gee! I must tell 
 Nora. 
 
 Call Boy. [Outside.] Fifteen minutes. 
 
 [Inez and Milly run to their places. All the girls 
 begin to add last touches to their make-up. 
 
 Pat. Gee, I must get to work. Evelyn, gimme my dress, 
 will you? Girls, who do you think I seen today at Macy's? 
 
 Mai. Who? 
 
 Pat. Mrs. Carter. 
 
 Milly. Leslie Carter? 
 
 Pat. Leslie Carter. She was buyin' spangles. 
 
 Inez. Did you see her close to? 
 
 Pat. I could a touched her. I rubbered to beat the band. 
 Don't you just love Carter? 
 
 Inez. You bet. 
 
 Pat. Honest, I think that wonlan^s got the most emo- 
 tional hair in this business. 
 
 Evelyn. [Going up for Pat's costume.] I've seen her in 
 everythin' she plays. 
 
 Pat. So have I. You know. Carter's a whole lot on my 
 style. 
 
 Simpson. I hadn't noticed it. 
 
 Pat. Well, you know you're near-sighted. Milly! You 
 know I'm really cut out for one of them emotional all-over- 
 the-place actresses. 
 
 Milly. [Sighing.] 1 know, an' wear spangled dresses an' 
 smoke cigarettes. 
 
 Mai. Wouldn't it be sweet? 
 
 [Pat has ''slapped'' on her make-up. Evelyn has 
 
56 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 brought down her costume. Pat rises, goes to hefy 
 Evelyn helps her. 
 
 Evelyn. I wouldn't care what it was so long as I could 
 wear pale blue tights. I'm just wasted in skirts. 
 
 Pat. Nix for mine, this tights gag. [Simpson laughs 
 sarcastically.'] Not that I can't wear 'em. Simpson, I 
 hate to talk about my figger, but I could make the Venus de 
 Milo look like May Irwin. I'm only in musical comedy 
 to learn to be graceful. I bet I could get a backer to star 
 me if I could get the play, but gee, it's hard to get a good 
 tragic play. Of course I could get one from Charlie Froh- 
 man, but I don't want to take it away from Maude Adams 
 or Ethel Barrymore. I can always dance for my livin'. 
 
 Simpson. You're a hit with yourself, aren't you? 
 
 Pat. Girls, I'm no knocker, an' you never hear me leadin* 
 any anvil chorus, but [looking meaningly at Simpson] if 
 certain parties were where they belonged, they'd be makin' 
 beds. Gee, I must get a move on. Evelyn, would you mind 
 braidin' my hair? 
 
 Evelyn. No. 
 
 [Pat sits at the mirror. She removes a transformattott, 
 revealing a tiny wisp of hair. Evelyn begins to 
 braid it. 
 
 Pat. You wouldn't believe I had grand hair once. 
 
 Evelyn. Really? 
 
 Pat. I used to could sit on it. I just ruined it Marcellin' 
 it. 
 
 Evelyn. [Holding up a tiny braid.] What'll I do with 
 this? 
 
 Pat. Twist the ends under. 
 
 Evelyn. They won't stay twisted. 
 
 Pat. They won't? [She takes a hand-mirror and looks 
 at the back view.] Them ends used to stay twisted some- 
 thin' grand. Here's a piece a string; tie it up. Where's 
 Nora? 
 
 Evelyn. She was here a minute ago. 
 
 Pat. I wisht I was pretty as Nora. Where's my wig 
 
ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 57 
 
 band? There it is. [She pins it around her head and looks 
 at the effect.] Say, girls, you know what's the matter with 
 my face? It's too classical. 
 
 Simpson. You hate yourself, don't you? 
 
 Pat. [Gazing at her reflection.'] Say, don't I look like 
 Ellen Terry? Gee, I just noticed it. [Striking a pose.] 
 Look, look now. 
 
 Evelyn. Yes, you do. 
 
 Voice. [Outside.] Any laundry? 
 
 Girls. No. 
 
 Pat. [Yelling.] Hold on, laundry man. I'm lookin' for 
 that guy. [She runs up to the door and opens it.] Well, 
 you got a fine noive comin' here fer laundry. You kept 
 mine a whole week last time. Honest, girls, I didn't have 
 a stitch to my back. 
 
 Voice. How much did you have? 
 
 Pat. Four pieces. 
 
 Voice. What were they? 
 
 Pat. I had a skirt, a shirt-waist, an' a — say, looka here. 
 Fresh, it's none a your business what I had. Ain't it 
 awful? I'll never get made up. 
 
 [She slams the door. 
 
 Voice. [Outside.] Overture! Overture! 
 
 [MiLLY, Inez, Rita, Lou, Evelyn and Mai dash out, 
 Pat starts to her dressing-table. 
 
 Nora. [Outside.] Oh, stop. Oh, please stop! 
 
 [She enters, 
 
 Pat. What is it, honey lamb? 
 
 Nora. That old tenor tried to kiss me. 
 
 Pat. [Going to the door, calls off.] Say you, tenor! 
 Yes, you! You leave my sister alone, d'ye hear? [She 
 slams the door.] Beast! 
 
 Simpson. You're speaking about a friend of mine. 
 
 Pat. Well, if you want to associate with him, that's your 
 affair. But he can't get busy around my sister. 
 
 Simpson. How dare you? 
 
58 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 Pat. [Hurrying to the mirror.'] Oh, fade away, Simp- 
 son; fade quick. 
 
 Simpson. Your sister's so much better than I am. That's 
 the best laugh I've had this season. 
 
 [Pat is adjusting her wig. Suddenly her movements 
 are arrested as she sees in the mirror the effect of 
 Simpson's words on Nora. Motionless she stands 
 watching their reflections. 
 Nora. [Running to Simpson.] Oh, Miss Simpson! 
 Simpson. Don't Miss Simpson me! I'm sick of you put- 
 ting on airs about being so good and virtuous. You're a 
 little sneak. Do you think I'm going to put up with your 
 sister's impudence and me knowing what I do about you? 
 Pat. [Turning upon Simpson.] What do you mean? 
 Simpson. What do I mean? Ask her about her friend, 
 Mr. Crawford. 
 Pat. Crawford! 
 
 Simpson. Yes. Your sweet little sister who's too good 
 to associate with me is carrying on with Dick Crawford, 
 going to lunch with him, making dates with him after the 
 show, playing his tips. We're all playing his tips. 
 Pat. It's a lie. 
 
 Simpson. Ask any of the girls. Look at her, and then 
 ask me — if it's a lie. 
 
 Nora. [Pleadingly.] Oh, Pat! 
 
 Simpson. You'd better look at home. Miss Pat O'Brien, 
 before you go casting slurs on other people's characters. 
 [She goes and as she opens the door the first bars 
 of the overture are heard in the distance. She slams 
 the door angrily. Pat stands speechless. Nora, 
 her head bowed, is sobbing bitterly. 
 Nora. Pat! Oh, Pat! 
 
 [Pat goes to Nora, takes her roughly by the shoulders, 
 Pat. Look at me. Have you gone to the bad? 
 Nora. [Indignantly.] Why, Pat! 
 
 Pat. [Taking Nora in her arms.] Thank God! Now 
 what about this Crawford? 
 
ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 59 
 
 Nora. He's been kind to me. 
 
 Pat. Kind! Is it kind gettin' you talked about, com- 
 promisin' you, the dog! 
 
 Nora. He helped me out a debt. 
 
 Pat. Debt? Who'd you owe money to? 
 
 Nora. The girls. 
 
 Pat. The girls! How? 
 
 Nora. I placed their bets on the Montgomery Handicap. 
 Mr. Crawford gave me the tips. I took their winnings 
 an' 
 
 Pat. No, no, I won't believe it. You took their money? 
 
 Nora. Not all of it. 
 
 Pat. Where's what's left? 
 
 Nora. I didn't have money enough to pay them all, 
 so I went to Mr. Crawford thinking I could double the 
 money. He gave me a tip. I plunged and lost it all. 
 
 Pat. It was a trap. 
 
 Nora. The girls kept asking me for their winnings. I 
 couldn't stand it any longer. I just had to go back to Mr. 
 Crawford. He gave me three hundred dollars. 
 
 Pat. [Sinking into a chair.] Three hundred dollars! 
 How could it be that much? 
 
 Nora. The girls each bet five dollars and at ten to one 
 it soon mounts up. Oh, Pat, how it mounted up! 
 
 Pat. What's Crawford to you that he'd give you so much 
 money? 
 
 Nora. Why, nothing. It was business. I signed a 
 paper. Mr. Crawford said to sign Pop's name 
 
 Pat. You forged Pop's name? 
 
 Nora. Forged? 
 
 Pat. Can't you see? Can't you see! He can make Pop 
 pay that money. We've gotta get that note. 
 
 Nora. Perhaps I can get it. 
 
 Pat. How? 
 
 Nora. Mr. Crawford's been asking me to take supper 
 at his apartments after the show. I'll go tonight 
 
 P.at. [Rising,] Go to his rooms? Ain't you got no 
 
eo THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 
 
 sense? You won't go, do you hear me? Think you can 
 get that note without payin', an' payin' dear for it? You 
 leave it to me. 
 
 [She goes to the dressing-table, and begins to whiten 
 her arms. 
 Nora. What are you going to do? 
 Pat. I'll go to his office tomorrow. I'll tell him a thing 
 or two. 
 
 Nora. If you make him angry he'll tell father. 
 Pat. If he makes a move like that, you'll tell Pop first. 
 Nora. Oh, Pop'd never forgive me. Oh! Why did you 
 bring me here? 
 
 [She sinks sobbing into a chair. 
 Pat. [Turning on her bitterly. 1 Why did I bring you 
 here? Because I felt it in my bones that he'd come 
 snoopin' round after I was gone an' I brings you here, right 
 to him, makin' it easy and convenient for him to play his 
 little game. How he must be givin' me the laugh! He 
 knew I was next, an' I swore to Mom I'd look after you 
 an' see no harm'd come to you. If this gets home it seems 
 to me I couldn't ever look her in the face again. 
 
 [There is a knock on the door. Nora, frightened, 
 springs to her feet. There is a slight pame. 
 Pat. What is it? 
 
 Voice. [Outside.] Message from the stage door for Miss 
 O'Brien. Mr. Mallory asked me to tell you that your 
 mother and father wuz in front tonight and would you 
 please hurry home after the show. 
 
 Nora. [Wildly.] 1 can't face them. I can't face them! 
 Pat. Brace up, brace up! Hush! Hush! 
 Nora. I can't dance tonight. It's no use. I can't do it. 
 Pat. But you gotta dance. The curtain's goin' up. 
 Stay here; I'll get somethin' from Georgie to brace you up. 
 [She rushes off towards the stage. Through the opened 
 door come the strains of a gay waltz. Nora is cry- 
 ing hysterically as she walks up and down the room 
 talking to herself. 
 
ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 61 
 
 Nora. I got to go to him. I can't face Pop and Mom 
 without that note. 
 
 Call Boy. ^Rushing past the door.] Act's on! Act's 
 on! Act's on! 
 
 Nora. [Running to the door.] Boy, get me a cab! 
 Quickly! Quickly! 
 
 [Nora, seizing her coat from the rack by the door, 
 
 dashes down the hall in the direction of the stage 
 
 door. The overture ends in a crash of sound. Inez 
 
 and Mai dart out of the dressing-room across the hall 
 
 and rush toivards the stage. Pat runs in carrying a 
 
 glass. 
 
 Pat. [At the door.] Here, Nora. [She stops at the sight 
 
 of the empty room.] Gone! [Then it dawns on her.] To 
 
 Crawford's. 
 
 [She puts the glass down and rushes up to the rack; 
 grabs her street clothes, throws them on a chair. 
 MiLLY comes running in. 
 MiLLY. Pat! They're holding the curtain. 
 Pat. Let 'em hold it. 
 
 [She is tearing off her costume in frantic haste as the 
 curtain falls. 
 
THE THIRD ACT 
 
 Dick Crawford's apartment in New York — an attrac- 
 tively and luxuriously furnished living-room; on the 
 left at the farther end of the room is a door to the hall, 
 on the right a fireplace and a door to a bedroom, at 
 the back a large window. There are comfortable 
 chairs, a large table with newspapers, magazines, a 
 lamp and a silver box containing cigars; on a side 
 table are decanters and glasses and on a small table at 
 the left of the room are a tobacco jar, cigarettes and 
 matches. Sporting prints hang on the walls and the 
 mantelpiece is crowded with silver cups and auto- 
 graphed photographs of actresses. The curtains are 
 drawn, the lamp is lighted and a fire is burning in the 
 grate. Nora is seated by the fireplace. Rogers, Craw- 
 ford's man servant, enters from the hall. Nora rises 
 quickly. 
 
 Nora. [Anxiously.'] Couldn't you find Mr. Crawford? 
 Rogers. Yes, I found him at the club. I had him on 
 the telephone. 
 Nora. Will he be here soon? 
 
 Rogers. He'll be here right away. The club is just 
 around the corner. Is there anything else I can do for 
 you? 
 
 Nora. No, thank you. 
 
 [The sound of the opening and closing of a door is 
 heard. 
 Rogers. I think that's Mr. Crawford now. [He goes to 
 the door.] Yes, it is. 
 
 [He leaves the room. Nora stands at the fireplace, 
 nervously twisting her handkerchief, Crawford 
 enters. 
 
 62 
 
ACT III] THE CHORiUS LADY 63 
 
 Crawford. Oh, it's you. [He goes to her and takes her 
 hands.'] This is a pleasant surprise. I'm sorry I wasn't 
 here to welcome you, but you've said ''no" so many times 
 I'd given up hope. Why, how pretty you look! It's only 
 nine o'clock. How did you get away so early? 
 
 Nora. [Moving away.] I didn't go on tonight. I — I 
 wanted to see you. 
 
 Craw^ford. [Following her.] Not half so much as I 
 wanted to see you. Come sit down and be comfortable. 
 We'll have a bite to eat and something to drink, 
 
 Nora. I can't, Mr. Crawford. I've got to get back to 
 the theatre right away. 
 
 Crawford. Oh, that's all right. They won't make any 
 trouble. I stand pretty well at the Longacre and I'll 
 square it for you. 
 
 Nora. It isn't the theatre, Mr. Crawford. I'm in great 
 trouble. 
 
 Crawford. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 Nora. Father and mother are in front tonight. I must 
 have that note I signed. 
 
 Crawford. [Uneasily.] Does O'Brien know about it? 
 
 Nora. No. 
 
 Crawford. [Relieved.] Don't let that worry you. We'll 
 talk it over presently. There's loads of time. We've the 
 whole evening. 
 
 Nora. No, no. I must go home right away. I must 
 have that note. I can't face him without it. I'm a forger. 
 Why did you make me a forger? I didn't know. I'm hor- 
 ribly afraid. 
 
 [She drops into a chair by the table and covers her 
 face with her hands. Crawford comes to her, takes 
 her hands from her face and kisses them. 
 
 Crawford. Afraid? Of whom? 
 
 Nora. Of father. Of you. You'll give it to me, won't 
 you? I'll pay you the money somehow. 
 
 Crawford. [Meaningly.] I don't want the money. 
 [Nora relieved.] I want you. 
 
64 THE CHORUS LADY [act in 
 
 [He leans over and kisses her. Nora is frightened, 
 
 Nora. Oh, please, Mr. Crawford. 
 
 [She runs away from him. Crawford follows her. 
 
 Crawford. Don't you care about me at all? 
 
 Nora. Why — ^yes — but please give me that note and let 
 me go. I'll come some other time and have supper with 
 you. 
 
 Crawford. But there's no time like the present. Why, 
 you're shivering. Sit here by the fire and I'll get you a 
 glass of something. [He places her in the chair at fireplace 
 and crosses to the table. There is a knock at the door.] 
 Come in! 
 
 Rogers. Mr. Mallory's calling, sir. 
 
 Crawford. Mallory? 
 
 Nora. [Rising quickly in alarm.] Dan I 
 
 Crawford. I'm not at home. 
 
 Rogers. Beg pardon, sir, but he telephoned earlier in 
 the evening. He said it was important business and I told 
 him you'd be here, sir. I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't think 
 you'd be engaged. 
 
 Crawford. [To Nora.] What's he doing in town? 
 
 Nora. He came with mother and father. 
 
 Crawford. Show him in. [Rogers goes. Nora ex- 
 claims.] That's all right. You wait in here. I'll get rid 
 of him. 
 
 Nora. I'm so frightened. 
 
 Crawford. Nbnsense. 
 
 [He puts her quickly into the bedroom and closes the 
 door as Rogers enters, followed by Dan. 
 
 Rogers. Mr. Mallory. 
 
 Crawford. Hello, Mallory. 
 
 Dan. How are you, Crawford? 
 
 Crawford. Rogers, take Mr. Mallory^s coat. 
 
 Dan. Can't stop but a minute. [Rogers goes.] I left 
 O'Brien an' his wife at the theatre, an' told them I'd run 
 over to see you but promised to be back after the first act; 
 Surprised you, eh? 
 
ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 65 
 
 Crawford. Rather! 
 
 [He sits. 
 
 Dan. Thought I'd run up to town an' talk over that Mc- 
 Govern matter. The old folks had got to worryin' about 
 the girls, so I brought them along. Mrs. O'Brien got it 
 into her head that somethin' was wrong, 
 
 Crawford. [Startled.] Has she heard anything? 
 
 Dan. No,, a dream or somethin'. You know what moth- 
 ers are. 
 
 [He sits. 
 
 Crawford. [Relieved.] I guess her girls are all right. 
 
 Dan. Sure, seen 'em lately? 
 
 Crawford. I've run into them on the street a couple of 
 times and of course I've seen them in the piece. 
 
 Dan, Great show, ain't it? I came up for the openin'. 
 Nora did mighty well for a new beginner, but, say, isn't 
 Pat great? When she comes on in that second act leadin' 
 that bunch of girls in that white dress with all those shiny 
 fiumidoodles an' that sassy hat perched on her little blonde 
 head, she's the hit of the show to me. 
 
 Crawford. Looks pretty nice. 
 
 Dan, She ought to be playin' a part. Maybe it's just 
 as well. She wouldn't be so willin' to give it up, I haven't 
 said anythin' before, Crawford, but if the stable keeps on 
 with this run of luck you'll be gettin' a weddin' invitation 
 one of these days. 
 
 Crawford. Congratulations, old man. Here, we ought 
 to have a drink on that. [He rises and pours a couple of 
 drinks from a decanter on the table.] To Pat! 
 
 Dan, [Rising.] To Pat! 
 
 Crawford. Here's hoping you're happy. 
 
 Dan. Happy? It's a cinch. [They drink.] Well, I 
 guess I've landed McGovern. 
 
 Crawford. Good work. 
 
 [They sit. 
 
 Dan. Yes, it means a big thing for the stable. When 
 the wise ones find out that old McGovern, the wisest boy 
 
66 THE CHORUS LADY [act m 
 
 of 'em all, pays a good stiff figure for Lady Belle, it will 
 give the string a good boost an' we ought to get fancy prices. 
 Crawford. [Offering a cigar.] What are you holding 
 Lady Belle at? 
 
 Dan. Five thousand. 
 
 Crawford. And 
 
 Dan. We've done a tall stunt of hagglin' but he was 
 around to see me tonight before dinner. I told him to call 
 you up. He'll run up a telephone bill for five dollars try- 
 ing to get you to take four thousand nine hundred an' 
 ninety nine. He's a gabby old guy, but don't let him wear 
 you out. He'll pay the figure. 
 
 Crawford. I like your nerve, sicking him at me. 
 Dan. Had to get rid of him somehow. He'd be talkin' 
 yet an' I was hungry. 
 
 [Enter Rogers. 
 Rogers. Telephone, sir. 
 Dan. I'll bet that's McGovem now. 
 
 [He goes over to the table at the left in search of 
 matches. Crawford, rising, glances uneasily 
 towards the door to the bedroom. Dan turns 
 and Crawford, seeing that Dan is looking at him 
 curiotisly, laughs and leaves the room. The door to 
 the bedroom opens. Nora looks out, sees Dan, 
 whose back is turned to her as he lights his cigar. 
 She makes an exclamation of dismay. Dan turns 
 quickly and sees her hand as it is closing the door. 
 He chuckles. 
 Dan. Gee, I guess I'm buttin' in on somethin'. 
 Crawford. [Entering.] It's for you, Mallory. 
 Dan. Now see here, Crawford, that isn't fair. I've had 
 more than my share of McGovem. 
 
 Crawford. It isn't McGovern. It's someone at the 
 Longacre Theatre. 
 
 Dan. [Alarmed.] The theatre! Wonder what's up? 
 [He goes. Crawford runs to the bedroom door, opens 
 it and Nora appears. 
 
ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 67 
 
 Nora. Has he gone? 
 
 Crawford. Not yet, but he will be very soon. 
 
 Nora. [Alarmed.] He doesn't suspect that I'm here? 
 
 Crawford. Why should he? 
 
 Nora. [Plaintively.] I don't know, but I wish I were at 
 home. 
 
 Crawford. Now, don't get rattled. 
 
 Nora. He won't find me? 
 
 Crawford. Not if I can help it. 
 
 [Dan's latigh is heard outside. Crawford hastily 
 closes the door and moves to the centre of the room. 
 Dan enters laughing. 
 
 Dan. It was O'Brien. He says they can't find their 
 girls on the stage an' Mrs. O'Brien's in the lobby insistin' 
 that someone has stolen their darlin's. Isn't it rich? 
 They don't recognise 'em in their stage get-up. I must 
 get a move on. I bet O'Brien has his hands full. Where's 
 my hat? I'll call you up in the mornin' before I leave. 
 What's the quickest way down town? 
 
 Crawford. You can take the Subway at 86th street, get 
 off at 42nd street. 
 
 Dan. Well, good night. 
 
 Crawford. Good night. [Dan leaves and presently the 
 door is heard to slam outside. Crawford goes up to the 
 fireplace, presses the button, then pours another drink. 
 Rogers enters.] I will want a bite of supper later. 
 
 Rogers. Yes, sir. When? 
 
 Crawford. In about an hour. 
 
 Rogers. What would you like, sir? 
 
 Crawford. I don't know. What would you suggest? 
 Birds? 
 
 Rogers. Hardly, sir. You've got to be eddicated up to 
 birds. I should say a chicken salad and ice cream and a 
 sweet champagne. 
 
 Crawford. I can't eat that truck. 
 
 Rogers. No, sir. Certainly not, sir. 
 
68 THE CHORUS LADY [act hi 
 
 [The door bell rings sharply, then again. Rogers 
 hurries to answer it. 
 
 Crawford. Who the devil is that? 
 
 [The voices of Pat and Rogers are heard outside in 
 excited argument. 
 
 Pat. I must see him. 
 
 Rogers. But you can't see him, Miss. 
 
 Pat. I will see him. [^She bursts into the room, followed 
 by Rogers.] Is my sister here? 
 
 Crawford. Your sister? 
 
 Pat. Yes, Nora. 
 
 Crawford. I've just come in. My man might know. 
 Rogers, has a young lady called within the last five min- 
 utes? 
 
 Rogers. No, sir. 
 
 Crawford. That will do, Rogers. 
 
 [Rogers leaves. 
 
 Pat. That's kind a funny. She ain't at the show shop. 
 I thought sure she came here. 
 
 Crawford. Did Miss Nora say she was coming here? 
 
 Pat. No. 
 
 [Crawford shrugs his shoulders. Pat is discon- 
 certed. 
 
 Crawford. Perhaps she went home. 
 
 Pat. She had a date with you, didn't she? [Crawford 
 pretends blank ignorance.] You asked her out to supper, 
 didn't you? 
 
 Crawford. I've invited her several times, but we haven't 
 had supper together yet. 
 
 Pat. Maybe I got here ahead of her. Maybe she'll be 
 here later. 
 
 Crawford. I haven't received any word that she'll be 
 here later. 
 
 Pat. Well, I gotta see her important. I'll wait a few 
 minutes if you don't mind. 
 
 Crawford. [Annoyed.] Certainly not. 
 
ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 69 
 
 Pat. You ain't awful affable. I could use a chair if it 
 was handed me. 
 
 Crawford. I beg your pardon, Miss O'Brien. 
 [He offers her a chair. Pat sits wearily, and to Craw- 
 ford's intense annoyance begins to remove her hat. 
 
 Pat. Gee, I'm tired. I done a hard chase here. Ain't 
 it awful the way those hat pins can crimp you? Would 
 I be takin' a liberty if I asked for a drink? 
 
 Crawford. Certainly not. What will it be, a glass of 
 champagne? 
 
 Pat. Nix with the wealthy water. 
 
 Crawford. A glass of beer? 
 
 Pat. No suds in mine. Just plain croton. [Crawford 
 goes to get her a glass of water. Pat rises and walks 
 about.'] This place is awful cute and cozy. You must en- 
 joy life to beat the band, nothin' on your mind but your 
 hair. [Pat sees the door to the bedroom and goes toward 
 it.l How many rooms you got? 
 
 Crawford. Two. 
 
 Pat. [At the door.] Where does this door go to? 
 
 Crawford. [Casually.'] Oh, that's a sort of closet for 
 my man. [Pat moves away. Crawford gives her the 
 glass.] Here's looking at you. [Pat drinks.] Aren't 
 you dancing tonight? 
 
 Pat. [Sitting.] No, I got the pip in me ankle. Got too 
 gay at rehoisal yesterday. 
 
 Crawford. [Making conversation.] Dancing must be 
 very hard work. It looks so acrobatic. 
 
 Pat. The smile's the hard part a dancin'. It's no cinch 
 stannin' on one toe with the other pointin' to a quarter to 
 six, an' then look like the cat that's just eat the canary. 
 I've often wished I'd gone into Wall Street. I got a great 
 head for biziness. Now, Nora's just the opposite. Won- 
 der where she is? Oh, well, no use worryin'. I'm en- 
 joyin' myself. [She takes off her coat.] Gee, it's hot in 
 here. Say, what was we talkin' about? 
 
 Crawford. [Sarcastically.] Yourself, I think. 
 
5^0 THE CHORUS LADY [act m 
 
 Pat. [Meaningly.'] Let's talk about Nora. 
 
 Crawford. Nora? 
 
 Pat. Yes, Nora. [With menace.] I want you to let 
 my sister alone. She's new to the game an' she's a good 
 kid. 
 
 Crawford. I guess she's able to take care of herself, and 
 when a girl's good 
 
 Pat. She's good anywhere. I know all about that. An' 
 that other one about "the wages a sin bein' death." Well, 
 maybe, but say, when you're scrimpin' along on twenty 
 per an' the next girl to you in the dressin'-room comes 
 down to the show shop every night in a benzine buzz 
 waggin, in ermine capes and diamonds big as oysters, it 
 ain't religion so much as a firm grip on home and mother 
 that keeps you handin' out the icy eye to the man behind 
 the bank roll. You see, Nora's an awful ninny. Why, she 
 even thinks that note you've gotta hers is good. Honest, 
 when she told me I nearly laffed myself to death. 
 
 [She laughs, 
 
 Crawford. [Annoyed.] It's good, all right. 
 
 Pat. Quit yer kiddin'. 
 
 Crawford. It's good for three hundred dollars. 
 
 Pat. Get a transfer, Crawford; get a transfer. It's only 
 a forgery an' a bum one at that. 
 
 Crawford. I don't believe Mr. P. O'Brien would put it 
 to protest if I presented it at my bank for payment. 
 
 Pat. But you ain't goin' to do that. 
 
 Crawford. That depends. 
 
 Pat. [^'Jollying" him.] You wouldn't show Nora up to 
 her father. You're too good a sport fer that. 
 
 Crawford. I'm a good sport all right but I'm not a 
 mark. That money is due me honestly and I'm going to 
 get value received. 
 
 Pat. [Angrily.] Honestly! You don't call leadin' a girl 
 a seventeen into makin' a fool a herself an' puttin' her 
 father's name to paper honest? If you ask me, it's a 
 bunk. 
 
ACT III] THE CHOR^US LADY 71 
 
 Crawford. But I'm not asking you. If you please we'll 
 not discuss it. 
 
 Pat. [Rising, goes to him.] Sure we'll discuss it, here, 
 now. Saves me a trip to your office tomorrow. 
 
 Crawford. This concerns your sister and me. 
 
 Pat. You mean, it's none a my business. 
 
 Crawford. Precisely. 
 
 Pat. I'm going to make it my business. This note with 
 the phoney signature brings Pop an' the family into the 
 muss. 
 
 Crawford. The matter is entirely between your sister 
 and me. We are competent to manage our affairs. 
 
 Pat. You can manage yours all right, but I'll have a hand 
 in managin' my sister's or know the reason why. I've 
 promised my mother to take care a her an' you bet your 
 life I'm goin' to. 
 
 Crawford. And I'm going to protect my interests. 
 
 Pat. You're not goin' about it right. Your interest in 
 Dan Mallory's stable's a pretty good thing, ain't it? 
 
 Crawford. What has that to do with it? 
 
 Pat. You get gay with that phoney note, an^ I'll show 
 you up. [Jeeringly.] Dan wouldn't do a thing to you. 
 
 Crawford. He wouldn't jeopardise the future of his 
 stables. 
 
 Pat. He wouldn't? A lot you know about it. He'll 
 dump you an' that stable so quick on my say so it'll make 
 your head swim. I'm givin' you the right steer, Crawford. 
 If you've gotta lick a sense you'll pass over that note, an' 
 let me go home. [Picking up her hat and coat.'] I guess 
 Nora ain't comin'. 
 
 Rogers. [Enters agitatedly.] Mr. Crawford, Mrs. O'Bri- 
 en's in the hall. 
 
 Pat. Mom! 
 
 Crawford. I can't see her. 
 
 Rogers. She won't leave without seeing you. 
 
 [Pat looks about wildly. 
 
yg THE CHORUS LADY [act hi 
 
 Pat. What'U I do? Where'll I go? 
 
 [She rushes to the door of the bedroom. 
 Crawford. No, no, not there. 
 
 [Before Crawford can stop her Pat rmhes into the 
 room, slamming the door behind her. An instant's 
 pause, then Pat's voice is heard in heartbroken sur- 
 prise exclaiming "Nora." Rogers shows in Mrs. 
 O'Brien. She wears her ^'Sunday best,'' a black 
 silk dress, a fichu, a Paisley shawl and a bonnet. 
 She is very much agitated. She glances quickly 
 about the room. 
 Crawford. Good evening, Mrs. O'Brien. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Good evenin', Mr. Crawford. 
 Crawford, Won't you be seated? 
 
 [Crawford's manner reassures Mrs. O'Brien, who 
 controls herself and sits. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Thank you, sir. I hope you'll pardon 
 the intrusion. 
 
 Crawford. [Sitting."] It's not an intrusion, I assure you. 
 [There is a pause. Mrs. O'Brien is embarrassed, and 
 makes several efforts to address Crawford. She 
 finally plucks up courage. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. I'm in great distress, Mr. Crawford. 
 Crawford. Yes? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. I've had a terrible fright. I can't find 
 trace of me girls. 
 
 Crawford. Indeed? Can I be of any assistance to you? 
 
 [There is another pause. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [More embarrassed.] I've somethin' to 
 ask you, Mr. Crawford. Promise you won't take an of- 
 fence at an old woman. 
 Crawford. Certainly not. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Do you know aught of my Nora? 
 Crawford. I don't understand. 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Mallory was here, was he not? 
 Crawford. Yes. 
 
ACT III], THE CHORUS LADY 73 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. You were here when O'Brien telephoned. 
 
 Crawford. Yes. He said you didn't recognise your 
 daughters on the stage. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Good reason, they weren't there. I 
 couldn't wait fer Danny to come, so O'Brien an' me found 
 our way to the back door of the theatre, thinkin' they 
 might be in their dressin'-rooms. 
 
 Crawford. They were not there? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. They sent down a young lady, a Miss 
 Simpson, and she says to me, that they didn't know where 
 Pat was, but that maybe Nora had gone to Mr. Craw- 
 ford's. O'Brien was for comin' here, but he's hasty an' I 
 thought he might offend you, so I persuaded him to go 
 home. 
 
 Crawford. [Rises.'] I'm very sorry, Mrs. O'Brien, not 
 to be able to give you any assistance. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Rising.] How comes my Nora's name to 
 be linked with yours? 
 
 Crawford. That's chorus girl gossip. I've tried to be 
 nice to the girls because of my friendship for you and 
 O'Brien. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. 'Tis meant kindly, Mr. Crawford, but it 
 has done harm for what that young woman intimated made 
 me ashamed for me darlin'. 
 
 Crawford. I'm very sorry, Mrs. O'Brien. I meant no 
 harm. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. 'Tis relieved I am to find she's not here. 
 She and Pat's off somewhere together, likely. 
 
 Crawford. Quite probably. Did they expect you? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. No. 'Twas my idea to surprise them. 
 Danny left word but I misdoubt they got it. I'll just be 
 goin' along. Thank you, Mr. Crawford, for your kind- 
 ness. 
 
 [She turns to go. Rogers enters, 
 
 Rogers. Mr. Mallory is here, sir. 
 
 [Dan rushes past Rogers into the room. 
 
74 THE CHORUS LADY' [act iii 
 
 Dan. [To Mrs. O'Brien.] I followed you. O'Brien 
 said you had come here for Nora. 
 
 [Rogers leaves, 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. She's not here. 
 
 Dan. I'm not so sure of that. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Whatever do you mean, Danny? 
 
 Crawford. [Indignantly.] Yes, I'd like to know what 
 you mean? 
 
 Dan. Miss Simpson was very positive that Nora had 
 come to see you. 
 
 Crawford. I'm quite as positive that Miss Simpson was 
 mistaken. 
 
 Dan. Nora is not here? 
 
 Crawford. Of course not. 
 
 Dan. [Going towards him.'] Who was the woman in that 
 room when I was here before? 
 
 Crawford. What woman? 
 
 Dan. The woman you hid in there when I was an- 
 nounced. The woman who stole out of that room while 
 you were at the telephone, thinkin' I had gone. She saw 
 me an' stole back again. I saw her hand closin' the door. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Are you deceivin' me, Mr. Crawford? 
 
 Crawford. Deceiving you, Mrs. O'Brien? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. For the love of God don't tell me my 
 Nora's there. 
 
 Crawford. I have already told you, Mrs. O'Brien, that 
 I know nothing about your daughter. That Nora's not 
 here. Mr. Mallory's talking nonsense. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, Dan, Mr. Crawford's given you his 
 word ; come away, boy. 
 
 Dan. I'll come away when I have had a look through 
 that other room. 
 
 [He starts for the bedroom. Crawford, trying to 
 intercept him, is thrown aside roughly by Dan who 
 pulls the door open. Pat, who has been holding it 
 closed, is dragged into the room. She closes the 
 door hastily and stands against it, barring the way. 
 
ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 75 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Sinking into a chair.] Pat! You, that 
 I thought was good as gold. 
 
 Pat. I'm not what you both think. 
 
 Dan. Then what brings you here in the night to this 
 man's rooms? Speak to me. [Pat is silent.] Answer me. 
 
 Pat. I came here to see Mr. Crawford on a matter a 
 business. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Rising.] Come away with us, girl. 
 
 Pat. I can't. 
 
 Dan. You can't, why not? 
 
 Crawford. You'd better go. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Come Pat, your father may follow us 
 here at any moment. 
 
 Crawford. I'd advise you to go. I don't want a scene 
 with O'Brien. 
 
 Dan. [Turning on Crawford.] O'Brien was right. He 
 never trusted you, you blackguard, destroyin' the daughter 
 of the man that made you welcome in his home, deceivin' 
 him, deceivin' me that believed in you, deceivin' her, bring- 
 in' shame on her. By God — I'll 
 
 [He goes towards Crawford threateningly. Pat stops 
 him quickly. 
 
 Pat. Don't quarrel, Dan. I've had enough to bear. I 
 don't want to separate you two. Think what you'll lose. 
 
 Dan. [Turning on her.] Lose? I've lost every thin', 
 losin' you. [To Crawford.] We're down an' out from 
 now, Crawford. 
 
 Crawford. As you please, and now that our affairs are 
 in a measure settled 
 
 Dan. [Grimly.] Settled? We've just begun. 
 
 Pat. No, no, Dan. I know everythin's dead against 
 me, but you don't know, you don't know. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Know? We know you've brought dis- 
 grace on me an' your old father an' Nora. Where is she? 
 What have you done with my Nora? [Bitterly.] You 
 that was to watch over her? 
 
 Pat. I've t^ken care a her all right. 
 
76 THE CHORUS LADY [act hi 
 
 Dan. How? By passin' her off to them girls at the the- 
 atre as this man's sweetheart? 
 
 Pat. Who said that? 
 
 Dan. The Simpson woman. Didn't you lead them to 
 think that Nora was comin' to his rooms, when it was your- 
 self? Where is she? 
 
 Pat. I don't know where she is. We've quarrelle' 
 
 Dan. About this man? 
 
 Pat. Yes, about this man. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [To Dan.] Come, it will do no good to 
 stay. 
 
 Crawford. She's right, Mallory. I advise you to go. 
 I've had a few hard things said to me tonight, and I'm not 
 in the humour for any more. 
 
 Dan. You'll have a few hard things done to you before 
 I get through with you. 
 
 Pat. No, no, Dan. I can explain. [Dan ttirns to her 
 hopefully.'] But not now, you've gotta trust me. 
 
 Dan. I did trust you. I trusted him an' you've both 
 made a fool of me. 
 
 Pat. No, no, Dan. Take Mom away; I can make it all 
 right with you. 
 
 Dan. [Contemptuously.'] You can make it all right with 
 me? I suppose you think I'm not wise to the kind of 
 woman you've turned out to be. I suppose you thought 
 when he got through with you an' he cast you off you'd 
 come to me. He's one of the rich men you wuz willin' to 
 give up for me. Well, you needn't. If money counts for 
 more than love you're welcome to it an' to him. 
 
 [He turns to leave. 
 
 Pat. [Following him.] Love, a lot you know about it. 
 •Love is trust. An' you're the man I banked on an* the 
 first minute I puts you to the test you fall down hard. If 
 you think I'm bad you can think it. I'm through with 
 you. 
 
 [She takes her position again at the door. 
 
ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 77 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Angrily.] Have you no shame to stand 
 there and brazen it out before the man who loves you? 
 ITo Dan.] Let her father settle with this man. 
 
 Dan. No. Do you think he's goin' to wreck her life 
 an' wreck all my hopes an' go scot free? No, he's goin' 
 to answer to me. 
 
 [He advances menacingly towards Crawford. 
 Crawford. I'm not going to fight with you. I'm not 
 going to have my name mixed up in a dirty scandal with 
 a lot of race track hangers-on and chorus girls. I've had 
 enough of this. I've had enough of the lot of you. You'll 
 leave my house, all of you, every last one of you. 
 
 [He makes a movement towards the bedroom. Pat 
 stops him. 
 Pat. [Imploringly.'] No, no, not that, not after all I've 
 done. There won't be any scandal. There won't be any 
 fight. I'll get rid of 'em. [She goes over to Dan.] 
 Why don't you leave us? What do you want me to do? 
 What more do you want me to say? I love this man. 
 He's everythin' to me. You're nothin' to me. Don't 
 stand lookin' at me like that. Go! Go! 
 
 [Mrs. O'Brien, crying, goes towards the door to the 
 hall. Dan looks at Pat who apparently defies him, 
 then he leads Mrs. O'Brien gently from the room. 
 As the door closes Pat makes an impulsive move to 
 follow them, then stops and breaks into heart- 
 broken sobbing. Crawford watches her, then, 
 moved to sympathy, comes to her. 
 Crawford. You needn't mind about that money. You 
 needn't pay. 
 
 Pat. [Bitterly ^^ I needn't pay? [She turns on him furi- 
 ously^ I have paid with my good name, with my moth- 
 er's trust. With the love of the man I've loved all my 
 life. That's what I've paid to save my sister from you, 
 you beast. I suppose you and your kind think when you 
 take some poor devil of a girl starvin' for a little comfort, 
 a minute or two a happiness, an' you make her a thing 
 
78 THE CHORUS LADY [act hi 
 
 that good women won't look at, I suppose you think your 
 measly money pays. Pays for the homes you ruin, the 
 mothers' hearts you break, the girls you send to hell. You 
 pay! No, it's the woman that pays, and pays and pays. 
 [She is sobbing in an hysterical rage as the curtain 
 jails. 
 
THE FOURTH ACT 
 
 The parlour of a jour-room flat in Harlem occupied by Pat 
 and Nora. It is characteristically "cheap" the wood- 
 work is painted in an imitation golden oak, the wall- 
 paper garish. It is a very small room; at the back is 
 a door opening into the main hall of the building, on 
 the right a door to the bedroom, on the left the open- 
 ing to an alcove which serves as the dining-room. 
 There are only a few articles of furniture in the room 
 and these are plainly of the installment plan type. On 
 the walls are numerous signed photographs of musical 
 comedy favourites, and gaudily coloured "Art" repro- 
 ductions. The room is in darkness. As the curtain 
 rises a key is heard turning in the lock. Pat enters 
 from the door to the hall. She is tired, dejected. 
 Nora, wearing a simple house gown, enters from the 
 dining-room. 
 
 Nora. Hush! 
 
 Pat. Are they here? 
 
 Nora. Mom's waiting in there. 
 
 Pat. Where's Dan? 
 
 Nora. Gone to the hotel for Pop. 
 
 Pat. Did you beat 'em here? 
 
 Nora. Yes. 
 
 Pat. Gee, that was luck. I was scared green. [She 
 turns on the light.'] What'd you tell 'em? 
 
 Nora. What you said. I took sick before the show and 
 had to come home. 
 
 Pat. Did they say anythin' about me? 
 
 Nora. Asked me if I knew where you were. I said I 
 left you at the theatre. 
 
 79 
 
80 THE CHORUS LADY [act iv 
 
 Pat. That's good. 
 
 Nora. It's twelve o'clock. Where have you been? 
 
 Pat. [Sitting wearily.] Ridin' round on the "L" tryin' 
 to get up nerve to face Pop. I'd 'a' given my eye teeth to 
 a kept this from him. Too late now. Mom'll tell him 
 every thin'. 
 
 Nora. [Peevishly.] Oh, if you hadn't hidden from Mom. 
 
 Pat. I got rattled. 
 
 Nora. [Angrily.] You had no business following me. 
 
 Pat. Lucky I did an' found you before it was too late. 
 
 Nora. You've only gotten yourself into trouble and 
 haven't helped me. 
 
 Pat. 'Spose I thought I run any risk with Dan? 'Spose 
 I thought for a minute he wouldn't trust me, wouldn't be- 
 lieve I was true an' good, no matter how appearances was 
 against me? 
 
 Nora. Don't you think he'll make up? 
 
 Pat. I don't know nor I don't care. Serves me right. 
 If I'd a kept my promise to Mom to watch over you 'stead 
 of bein' so took up with my own business that I left you 
 to run around with that Simpson woman, it all needn't have 
 happened. I'm to blame an' I gotta pay for it. 
 
 Nora. How are we going to get the money for the note? 
 
 Pat. We'll save it outa what we earn. 
 
 Nora. You promised you'd get it from Dan. 
 
 Pat. Ask Dan Mallory for money? Ain't there any 
 limit to what you want me to do for you? Ask him for 
 money? I'd scrub floors first. I'm dead to the woild. 
 Make me a cup of coffee, will you? 
 
 [Nora goes out. Pat sits a moment in thought, then 
 begins to cry softly. 
 
 Pat. Oh, Dan, Dan! 
 
 [There is a ring at the door bell. Pat starts to her 
 feet. Mrs. O'Brien enters from the bedroom. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Severely.] So you've come home, have 
 you? [Pat is silent. Mrs. O'Brien opens the door, 
 Dan comes in.] Oh, 'tis you, Dan. Where's O'Brien? 
 
ACT IV] THE CHORUS LADY 81 
 
 Dan. I couldn't find him. He hadn't been at the hotel. 
 
 Pat. Haven't you two seen Pop tonight? 
 
 Dan. No. 
 
 Pat. Then I want you both to promise me that you 
 won't say nothin' to him of what you seen tonight. He'd 
 only make a muss with Crawford. No good'U come a that. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Lave you an' that man to your carryin* 
 on! No! 
 
 Pat. You keep quiet an' I'll promise never to see Craw- 
 ford again. Don't you see I'm doin' this for Pop's sake? 
 No need for him to know. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. The kind of a girl you are. 
 
 Pat. [Sadly.] The kind of a girl I am. You'll prom- 
 ise. It's the last think I'll ever ask you, Mom. Say you 
 will for his sake, for the sake a me that was dear to you 
 once, say you won't tell.- 
 
 [Mrs. O'Brien looks at her, then at Dan. Pat goes 
 over quickly to Dan. 
 
 Pat. Won't you promise? Are you goin' to tell? 
 
 Dan. Tell? Do you think I want to break your father's 
 heart like you've broken mine? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. An' you'll promise never to see Craw- 
 ford again? 
 
 Pat. Yes, yes. 
 
 [Mrs. O'Brien looks helplessly at Dan who shows by 
 a look that she mmt consent. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Then I won't tell. 
 
 Pat. That's fixed. 
 
 [She turns to leave the room. 
 
 Dan. [Following.'] What lie are you goin' to frame up 
 for your father? 
 
 Pat. I'll tell him it's all off with you an' me. That's 
 no lie. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. You'll have to think a somethin' better 
 nor that to convince your father. He'll want some good 
 reason for me takin' Nora home with me. 
 
 Pat. You're goin' to take Nora away from me? 
 
82 THE CHORUS LADY [act iv 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. It's high time she was out a this. 
 
 Pat. Then I ain't goin' to have no one. You don't 
 think I'm fit to have my honey lamb around. You think 
 I'd make my sister bad. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! 
 
 [She leaves the room in a passion of tears. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Dan. I almost misdoubt me own senses. 
 It's hard to believe her bad. Oh, what's to become of her? 
 
 [She sits and begins to cry, 
 
 Dan. [Going to her.] You must take her home with you. 
 You can't leave her here alone to be tempted again by that 
 man. No one knows but you an' me? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. But what if O'Brien's gone to Craw- 
 ford's? 
 
 Dan. Crawford won't tell him. You heard him say he 
 didn't want a row on his hands. You'll take her. Who'll 
 stand by her if you won't? 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. She won't listen to me. [She rises, and 
 goes to Dan.] Help me to persuade her.' I've no one to 
 lean on but you, boy. You'll have a talk with her? 
 
 Dan. Yes. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. An' you won't leave me to face O'Brien 
 alone? 
 
 Dan. [Soothing her.] Don't worry. It'll be all right. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. God love you, Danny boy. 
 
 [She goes into the bedroom. Dan stands looking 
 after Mrs. O'Brien. Nora enters hurriedly, ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 Nora. [Indignantly.] What's this about me going home? 
 Pat says Mom's going to take me away. 
 
 Dan. She thinks it best. 
 
 Nora. [Angrily.] I don't want to go home. I can't live 
 down on that farm now. I won't. No fun nor nothing. 
 I've had enough to bear without being dragged into the 
 country. Why, they've promised me a part in the next 
 show. Besides, I ain't going to run away and have those 
 girls gossiping about me. [Dan turns to her.] I'll get 
 
ACT iv] THE CHORUS LADY 8S 
 
 even with Sylvia Simpson for getting me into this mess. 
 Jealous cat! 
 
 Dan. Jealous? Of what? 
 
 Nora. Of everything. 'Cause I'm younger and prettier 
 than she is. 'Cause I'm going to have the part she wanted. 
 Talking about me to people. 
 
 Dan. She said you were at Crawford's room tonight. 
 
 Nora. I know. Sent Mom and Pop chasing after me. 
 
 Dan. Oh, you know that? 
 
 Nora. [Flustered.] Yes. Mom told me. 
 
 Dan. Your mother told you? 
 
 Nora. Yes, and that ain't the worst of it. Oh, Dan, 
 we're in awful trouble. 
 
 Dan. What is it? 
 
 Nora. We — er — we — er 
 
 Dan. Come on, if I'm to get you out of this I must know 
 aJl about it. 
 
 Nora. I'll tell you, Dan, because I know you'll stand by 
 us for Mom's sake. 
 
 Dan. Well? 
 
 Nora. We owe money and — ^and — Pat says we can save 
 it out of what we earn. But how are we goin' to save three 
 hundred dollars? 
 
 Dan. Three hundred dollars! Don't bother about it 
 any more. I'll pay it for you. 
 
 Nora. That wouldn't do. 
 
 Dan. Why not? 
 
 Nora. I'd rather you'd give me the money. 
 
 Dan. Give you the money? How can you explain it to 
 Pat? 
 
 Nora. She can't say anything if the note is paid. 
 
 Dan. The note? 
 
 Nora. Well, we had to raise money somehow. Pat prom- 
 ised she'd get it from you, but she won't now you've quar- 
 relled. 
 
 Dan. How do you know we've quarrelled? 
 
 Nora. [Lying.] Pat told me. 
 
84. THE CHORUS LADY [act iv 
 
 Dan. All right. I'll give it to you. 
 
 Nora. Oh, Dan, you are good. You don't know what 
 you've saved us from. 
 
 Dan. That's all right. I'd like to speak to Pat. 
 
 JSToRA. Oh, you'll spoil everything if you tell Pat. 
 
 Dan. Leave it to me. I'm only goin' to do what's right. 
 [Nora goes. Dan stands pondering the information 
 he has secured from Nora. He feels that Pat's pres- 
 ence in Crawford's room is in some way connected 
 with Nora. Pat enters. 
 
 Pat. [Coldly.-] Well? 
 
 Dan. Will you let me speak to you, please? 
 
 Pat. What can we have to say to each other now? 
 
 Dan. Nothin' about tonight. Let that go as it lays. 
 I'd like to ask a favour of you. 
 
 Pat. What right 
 
 Dan. [Hastily.'] I've no rights now. But I want your 
 help. Forget me in this. It's for your mother. 
 
 Pat. I guess she don't want nothin' from me, not love 
 even. 
 
 Dan. She's been hard on you. 
 
 Pat. She thinks I gave her cause. 
 
 Dan. What do you think? 
 
 Pat. [Bitterly.] I ain't thinkin'. I don't care. 
 
 Dan. But I know there's nothin' you wouldn't do for her. 
 
 Pat. [Sadly.] That's right, though she doesn't seem wise 
 to the fact. 
 
 Dan. She wants you to come home. 
 
 Pat. [Joyfully.] Come home with her! Why? [Dan 
 is confused. Pat smiles bitterly.] Oh, I see. She can't 
 trust me. She don't believe I'd keep my promise. An' 
 all I've ever been to her don't count for nothin'. 
 
 Dan. No, no, she loves you. She's willin' to stand by 
 you. 
 
 Pat. [Indignantly.] Then why doesn't she come to me 
 an' say it herself? Why does she send you? 
 
 Dan. She thought you mightn't listen to her. She hoped 
 
ACT IV] THE CHORUS LADY 85 
 
 I could persuade you. That time's past. I see it's useless 
 to plead with you. You won't say yes'^ 
 
 Pat. I can't go. What do you think I am? Go down 
 home an' have you an' Mom overlookin' things, bein' sorry 
 for me, kind to me. Not for mine, thank you. 
 
 Dan. No, I promise you we'll forget 
 
 Pat. An' forgive. Wait till I ask it, will you? 
 
 Dan. Give me a reason why you don't do what your 
 mother asks. I must tell her somethin'. Is it because you 
 love Crawford? 
 
 Pat. [Scornfully.'] Love him. Love him! 
 
 Dan. Then why? 
 
 Pat. Look here, what right have you to stand there givin' 
 me the thoid degree? I can't go, and I won't go. And that 
 settles it. 
 
 [She starts to leave the room, 
 
 Dan. Is it the money? 
 
 Pat. [Surprised.] The money? 
 
 Dan. Nora's told me. I'm going to pay the note. 
 
 Pat. You're goin' to pay Crawford? 
 
 Dan. Crawford! Then it is Crawford! Now I see. 
 [He rushes to the door to the bedroom.] Mrs. O'Brien! 
 Mrs. O'Brien! 
 
 [Enter Mrs. O'Brien. 
 
 Pat. [Despairingly.] What are you goin' to do? 
 
 Dan. I'm goin' to show you up. I'm goin' to tell your 
 mother the kind of a girl you are; tell her I know all about 
 you an' Crawford; tell her that you didn't stop at any 
 lengths to save your sister; that it was Nora who owed the 
 money to Crawford, Nora who was in that room; tell her 
 that I'm the biggest fool on earth, the lowest dog alive to 
 doubt for one minute the girl I love, the girl who's too good 
 for me, too good for any of us. 
 
 [Much moved, he turns away, Mrs. O'Brien goes 
 quickly to Pat. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Pat. Oh, my girl. [There is a ring at! 
 
SQ THE CHORUS LADY [act iv 
 
 the door bell.] 'Tis O'Brien. [Dan opens the door. En- 
 ter O'Brieis.] Where have you been? 
 
 O'Brien. To Crawford's. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. Why, the girls are here. 
 
 Dan. Nora was at home, in bed, asleep. 
 
 O'Brien. So! An' [pointing to Pat] where was she? 
 
 Pat. Where was I? 
 
 [A pause. Dan and Mrs. O'Brien indicate their fear 
 that Crawford has told everything to O'Brien. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Reassuringly.] That talk of Nora and 
 Crawford was gossip, the clatter of an idle tongue. 
 
 O'Brien. Was it? Then what's this? [He shows a 
 slip of paper crumpled in his hand. He goes to Pat.] 
 What's this? If it's idle talk, why won't this man Craw- 
 ford see me? If it's gossip, how comes he to have a note 
 for money I never had, an' signed by me? "Tell him I 
 can't see him," that was his message by his man. "But 
 that I send him a souvenir of my acquaintance with his 
 daughter, an' that I'll thank him for the money." Well, 
 girl, haven't you a tongue in your head? Who signed 
 "P. O'Brien" to that paper? You dared to — use my name. 
 [There is a pause. Pat is nonplussed. Dan comes 
 to O'Brien. 
 
 Dan. It's her own name. 
 
 O'Brien. What? 
 
 Dan. [Taking the note.] It's signed "P. O'Brien." Why 
 shouldn't she sign it? Why shouldn't she get money from 
 Crawford? It's owin' to me, an' what's mine's hers. 
 
 Pat. [Tearfully.] Oh, Dan. 
 
 Dan. Crawford an' me's had a run in. I've quit him 
 an' he's sore tryin' to make trouble. 
 
 O'Brien. What would she be doin' with that amount a 
 money? 
 
 Dan. That would be tellin'. That's our secret. 
 
 O'Brien. But 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. [Going to O'Brien.] Mind your own 
 
ACT iv] THE CHORUS LADY 87 
 
 business, Patrick. It's the excitable man ye are, careerin^ 
 all over the town, an' us waitin' supper for ye. 
 
 O'Brien. [He goes to Pat.] Forgive me, girl. 'Twas 
 all a mistake. 
 
 Pat. Forget it, Pop. 
 
 [She kisses him, 
 O'Brien. Where's Nora? 
 
 Pat. In the kitchen. [O'Brien goes.} Mom, be spe- 
 cial kind to Nora. She's as good as gold. 
 
 Mrs. O'Brien. God love you for the good girl ye are, 
 and may HE forgive your ould mother. 
 
 [She folds Pat in her arms, kisses her, then follows 
 O'Brien. 
 Dan. I'd like to say "Amen" to that. You'll come home 
 with me now, Pat? 
 
 [Pat goes smiling into Dan's oid stretched arms. She 
 sighs and kisses him. 
 Pat. Dan, we'll settle down like a couple of Reubens. 
 Us an' the cows. 
 
 THE END 
 
I 
 
THE SHOW SHOP 
 
 A FARCICAL SATIRE IN FOUR ACTS 
 
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 
 
 Sadie 
 
 Wilbur Tompkins 
 
 Jerome Belden 
 
 Max Rosenbaum 
 
 Effie Brinkley 
 
 Johnny Brinkley 
 
 Mrs. Dean 
 
 Bettina Dean 
 
 A Night Clerk 
 
 Mr. Billings 
 
 Granby Smith 
 
 A Scene Painter 
 
 Maginnis 
 
 Goldman 
 
 Hickson 
 
 Steve 
 
 Miss Donahue 
 
 Miss Farrington 
 
 Miss Toby 
 
 Monk 
 
 Walters 
 
 The Scenes of the play are laid in the office of Max 
 Rosenbaum, New York City, the parlour of the Palace 
 Hotel, Punxatawney, the stage of a Broadway Theatre and 
 the appartment of Jerome Belden. 
 
 The action covers a period of time from August to Octo^ 
 ber, a month intervening between the first and second acts, 
 six weeks between the second and third, and fourteen hours 
 between the third and fourth. 
 
THE SHOW SHOP 
 
 Original cast, as first presented at the Hudson Theatre, 
 
 New York, December 31, 19 14. 
 It is arranged in the order in which the characters first 
 
 appear. 
 
 Sadie 
 
 Wilbur Tompkins 
 Jerome Belden 
 Max Rosenbaum 
 Effie Brinkley 
 Johnny Brinkley 
 Mrs. Dean . . 
 Bettina Dean . 
 A Night Clerk 
 Mr. Billings . 
 Granby Smith . 
 A Scene Painter 
 Maginnis . . 
 Goldman . . . 
 
 HiCKSON . . . 
 
 Steve .... 
 Miss Donahue 
 Miss Farrington 
 Miss Toby . . 
 Monk .... 
 Walters . . . 
 
 Edna Aug 
 Ned A . Sparks 
 Douglas Fairbanks 
 George Sidney 
 Olive May 
 William Sampson 
 Zelda Sears 
 Patricia Collinge 
 Sam Coit 
 Stapleton Kent 
 Felix Krembs 
 William Butler 
 Harry G. Bates 
 George Colt 
 Walter Young 
 Charles Emerson 
 Lillian Tucker 
 Rhy Alexander 
 Becky Bruce 
 At Gilmore 
 Edward Moore 
 
THE SHOW SHOP 
 
 THE FIRST ACT 
 
 The private office, in a Broadway theatre building, of Max 
 RosENBAUM, theatrical manager. On the right of the 
 room is a door opening on a hall that leads to a private 
 entrance to the stage, on the left a door to the office of 
 Rosenbaum's stage director, Wilbur Tompkins, and 
 at the back another door to the outer offices and the 
 waiting-room. At the left of the room are several 
 chairs and a table on which stands a scenic artist's 
 model of a stage setting, on the right a fiat-topped desk 
 and a swivel chair. Against the walls are filing cabinets 
 and above them, encircling the room, is a row of framed 
 *' flashlights" of scenes from a Rosenbaum production. 
 In the most prominent position, over the centre door, 
 is a large framed photograph of Rosenbaum. Tacked 
 to the walls are several "half -sheets'' to be used in 
 advertising Rosenbaum's forthcoming production, "The 
 Wallop." 
 
 It is eleven o'clock of a morning in August. On a bench in 
 the waiting-room is the usual row of patient and eter- 
 nally hopeful actors and actresses, seeking positions. 
 They exchange greetings with Sadie, Rosenbaum's 
 secretary, as she comes through the waiting-room into 
 the private office. She closes the door. 
 
 Sadie is pretty, quick-witted, clever-tongued, apparently 
 bored with life yet incurably romantic. She takes a 
 passionate interest in the affairs of the office, waging 
 an eternal feud with Tompkins, the stage director; in 
 fact, assuming a proprietary attitude toward the busi- 
 ness, and, while admiring Rosenbaum enormously, does 
 
 93 
 
94 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 not hesitate to criticise even him. She is carrying the 
 morning's mail, several telegrams, a manuscript of a 
 play and a set of ''parts." As she moves about the 
 room she sings a popular, sentimental ballad of the day. 
 
 Sadie. {Singing.'] ''You made me what I yam today " 
 
 [She picks up a newspaper, looks at it, smiles scornfully. 
 Has she got her picture in the paper again? {She throws 
 it down.] 
 
 [Singing.] "I hope you're satisfied, 
 
 You dragged me down, and down and down, 
 That cannot be deny-ed." 
 
 [Laying the parts on the desk. 
 "I hope I've copied these parts all right, and 
 
 now that we must part 
 
 [She slams the manuscript on the desk. 
 I wish you all kinds of good luck. 
 [Singing.] " 'Tis the coise of an achin' heart, 
 
 'Tis the coise " 
 
 [The telephone bell rings sharply. She picks up the re- 
 ceiver. Sure, I want it. 7776 Bryant. [Wearily.] 
 7-7-7-6 Bryant. [Freezingly.] I beg your pardon ; I gave 
 you the right number. [She listens impatiently, then pas- 
 sionately exclaims.] As Heaven is my judge, I gave you 
 the right number. [She waits.] As woman to woman. 
 [She listens again, then grows furiotfsly angry.] Well, 
 Madam, if you'll give me a chance I'll explain. I called up 
 Central and said I wanted the box-office and wanted to 
 
 speak to the Treasurer, please Yes, that's right 
 
 Yeppie. Three sevens and a six. [Laughs affectedly.] Oh, 
 that's all right, dearie. Yes, I'll hold it. [She stands wait- 
 ing, shifting from one foot to another, and changing the 
 receiver from hand to hand. She sighs and perches on the 
 end of the desk and, presently, to relieve the tedium, begins 
 to sing the ballad again, emphasising its pathos.] Hello. 
 [Crossly.] Hello! [Smiling coyly.] Oh, is that you, 
 Harry? This is Sadie. What did the manager say about 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 95 
 
 letting Mr. Rosenbaum have your stage for rehearsal today? 
 From eleven till one? Much obliged. Say, Harry, I'd like 
 a couple for tonight. Selling cut! Is that so? Ah, go on, 
 Harry, slip me a couple and mark 'em "Press." What! 
 Take me home after the show? Sure, if anybody's got to 
 stand on my feet in the subway I'd just as lief it'd be you, 
 darling. ■ 
 
 [As she replaces the receiver Tompkins, a lean, lank 
 individual of saturnine appearance, the incarnation 
 of pessimism, enters from his office. 
 
 Tompkins. Hello, Sadie! Have the scene models come? 
 
 Sadie. No. 
 
 Tompkins. Get on that phone to that scenic artist. 
 
 Sadie. Hello, give me 261 Greeley, and don't keep me 
 waiting like the last time. 
 
 Tompkins. Give him my love and ask him how in thun- 
 der I'm going to put on a show without scenery. 
 
 Sadie. 261 Greeley? I'm speaking for Mr. Tompkins, 
 Mr. Rosenbaum 's stage manager. 
 
 Tompkins. [Indignantly.] Director! Director! 
 
 Sadie. What about those models for our new play, "The 
 Wallop"? [To Tompkins.] Some title! 
 
 Tompkins. Some play! 
 
 Sadie. Mr. Rosenbaum thinks it's a masterpiece. 
 
 Tompkins. It's a mess. 
 
 Sadie. What? All right! [To Tompkins.] Be right 
 over. 
 
 Tompkins. Got the script and parts ready? 
 
 Sadie. [Giving him the manuscript and the parts.} 
 There's your copy. Take 'em away and chloroform 'em. 
 I've had to copy the parts for this show, but you bet your 
 life I'll never go to see it. 
 
 Tompkins. There's going to be. a whole lot of people side- 
 step this. Where's the fourth act? 
 
 Sadie. Hasn't been handed in yet. I dread it. 
 
 Tompkins. Cheer up, sister; it can't be any worse than 
 these. 
 
96 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 Sadie. Well, if it is, it's going to make those three acts 
 awful envious/) Oh, here's a couple of letters for you. 
 ^ t 3 Tompkins. [Opening the letters.^ Where's Rosie? 
 
 Sadie. Over to K. & E.'s, battling for a route. {She 
 sings.'] ''You made me what I yam today." 
 
 Tompkins. {Wearily.'] Must you do that? 
 
 Sadie. I can't help it if I have an ear for music. 
 
 Tompkins. [Reading the letter.] Gillette's thrown up 
 her part. 
 
 [Disgusted y he throws the letter on the desk. 
 
 Sadie. Isn't that the limit! I told Mr. Rosenbaum who 
 to get for that part. She's coming in to see him today. 
 
 Tompkins. Who is she? 
 
 Sadie. Bettina Dean. 
 
 Tompkins. Huh I 
 
 Sadie. Best-looking girl that has been in this office this 
 season. 
 
 Tompkins. Huh! 
 
 [He reads the second letter. 
 
 Sadie. The only thing that worries me is, if Mr. Rosen- 
 baum doesn't like her, I'm afraid I'll have to play the part 
 myself. 
 
 Tompkins. You hate yourself, don't you? This letter 
 means we lose Gilmore, too. 
 
 [He throws it on the desk. 
 
 Sadie. Are Gillette and Gilmore married? 
 
 Tompkins. Yes, poor Gilmore. 
 
 Sadie. ^ What was he going to playr) Who is he, anyhow? 
 
 Tompkins. Some truck-driver Rosie engaged to play a 
 man about town. 
 
 Sadie. Lucky it's a small part. So hard to get leading 
 men. All of them dancing at the cabarets. 
 
 Tompkins. [Going.] Time some of the bluffs in this 
 business were doing something. 
 
 Sadie. There are a lot of actors waiting out there to see 
 you. 
 
 Tompkins. Actors! There are none. 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP n 
 
 Sadie. What'U I do? 
 
 Tompkins. Get rid of 'em. 
 
 Sadie. How? 
 
 Tompkins. Tell 'em I'm dead. 
 
 Sadie. That's going to keep them happy all day. 
 
 [Tompkins turns, glares at Sadie, then goes into his 
 office, slamming the door. Sadie is laughing when 
 the door from the waiting-room is thrown open and 
 a breezy, good-looking type of the wealthy American 
 youth of today comes in hurriedly. It is Jerome 
 Belden. Sadie rises majestically, walks over to him 
 and points to the letters on the door. 
 Sadie. "Private" isn't painted on the other side of the 
 door just to make it look stylish* 
 Jerome. I'm looking for Mr. Rosenbaum. 
 Sadie. That doesn't give you any license to crowd your 
 personality into his private office. 
 Jerome. I'm sorry. I saw the door open and just blew in. 
 Sadie. The wind's shifted; blow out. 
 
 l^She turns away. 
 Jerome. [Following her.] I want to see Mr. Rosenbaum. 
 Sadie. You want to see an oculist. There's a sign out 
 there — "No Vacancies for Actors." 
 
 Jerome. I'm not an actor. I'm a business man. 
 SADiE/What's a business man doing in a theatrical office? 
 Who are you? 
 Jerome. Jerome Belden. 
 
 Sadie. Jerome Belden! That's a swell name, but it 
 means nothing in my young life. Did you have an appoint- 
 ment? 
 
 Jerome. No, but I must see him. 
 
 Sadie. [Sarcastically.] Sorry, but he isn't in. 
 
 [She moves to the chair at the desk, 
 Jerome. When will he be back? 
 Sadie. When he returns, fair stranger. 
 /^ Jerome. Don't you keep tabs on Mr. Rosenbaum? 
 Sadee. I'm his stenographer, not his wifeA 
 
98 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 Jerome. Oh! Has Miss Dean been here? 
 
 Sadie. What Miss Dean? 
 
 Jerome. Bettina Dean! 
 
 Sadie. I'm not allowed to divulge office secrets. 
 
 [She sits. 
 
 Jerome. [Offering a bill.'] Here. 
 
 Sadie. [Waving it aside.] Nothing doing. 
 
 Jerome. [Smiling.] Oh, go on, run up to Huyler's. 
 
 Sadie. [Taking it.] That's different. ' Mother told me I 
 was never to take money from a strange gentleman. But, 
 gee, none of the fellows I know have any. ) 
 
 Jerome. [Sitting across from her.] Let's get down to 
 cases. Have you ever seen Miss Dean? 
 
 Sadie. Best-looking girl that has been in this office this 
 season. 
 
 Jerome. [Offering another bill.] Go on, get another box. 
 
 Sadie. One box a day is my limit. 
 
 Jerome. Look here, have you ever been in love? 
 
 Sadie. [Sighing.] It's chronic with me. 
 
 Jerome. That's the way I feel about Miss Dean. I want 
 you to help me. 
 
 Sadie. I'm no first aid to stage-door Johnnies. 
 
 Jerome. Johnnies? I want to marry her. 
 
 Sadie. What? My, how romantic! 
 
 Jerome. I want her to marry me and give up the stage. 
 Her mother can't see that at all. I heard last night that 
 Mr. Rosenbaum is to see her today. If she gets this engage- 
 ment it's all off. 
 
 Sadie. Oh, I see. [Sympathetically.] Then you'll be 
 parted. 
 
 Jerome. Now you see what we're up against. 
 
 Sadie. Isn't real life just like the stage? 
 
 Jerome. Now come on; be a good fellow. Tell me, has 
 she been here? 
 
 Sadie. Not yet. Her appointment's for twelve today. 
 
 Jerome. Good! [He rises and goes to the door.] That 
 gives me a chance to see her before she gets here. Say, 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 9» 
 
 what's your favourite brand of flower? [Sadie smiles.] No? 
 Well, I'm just going to smother you in violets. 
 
 [He leaves hurriedly^ 
 Sadie. [Wistftdly.] Some girls have all the luck. 
 
 [Tompkins bursts in from his office. 
 Tompkins. Where's that script? 
 
 Sadie. I gave it to you once; if you're going to mislay it 
 like that I'll put a bell on it. 
 
 [She rises and gives the manuscript to him. 
 Tompkins. What was it I wanted to ask you? 
 Sadie. How should I know? I'm no mind-reader. 
 Tompkins. Can the persiflage. Oh, yes, what theatre 
 did Rosie get for rehearsal today? 
 
 Sadie. You can have the stage downstairs from eleven 
 till one. 
 
 [Max Rosenbaum, a jovial embodiment of his race, 
 enters briskly from the outer office. He carries a 
 theatrical "route^* book. 
 Sadie. Good morning, Mr. Rosenbaum. 
 Rosenbaum. Hello, Sadie. [To Tompkins.] Hello, 
 Sunshine. We've got to slam this show through. We open 
 in two weeks. Sadie, has the printer sent the proof of that 
 three-sheet? 
 
 Sadie. It's right outside. 
 Rosenbaum. Bring it in. 
 
 [Sadie goes. 
 Tompkins. Get a good route? 
 Rosenbaum. A pippin! 
 
 [He opens the book. 
 Tompkins. [Sarcastically.'] Well, what burgs did you 
 horn out of them? 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Reading.] We open in Toronto, jump to 
 
 Washington 
 
 Tompkins. Jump! It's a leap! 
 
 Rosenbaum. Yes, but if I can get the President to see 
 the show. 
 Tompkins. What have you got against Wilson? 
 
100 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 RosENBAUM. I'll get him to endorse it. 
 
 Tompkins. Why should he? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Didn't I vote for him? 
 
 Tompkins. Where do we scatter after Washington? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Montreal, then Wilmington, Schenectady, 
 Hartford, Rochester, New Haven, Troy and Punxatawney. 
 
 Tompkins. Just hitting the high places. What are yoii 
 doing, booking "The Wallop" with a ouija board? 
 
 RosENBAUM. And a week in Philadelphia. 
 
 Tompkins. This is a healthy show to wake up Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Say it will wake 'em up so hard, it'll give 
 'em insomnia. 
 
 [He places the route book on the desk. Sadie enters, 
 carrying a roll of paper. 
 
 Sadie. Here's the proof of that three-sheet. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Here, Sadie, stand up. [Rosenbaum places 
 a chair. Sadie stands on it and holds up the three-sheet. 
 Rosenbaum reads.'] ''Max Rosenbaum politely proffers 
 'The Wallop,' by Edgerton Porter, staged under the direc- 
 tion of Max Rosenbaum and Wilbur Tompkins." 
 
 Tompkins. [^Satirically.'] Couldn't you work your mon- 
 icker in some place else? 
 
 Rosenbaum. I might make it, "By Max Rosenbaum 
 
 and " [Tompkins laughs.] Well, I gave the author 
 
 the idea and a lot of the dialogue. 
 
 Tompkins. Why pay him royalties? Why didn't you 
 write it yourself? 
 
 Rosenbaum. I haven't time to do the hack work. Sadie, 
 tell the printer to put Max on one line and Rosenbaum on 
 the other, and cut down the size of the author's name. 
 Who is he, anyway? 
 
 [Sadie, agreeing, goes. 
 [Rosenbaum puts on his office-coat, then sits, reading 
 his mail. 
 
 Tompkins. Got a minute? 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 101 
 
 RosENBAUM. I haven*t a thing to do but listen to your 
 troubles. What's on your mind? 
 
 Tompkins. [Sitting.] Oh, nothing! First rehearsal at 
 eleven, no last act, no scenery, no leading woman 
 
 RosENBAUM. Gillette quit? 
 
 Tompkins. [Sarcastically.'] She's ill. 
 
 [He hands Rosenbaum a letter, 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Reading it.] She'd had a better offer. 
 
 Tompkins. It's like her to wait till the first rehearsal. 
 
 RosENBAUM, I was afraid she'd throw us down. I've 
 got just the girl. I told her that if anything happened to 
 Gillette, I'd give her the first chance. I've an appointment 
 with her today at twelve. 
 
 [He presses the buzzer on his desk. 
 
 Tompkins. [Handing Rosenbaum the Other letter.] 
 Gilmore's quit, too. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Reading.] Well, you didn't like him. 
 What kind of a type do you want? 
 
 Tompkins. He ought to look like a clubman, wear his 
 clothes well. He sings a song in the first act, dances a 
 tango 
 
 Rosenbaum. For sixty dollars a week, you want a cross 
 between John Drew, Caruso and Vernon Castle. That's 
 easy! [Sadie rmhes in.] Sadie, telephone Miss Dean, over 
 to the St. Agnes: tell her not to wait until twelve o'clock, 
 but to come right over. 
 
 Sadie. [Disconsolately.] Right over? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Yes, and make out a couple of contracts 
 and leave the salary blank. 
 
 [Sadie rushes out, 
 
 Tompkins. Is it Bettina Dean? , 
 
 Rosenbaum. Yes. 
 
 Tompkins. Oh, Lord! 
 
 Rosenbaum. What is it? 
 
 Tompkins. Has a mother, hasn't she? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Must have had a father, too. What's the 
 matter with mother? 
 
102 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 Tompkins. If Mamma Dean is going to be on this job, 
 you won't want a stage manager for this show, you'll want 
 a lion tamer. 
 
 [He goes into his office. Sadie enters. 
 Sadie. Mr. and Mrs. Brinkley calling. 
 RosENBAUM. Show 'em in, show 'em in. Come in, Effie. 
 Effie. [Entering.'] Well, Rosie? [Sadie goes. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Shaking hands.] Where's Johnny? 
 Effie. Somewhere in the rear. That man's always leav- 
 ing Buffalo just as I'm pulling into the Grand Central. 
 Johnny. [Entering.] Who are you knocking now? 
 Rosenbaum. [Shaking hands.] Well, well, Johnny! 
 [Effie Brinkley is a plump, pretty, jolly woman of 
 thirty-jive, her bleached hair, too youthful hat, and 
 gown, indicating clearly the passe soubrette. Her 
 husband, Johnny, a small, spare man in the fifties, 
 has the gloomy manner and defected appearance that 
 is so often characteristic of the comedian in private 
 life. 
 Rosenbaum. Here, sit down, sit down. 
 Effie. Didn't I tell you he'd be the same old Rosie? 
 Rosenbaum. Why not? 
 Johnny. You're a great manager, now. 
 Rosenbaum. Anybody who's had one success is a great 
 manager. 
 
 [Effie and Johnny sit. Rosenbaum gets a box of 
 cigars. 
 Effie. Johnny didn't want to come. 
 Rosenbaum. [Reproachfully.] Johnny and you knew me 
 
 when I 
 
 Johnny. I never bank on that "I knew him when'^ thing. 
 
 [He takes a cigar. 
 Effie. The sight of you, Rosie, takes me back to 'Frisco. 
 Johnny. Remember that joint we all lived in? 
 Rosenbaum. The House of a Thousand Prunes. 
 
 [They laugh. Rosenbaum sits at his desk. 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP lOS 
 
 Effie. My, but five years makes a big difference in this 
 business! 
 
 RosENBAUM. Effie, you don't look a day older. 
 
 Effie. It's my grand new liquid rouge. 
 
 Johnny. And I just paid three dollars to regild her 
 dome. 
 
 Rosenbaum. How's the world using you? 
 
 Johnny. We're still among the deserving poor. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Where have you been keeping yourself? 
 
 Effie. Hiding out in the alfalfa. 
 
 Rosenbaum, You ought to be on Broadway. 
 
 Johnny. We haven't a look-in. I haven't that sex appeal. 
 
 Effie. Isn't it funny some New York manager doesn't 
 take a violent fancy to Johnny? 
 
 Johnny. H-ish, Effie, you make me feel like an aban- 
 doned woman. 
 
 Rosenbaum. What can I do for you? 
 
 Effie. Well, a couple of jobs would come in handy. 
 
 Johnny. Anything in this play you're putting on? 
 
 Rosenbaum. I'U see, Johnny. [He looks at the "cast 
 sheet" on his desk.] There's a bit in the last act. 
 
 Johnny. One of those bad butlers? 
 
 Rosenbaum. No, a chauffeur. 
 
 Effie. Anything for me? We always go together. He's 
 too darn attractive to leave lying around loose. 
 
 Rosenbaum. There's a housekeeper. But, oh, you 
 couldn't afford to play them. 
 
 Effie The only thing an actor can't afford to be is idle. 
 
 Johnny. We're eating on the last link of my gold watch 
 and chain. What do they pay? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Hold fast. 
 
 Johnny. [Clutching his chair.'] Spring it! 
 
 Rosenbaum. Seventy-five dollars for the two of them. 
 
 Johnny. [Gasping.] Air! I want air! 
 
 Rosenbaum. I tell you what: we'll make it a hundred. 
 
 [He presses the buzzer. 
 
 Effie. Now, Rosie, we don't want to work you. 
 
104 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 RosENBAUM. What's money between friends? [Sadie 
 btistles in.] Sadie, make out a contract for Effie and John 
 Brinkley at One Hundred. [To Effie.] I'll mail it to you. 
 
 Sadie. Mrs. Dean and Miss Dean are waiting to see you. 
 
 RosENBAUM. When I ring, show them in. [Sadie goes.} 
 
 Effie. Is Betty Dean to be in the company? 
 
 RosENBAUM. I'm figuring on her for the lead. Do you 
 know her? 
 
 Effie. Know her? Many's the two weeks' notice her 
 mother and I have read off the same call-board. Haven't 
 seen her for years until she turned up this summer. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Can the girl act? 
 
 Effie. She should if she's anything like her mother, 
 Matilda Kent. You've heard of her. Used to play leading 
 business. 
 
 Johnny. I thought that Betty was going to marry that 
 young fellow who's been hanging around. 
 
 Effie. Oh, no; he insists that Betty give up the stage. 
 Matilda gave up a big career to marry. She won't let Betty 
 make the same mistake. 
 
 Johnny. Jerry is one of the idle rich, but he's a nice kid. 
 
 Effie. Yes, but when you think of the late Mr. Dean, 
 you can't blame Matilda for being something of a pessimist 
 when it comes to love. She's devoted her life to Betty and 
 she's determined to get her on Broadway. 
 
 Johnny. Then no man, woman or child will stop her. 
 She's some warrior, is Matilda. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Johnny, you're throwing an awful scare into 
 me. 
 
 Effie. Don't mind Johnny. He always was an artist 
 with a hammer. I like Matilda. You take Betty. She's a 
 find for some manager. Where are the parts? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Here. 
 
 [Effie and Johnny rise. Rosenbaum hands a part 
 of two ''sides" to Effie and another of three "sides'* 
 to Johnny. They look at them, then at Rosen- 
 baum, who smiles apologetically. 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 105 
 
 Effie. All of this? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Oh, that's all right, Effie, you can build 
 it up. 
 
 Effie. Are you engaging me as an actress or an architect? 
 Johnny. Cheer up, Effie; if anyone in the audience winks, 
 they'll miss me. 
 
 Effie. Where are we rehearsing? 
 
 RosENBAUM. We're using the stage downstairs. You can 
 go out that way. 
 
 [He indicates the door at the right of the room, 
 Effie. Good-bye, Rosie. 
 
 \_She shakes hands and starts to go. 
 Johnny. [Shaking hands.'] Rosie, you've been immense 
 to us. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Oh, that's all right. 
 Effie. Come over to see us. 
 RosENBAUM. Sure. 
 Johnny. We'll have some prunes. 
 
 [Johnny and Effie leave. Rosenbaum pushes the 
 buzzer and then, sitting at the desk, assumes a man- 
 agerial attitude, affecting to be very busy in order 
 to i-mpress Mrs. Dean and Betty, who are shown 
 in by S«*die. Mrs. Dean is a woman of fifty, shrewd, 
 capable, dominated by one idea only, and that the 
 furthering of her daughter's success on the stage; in 
 a word, the typical "stage mother," the terror of 
 managers and the despair of stage directors. Her 
 nondescript bonnet and her shabby blue serge suit 
 are in striking contrast to the exquisitely charming 
 attire of her daughter, Bettina, a very pretty girl 
 of twenty, who bows shyly to Rosenbaum, on whom 
 her mother advances with an air of grim determina- 
 tion. 
 Rosenbaum. [Rising.'] Good morning, Miss Dean, Mrs. 
 Dean. Sit down, please. [They sit.] Well, Miss Dean, 
 are you at liberty to consider an offer? 
 Mrs. Dean. [Interposing.] That depends. 
 
 / 
 
106 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 RosENBAUM. What did you do last season? 
 
 Betty. I played Mary Turner in '^Within the Law." 
 
 Mrs. Dean. She was the original, in the number 13 com- 
 pany. 
 
 Betty. Oh, I hope it isn't another crook. I'm so sick 
 of crime. 
 
 Rosenbaum. There isn't a crook in the play. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Why, Mr. Rosenbaum, what a daring de- 
 parture! 
 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, I've got a novelty. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Don't tell me you've found a playwright 
 with a new idea ! 
 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, no; everything in it has been done a 
 thousand times, but it's got a new twist and a good religious 
 punch. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Complacently.] Betty was wonderful in 
 'The Christian.'-' 
 
 Betty. What sort of a part is this? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Pathos, comedy, emotion, the whole bunch 
 of tricks. Do you think you can handle it? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Mere child's play for Betty? 
 
 Betty. [Protesting.] Oh, Mother! 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Drily.] You're not at all prejudiced. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Taking press notices from her bag.] Mr. 
 Rosenbaum, I don't ask you to take a mother's word for 
 her daughter's ability. Listen: [Reading.^ ''The comedy 
 of a Mrs. Fiske, the emotion of a Duse, the grace of a 
 Pavlowa and the charm of an Ethel Barrymore." That's a 
 slight tribute to Betty from the Oscaloosa Eagle. The Waco 
 Argus says 
 
 Betty. Oh, mother, Mr. Rosenbaum doesn't want to hear 
 my press notices. 
 
 [She rises, embarrassed, and moves away, 
 
 Mrs. Dean. I'm only trying to prove to Mr. Rosenbaum 
 that you can act circles around any of these Broadway 
 favourites. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Broadway doesn't want acting. 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 107 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Beaming.] Mr. Rosenbaum, it's a pleasure 
 to meet a manager who knows the New York public. 
 
 [She rises and sits across the desk from Rosenbaum. 
 Rosenbaum. [Whispering.'] Mrs. Dean, has she any per- 
 sonality? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. That, perhaps, is Betty's greatest charm. 
 Rosenbaum. Has she any mannerisms? They like them, 
 too. 
 Mrs. Dean. She's full of mannerisms. 
 Rosenbaum. [Shaking hands across the desk.] You're a 
 woman after my own heart. What's her salary? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Two hundred dollars a week and her clothes. 
 [Rosenbaum draws his hand away quickly as if stung. 
 Betty, who has wandered to the other side of the 
 room, turning quickly in surprise, meets the warning 
 look of Mrs. Dean. 
 Rosenbaum. For an unknown actress? 
 Mrs. Dean. Unknown! I've never noticed your portrait 
 in any Hall of Fame. 
 
 Rosenbaum. I'll give you one hundred dollars. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Rising.] Betty, wasn't that appointment 
 with Mr. Belasco for today? 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Laughing.] Belasco! Now we've both had 
 our little joke. Let's talk business; one hundred dollars. 
 Mrs. Dean. Quite a comedian, aren't you? 
 Rosenbaum. I'm sorry. Maybe we can do business some 
 other time. [Betty comes toward Mrs. Dean. Rosen- 
 baum "sizes" her up.] Well, what do you say to one hun- 
 dred and twenty-five? It's a great part. 
 
 [Mrs. Dean's back is toward Rosie. She smiles tri- 
 umphantly at Betty, then turns to Rosenbaum with 
 gracious dignity. 
 Mrs. Dean. I hope you get someone to play it. Come, 
 Betty. 
 
 [They start to go. 
 Rosenbaum. [Following them.] One hundred and fifty, 
 [Mrs. Dean turns] but you buy the clothes. 
 
108 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Suspiciously.'] Will we come into New 
 York? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Worse plays have. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [All smiling graciousness.'] Betty, dear, how 
 would you like to work for Mr. Rosenbaum? 
 
 Betty. [Indifferently.] I'd just as soon. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Well, as Betty feels so strongly about it, V\l 
 take it. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Before I engage her, I'd like to have her 
 read a speech or two. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Certainly. 
 
 Betty. Oh, I couldn't. 
 
 Rosenbaum. I've got to get some idea of what you can 
 do before I sign you up. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. It's the nervousness of the artist. She in- 
 herits it. I felt exactly the same way when I had to read 
 the Portia speech for dear Mr. Booth. [With a gesture j 
 reciting.] "The quality of mercy is not strained." 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Stopping her.] It's your daughter I'm en- 
 gaging. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Roguishly.] Ah, yes, of course. [She 
 giggles.] If you give Betty a moment to look it over. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Sure. Take this speech. 
 
 [He hands Mrs. Dean a part and goes into the wait- 
 ing-room. Mrs. Dean turns joyously to Betty. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Oh, Betty, my darling, you're going to get 
 your chance; you're going to be on Broadway. 
 
 Betty. Maybe I can't play the part. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Matilda Kent's daughter can play anything! 
 
 Betty. But for $150 he'll expect so much of me. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. My dear, the more a manager pays you the 
 better he thinks you are. [She looks over the part.] This 
 speech isn't bad, but I'll see that it's rewritten to give you 
 something to get your teeth in. 
 
 [She hands the part to Betty, then, crossing to the 
 desk, picks up first act of the manuscript of the play, 
 Betty sits wearily at the left of the room. 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 109 
 
 Betty. What's it about? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Never mind what it's about. When you 
 read it, just fix your thoughts on something sad. 
 
 Betty. I'll think of poor, dear Jerry. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Drily.] Yes. Now, about the clothes. 
 [She looks at the first page of the manuscript.] Four acts! 
 That means four dresses. 
 
 Betty. How will we get them? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. We've got to get them. I'll make them. 
 
 Betty. [Rising, goes to her.] Oh, Mother, I'm so tired 
 of seeing you work yourself to death for me. I'm ashamed 
 of going around dressed like this and you so dingy. 
 
 [She puts her head on her mother's shoulder. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Embracing her.] You just wait, my dear, 
 until you make your big success! Then watch mother 
 flounder around in the lap of luxury. 
 
 Betty. [Drawing away.] But we needn't wait. 1 could 
 give you everything you wanted, if you'd let me marry 
 Jerry. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Now, Betty, you've known Jerry only two 
 months. We won't discuss that infatuation again. 
 
 Betty. It's not infatuation. It's love. And he says I'm 
 *'the love of his life." 
 
 Mrs. Dean. That's a mossy old line. 
 
 Betty. It sounds convincing the way he says it. 
 
 [She moves away. 
 Mrs. Dean. It sounded convincing when your father said 
 it. [She goes to Betty.] Oh, Betty, I've nothing against 
 Jerry, but when I was your age I was swept off my feet just 
 like this. I don't want you to make my mistake. All I ask 
 of you is to wait until you've had a taste of success; then, 
 if you want to give it up, that will be a horse of another 
 colour. Now, Where's that speech? [She takes the part.] 
 See, Betty, tears in your voice there, look wistfully here, 
 make your lips quiver. Trick it. 
 
110 THE SHOW SHOP [act r 
 
 Betty. Oh, I'm sick of the tricks of the trade. I don't 
 want to act. 
 
 [She throws the part on the table, 
 Mrs. Dean. [Reproachfully J] If you felt all this about 
 the stage, why didn't you tell me? You knew I was only 
 living for the day to see you take a curtain call on Broad- 
 way, living only for that one thrill of mother's pride. I've 
 never forced you to do anything you didn't want to do, and 
 I won't now. You're free to make your choice. 
 
 Betty. [Turning to her.'] I'm not free to make my 
 choice. [She throws her arms around her mother.'] I love 
 you. You know I do. No girl ever had a better mother. 
 Do you think I want to disappoint you? But I love Jerry, 
 too. Oh, what can I do? 
 
 [She is at the point of tears, Mrs. Dean at her wits' 
 end, when they are interrupted by the return of 
 RosENBAUM with the contracts. 
 RosENBAUM. Well, are you ready? Are you set? 
 Mrs. Dean. [Bewildered.] Why — Mr„ Rosenbaum — 
 
 I 
 
 [Betty turns, sees the disappointment in her mother's 
 
 eyes, then, sighing, picks up the part, takes a few 
 
 steps toward Rosenbaum, who is seated at the desk, 
 
 and begins to read, her mother watching anxiously 
 
 the effect on him. 
 
 Betty. [Reading.] "I've been lonely, too, Mr. Craig — 
 
 lonelier than you, for you've had your son, and for years 
 
 I've had no one who really belonged to me. I've tried to 
 
 forget that loneliness with the thought that some day this 
 
 wandering would be over, that some day I'd have a home, 
 
 a husband, and now you want to take the man I love away 
 
 from me." 
 
 [The concluding lities are so applicable to her own 
 situation that she is overcome and, throwing herself 
 into the chair, buries her head in her arms and breaks 
 into wild sobs. Mrs. Dean, understanding, goes to 
 her quickly, but Rosenbaum, thinking it a bit of 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 111 
 
 acting, jumps to his feet excitedly and claps his 
 hands in applause, 
 RosENBAUM. Great! Great! You've got the sob stuff 
 all right. Here's your contract; one hundred and fifty- 
 dollars. 
 
 [He holds out the pen to Betty, who continues to cry. 
 Mrs. Dean is torn between her joy at the offer and 
 her fear that Betty will refuse it. There is a pause. 
 RosENBAUM looks at them bewildered. 
 Aren't you going to sign it? 
 Mrs. Dean. Why, I don't know. 
 RosENBAUM. Here you are, Miss Dean. 
 
 [Betty looks at her mother, who is watching her with 
 tears in her eyes. Betty braces up, walks across to 
 the chair, sits at the desk and takes a pen. Mrs. 
 Dean gives a sigh of relief, goes to the table and 
 gets the part. 
 RosENBAUM. Hadn't you better read the contracts? 
 Betty. [Signing them.'] They're all alike. If you want 
 me you'll keep me. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Yes. It was a wise man who said that a 
 theatrical contract was an evidence of mutual distrust. 
 
 [Betty gives one contract to her mother, who looks it 
 over, verifies it, then folds it and puts it in her bag, 
 Betty. Where is the rehearsal? 
 RosENBAUM. Downstairs — this way. 
 
 [He opens the door that leads to the stage. Betty 
 
 starts to go, but Mrs. Dean, victorious, resumes her 
 
 aggressive mood. Tompkins comes in, unobserved-r 
 
 Mrs. Dean. I suppose your stage manager is theVususal 
 
 fiend in human form. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Turning, sees Tompkins.] Here he is. 
 Mrs. Dean, Miss Dean, Mr. Tompkins. I think you'll find 
 him amiable, 
 
 Mrs. Dean. We shall see. 
 
 [She looks at Tompkins coldly, then strides haughtily 
 
112 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 to the door. Betty smiles shyly at them as she 
 follows her mother out of the room, 
 RosENBAUM. [^Excitedly.'] Well, what do you think about 
 the little lady? 
 
 Tompkins. I'm not worrying about the little lady; it's 
 the old lady who's got me winging. 
 
 [Sadie enters, wearing a large bunch of violets, 
 Sadie. Here are the Brinkley contracts. 
 Tompkins. Rosie, come out and take a flash at these 
 scene models. 
 
 RosENBAUM. What's wrong? 
 Tompkins. Everything! 
 
 [He slams into his office, 
 RosENBAUM. Sadie, I'd rather have a thousand dollars 
 than that man's disposition. 
 
 \_He wearily follows Tompkins. Sadie places the 
 Brinkley contracts on the desk and is about to 
 return to the outer office when Jerome Belden 
 rushes in. 
 Jerry. I missed her ! Has she been here? 
 Sadie. Yes. 
 
 Jerry. Has Mr. Rosenbaum seen her? 
 Sadie. Yes. 
 Jerry. Where is she? 
 
 Sadie. I think she's downstairs, rehearsing. 
 Jerry. He's engaged her? 
 Sadie. I'm afraid so. 
 
 Jerry. Then I've got to see Mr. Rosenbaum. Where is 
 he? 
 
 Sadie. He's busy. 
 
 Jerry. Very well. I'll wait. 
 
 [Sadie goes. Jerry is sitting at the desk when Tomp- 
 kins, coming in, sees him, stops and clutches Rosen- 
 baum, who is following him. 
 Tompkins. [In a hoarse whisper.'] Look! For the man 
 about town. Pay him anything. He's it. Heaven has 
 heard my prayer. 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 113 
 
 RosENBAUM. God's good to His chosen. 
 
 [^He runs over past Jerry to his chair at the desk. 
 Tompkins brings a chair and places it so as to block 
 the way should Jerry try to leave. Jerry, seeing 
 them, rises. 
 
 Jerry. Mr. Rosenbaum? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Yes, yes. [Jerry offers his card. Rosen- 
 baum takes it.'] Well, young man, do you sing? 
 
 Jerry. \^Bewildered.'] A little. Why? 
 
 Rosenbaum. What's your voice? 
 
 Jerry. [More bewildered.'] Why — I don't know. 
 
 Tompkins. That's ail right. He can talk the song. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Do you tango? 
 
 Jerry. A little, but isn't it 
 
 Tompkins. That's all right; he can fake it. How about 
 the uniform? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Stand up, please. 
 
 Jerry. [Rising.] Really 
 
 Rosenbaum. He can let down the pants. Can you act 
 at all? 
 
 Jerry. No. 
 
 Tompkins. I'm glad you realise it. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Pushes buzzer.] All right, Mr. Belden. 
 I'll give you seventy-five dollars a week. [Sadie enters. 
 Rosenbaum gives her Jerry's card.] Here, Sadie, make 
 out a contract for seventy-five dollars. Come back this 
 afternoon. Take him, Tompkins. 
 
 [He rises. Tompkins advances, seizes Jerry by the 
 arm, and is starting to drag him toward the door to 
 the stage when Jerry throws him off. 
 
 Jerry. Wait a minute. Damn it, I tell you I'm not an 
 actor. 
 
 Tompkins. Didn't you come here about a part? 
 
 Jerry. No. I came here to see him on business. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Well, why didn't you say so? 
 
 Jerry. I didn't get a chance. 
 
 Tompkins. [Bitterly.] Everybody's hand's against me. 
 
114 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 [To RosiE.] Send up to the Winter Garden and get me one 
 of those men about town. 
 
 [He goes into his office. Sadie bursts into laughter, 
 which RosENBAUM resents. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Sadie, no laughing in business hours. [Sadie 
 goes.'] What do you want to see me about? 
 
 Jerry. A matter of business. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Are you an architect? 
 
 Jerry. No. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Someone's always trying to wish a New 
 York theatre on me. What is it? 
 
 Jerry. [Threateningly. ] You're coming between me and 
 the woman I love. 
 
 RosENBAUM. What? Who is she? 
 
 Jerry. Bettina Dean. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Frightened.'] I've only seen the woman 
 twice. 
 
 Jerry. That was enough. 
 
 RosENBAUM. I didn't say half a dozen words to her. 
 [Jerry comes toward the desk. A chair is in his way; 
 he throws it aside violently and leans over the desk, 
 his doubled fist within an inch oj Rosenbaum's nose. 
 RosENBAUM is terrified. 
 
 Jerry. You're deliberately ruining her life's happiness. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Rising indignantly.] It isn't so. Her 
 mother was in this office all the time. 
 
 Jerry. Oh, I don't mean that. 
 
 [He turns away. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Well, what in blazes do you mean? Talk- 
 ing of life's happiness and women you love like a — like a 
 problem play. 
 
 Jerry. You thought I meant that she was in love with 
 you? [He laughs.] With you? [He laughs.] That's 
 funny. She wouldn't look at you. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Is that so! See these grey hairs? That's 
 what I get for being fascinating to women. 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 115 
 
 [RosENBAUM sits at the right of the desk. Jerry 
 brings a chair and sits across from him. 
 Jerry. Betty 'phoned me this morning. Said you'd sent 
 for her. Now what do you want to butt in like a fat- 
 head 
 
 RosENBAUM. One of us is nutty! 
 Jerry. Betty says this means good-bye. 
 RosENBAUM. [Rising.] Come on; let's you and me go 
 up to Matteawan. 
 
 Jerry. [Rising.] No, sit down, 
 
 [He tries to push Rosenbaum into the chair. 
 RosENBAUM. [Placing both hands on Jerry's arms.] 
 Just a minute. Give me a chance to duck when you throw it. 
 Jerry. Throw what? 
 Rosenbaum. The bomb. 
 
 Jerry. Sit down. I haven't any bomb. Let's talk 
 money. 
 
 [He sits. 
 Rosenbaum. Money? He's got a lucid interval. Have 
 you got money? 
 Jerry. Lots of it. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Excuse me a minute. [He rushes up to 
 the door, opens it and calls.] Sadie! 
 Sadie. [Outside.] What? 
 Rosenbaum. Go to lunch. 
 Sadie. [Outside.] All right! 
 
 [Rosenbaum stands for an instant, looking at Jerry 
 speculatively, then, smiling, brings a chair and places 
 it beside him. 
 Jerry. Now, I don't know anything about this theatrical 
 business. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Don't let that stop you from going into it. 
 There's a mint in it for the right fellow. 
 Jerry= I don't want to go into it. 
 Rosenbaum. [Disappointed.] Oh! 
 
 [He sits. 
 
116 THE SHOW SHOP , [act i 
 
 Jerry. Now I want to fix up a deal with you. How 
 much do you want? Write your own ticket. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Come on; we'll begin all over again. [They 
 rise. RosENBAUM takes Jerry's hand, shakes it effusively.] 
 How do you do, Mr. Belden? 
 
 Jerry. How do you do, Mr. Rosenbaum? Oh, sit down! 
 
 [They sit. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Now, there's you and Miss Dean and me 
 and a deal and some money you want to force on me. 
 
 Jerry. I want to marry Bettina Dean. I 
 
 Rosenbaum. If you want to commit suicide, I'm not 
 stopping you. 
 
 Jerry. Why? Haven't you engaged her? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Sure! She's signed the contract. 
 
 Jerry. [Dejectedly.'] That settles it. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Surprised.] How? 
 
 Jerry. We could have been married if you hadn't given 
 her this engagement. I wanted her to give up the stage. 
 Betty is willing, but Mrs. Dean won't hear of it until Betty's 
 had her chance in New York. We've promised to wait. 
 Now, what'll you take to fire her? 
 
 Rosenbaum. What good will that do? 
 
 Jerry. We can get married. Don't you see, no other 
 New York manager wants her. 
 
 Rosenbaum. My God, have I got a lemon and a lion 
 tamer? » 
 
 [He rises. 
 
 Jerry. [Following him.] Oh, Betty can act, all right. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, can she? Well, you can get a wife 
 anywhere, but where'U I get a leading woman? 
 
 Jerry. You've never been crazy about a girl. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Worse than that! I've married 'em — three 
 of 'em. One was a leading woman, one was a heavy woman, 
 and one was an ongenoo. She was the business woman, 
 She gets alimony. 
 
 Jerry. No use appealing to you for sympathy. You're 
 soured on married life. 
 
ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 117 
 
 RosENBAUM. Not at all. You've got my sympathy. I 
 know what it is. These ongenoos do get you. 
 
 Jerry. This one has got me, you bet. 
 
 [RosENBAUM and Jerry are standing side by side, lost 
 in thought. Rosenbaum looks at him sympatheti- 
 cally. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Honest, if I'd known, I'd have been tempted 
 to help you. [^He pauses as if struck with an idea.] Look 
 here, have you ever acted? 
 
 Jerry. I've fluffed around in college plays. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Why don't you take this part of the man 
 about town. I'll give you thirty dollars a week. 
 
 Jerry. That won't be necessary. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Well, come on and take it. 
 
 Jerry. I couldn't act. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Anybody can act. You'd be in the company 
 with Miss Dean, see her every day, dance a tango with her 
 every night. 
 
 Jerry. I couldn't go on the stage. My friends would josh 
 the life out of me. 
 
 [Their argument is interrupted by the entrance of 
 Mrs. Dean, followed by Betty. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Mr. Rosenbaum, that man Tompkins is 
 
 simply impossible. He [^She sees Jerry.] What are 
 
 you doing here? 
 
 Jerry. I came to buy Betty's contract. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. What? 
 
 Jerry. I don't want her to go on the road. I hate travel- 
 ling. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. It's too bad about yoih It isn't necessary 
 for you to travel. 
 
 Jerry. Oh, yes, it is! I've got to see Betty. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Do you think I'd allow you to trapse around 
 the country after my daughter? Travel on the same train, 
 stop at the same hotel? Do you think I'm going to have 
 Betty compromised by the attentions of an idle rich young 
 man? 
 
118 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 
 
 Jerry. Compromised? That's so. {To Rosenbaum.] 
 Say, what do you do to go on the stage? 
 Rosenbaum. Just go. 
 Jerry. I'll take that part. 
 Rosenbaum. [Quickly.] Twenty a week? 
 
 [Jerry and Rosenbaum shake hands on the bargain, 
 to the astonishment of Mrs. Dean and to the joy 
 of Betty, who runs across to Jerry's outstretched 
 arms, 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
THE SECOND ACT 
 
 The parlour of the Palace Hotel j Punxatawney — a large room 
 with the dingy aspect and notable lack of comfort so 
 characteristic of the "one-night stand" hotels in Amer- 
 ica. At the right of the room is a large window with 
 "stringy'^ lace ctcrtains over which are faded green rep 
 hangings, at the left a fireplace and, towering above it, 
 a black walnut mantel cluttered with garishly coloured 
 bric-a-brac, and at the back and to the left a large 
 opening, showing a hall and a flight of stairs. A round 
 table with a spotted chenille cover stands in the centre 
 of the room with chairs at the right, at the left and at 
 the back of it, all of them of different periods, alike in 
 that they are equally uncomfortable. A rocking-chair 
 at the fireplace, a horsehair sofa at the right of the 
 room, and, near the window, a table on which, in a 
 glass case, is a moth-eaten stuffed bird, complete the 
 furnishings of the room. The wall-paper in an intricate 
 design of green and pmple "cabbages," and fly-specked 
 engravings of historical incidents, preferably those de- 
 picting death, enhance the general gloom which is in- 
 tensified rather than mitigated by the light of a pon- 
 derous chandelier. It is half-past eleven of an evening 
 in October, six weeks having elapsed since the events 
 of the preceding act. 
 
 RosENBAUM, his hat pushed down over his forehead, a 
 partially smoked cigar hanging from the corner of his 
 mouth, his hands in his pockets, slouches in the chair 
 at the right of the table, a picture of utter and aban- 
 doned despondency. The Night Clerk, a tall, raw- 
 boned Yankee with hair plastered in deep curves on 
 
 119 
 
120 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 his brow, a heavy, drooping moustache, and dressed in 
 the height of small-town fashion, ''featuring" a plaid 
 waistcoat and a made-up four-in-hand tie in which is 
 a cluster scarf-pin of imitation emeralds and diamonds, 
 enters and approaches Rosenbaum, who turns and 
 regards him gloomily. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Well, Mr. Night Clerk? 
 
 Night Clerk. Can't find a room. House is chock-a- 
 block. Got two drummers sleepin' on the billiard-table and 
 four old ladies in the bridal soot. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Glad somebody's selling out. What's the 
 attraction? 
 
 Night Clerk. This is Old Home Week in Punxatawney. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Any other hotels? 
 
 Night Clerk. Everythin's full but the jail. Guess from 
 the carryin's on tonight, it'll be full tomorrow. 
 
 RosENBAUM. What about that drummer who is going out? 
 
 Night Clerk. He ain't fit to go on the midnight. He 
 took in a couple of acts of that show, "The Wallop," at the 
 Opera House, and ever since he's been drinkin' somethin' 
 terrible. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Where is he? I'll join him. \He rises. 
 Tompkins enters.'] Hello, Tompkins. 
 
 Night Clerk. Will I fix a cot in here? 
 
 Tompkins. [To Rosenbaum.] Can't you get a room? 
 
 RosENBAUM. No, the hotel has a hit. 
 
 Tompkins. Go over and take mine. 
 
 RosENBAUM. I'll take a chance on the cot. 
 
 [He sits. 
 
 Tompkins. You'll never sleep. 
 
 [He sits on the other side of the table. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Yes, I will. I've got some plays to read. 
 
 Night Clerk. Want any thin' else? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Yes, a lot of poison. 
 
 Night Clerk. [Smiling.] Rye or Scotch? 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 121 
 
 RosENBAUM. Bring us a couple of slugs out of that drum- 
 mer's bottle. 
 
 [The Night Clerk goes. 
 
 Tompkins. I didn't know you were in front tonight. 
 When did you get here? 
 
 RosENBAUM. 7:30. I went straight to the theatre. 
 
 Tompkins. Well, what do you think of the show? 
 
 RosENBAUM. I hate to tell you. 
 
 Tompkins. As bad as that? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Worse. 
 
 Tompkins. Is it the performance? 
 
 RosENBAUM. No. As the saying goes, "You put it over, 
 but it lay there and it died." 
 
 Tompkins. You saw it with a cold house. 
 
 RosENBAUM. We've had three weeks of cold houses. 
 
 Tompkins. You got my letter about young Eelden? 
 You've got to let him go if you're going to take this show 
 into New York. 
 
 RosENBAUM. I'm taking it into New York — to Cain's 
 storehouse. 
 
 Tompkins. Then we blow up? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Tomorrow night. 
 
 Tompkins. [Laughing bitterly.'] I picked it for a flivver. 
 
 RosENBAUM. You were a good picker. 
 
 Tompkins. Well, why did you produce it? 
 
 RosENBAUM. I wanted to do something for art. 
 
 Tompkins. Seems to me the minute you managers collect / 
 a little loose change providing entertainment for the tired 
 business man, you go bugged producing something for the 
 highbrows. 
 
 RosENBAUM. I'm cured. A small cast and one set of 
 scenery: that's going to be my idea of art. 
 
 Tompkins. [Picking up the manuscript.'] Is this it? 
 [Reading the title.] "A Drop of Poison!" 
 
 RosENBAUM. No, that's worse than "The Wallop." Give 
 it to me. I'll bury it. 
 
 [He rises, takes the manuscript and puts in his travel^ 
 
122 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 ling bag ii>hich is on the sofa. The Night Clerk 
 returns with a tray containing the drinks. 
 
 Night Clerk. Here you are, gentlemen. [Rosenbaum 
 pays for the drinks.'] Thank you, Mr. Tompkins, for them 
 passes. "The Wallop" is some showl 
 
 Rosenbaum. Did you like it? 
 
 [He sits again. 
 
 Night Clerk. Immense. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Tompkins, give it to him. 
 
 Tompkins. No; he may have a wife and family. 
 
 Night Clerk. Of course, I don't set up to know much 
 about shows. But you take it from me 
 
 Rosenbaum. He wants to give it back to us. 
 
 [Tompkins and Rosie drink. 
 
 Night Clerk. Maybe you don't want me to say what 
 I think? 
 
 Tompkins. What you think is going to make a whole 
 lot of difference to us. 
 
 Night Clerk. Your first act's punk. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Tompkins, make a note of that. 
 
 Night Clerk. And I don't like your leadin' man. 
 
 Tompkins. Shake, brother, shake! 
 
 \^He rises, grabs the Night Clerk's hand and shakes 
 it, then sits again. 
 
 Night Clerk. The audience would a liked it better if 
 there was more to laugh at. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Bring 'em around and let 'em look at me. 
 
 Night Clerk. There's a lot of other things I can't think 
 of just this minute. 
 
 Tompkins. [Imploringly.] Try! Won't you? 
 
 Rosenbaum. But don't give yourself a headache. 
 
 Night Clerk. Oh, pshaw, thinkin' don't bother me. I'm 
 used to it. Always help all the managers fix up their shows. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Tompkins, he's a lovely fellow. If it 
 won't interrupt you, bring up some sandwiches and some 
 beer. 
 
 Night Clerk. How many of you^s going to celebrate? 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 123 
 
 RosENBAUM. There'll be six pallbearers. 
 Night Clerk. Ain't you show folks the kidders? 
 
 [Chuckling, he goes, 
 Tompkins. Going to break the sad blow to the bunch 
 tonight? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Yes. I left word for Effie and Johnnie, 
 the Deans and young Belden to see me here. I didn't want 
 to break it to Mrs. Dean alone. 
 
 Tompkins. Well, Mathilda's going to emit a yell that 
 would make the roar of a Bengal tiger sound like the voice 
 of a cooing dove. 
 
 RosENBAUM. If she assaults me I have witnesses. 
 You'll join us? 
 
 Tompkins. [Rising.'] I've got to go back to the show 
 shop. See that the scenery gets out. Want me to tell the 
 working staff? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Yes. I'll tell the rest of the company. 
 Where'll I find them? 
 
 [He rises, 
 Tompkins. Across the street at the cheap hotel. 
 
 [He goes. Rosenbaum is following him dejectedly 
 when Betty appears in street attire. She shakes 
 hands with Rosenbaum. 
 Betty. Oh, how do you do, Mr. Rosenbaum. Do you 
 want to see me? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Yes. Where is your mother? 
 Betty. She stopped at the telegraph office. 
 Rosenbaum. Will you wait here? I'll be right back. 
 Betty. Certainly. 
 
 [^4^ she moves towards the fireplace, Jerry enters 
 breezily. 
 Jerry. Well, Rosie, how do you feel? 
 Rosenbaum. Like someone pushed me off the Singer 
 Building. 
 
 [He goes. Jerry, laughing, follows him to the door, 
 looks out to see that no one is coming, then rushes to 
 Betty, grabs her and kisses her. 
 
124 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 Betty. Jerry! 
 
 Jerry. It's the first chance I've had in six weeks, and I 
 may not get another, so I'll take a few more now before 
 mother gets on the job again. 
 
 [He kisses her again. 
 
 Betty. Poor old Jerry! To be near his Betty did he 
 have to be an actor? 
 
 Jerry. This consoles me. 
 
 [He tries to kiss her again. Betty evades him and 
 moves away. 
 
 Betty. You won't have to be one much longer 
 
 Jerry. [Following her.'] What do you mean? 
 
 Betty. We're going to close. 
 
 Jerry. Close what? 
 
 Betty. The play's a failure. 
 
 Jerry. Who told you? 
 
 Betty. No one. I know the symptoms. Mother will 
 be furious. 
 
 Jerry. Going back to New York! Great! Come on 
 now, hip-hip 
 
 Betty. I haven't a "hip-hip" in me. Oh, I wish this 
 beastly play had gone to New York and failed, satisfied 
 mother and set me free. 
 
 Jerry. Free! Won't you marry me now? 
 
 Betty. No, I can't go back on my promise to mother. 
 I said I'd wait until I had my chance on Broadway. It 
 will be a case of look for another engagement. 
 
 [She sinks wearily onto the sofa. 
 
 Jerry. What! Me have to act again? 
 
 [He falls into a chair, 
 
 Betty. I'm afraid you wouldn't get the chance, dear. 
 Not if they saw you. 
 
 Jerry. Have I made this tour of darkest America, en- 
 dured all the horrors of those one-night-stands, no decent 
 beds, food that's a crime, all that for nothing? 
 
 Betty. I didn't ask you to do it. 
 
 Jerry. You might have told me I wasn^t going to have 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 125 
 
 a minute alone with you. Can't sit in the same seat with 
 you on the train, can't go for a walk, can't sit at the same 
 table, can't even carry your grip for fear of compromis- 
 ing you. 
 
 Betty. I'm not responsible for the etiquette of this pro- 
 fession. 
 
 Jerry. Can't even see you at the theatre. The only 
 minute I get with you is dancing that dam tango, and they 
 won't let us take an encore on that. 
 
 Betty. I'm not running the performance. 
 
 Jerry. Have to stand around and see that goggle-eyed 
 leading man mauling you all over the stage. [He rises and 
 goes to her.] One thing I'll do before we close. I'll take 
 a punch at him. 
 
 Betty. And how do you think I like it? 
 
 Jerry. Well, you act as though you enjoyed it. 
 
 [He walks away, sulkily. 
 
 Betty. [Rising.'] Enjoy it! I've had a lovely time on 
 this trip. It's so comfortable to play a love scene with 
 you in one entrance glaring at me if I play it well and 
 mother in another entrance glaring at me if I don't. 
 
 Jerry. I suppose I am a little jealous. 
 
 Betty. A little? You're full of it. 
 
 Jerry. [Going to her.] Don't you understand? Betty, 
 don't you love me? 
 
 Betty. I don't love anybody, I just want to get mar- 
 ried. 
 
 [She turns to Jerry, and puts her head on his shoulder, 
 
 Jerry. [Putting his arms around her.] Come on, let's 
 find a minister. 
 
 Betty. I've just told you I've got to wait till mother 
 gets me on Broadway. [Disgustedly.] Broadway! When 
 all I want is a farm and chickens and a little calf. 
 
 Jerry. I've only twenty thousand dollars a year, Betty, 
 but I guess we could run a little farm on that. If you 
 ever do give up the stage, you won't want to act again. 
 
 Betty. Every wife has to act a little. 
 
126 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 [She kisses him. The Night Clerk enters with a 
 tray on which are b%er and sandwiches. They jump 
 apart. 
 Jerry. {Embarrassed.'] We — ^we were rehearsing. 
 Night Clerk. Oh, don't mind me. I ain't no scandal 
 monger. 
 
 [He puts the tray on the table, 
 [Enter Effie and Johnny in rather dingy attire. 
 Effie. Hello children. Where's Mr. Rosenbaum? 
 Night Clerk. He said not to wait. You can wade 
 right in. 
 
 [He goes. 
 Jerry. Shall I open these now? 
 
 [He indicates the bottles. 
 Johnny. I'll never have a worse thirst. 
 
 [Jerry sits at the right of the table opening a bottle 
 of beer; Betty takes a sandwich and sits on the 
 couch. Effie sits at the left of the table and begins 
 to munch sandwiches. Johnny goes over to the fire- 
 place. 
 Effie. Why the feast? 
 
 Johnny. I hate to be the one to spread the pall over 
 this merry gathering, but it looks to me like a two weeks* 
 notice in disguise. 
 Betty. Me too! 
 
 Jerry. What makes you think we close? 
 Johnny. My boy, a bad play playing to worse busi- 
 ness, and a sudden visit from the manager — ^well, when 
 you've been in the business as long as I have, you'll be able 
 to put that two and two together without straining your 
 psychic powers. 
 
 Effie. I've been expecting it. We opened on Friday 
 the 13 th. 
 Johnny. There was a peacock on that garden drop. 
 Betty. I always hated that business of my opening an 
 umbrella. 
 Jerry. I didn't know that actors were superstitious. 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 127 
 
 Betty. We're not. 
 
 Johnny. Somebody's been stringing you. 
 
 Jerry. Well, thank the Lord, no more dressing in the 
 flies for me. 
 
 Johnny. It's so long since I dressed anywhere else. 
 That's one of the beauties of this profession, the older you 
 grow the more stairs you climb. 
 
 Jerry. Cheer up, Johnny, we only live once, 
 
 Johnny. And if you're an actor you only live half the 
 time. 
 
 Effie. [Tearfully.] Oh, what will we do? 
 
 Johnny. Oh, why worry, when you can be buried for 
 twenty-five dollars? 
 
 Effie. Oh^ Johnny, don't. 
 
 [She begins to cry. Johnny goes to her quickly and 
 puts his arms about her. 
 
 Johnny. Oh, Effie, old girl 
 
 Effie. What would happen to me, if anything happened 
 to you? Life's hard enough together. Oh, curse this 
 business! 
 
 Jerry. It's a dog's life. 
 
 Betty. [Rising and going to Jerry.] Oh, no, all a dog 
 has to-do is lie around and get fat. We don't dare do 
 that. 
 
 Johnny. Got to begin all over again. The heart-break- 
 ing hunt for a job! If you get it, rehearse for weeks with 
 nothing coming in, and your last bit of savings going out 
 for wardrobe. Then the suspense! Will it go? Will it 
 fail? It's tough enough when you're young, but it's a hell 
 of a trade when you're old. 
 
 Betty. [Tenderly.] Not when you grow old together, 
 Johnny. That's all we ask, isn't it, Jerry? 
 
 [She puts her hand on Jerry's shoulder; Jerry pats 
 it and kisses it. 
 
 Johnny. Jerry's different. I had no right to marry 
 Effie when I couldn't support her. 
 
128 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 Effie. a lot you had to say about it. I saw that you 
 were my happiness and I grabbed you. 
 
 Johnny. [Very tenderly.] You've never regretted it, 
 have you? 
 
 Effie. Sometimes when you row about the breakfast 
 coffee. 
 
 Johnny. Stung! 
 
 [He sits at the back of the table. 
 
 Jerry. Have some beer, Mrs. Brinkley? 
 
 Effie. What do you think, Johnny? You know how I 
 take on weight. 
 
 Johnny. [Handing her a glass of beer.] Aw, go on! 
 The more there is of you, the more I love you. 
 
 Effie. Johnny, I think you're the nicest husband in the 
 world. 
 
 Johnny. Effie, if I told you what I think about you it 
 would sound like Romeo at his frothiest. 
 
 Effie. [Giggling.'] Aren't we a couple of old sillies? 
 
 Betty. We think you're a couple of old dears, don't we, 
 Jerry? 
 
 Jerry. Are you going to stick to me like that? 
 
 Betty. If you're as nice as Johnny. 
 
 Effie. Hush, Betty, he'll get so puffed up, there'll be 
 no living with him. 
 
 [Betty laughs and moves to the couch. Jerry fol- 
 lows her. RosENBAUM appears. Johnny, Effie 
 and Betty knowing what is coming, settle them- 
 selves for the blow which Rosenbaum hates to de- 
 liver. He hesitates, coughs and then begins. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Well, children, in this business, we've got 
 to be good gamblers. This is a very painful moment. 
 I 
 
 Jerry. Oh, they all know you're going to close. 
 
 Betty. Oh, Jerry, let him read his speech. 
 
 Rosenbaum. What's the use? He stole my climax. 
 I'm sorry, people. You've all worked hard to help me put 
 "The Wallop" over. If the show had a ghost of a chance, 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 129 
 
 I'd stick. But youVe seen the business. After I give you 
 two weeks' salary and get you home, I won't be able to 
 pay the first installment on a two cent stamp. 
 
 Betty. Oh, Mr. Rosenbaum, I'm so sorry. 
 
 [She goes to him and gives him her hand. 
 
 Jerry. Me too. If I can help you out, old man. 
 
 Effie. Oh, Rosie, are you broke? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, that's all right. I didn't have money 
 long enough to get intimate with it. 
 
 [He sits at the right of the table. Betty returns to 
 the couch beside Jerry. 
 
 Jerry. It always struck me that the only wallop in the 
 show was in the title. 
 
 Effie. Of course, if there had been more of Johnny and 
 me in the piece. But our scene in the last act came too 
 late to save it. 
 
 Johnny. Yes, and when I showed the author where he 
 could slide us in here and there, he handed me a lot of 
 junk about "construction." The poor nut! 
 
 Effie. [Indignantly.'] Yes, and instead of thanking you, 
 you'd have thought Johnny was trying to tamper with his 
 deathless English prose. 
 
 Rosenbaum. He doesn't know that plays may be writ- 
 ten but that successes are rewritten. 
 
 Johnny. Yes, by actors. 
 
 [Rosie turns and looks at Johnny. Effie nods an 
 assent to the statement. 
 
 Betty. He was awfully nice to me. 
 
 Jerry. Why not? You were the best thing in his play. 
 
 Effie. Rosie, what'U you do? 
 
 Rosenbaum. I guess I'll tackle the ten cent movies. If 
 I can't be the Erlanger of the drama, I'll be the Wool- 
 worth. 
 
 Johnny. We might try the movies, Effie. 
 
 Effie. Why, Johnny, I can't fall off the Brooklyn 
 Bridge at my time of life, at least, not gracefully. 
 
IS^ THE SHOW SHOP [act n 
 
 [Mrs. Dean appears, unobserved, in the door dressed 
 as in the previous act. 
 Mrs. Dean. Good evening, everybody. There you are, 
 Betty. It^s bedtime for my little girl. 
 
 [Jerry, at the sound of her voice, jumps quickly front 
 the sofa where he has been seated, his arm around 
 Betty, who rises in confusion and goes to Mrs. 
 Dean. The others are surprised at Mrs. Dean's 
 cheerful mood. 
 Effie. [Whispering across the table to Rosenbaum.] 
 Have you broken the news to Mathilda? 
 
 [Rosenbaum shakes his head. 
 Johnny. {Whispering.'] Go on. Get it over. 
 
 [Rosenbaum rises, fearing the task ahead of him, and 
 walks slowly towards the fireplace. Johnny and 
 Effie wait for the explosion from Mrs. Dean. 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, Mrs, Dean. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Joining him.] Yes, Mr. Rosenbaum. 
 Rosenbaum. [Beginning his set speech.'] In this busi- 
 ness we've got to be good gamblers. This is a very pain- 
 ful moment. I 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Yes, we close. 
 Rosenbaum. [Greatly surprised.] You knew? 
 Mrs. Dean. [Very pleasantly.] Yes. It's too bad. 
 We've been such a happy family. 
 Johnny. Yes, just like a Zoo. 
 
 [Mrs. Dean glares over her shoulder at Johnny. 
 Effie reproves Johnny with a glance. 
 Rosenbaum. I've fallen down on my promise to take 
 your daughter into New York. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Oh, I understand perfectly, Mr. Rosenbaum. 
 It's hard enough to get New Yorkers in to see a good play. 
 You can't drive them in to a bad one, unless you send a 
 taxicab with every pass. 
 
 [Rosenbaum, bewildered, looks at Johnny and Effie 
 who are equally taken aback, then sits again at the 
 right of the table. 
 
ACT n] THE SHOW SHOP ISl 
 
 Betty. [Going to her mother,'] Oh, mother, I thought 
 you'd be annoyed. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Oh, my dear, to have been associated with 
 a failure on Broadway, would have been death to your 
 career. 
 Jerry. What do you mean? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. You'll all be so glad to know that Betty's 
 future is assured. 
 
 Jerry. Do you mean ? 
 
 Betty. Oh, mother, am I going to be married? 
 Mrs. Dean. [Firmly.'] No. [Beamingly.] You're go- 
 ing with Belasco. 
 Jerry. Belasco! 
 Betty. What! 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Yes, I just sent a wire accepting a part in 
 a new production. To be sure it's only a bit, but better 
 a bit on Broadway than a great part in Punxatawney, 
 Good night everybody. Come, Betty. 
 
 [She and Betty start to go. Jerry follows them to 
 the door. 
 Jerry. Betty! 
 
 [Mrs. Dean glares at Jerry and leads Betty away. 
 
 Jerry moves slowly down to the fireplace where he 
 
 stands the picture of dejection. The others look at 
 
 him in sympathy. 
 
 Johnny. Isn't she the fox? She felt this coming and 
 
 laid her pipes. 
 
 Effie. [Rising.] She's right to think of her girl. I wish 
 she would think a little more of you, boy. [She goes to 
 Jerry and puts her hand in his.] Good night. Don't 
 worry. God bless you. I've handed that line across so 
 often, but this time no stage manager could say I didn't 
 have real feeling back of it. 
 
 Jerry. And it never landed harder. 
 
 [Moved, he puts his arm around Effie, who is 
 crying, and takes her to the door. Johnny joins 
 
132 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 them and puts his arm about Jerry's shoulder in a 
 sympathetic hug. 
 
 Johnny. Good night, son. Take my advice, go out and 
 put some vine leaves in your hair. 
 
 [They go, leaving Jerry standing at the door lost in 
 thought. He is seized suddenly by an idea and runs 
 quickly to Rosenbaum who is seated, a prey to 
 despondency. 
 
 Jerry. Rosie, do you want to make some easy money? 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Startled.'] Where is it? Who's got it? 
 
 Jerry. I have. I want you to put on a play for me. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, no, Jerry. I'm too fond of you. 
 
 Jerry. Then you'll do this for me. I'll guarantee all 
 expenses. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Pinch met Pinch me! 
 
 Jerry. You get the play and star Betty on Broadway. 
 Are you on? 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Turning to Jerry.] Wait a minute. Isn't 
 there a kick in this? 
 
 Jerry. No, and what's more, I'll give you $S,ooo cash 
 for yourself if 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Disgustedly.] If! Always there's an 
 "if." Sometimes I think it's my middle name. 
 
 Jerry. Five thousand dollars, Rosie, if you'll guarantee 
 me a — sure fire failure! 
 
 Rosenbaum. He's got his brain turned. 
 
 Jerry. Never saner in my life. Didn't you hear Betty's 
 mother say a moment ago that to be associated with a fail- 
 ure would be death to Betty's career? Well, all I want to 
 do is to cover up that career with a couple of "Rests in 
 Peace" and a nice big "Gates Ajar." 
 
 Rosenbaum. I don't get you. 
 
 [He rises, dazed, and goes to Jerry. 
 
 Jerry. Betty's promised her mother that she won't marry 
 me until she's had a chance on Broadway. We furnish 
 the chance. A failure for mother would mean wedding 
 bells for Betty and me. Now do you get me? 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 13S 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Eagerly.] If you want a failure, why not 
 buy "The Wallop"? 
 
 Jerry. Oh, no, mother's on to that, and Betty's part's 
 not big enough. Come on, we've got to cinch this thing 
 tonight. I want quick action. 
 RosENBAUM. You got the play? 
 
 Jerry. No. You've got to get it. You've got to work 
 for that money. 
 
 RosENBAUM. I don't believe I'd know how to pick a fail- 
 ure. 
 
 Jerry. [Laughing.] Kind regards to "The Wallop." 
 RosENBAUM. Suppose Mrs. Dean won't fall for it? 
 Jerry. All you got to do with Mrs. Dean is to murmur 
 the word "Star." I'll send for her. 
 
 [He presses the push button, 
 RosENBAUM. But we haven't a play. 
 Jerry. None kicking around any place? 
 RosENBAUM. [Recollecting.] Sure, I got a grip full of 
 'em. 
 
 [He gets his travelling bag, places it on a chair beside 
 the table, opens it and begins to lay the manuscripts 
 on the table. The Night Clerk enters. 
 Jerry. Will you go up to Mrs. Dean's room and tell her 
 Mr. Rosenbaum would like to see her here immediately? 
 Night Clerk. [Demurring.] It's pretty late. 
 Jerry. That won't make any difference. 
 
 [He gives him a liberal tip. 
 Night Clerk. Well, if you insist. I hope being actresses 
 they won't get the idea that I'm tryin' to make improper 
 advances. 
 
 Jerry. Oh, you get out! [He goes.] Here, Rosie, 
 spread 'em out. Now pick one! 
 Rosenbaum. What? 
 Jerry. Here, I'll show you. Go it blind. 
 
 [He stands at the back of the table on which the manu- 
 scripts are now spread out. He puts his hand over 
 his eyes. Rosenbaum looks at him and chuckles. 
 
134 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 RosENBAUM. By Jiminy, it's as good a way to pick 'em 
 as any. 
 
 Jerry. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo. [On "mo" he grabs 
 a manuscript.'] There you are. [He picks it up and reads 
 the title "A Drop of Poison." Rosie roars with laughter. 
 Jerry is bewildered.] What is it? Is it a comedy? 
 RosENBAUM It's a freak. 
 Jerry. Have you read it? 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Taking it.] Some of it. Listen to the 
 note in red ink. [Reads.] "NOTE: The last act— [/j6 
 roars] the last act takes place — [he roars again] the last 
 act takes place eight years before the opening of the 
 FIRST." 
 Jerry. It listens like a sure fire flivver. 
 
 [Jerry and Rosenbaum are hanging on to each other 
 weak from laughter when the Night Clerk returns. 
 Night Clerk. Mrs. Dean will be right down. 
 Jerry. [To Rosie.] "A Drop of Poison." 
 
 [They both laugh. 
 Night Clerk. She asks you to excuse her kimony. 
 Jerry. Kimony I 
 
 [They howl with laughter again, to the intense an- 
 noyance of the Night Clerk, who goes. 
 Jerry. I'll get out and let you handle it. 
 Rosenbaum. All right. When I ring you'll know it's 
 settled. I'll set the stage. 
 
 Jerry. And say, I'm not in on this. 
 Rosenbaum. Don't you want to be in the company? 
 Jerry. I should say not. I'm fed up on this acting 
 game. "A Drop of Poison." 
 
 [He laughs and disappears. 
 [Rosenbaum has hastily put the other manuscripts in 
 the bag which he conceals underneath the table. 
 Then sitting, he takes out his pocket handkerchief 
 and opening the script of "A Drop of Poison" at ran," 
 dom, waits for the arrival of Mrs. Dean. Pres- 
 ently there is a knock. Rosenbaum is convulsed 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 135 
 
 with silent laughter, as he pretends to be engrossed 
 in the play. Mrs. Dean knocks again. Then she 
 enters, attired in a faded pink kimono, Rosenbaum 
 watching her out of the corner of his eye. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [^Sobbing.'] Oh, what a great play! My, 
 what a pathetic climax! 
 
 \_He sobs again, covers his eyes with his handkerchief. 
 Mrs. Dean coughs. Rosenbaum wipes his eyes, crosses 
 to Mrs. Dean, takes her by the arm, leads her to a chair, 
 then stands beside her. Mrs. Dean is surprised by his 
 actions. Rosenbaum smiles at her ingratiatingly. '\ My 
 dear Mrs. Dean, I have a proposition to make you. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Bounding out of her chair. 1 Sir! 
 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, this is strictly business. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Then, come to the point. I don't care to 
 have any prying eyes see me in a man's room at the dead 
 of night in my dishabilly. 
 
 Rosenbaum. I have to see you. I just found the most 
 marvellous play for your daughter, the most wonderful 
 part. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Sneeringly.] Pardon me, Mr. Rosenbaum, 
 but you wouldn't recognise a wonderful part if it came up 
 and kissed you. 
 
 Rosenbaum. I'll give Betty anything she wants. I'll 
 take her to New York. I've got the backing. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. I listened to your siren song once, and it 
 landed me in Punxatawney. Good evening. 
 
 [She starts to go. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Too bad. I was going to star Bettina. 
 
 [He sits in the rocking chair. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Stopping.] What did you say, Mr. Rosen- 
 baum? [Rosenbaum laughs quietly. Mrs. Dean comes 
 to him.] What did you say, Mr. Rosenbaum? 
 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, excuse me. I was just thinking how 
 Bettina Dean in red and yellow electric lights would look. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Wist fully o] In one row across the front 
 of a Broadway theatre. 
 
1S6 THE SHOW SHOP [act ir 
 
 RosENBAUM. Two rows would be more imposing. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Perhaps it would. [She sits at the left of 
 the table.'] I thought you were broke? 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Rising.'] I can always get backing for a 
 good play. I'll give you a guarantee. I'm only producing 
 this to take Betty into New York. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. What is the play? Of course, there's no use 
 my considering it unless Betty has all the situations and all 
 the climaxes. If anybody else in the play has anything ta 
 J do, why be a star? 
 
 RosENBAUM. We'll make it a monologue. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Picking up the manuscript from the table.} 
 Is this it? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Hadn't you better wait until I have it re- 
 vised according to your ideas? 
 
 [He tries to take the manuscript. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. I'll attend to that. Is the author amenable? 
 
 RosENBAUM. I think he's an American. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. What is the part? 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Puzzled, then taking a chance.] An un- 
 happy wife. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Haven't they been done? 
 
 RosENBAUM. I never heard of one being done. 
 
 [Mrs. Dean laughs, but her laugh dies as she sees the 
 title. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. "A Drop of Poison!" 
 
 RosENBAUM. Don't you like it? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Impossible! 
 
 RosENBAUM. Change it. Change it. 
 
 [He sits at the right of the table. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. The title should include the name of the star 
 part. [She looks at the manuscript.] Dora Chapman. Let 
 me see. Of course, being the heroine, she's in trouble. 
 IVe got it. "Dora's Dilemma." 
 
 RosENBAUM. What's a Dilemma? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Another name for trouble. 
 
 RosENBAUM. That's a great title for any play. 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 137 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Is Mr. Tompkins going to stage this piece? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Under your direction. You might as well 
 do it first as last. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. We'll do it together. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Then the deal's on? 
 
 [He rises, reaches his hand to her across the table. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Wait a minute. [Rosie sits again.'] Of 
 course, Betty will have the usual privilege of a woman star, 
 no actress younger than herself in the company? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Certainly. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. No member of the supporting cast to be 
 mentioned in the newspapers. Of course, if one of them 
 should die, we couldn't prevent a slight obituary. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Anything else? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Yes, the salary. 
 
 RosENBAUM. I'm listening. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Two hundred dollars a week, all dresses 
 and 51% of the profits, the real profits. I'll look over the 
 accounts myself, and remember, Mr. Rosenbaum, I won a 
 prize at school for arithmetic. 
 
 Rosenbaum. My, what a head for a Christian! 
 
 [Mrs Dean rises y smiling effusively, and shakes hands 
 with Rosenbaum, who rises. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. How fortunate for you that we've met — 
 we'll make a lot of money for you. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Sapiently.] You're going to make $5,000 
 for me, anjrway. 
 [Betty enters. 
 
 Betty. Mother, what are you doing? Aren't you ever 
 coming to bed? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Rushing to her.] Oh, Betty dear, the most 
 wonderful news! You're going to be a star! 
 
 Betty. [Indifferently.] Am I? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. But, darling, aren't you excited? 
 
 Betty. No, I'm sleepy. Who's going to star me? 
 
 [She sits in the rocking-chair, 
 
 Rosenbaum. Me. 
 
1S8 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 Betty. [Rocking.] I thought we were going with Be- 
 lasco? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. When you can go with Mr. Rosenbaum? 
 The idea! 
 
 [Rosenbaum smiles conceitedly. 
 Betty. [Yawning as she rocks.] It's all the same to me. 
 Mrs. Dean. You're going to have everything you want. 
 Betty. [Hiding a smile.] Oh, I am? Will I have my 
 say-so about who's in the company? 
 Rosenbaum. Certainly. Certainly. 
 Betty. Then I want Effie and Johnnie. 
 
 [She rocks. Mrs. Dean looks at Rosie, who nods 
 assent. 
 Mrs. Dean. If there's a place for them. 
 Betty. [Firmly.'] I'll make one. And I want Jerry. 
 [Mrs. Dean, dismayed, turns to Rosie, who signifies 
 consent. 
 Mrs. Dean. Of course, if there's a very small bit. 
 Betty. No bits. He's going to play the lead. 
 
 [Mrs. Dean and Rosie are paralysed. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Recovering.] Do you want to handicap 
 your career? 
 
 Betty. If any other man makes love to me on the stage 
 it handicaps me in real life with Jerry. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Betty, listen to reason. [To Rosenbaum.] 
 This isn't like my little girl. 
 
 Betty. Your little girl's enough like you to put her foot 
 down and put it down hard. You want me to star and I 
 want to marry Jerry. He is either going to be my leading 
 man or my husband. You can take your choice. 
 
 [She rocks. 
 Rosenbaum. Mrs. Dean, come here a moment. 
 
 [Mrs. Dean goes to him. He takes her aside. 
 Betty. You two needn't try to put up any schemes. 
 Rosenbaum. [Whispering.] Why not let him play it? 
 Mrs. Dean. [Whispering.] Have you gone crazy, too? 
 Rosenbaum. Don't you see, if she has a good leading 
 
ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 139 
 
 man, it won't be such a walk-over for her. The worse he 
 is, the more she'll shine. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Smiling.'} You're a very bright man, Mr. 
 Rosenbaum. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Yes, I think so, but maybe I'm partial. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Going to Betty.] It's all right, Betty; 
 you shall have your wish, but it's a frightful risk. 
 Betty. [Rocking.] I'll teach him to play it. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Vindictively.] And I'll rehearse him in it 
 until he drops. 
 
 [Jerry, entering, stops at the sight of them. Rosie 
 and Jerry exchange glances. Betty rises and runs 
 to Jerry. 
 Betty. Oh, Jerry, we're not going to be separated! I'm 
 going to star [Jerry smiles] and you're going to be my 
 leading man. 
 Jerry. What! 
 
 [Amazed, he looks at Rosie, who moves away. 
 Betty. My leading man! 
 Jerry. [Furiously.] Me? I am not! 
 
 [He turns away. 
 Betty. Why, Jerry! 
 Jerry. Not by a dam sight. 
 
 [He starts angrily for Rosenbaum, Betty towards 
 the door, followed by Mrs. Dean and Rosenbaum. 
 Rosenbaum. There goes my $5,000. Wait, wait! 
 
 [Mrs. Dean brings Betty back and Rosenbaum 
 returns to Jerry. 
 Betty. I won't star for anybody, unless he plays the lead. 
 Jerry. No, sir; not on your life. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Dramatically.] This is the man who pre- 
 tends to love my daughter, and yet he spurns the great 
 honour that is being thrust upon him. 
 
 Jerry. I do love your daughter. I'm willing to do any- 
 thing in reason to make any sacrifice to prove that love, 
 but act again! No! There are limits even to my en- 
 durance!. 
 
140 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 
 
 Mrs. Dean. You love her and yet you stand by and see 
 her refuse a great opportunity! The opportunity for which 
 I've spent years of watchful waiting. You'll ruin a great 
 career, ruin all my hopes, my dreams, because of a childish 
 prejudice against the noble art of acting. If you have no 
 thought of her, have pity on me, her mother. For God's 
 sake, be her leading man! 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Whispering.] Go on, do it, and we'll have 
 a sure-fire failure. 
 
 Jerry. [Grasping the idea.] Mrs. Dean, if I do this for 
 you, if I beat a lot of fool lines into my brain, if I go on 
 painting my face like a chorus girl, what will you do for 
 me? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Try and make an actor of you! 
 
 Jerry. Oh, my God! 
 
 [Aghast, he jails back against the table. 
 
 curtain 
 
THE THIRD ACT 
 
 Scene One: The Dress Rehearsal, 
 
 The stage of a Broadway Theatre at four a. m. of a Mon- 
 day in October during the dress rehearsal of "Dora's 
 Dilemma," which began at eight o'clock of the previous 
 evening and is still in progress. The scene when com- 
 pleted is to represent a handsomely decorated and fur- 
 nished library, the walls panelled in wood to a certain 
 height, above which is a frieze of tapestry. It is now 
 partially finished. At the back is an opening obviously 
 designed to contain a large window in several sec- 
 tions as one of them with leaded glass panes is in place. 
 Through this opening can be seen a garden back drop, 
 lowered only half way, an electric light border, and 
 beyond and below them the back wall of the theatre. 
 Against this wall are stacked several pieces of scenery, 
 the unpainted side turned towards the spectators and 
 stencilled with the words, "Bettina Dean Co." At the 
 rear and at the left of the window is a door leading 
 to a hall. The backing to represent the hall is not 
 in place. At the lower left is a door, the frame and the 
 door are unpainted. At the right of the stage is an 
 opening for a fireplace in which a fire is lighted, but 
 there is no backing, andirons nor logs, so that the 
 *'baby" spot which furnishes the effect of a fire-glow 
 is plainly visible. There is a door at the upper right 
 of the room. The ceiling of the room is not in place, 
 the "lines" holding it plainly visible. There is a large 
 couch placed at right angles to the fireplace, on the 
 opposite side of the room a table desk with a desk 
 chair, its back to the spectators. Another chair is at 
 the right of the desk. Below the door at the left, 
 
 141 
 
142 THE SHOW SHOP [act in 
 
 against the wall, is a high-backed chair and one similar 
 in style at the right of the room below the fireplace. 
 These chairs are in the process of upholstery, the ma- 
 terial applied on the arms and the backs, but the seats 
 are still in muslin. An arm-chair, covered in velvet, 
 stands at the right of the window. There are no dra- 
 peries and the cmhion of the window seat has not been 
 covered. 
 
 Before the curtain is raised there can be heard a confused 
 murmur of voices as though an act of a play was in 
 progress. When it is raised the room is dimly lighted 
 as though by the effect of lamplight and firelight. The 
 people on the stage are made up as the characters they 
 represent in "Dora's Dilemma'': Johnnie Brinkley 
 as Chapman, wearing a moustache, a grey wig and a 
 morning coat, vest and striped trousers; Jerry as Dick 
 Bennett, in dinner clothes and cap; Billings, a stocky 
 individual in a policeman's uniform, and Betty as Dora 
 Chapman, in an evening gown. Tompkins as Hen- 
 derson, the butler, in livery but in his shirt-sleeves, 
 leans against the door at the back. He is holding the 
 prompt copy of "Dora^s Dilemma'^ with which he is 
 following the action of the play. Johnny is standing 
 in front of the desk, Billings at the right of it. Jerry 
 in the centre of the room, facing Johnny; Betty be- 
 hind the couch, on which is Jerry's overcoat. Their 
 attitudes are tense, their speech excited, as they are 
 at the climactic moment of the third act of "Dora's 
 Dilemma." 
 
 Johnny. [To Henderson.] "Turn on those lights." 
 [To Billings.] "Search him!" 
 
 Billings. [Advancing to Jerry and threatening him 
 with a pistol.'] "Hold up your hands! Hold up your 
 hands!" 
 
 Betty. Rushing down between Billings and Jerry, 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 143 
 
 holding aloft the papers.] "Stop! Here are the bonds. I 
 am the thief!" 
 
 [Tompkins gives the signal for the curtain. Betty, 
 Billings and Johnny hold the picture which, to 
 their disgust, Jerry breaks by pivoting to the front 
 and smiling. Betty hands the bonds to Johnny 
 wearily. He puts them on the desk as the curtain 
 falls. 
 Rosenbaum. {At the rear of the auditorium.'] Take your 
 curtain up. 
 
 [There is a pause. 
 Tompkins. [Behind the cutrain, and in a loud tone.] 
 Say, you, come on up with that curtain. 
 
 [The curtain rises slowly, then Mrs. Dean enters from 
 the door at the left and, coming to the footlights, 
 shades her eyes from their glare and peers out inta 
 the auditorium. 
 Mrs. Dean. Oh, Mr. Rosenbaum! 
 Rosenbaum. What is it? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Take one good look at this scenery and then 
 come on the stage, please! 
 
 [Johnny and Billings exchange glances, then go. 
 Tompkins moves down to the chair at the right of 
 the desk, and sits, looking at the manuscript. Betty 
 is pinning up her train with a long safety-pin. 
 Betty. Mother, how was the climax that time? 
 Mrs. Dean. Electrical! 
 
 [She puts her arm around Betty's shoulder and starts 
 to the couch. 
 Jerry. [To Mrs. Dean.] How was I? 
 Mrs. Dean. You were awful! 
 
 [She crosses to the couch. Betty sits at the left end 
 of it. Mrs. Dean stands beside her. Enter, from 
 the door at the left, Granby Smith, the author, a 
 tall, harassed-looking individual in a lounge suit^ 
 outing shirt and soft hat. He comes to Jerry. 
 Smith. Mr. Belden! 
 
144 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Jerry. [Going to him.] Yes, Mister Author. 
 Smith. Are you deliberately trying to kill my play? 
 Jerry. Am I as bad as that? 
 
 Smith. Bad! [He groans and, going over to Tompkins, 
 jerks the manuscript out of his hand.] Let me look at 
 what's left of my script. 
 
 [Tompkins looks at him sneeringly. Smith glowers 
 at him and sits on the edge of the desk, poring over 
 his play. Rosenbaum enters, passiitg Smith, mho 
 glares at him, and goes to Jerry, who leads him out 
 of the others' hearing. 
 Jerry. Oh, Rosie! How is "Dora's Dilemma"? 
 Rosie. It's a crime. 
 
 [They laugh. 
 Mrs. Dean. Mr. Rosenbaum, that act ought to make 
 them sit up and take notice. 
 
 Rosie. It's great! Great! [Turning to Smith.] Eh, 
 Smith? 
 
 Smith. It's a great act, if it's acted! 
 
 [He throws the manuscript on the desk, takes a chair, 
 places it below the tormentor at the left edge of 
 the proscenium arch, where he sits, his head buried 
 in his hands. Rosenbaum and Jerry laugh. Mrs. 
 Dean starts to the left. Jerry turns and bumps 
 into her. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Exasperated.] Mr. Belden, will you sit 
 down? [Jerry crosses and sits on the floor below the tor- 
 mentor at the right edge of the proscenium arch.] Mr. 
 Tompkins, get that scene painter! 
 
 [Tompkins looks at Mrs. Dean disgustedly, then turns 
 in his chair at the desk and yells. 
 Tompkins. Painter! Painter! 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Mr. Rosenbaum! This scenery is in awful 
 shape. We'll never be ready for tonight! 
 
 Rosenbaum. Well, you wanted a new production for New 
 York and you got it. 
 
 [He joins Smith. 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 145 
 
 [Enter from the rear door the Scene Painter, an 
 emaciated, dejected-looking person, carrying a paint 
 pail, a colour sheet and a brush. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Yelling.] Oh, Scene Painter! [He comes 
 down wearily and stands beside her, looking at her va- 
 cantly.] I wish to remind you that we open tonight. That 
 door isn't painted. We have no back drop. [Very sarcas- 
 tically.] Mere details. 
 
 [He looks at her slowly, then yawns in her face. Mrs. 
 Dean, furiotis, is about to address him violently, but 
 her words are lost in the noise of a loud hammering 
 begun at the rear door by Maginnis, a burly stage 
 carpenter, wearing overalls and a cap. Mrs. Dean 
 brushes the Scene Painter aside impatiently and 
 begins yelling at Maginnis, who pays no attention 
 to her. The Scene Painter goes up to the door at 
 right, looks at it, then places his pot of paint and the 
 colour sheet on a chair by the window, selecting, 
 naturally, the only chair that has been covered with 
 velvet and that might be damaged. Then he walks 
 out of the door at the right, wearily. Mrs. 
 Dean continues to try to make herself heard above 
 the din of the hammering. Tompkins finally comes 
 to her rescue. 
 Tompkins. Maginnis! 
 Maginnis. [Truculently.] Well? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. If that door squeaks tonight in my daugh- 
 ter's big scene, tomorrow I'll be sending you a wreath of 
 Immortels. 
 
 Maginnis. [Getting paper of tobacco out of his pocket 
 and taking a chew.] Don't worry; it'll be all right to- 
 night. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Bitterly.] Every thing'll be all right to- 
 night! 
 
 Maginnis. Yes'sum, I hope the play will. 
 
 [He winks at Tompkins as he goes. 
 [Mrs. Dean turns and sees Jerry sitting beside Betty. 
 
146 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 She glares at him. He rises quickly and, going to 
 the window-seat, lies on it. Mrs. Dean having 
 settled him, turns and sees Ike Goldman, the Elec- 
 trician, entering at the left door. He is tall and 
 rather pleasant-looking. His shirt-sleeves are rolled 
 up, showing that his hands and arms are stained yel- 
 low and red by the dyes in which he has been dip- 
 ping the electric light bulbs that he is carrying. He 
 starts to talk to Tompkins when Mrs. Dean inter- 
 rupts him. 
 Mrs. Dean^ [Severely.'] Electrician! The stage was 
 much too dark in this act. More light, please. 
 
 [She turns and joins Betty. 
 Goldman. [To Tompkins.] I should think she'd want 
 to hide this act. 
 
 Tompkins. Don't worry; it'll be buried tonight! Give 
 us your foots. 
 
 Goldman. [Calling off left.] Oh, Jimmy, come on up 
 with your foots! 
 
 [He goes. 
 HiCKSON, the Property Man, a stout young man with 
 a disagreeable cast of countenance and an overbear- 
 ing manner J comes in the door at the right, followed 
 by his assistant, Steve, a small, slight, meek youth. 
 They are wearing sack suits and soft hats. Hickson 
 goes quickly to the window-seat where Jerry is ly- 
 ing. Hickson unceremoniotisly brushes Jerry off 
 the seat and climbs on it. Jerry picks himself up 
 and bows elaborately to Hickson, who sneers at him, 
 then begins to take a measurement of the window 
 with a foot-rule which his minion, Steve, has car- 
 ried on. Mrs. Dean, turning, sees him. 
 Mrs. Dean. Oh, Property-man! Property-man! 
 
 [Hickson pays no attention to her. 
 Tompkins. Hickson! 
 
 Hickson. [Measuring the window.] Well? 
 Mrs. Dean. Where are the pictures for this act? 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 147 
 
 HiCKSON. [To Steve.] Six foot, four inches. [To Mrs. 
 Dean.] What pictures? 
 Tompkins. The ones I ordered. 
 
 [HiCKSON jumps off the window-seat, grabs the prop- 
 erty list from Steve's hand and gives him the rider. 
 He comes down to Mrs. Dean. 
 HiCKSON. [Insolently.'] Anyone show me any pictures on 
 that list, I'll give 'em a nice little kiss. What pictures do 
 you want? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Placating him.] Can you get me a few fine 
 old masterpieces? 
 
 HiCKSON. Sure! The property room is just full of 'em. 
 Come on, Steve. 
 
 [Steve goes out the door at the right. Jerry is stand- 
 ing there. Hickson, following Steve, throws Jerry 
 out of the way. Jerry shakes his fist at Hickson, 
 follows him, but returns immediately. 
 RosENBAUM. Mrs. Dean, the author has an idea. 
 Mrs. Dean. Let me get it before he loses it. 
 
 [She joins Rosenbaum and Smith at the proscenium 
 arch at the left. 
 Rosenbaum. Tompkins, call the company. 
 Tompkins. Everybody on stage, please. 
 
 [He rises wearily. 
 Betty. [Rising.] Jerry, how do you like my dress? 
 [She unpins the train, letting it fall on the floor, and 
 walks up and down. 
 Jerry. Immense! 
 Betty. I'm just mad about the train. 
 
 [She moves to the right. Jerry follows her. 
 Tompkins. [Yelling.] Everybody on stage, please! 
 [The members of the company appear at the various en- 
 trances.] Oh J come on! 
 
 [He glowers at them, but it has no effect. They stroll 
 on. Miss Donahue, a tall, beautiful blonde in an 
 elaborate and extremely decollete dress; Miss Far- 
 RiNGTON, a red-headed divinity, gorgeously attired; 
 
148 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Miss Toby, a pretty, girlish brunette in a maid's 
 costume, and Effie, looking remarkably well in a 
 dark blue velvet evening gown, advance to the foot- 
 lights and, placing their hands below their eyes, look 
 out over them into the auditorium. Jerry comes 
 over to them. 
 Jerry. Girls, you look great! Effie, if Ziegfeld ever sees 
 you, you're gone! 
 
 [Billings comes hurrying in from the door at the left, 
 j allowed by Johnny. They join the group. Jerry 
 goes over to Betty, whispers to her. She turns and 
 sees that Mrs. Dean is busily engrossed with 
 RosENBAUM and Smith, then, taking Jerry's arm, 
 they run out through the door at the right. Effie, 
 Miss Donahue, Billings, Miss Toby, Johnny, 
 Miss Farrington and Tompkins, who is leaning 
 against the desk, are lined up from right to left. 
 They shift wearily from one foot to another, yawn- 
 ing. 
 Effie. [Yawning.] What time is it? 
 
 [Billings shoves up the sleeve of his policeman's 
 uniform and looks at his wrist watch. 
 Billings. [In a pronounced English accent.'] A bit after 
 four. 
 
 Farrington. If I'm going to keep this job, my dressing- 
 room ought to have a cot and a kitchenette. 
 
 Miss Donahue. My Gawd, and there are people who 
 want to go on the stage! 
 
 Tompkins. [Sarcastically.] Where do you horn in? 
 Miss Donahue. Mr. Rosenbaum insisted that he needed 
 my personality to put this piece over. 
 
 Tompkins. [To Mrs. Dean.] Who do you want in this 
 act? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Over her shoulder.] I have suggestions for 
 all of you. 
 
 [She turns again to Smith. 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP U9 
 
 Johnny. She's the woman who put the hearse in re- 
 hearsal I 
 
 [He sits in the chair at the desk. 
 RosENBAUM. Tompkins, fetch the script. 
 
 [Tompkins takes the manuscript to Rosenbaum, who 
 abetted by Mrs. Dean begins to browbeat the 
 author. 
 Miss Toby. What are they going to do? 
 Effie. [Sarcastically.^ I suppose they're going to rewrite 
 the piece again and give Dora another dilemma. 
 
 Miss Donahue. If it isn't right now, with three weeks* 
 rehearsal and two weeks on the road, I can see where I 
 go back to manicuring. 
 
 [Effie goes up to the couch and puts on Jerry's over- 
 coat , which is thrown across it. 
 Mrs. Dean. [To Smith.] Just let that suggestion pene- 
 trate, if it can. 
 
 [She crosses over and stands in front of the company. 
 In her hand are slips of paper on which she has made 
 memoranda. 
 Tompkins. Now, children! 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Following Mrs. Dean.] Mrs. Dean has 
 some valuable suggestions. 
 
 [The company look at one another disgustedly. Tomp- 
 kins sits on the left end of the desk. Smith, in his 
 chair at the proscenium arch, groans loudly. Every- 
 one looks at Smith. 
 Mrs. Dean. [To Smith.] Mr. Smith, are you in pain? 
 Smith. Would it matter to anybody if I were? 
 
 [HiCKSON and Steve return through the door at the 
 right, carrying the "masterpieces.** Steve comes 
 down between Effie and Miss Donahue. Hickson 
 comes down between Miss Farrington and Miss 
 Toby. They push the actresses aside rudely, 
 Rosenbaum. [Going to Hickson.] What is it? 
 HiCKSON. Here's your masterpieces. Show 'em, Steve! 
 [Steve turns the picture face out to the audience. It 
 
150 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 is a badly painted watermelon with a slice cut out 
 of it. HiCKSON turns the picture he is carrying. 
 It is a plate of lemons. 
 RosENBAUM. [Pointing to Hickson's picture.] Say, 
 what is that? 
 
 HiCKSON. [To RosENBAUM.] A plate of lemons. [Look- 
 ing at Smith.] I thought it was appropriate. 
 
 [Smith rises and rushes to the centre. Rosenbaum 
 stops him. Steve and Hickson look indifferently 
 at Smith. 
 Steve. Who's the string-bean? 
 
 HiCKSON. [Indicating Smith.] That? It^s the author, 
 the poor simp! Come on. 
 
 [Rosenbaum takes Smith back to the chair y while 
 HiCKSON and Steve push their way between the 
 actresses again and go. Effie settles herself com- 
 fortably in the corner of the couch. 
 Rosenbaum. [Advancing.] Attention, please. Now 
 
 Mrs. Dean 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Consulting notes.] Oh, where was I? Oh, 
 yes, Miss Toby! [Miss Toby, who is made up like a 
 *'vamp" with very red lips and a very mhite face, walks 
 down centre. Mrs. Dean leads her down to the foot- 
 lights.] My dear, more red on your cheeks, and less on 
 your lips. I know that your home life is beyond re- 
 proach, but if you're going to look like that, no one in the 
 audience will believe it. [Miss Toby shrugs her shoulder, 
 goes up and sits on window-seat.] Miss Farrington. 
 [Miss Farrington, who is talking to Billings, pays no 
 attention to Mrs. Dean.] Miss Farrington! [Miss 
 Farrington walks down left of Mrs. Dean in a very in- 
 solent manner.] When you're introduced to the gentlemen 
 in this act, smile pleasantly. Don't try to lure them to 
 destruction. [Miss Farrington is furious. She joins Miss 
 Toby on the window-seat.] Oh, Miss Donahue! Step 
 down, please! [Miss Donahue walks down to the foot- 
 lights.] Now, would you turn around, please? [Miss 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 151 
 
 Donahue turns. She is in an evening dress, which is cut 
 to the ^^ limit" in the back.] Are you dressed for the opera, 
 or exposed for an operation? 
 
 Miss Donahue. [Very languidly.} My public is used 
 to seeing a great deal of me. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Winking at Tompkins.] They^re not go- 
 ing to be disappointed. 
 
 [Miss Donahue smiles at Rosenbaum. Billings 
 puts his monocle in his eye and, staring at her, fol- 
 lows her up to the window-seat. 
 Mrs. Dean. Oh, Effie! Effie! [Effie, rising, drops the 
 overcoat from her shoulders and walks down to Mrs. Dean, 
 who turns to Rosenbaum.] Don't you think she looks a 
 little young? 
 
 Effie. It's not my fault if I've retained my youth and 
 beauty. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Snapping at her.] Mr. Belden is supposed 
 to be your son. 
 
 Effie. I could have been married when I was sixteen. 
 Rosenbaum. It's my fault. I told her to cut out the 
 grey hair. Who wants to look at an old woman, if they 
 don't have to? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Satirically.] You seem to forget that she's 
 a broken-hearted mother. Trouble seems to make her hair 
 grow brighter. [Effie looks at her indignantly, and walks 
 away. Mrs. Dean goes towards Johnny. She beckons 
 to Rosenbaum.] What's the matter with Johnny's nose? 
 Rosenbaum. I don't know. Let's look at it. [Calling.] 
 Johnny! 
 
 [Johnny, who has been asleep in the chair beside the 
 desk, rouses himself, then comes down to Rosen- 
 baum and Mrs. Dean. They look at him. Tomp- 
 kins rises and comes down to the left of Johnny. 
 Effie turns and comes to the right of him. Smith 
 moves impatiently in his chair, 
 Johnny. What is it? 
 Rosenbaum. Your nose. 
 
152 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Mrs. Dean. If you could make it recede a little. 
 Johnny. I'm no Doctor Woodbury. 
 Effie. Looks all right to me. 
 RosENBAUM. Maybe it's the moustache. 
 Mrs. Dean. Perhaps if you wore a bow tie. 
 Tompkins. Have you tried white grease paint? 
 Johnny. I've tried everything but putting a ring in it. 
 {Everybody, even Mrs. Dean, roars with laughter y 
 which maddens Smith who rises and rushes over to 
 them. 
 Smith. Great Heavens! Do you people realise that we 
 open tonight? 
 
 [^Everyone stops and looks in surprise at Smith. 
 RosENBAUM. Sure, we realise it. 
 
 Smith. Then why don't you get down to business, get 
 to something important? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Important? These things are vital. 
 Smith. Vital! Is his nose vital? 
 Johnny. I can't get along without it. 
 
 [Everybody laughs again. 
 Smith. [^Furiously.'] You've seen him wear it every 
 night for two weeks. Why wait until the last minute to 
 attend to such fiddling details? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Angrily] If we hadn't had to "fiddle" so 
 much with that ill-constructed mass of verbiage, you call a 
 play. 
 
 [She walks away to the right. Smith to the left, 
 RosENBAUM. Come, come, children, this is a rehearsal, 
 not a prize fight. [He runs to Mrs. Dean and whispers.] 
 After all, he is the author. Humour him now. We'll do 
 what we like afterwards. [He runs over to Smith, whis- 
 pers.'] Humour her. She's a bear. 
 
 [He puts his arm through Smith's and drags him over 
 to Mrs. Dean, then putting his arm through Mrs. 
 Dean's, he stands between them smiling. They 
 are the personification of dislike and antagonism. 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 153 
 
 RosENBAUM. Now, wc'rc all friends again, see. [To 
 Mrs. Dean.] Now, what next? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Witheringly.'] Oh, no, let's straighten out 
 Mr. Smith's little worries. 
 
 [She moves away to the right and leans against the 
 proscenium arch. Johnny and Effie, who is again 
 wearing Jerry's overcoat, are seated on the couch, 
 Tompkins beside the desk, the others in the window- 
 seat. 
 RosENBAUM. [To Smith.] Now, what^s on your mind? 
 Smith. [Impressively.'] Well, I've always thought that 
 if Mrs. Brinkley and Mr. Belden played their scene on 
 that side of the stage [indicating right], instead of on this 
 side [indicating left], it would improve it wonderfully. 
 
 [He smiles in self-satisfaction. 
 Effie, More study. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. My dear, let's do anything that will im- 
 prove it. 
 
 [Smith glares at Mrs. Dean and walks away to the 
 left. 
 RosENBAUM. Tompkins, we'll take Mrs. Brinkley's and 
 Belden's scene. 
 
 [Enter the Scene Painter with a ladder. He rests it 
 against the frame of the door at the right, then get- 
 ting the paint pail from the armchair, climbs up on 
 ladder. 
 Tompkins. [Calling.] Mrs. Brinkley and Belden! Clear 
 everybody! 
 
 .[Miss Toby, Miss Farrington and Billings exit 
 hurriedly and then reappear at the door at the left, 
 to watch the rehearsal of the scene. Johnny and 
 Miss Donahue drag themselves off wearily not in- 
 terested in anything. Mrs. Dean goes to the pro- 
 scenium arch at the right, Rosenbaum, to it at the 
 left. Tompkins turns and sees the Scene Painter. 
 Tompkins. [Furiously.] Painter! I said clear. 
 
154 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 \The painter pays not the slightest attention. There 
 is a pause. 
 RosENBAUM. Oh, let him paint. 
 
 Effie. [Wearily to Mrs. Dean.] Where do you want 
 me to begin? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Ask the author. 
 
 Smith. From Belden's entrance. [Effie starts to walk 
 over to the desk at the left. Smith rushes to her.] And 
 we're going to play it over there. 
 
 [He points to the right, 
 
 Effie. [Angrily.] It's a fine time to fuss me in the only 
 
 scene I have in the play. [Smith strides away juriously. 
 
 Effie, thinking she *'has him," points to a photograph on 
 
 the desk.] [Innocently.] How do I get that photograph? 
 
 Smith. [Sarcastically.] Don't you think 
 
 Effie. [Sweetly.] I have been engaged to act, not to 
 think. 
 
 [Smith gives it up in despair and goes to his chair at 
 the proscenium and sinks into it wearily. Rosen- 
 BAUM tries to console him. Mrs. Dean looks over 
 at them in sarcastic pity. Jerry and Betty, un- 
 seen by anyone, do a fox trot back of the -window 
 from the right to the left and disappear. Effie 
 stands victorious in the centre. Tompkins is de- 
 lighted with her. 
 Effie. [Patiently.] Well? 
 Mrs. Dean. Oh, take it with you. 
 Effie. [Getting the photograph from the desk.] Is this 
 supposed to be my son's photograph? 
 Smith. Certainly, certainly. 
 
 Effie. Well, I might have something to get me into a 
 sentimental frame of mind. This is Lillian Russell. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Taking it, hands it to Tompkins.] 
 Tompkins, make a note of that. 
 Tompkins. Hickson! 
 
 [Hickson appears at the door at the left. 
 Hickson. [Snarling.] What do you want? 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 155 
 
 Tompkins. [Handing the photograph to Hickson.] 
 Strike Russell! 
 
 [Hickson takes the photograph and goes, 
 
 Effie. M-m-m-m-m-m-m — long speech ending with 
 
 [very sweetly'] "overflowing with tenderness." [Jerry and 
 
 Betty fox-trot across back of the window left to right, and 
 
 disappear. There is a pause. Acidly.] "Overflowing 
 
 with tenderness " 
 
 [A pause. 
 RosENBAUM. [Irritated.] Where's Belden? 
 
 [Betty and Jerry, still unobserved, trot back of the 
 window, doing a back and forward step. 
 Tompkins. [At the desk.] I called him. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Viciously calling.] "Overflowing with 
 
 tenderness " 
 
 Tompkins. Oh Belden! 
 
 Betty. [Off stage.] Jerry, your cuel 
 
 Jerry. Coming! 
 
 [In crossing to the right at the back of the window, he 
 knocks a large tray off the top of a bunch light, then 
 he appears at the door where the Painter is on the 
 ladder. 
 Everybody. The ladder! The ladder! Don't walk un- 
 der the ladder! 
 
 [Jerry disappears, then is seen running past the win- 
 dow to the door at the rear, from which he enters 
 breathlessly. 
 Jerry. I'm sorry. [He walks down to the chair at the 
 desk, turns and sees Effie on the couch.] What are you 
 doing over there? 
 Effie. Don't ask me. 
 Jerry. How do I get there! 
 Rosenbaum. Walk. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Unless you've developed locomotor ataxia. 
 Effie. [Crossly.] Oh, come on. [She rises, goes to 
 Jerry, and puts her hands on his shoulder and in the char- 
 
156 THE SHOW SHOP [act m 
 
 acter of Mr. Bennett, speaks tenderly.'] "My son! My 
 son!" 
 
 [She is interrupted by the crash of a falling object off 
 stage. 
 Tompkins. {Yelling.] Quiet off stage! 
 
 Effie. "My " 
 
 [Again she is interrupted by a similar sound. 
 M'GiNNis. [Off stage.] Hey Monk, keep quiet. 
 
 Jerry. "Mother — mother — ^you '^ 
 
 Monk. [Off stage.] Damn slave driver! 
 RosENBAUM. Quiet off stage! 
 
 Effie. "Promise me you'll never do this again — or " 
 
 M'GiNNis. [Off stage.] I'll cave in yer dome! 
 
 [Jerry laughs. Effie moves away in disgust. 
 Smith rises and rushes to Rosenbaum. 
 Smith. [Bitterly.] Marvellous discipline! 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, cut to the exit. 
 
 [Effie goes to Jerry, places her hands on his shoul- 
 ders, looking up into his face with a sweet, motherly 
 expression. 
 Effie. "You've made me so happy! My son!" 
 Jerry. Do you want me to move away from here now? 
 Effie. [Grabs him by the shoulder, very angrily.] You 
 stand still until I get through with you. [Tenderly.] "My 
 
 son, my son." Kiss. Bing 
 
 [She makes a motion of kissing him on the left cheek, 
 then on the right. 
 
 Jerry. Bing 
 
 Effie. Let me see. I turned that way, now I turn this 
 way. [She starts for the rear door, scowling at Smith.] 
 Well, I hope I get off, it's a mile up to this door. 
 
 [She meets Johnny, who is waiting for her with a cup 
 of coffee. They both disappear off left, Effie talk- 
 ing angrily. 
 Rosenbaum. What else? 
 Smith. [Coming to the centre.] The love scene. 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 157 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Moving toward him.] Do you think it's 
 necessary? 
 
 Jerry. Oh sure, I'd like to. [He dashes up to the rear 
 door and calls off stage.] Oh, Betty! 
 Betty. [Off stage.] In a minute! 
 
 Smith. [To Mrs. Dean.] Belden is the limit in that 
 love scene! 
 
 [Betty , appears at the rear door carrying two cups of 
 coffee. She comes down to her mother. 
 Betty. Here mother. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Taking the cup.] Thank you, darling. 
 Betty. [Offering the cup to Smith.] Mr. Smith. 
 Smith. Oh, no. 
 
 [He waves it aside impatiently and goes to the couch 
 where he sits. Betty gives the cup to Jerry, who 
 puts it on the stand in the left corner of the window. 
 Jerry. [Eagerly.] Come on, the love scene. 
 
 [Miss Donahue appears at the back of the window 
 and sits on the off stage side of the window-seat. 
 Betty and Jerry take positions at the centre, 
 Betty at the right of Jerry. Mrs. Dean stands 
 at the proscenium arch, at the right. Tompkins 
 is seated on the desk with the manuscript. Rosen- 
 baum stands beside him. 
 Jerry. Are you set? 
 
 Betty. [Striking an affected attitude.] Uh huh I 
 Jerry. Oh, excuse me a minute. 
 
 [He crosses to Betty and they try three positions of 
 the arms in an embrace, and each time Jerry kisses 
 her. Smith looks at Mrs. Dean imploringly. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Wearily.] We're waiting, Mr. Belden. 
 Jerry. Just getting the finish right. 
 Mrs. Dean. Well, we won't overdo it. 
 
 [She puts her coffee cup on the mantel. Betty, her 
 back towards Jerry, re-assumes her pose. Jerry 
 goes to the left of her. 
 
158 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Jerry. Ah — ah — ^m-m-m-m-m-m 
 
 [He turns and looks at Tompkins. 
 
 Tompkins. [Prompting him.] "Oh my " 
 
 Jerry. "Oh my " [He looks at Tompkins again.] 
 
 Oh my what? 
 
 Tompkins. [Prompting.] "Adored " 
 
 Jerry Adored. "Oh, my adored one." [He goes to 
 Smith.] Say, can't we can that "adored one"? 
 
 Smith. [Jumping up.] Why? 
 
 Jerry. I'd never say that. 
 
 Smith. [To Mrs. Dean.] He'd never say that! [To 
 
 Jerry.] You'd never Do you reaUse I've worked 
 
 days and nights to find that phrase? 
 
 Jerry. [Laughingly.] Did you? Well, I can find a 
 whole raft of things to say to her and not half try. Can't 
 I, Betty? 
 
 [Smith falls back on the couch, Jerry goes up to 
 take Betty in his arms. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Furiously.] Mr. Belden, this is a re- 
 hearsal! 
 
 Jerry. Oh, excuse me! [He takes his position at the left 
 
 of Betty.] Ah — m-m-m-m-m-m-m [Laughing, he 
 
 looks at Tompkins for assistance.] Isn't that a funny 
 thing? 
 
 Tompkins. [Angrily.] The same. 
 
 Jerry. Oh, yes. [Very amateurishly.] "Oh, my adored 
 one. I love you with a fever " 
 
 Smith. [Jumping up from the couch distractedly.] 
 Fervour! Fervour! 
 
 Jerry. "I love you with a fervour that's undying. [He 
 advances one step awkwardly toward Betty.] Can't you 
 [another step], won't you [another step] love me just a 
 little in return?" 
 
 Betty. [Passionately.] "Hove you now." 
 
 [She turns and throws herself into his arms. 
 
 Jerry. [Casually.] "And I love you." 
 
 [Smith looks at him in disgust, then throws himself 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 159 
 
 upon the couch. Mrs. Dean, overcome by the hor- 
 ror of his acting, bows her head on the mantel-piece. 
 RosENBAUM shivers, then looks at Tompkins, whose 
 expression is one of pain. Betty moves away 
 wearily and sits beside Miss Donahue on the win- 
 dow-seat. 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, it's so tame! 
 Mrs. Dean. [Despairingly.'] I give it up. 
 
 [^She joins Smith on the couch, 
 Rosenbaum. What do you think, Tompkins? 
 
 Tompkins. {^Rising.] If he got a little, a little 
 
 [^He tries to illustrate "pep" by a movement of his 
 hands. 
 Rosenbaum. Yes, that's a good idea. Oh Jerry. 
 [Jerry joins them.] Now, what you want in this scene 
 
 is a little 
 
 [He imitates Tompkins' gesture. 
 [Smith, afraid that they are going to do something 
 else to his play, rushes down to the group. Tomp- 
 kins and Rosenbaum repeat their gesture. Jerry 
 watches them utterly bewildered, then imitating 
 them, turns to Smith. 
 Jerry. What does that mean? 
 
 [Rosenbaum and Tompkins look despairingly at 
 Jerry, then shaking their heads despondently, move 
 away, Rosenbaum sitting in the chair at the pro- 
 scenium arch at the left, Tompkins on the desk, his 
 back to Jerry. 
 Smith. I suppose he means to put in a little pep! 
 Jerry. Mrs. Dean asked me to tone it down. 
 Smith. No, no! And Miss Dean [going up to her], get 
 a little abandon into it. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Jumping up.] Betty! Some chaste aban- 
 don. 
 
 [She goes to the proscenium arch at the right. Smith, 
 hopeless, sits on the couch. 
 Rosenbaum. [Impatiently.] Oh go on, take the finish. 
 
160 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 [Betty rising, comes toward Jerry. He puts his 
 arms around her. 
 Jerry. [Indifferently.] ''I love you." [Passionately.] Oh 
 Lord! How much I love you! 
 
 Smith. [Rising.] That last line isn't in the part. 
 Jerry. It just slipped out naturally. 
 Betty. Oh say it, Jerry, it sounds awfully sweet. 
 Smith. Oh, are you going to re-write my piece, too, Miss 
 Dean? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Everybody else has, why discriminate 
 against my daughter? 
 
 [Smith rushes to leave the stage. Rosenbaum rises 
 and grabs him. 
 Rosenbaum. Oh, what makes you authors so sensitive? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Now, if Mr. Smith has finished 
 
 Smith. Oh, I'm through, I'm through. 
 
 [He sits on the chair from which Rosenbaum has 
 risen. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Taking command.] Then we'll take the 
 third act climax. 
 Jerry. Oh, the one I'm punk in? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. That designation would fit any of your 
 scenes. 
 
 Jerry. Will you tell me what you want me to do? 
 Mrs. Dean. Do you know what Dora's Dilemma is? 
 Jerry. No, do you? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. You've been playing in this piece for two 
 weeks. 
 
 Jerry. You could play in this piece for two years and 
 not know what it's about. 
 
 Smith. [Rushing at Jerry.] Oh, is that so? 
 Jerry. I beg your pardon. Where am I worst? 
 Mrs. Dean. Words fail me! [To Rosenbaum.] You 
 talk to him. 
 
 [She sinks on the couch, utterly worn out. Smith 
 joins Miss Donahue on the window-seat. She 
 tries to console him. Betty sits in the chair be- 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 161 
 
 side the desk on which Tompkins is seated. Miss 
 Farrington, Miss Toby and Billings leave their 
 post of observation at the door at the left. Effie 
 appears yawning, and goes to the chair where Smith 
 has been seated and huddled in Jerry's overcoat, 
 falls asleep. Jerry, eager to do what is asked of 
 him, stands at the centre. Rosenbaum advances on 
 him belligerently. 
 Rosenbaum. You're afraid your firm will miss the bonds. 
 You've come here to Chapman's library to get them. You're 
 desperate. 
 Jerry. Why am I desperate? 
 
 [Rosenbaum looks at him. He gives it up and joins 
 
 Mrs. Dean on the couch. Smith rushes down to 
 
 Jerry. 
 
 Smith. Great Heavens! Didn't you tell your mother 
 
 earlier in this act that if you didn't get the bonds you'd 
 
 commit suicide? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Bitterly.'] Sometimes I wish he had. 
 Betty. [Rising impatiently, goes to Jerry.] Oh, never 
 mind what it all means. It's a part, Jerry, — act it. 
 
 [She returns to the chair wearily.. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Rising.] We'll take the scene from *'Be- 
 hind the curtain." 
 
 [Miss Donahue leaves the window-seat and disap- 
 pears to the right. Miss Toby and Miss Farrington 
 appear at the back of the window going towards the 
 left. Smith takes a position at the back of the 
 couch. Rosenbaum remains seated on it. Mrs. 
 Dean goes to the right to watch the scene. Jerry 
 goes up to the window-seat, Tompkins to the door, 
 Betty following him. 
 Tompkins. Oh, Billings, Brinkley! On stage. 
 Billings. Coming. 
 
 [Billings and Johnny enter. 
 
 Tompkins. Ready everybody. The struggle in the dark. 
 
 [Betty takes her position at the door, her back to the 
 
162 THE SHOW SHOP [act iii 
 
 spectators, her hand outstretched towards the button 
 that is supposed to switch on the electric lights. 
 Billings stands behind the desk, Johnny in front 
 of it. 
 Johnny. [Very dramatically.] Bla-bla-bla — ^long speech 
 
 •ending in "Behind the curtain " 
 
 Jerry. [Standing on the window-seat.] Where's my 
 overcoat? 
 
 [He jumps off the seat. 
 Mrs. Dean. How should I know? Ask the stage man- 
 ager. 
 
 Tompkins. Now I'm the coat room boy. 
 Johnny. Heaven preserve us from these amateurs. 
 [Smith looks for it at the back of the couch, Rosen- 
 BAUM underneath it, Mrs. Dean under the chair at 
 the right, Tompkins behind the window-seat. 
 Betty, Billings and Johnny wait, resignedly. 
 RosENBAUM. I paid sixty dollars for that coat. 
 Betty. [Impatiently.] Jerry, where did you put it? 
 Jerry. I don't know. 
 
 Smith. Is there any damn thing you do know? 
 Betty. Effie's got it on. 
 
 Johnny. That woman would sleep anyivhere. [He goes 
 io her and shakes her.] Brooklyn! All out I 
 
 Effie. Why did you wake me? I dreamt the play was 
 a hit! 
 
 [Everybody is disgusted. Jerry laughs, but subsides 
 as they all turn and stare at him witheringly. Effie 
 rises, Johnny grabs the coat and takes it to Jerry 
 who puts it on. Effie, yawning and shivering with 
 the cold, starts for the door at the left. Smith 
 crossing to the chair where Effie has been seated, 
 glowers at her. Effie tosses her head and goes. 
 Mrs. Dean is leaning against the proscenium arch 
 at the right, Rosenbaum beside her. Betty, Bil- 
 lings and Johnny take their places. Tompkins 
 
ACT in] THE SHOW SHOP 16S 
 
 stands in the door at the left, holding the manu- 
 script. Jerry starts for the window- 
 Jerry. [^Stopping.'] Where are the bonds? 
 Johnny. [^Giving him the bonds which he has taken 
 from the desk.] You ought to have a nurse! 
 Tompkins. [Wearily.] Ready, ready! 
 
 [Jerry gets up on the window-seat. 
 Johnny. [Very dramatically.] Bla-bla — long speech, 
 
 ending with "Behind the curtain" 
 
 Jerry. Where's the curtain? 
 Mrs. Dean. We will simulate the curtain. 
 Jerry. What do I do to the curtain? 
 Betty. Oh, pretend there's one there. 
 Tompkins. [Despairingly.] Ready! 
 Jerry. Now wait a minute, there's going to be a cur- 
 tain? 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Fiercely.] Of course, of course! 
 Jerry. No harm in asking. I was only introduced to 
 this window tonight. 
 
 [He gets in position to leap from the window-seat, 
 Tompkins. Ready, Johnny? 
 
 Johnny. Wait a minute. [To Jerry.] Have you got 
 everything? 
 
 Jerry. [Feeling in the pocket of his overcoat.] Yes. 
 Johnny. Bla-bla-bla long speech ending with "behind the 
 curtain." 
 
 Betty. [At door.] Business. Button. Lights out — 
 bing! 
 
 [On the word "bing'' she presses the button on the 
 right side of the door. The lights do not go out. 
 Everybody on the stage looks up to see what is the 
 matter with the lights. Betty comes down impa- 
 tiently. 
 Betty. Oh mother, why don't the lights go out? 
 Rosenbaum. Call the electrician! 
 Tompkins. [Calling.] Goldman! 
 
164 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 HiCKSON. [Appearing at the rear door.] The electri- 
 cian's gone to breakfast. 
 
 [He goes. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Mr. Belden, we'll 
 
 Jerry. We will simulate the darkness. I get you, I 
 get you. 
 
 Betty. [Betty returns to the door, repeating the busi- 
 ness of pushing the button.] Business, button, lights out, 
 bing! 
 
 [Billings starts for the window. Jerry springs off 
 the window-seat. They seize each other fiercely , and 
 struggle. Betty rushes behind them to the back of 
 the couch, and begins, apparently, to look for some- 
 thing. She is being very dramatic. Suddenly she 
 stops and runs toward Mrs. Dean. 
 Betty. [Shrieking.] Mother! Mother! He's got on 
 the overcoat. [She rushes at Jerry in a fury.] Jerry Bel- 
 den, if you forget to take that overcoat off tonight, behind 
 that curtain and leave it there for me [pointing to the back 
 of the couch] I'll die right here. 
 
 [She sits on the couch, her head buried in her hands. 
 Jerry. [Going to her.] That's all right. I won't forget 
 it, but if I do, don't worry! 
 
 [Billings is standing by the desk. Jerry leaps 
 through the air and lands on him. They begin to 
 struggle fiercely. Rosenbaum rushes and grabs 
 Jerry; Mrs. Dean, following him, tries to get to 
 Jerry Smith runs up and seizes Billings. They 
 try to stop the struggle, but as it is the one thing 
 that Jerry can do well, he continues and pidls 
 everybody to and fro in the room. Finally it pene- 
 trates to him that they want to tell him something, 
 so he stops. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Shrieking at Jerry.] It^s her stealing the 
 bonds out of your overcoat when you are being searched 
 that is the big moment of the act. 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 165 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Raging.] If you have the coat on, how 
 is she going to get them? 
 
 Smith. [Wildly.] The overcoat's the plot of my piece. 
 Jerry. [Placidly.] All right, all right! No need to get 
 excited. I'll take it off. 
 
 [He takes off the overcoat, puts it on the back of the 
 couch and starts for the window-seat. Mrs. Dean, 
 very much shaken, moves away, supported on one 
 side by Rosenbaum, and on the other by Smith. 
 It is the one moment in which the three are in ac- 
 cord. 
 Smith. Can you beat it! Forgot to take off the over- 
 coat! 
 
 Rosenbaum. You'll never get your curtain down tonight 
 if he does it. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. If I had the strength to do it, I'd strangle 
 him now. 
 
 Tompkins. [Resignedly.] Ready! Ready! 
 
 [Betty, Billings and Johnny ^^gain take their posi- 
 tions. RosiE and Mrs. Dean go over to the right. 
 Smith to his chair at the left. They wait. Jerry 
 starts to get on the window-seat, stops and comes 
 down. 
 Jerry. Excuse me, I'll tell you what rattles me. It's 
 just going over bits of the scene. I don't know where I'm 
 at to have somebody say — "bla-bla-bla — long speech end- 
 ing in 'Behind the curtain.' " It gets my nanny. Now if 
 we could only go over the whole thing once. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Well^ I suppose 
 
 Betty. [Coming down angrily.] We haven't done the 
 last act yet. I want a few hours' sleep before the per- 
 formance. 
 
 [She returns to the door. 
 Jerry. It's easy enough for you people, but I'm not an 
 actor. 
 
 Smith. I should say not! 
 
166 THE SHOW SHOP [act iii 
 
 Jerry Say, you're not any more stuck on me than I am 
 on myself. 
 
 [Magginis enters from the rear door yawning. He 
 looks up at the ceiling and then calls to the men in 
 the "flies." 
 
 Maginnis. Hey you, come on down with yer back lines, 
 yer back lines, you dope! 
 
 Jerry. [Tmning to Maginnis.] Are you talking to me? 
 
 Magginis. No, I don't talk to actors! 
 
 [The ceiling is lowered into place with a rush, and 
 Magginis goes. 
 
 Jerry. Oh, let her go! 
 
 Betty. Business — door — button — lights out — ^bing! 
 [Jerry dashes out from the window and throws the 
 overcoat on the back of the couch. Betty runs to 
 get the bonds from the pocket. Billings rushes at 
 Jerry, who grabs him and they begin to rehearse in 
 plain view an old fashioned "struggle in the dark" in 
 which violent noise is more important than violent 
 action. With Jerry's assistance, Billings vaults 
 lightly in the air and Jerry holds him above his 
 head, then falls slowly backward with Billings on 
 top of him, both grunting loudly. 
 
 Billings. Are you all right? 
 
 Jerry. Yes. Choke me. 
 
 [Billings does so and Jerry emits sounds of stran- 
 gling. They roll over. Jerry, who is on top, rises 
 and standing over Billings, takes him by the shoul- 
 ders and slams him gently up and down two or three 
 times as Billings groans and imitates the sound of 
 a falling body by knocking loudly on the floor with 
 his heel. 
 
 Jerry. Are you comfortable? 
 
 Billings. Oh, very! 
 
 [Jerry pulls Billings up on his feet, then turns him 
 around, his back to the desk, and begins to back htm 
 towards it. 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 167 
 
 Jerry. One — two — three — ^slapl 
 
 [He slaps Billings' open hand which Billings holds 
 up to the left side of his face. Billings groans. 
 Jerry. One — two — three — slap^ [The same "busi- 
 ness" is repeated. Billings groans very loudly. They 
 back to the right of the desk. Jerry, holding Billings up 
 very carefully, pushes a desk blotter and the phone out of 
 the way, then lays Billings very gently on the top of the 
 desk.] I'm not hurting you? 
 Billings. Not at all, old dear! 
 
 [Jerry slaps the desk loudly with his right hand. Bil- 
 lings groans frightfully. Jerry pulls Billings up 
 on his feet. Billings pushes Jerry lightly away. 
 Jerry staggers backwards wildly to the right. 
 Johnny points at him dramatically. 
 Johnny. "Search him!" 
 
 Billings. "Put up your hands! [Jerry hesitates. Betty 
 gets the bonds out of the overcoat pocket.] Put up your 
 hands!" 
 
 [He points the revolver at Jerry, who puts up his 
 
 hands. Betty rushes down between Jerry and 
 
 Billings to the centre, making a picture with the 
 
 bonds held high over her head in her right hand. 
 
 Betty. "Stop! Here are the bonds! I am the thief!" 
 
 Tompkins. Curtain! 
 
 [He imitates with a downward motion of his hand the 
 falling of the curtain. Betty, Johnny and Bil- 
 lings "hold the picture," tensely dramatic in their 
 attitudes and expressions. Jerry turns to the front 
 and grins idiotically, destroying the effect of the 
 climax. The others see him and "break the pic- 
 ture," Betty sitting in the window-seat, Johnny in 
 the chair, in front of the desk, Tompkins on the 
 desk, Billings in the chair at the right of the desk, 
 Smith slumps despairingly in his chair at the left, 
 Mrs. Dean on the couch and beside her Rosen- 
 BAUM holding her hand. Their backs are turned ^ 
 
168 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Jerry, who is so awful they cannot bear to look 
 at him. Jerry looks at them, smiling a little wist- 
 fully. There is a pause, then Jerry worried, al- 
 most frightened, joins Betty on the window-seat. 
 She refuses to talk to him. 
 RoSENBAUM. [Rising, beckoning to Smith.] Well, what 
 do you think? 
 
 Smith. {Meeting him.'] Terrible! 
 Mrs. Dean. [Going to them.] I don't believe we can 
 open with him. 
 
 Smith. Every time he comes on he takes the child of 
 my brain and simply chokes it to death. 
 
 Rosenbaum. Let's take it from his first entrance. Maybe 
 he can work into it. Children, we'll take it over from 
 Jerry's entrance. 
 
 [Smith, Rosenbaum and Mrs. Dean return to 
 their places at the left and at the right. Johnny 
 sits in the chair in front of the desk. Billings 
 goes. 
 Betty. Oh dear! 
 
 Jerry. Now wait a minute. This is the place that I 
 wear the overcoat? 
 Mrs. Dean. [Angrily.] Yes. 
 Jerry. Good. 
 
 Tompkins. [Calling.] Oh, Hickson, ready with your 
 door slam. 
 
 Hickson. [OS stage.] All right. 
 
 [Tompkins goes out the rear door, shutting it. 
 
 Betty. [Indifferently.] Business — ^bonds — door. [She 
 
 opens the rear door. As she does so "a door slam" is 
 
 heard off stage.] [Dramatically.] "My God! Henderson!" 
 
 [She looks around wildly, then running to the desk, 
 
 sits beside it and falls forward across it as though 
 
 fainting. 
 
 Tompkins. [Entering as Henderson looks at her, then 
 
 rushes off, crying.] "Help! Help! Help!" 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 169 
 
 [Jerry enters from the window, wearing a light over- 
 coat. He sees Betty. 
 Jerry. "Dora! Dora! What's happened?" 
 Betty. [Rushing to him wildly.'] "Dick! Dick! Here 
 are your bonds! " 
 
 l^She puts the bonds in the pocket of Jerry's overcoat. 
 Jerry puts his arms about her carelessly. 
 Jerry. [In a spiritless sing-song.] "Oh Dora, you have 
 saved my honour." 
 
 [Betty pushes Jerry away from her and sits on the 
 desk, her back to him. Johnny throws himself 
 disgustedly in the chair at the front of the desk. 
 Tompkins enters the rear door and falls in the arm- 
 chair at the left. Smith collapses utterly. Rosen- 
 BAUM staggers to the proscenium arch at the right, 
 burying his head in his arms. Jerry, bewildered, 
 walks to the door at the right. Mrs. Dean rises, 
 staggers towards Rosenbaum, who has turned and 
 advanced to meet her. Rosenbaum supports her in 
 his arms. 
 Mrs. Dean. This is awful! Awful! 
 Rosenbaum. Can't you show him? 
 Mrs. Dean. I'll try. Mr. Belden, stand down, please. 
 See if you can get a faint glimmering by watching me. 
 [Jerry, frightened by her tone, comes down, giving her a 
 wide berth and in doing so stumbles into the footlight trough. 
 He scrambles out and stands watching her.] Ready, 
 Betty. 
 
 Betty. [Turning around.] Oh, let Mr. Tompkins stand 
 for me. I'm so tired. 
 Tompkins. I can't and give the cue. 
 
 [He goes. 
 Rosenbaum. I'll do it for you, Betty. 
 
 [Betty starts towards the right. Jerry meets her, 
 Jerry. I'm awfully sorry, Betty. 
 Betty. [Stamping her foot.] You didn't even try. 
 
 [She sits in the chair near the fireplace. 
 
170 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Jerry. [Following her.] Well, I knew the words. 
 [Betty turns her back to him. Jerry leans against 
 the proscenium arch, utterly disconsolate. The com^ 
 pany and stage hands, learning that Rosenbaum and 
 Mrs. Dean are going to rehearse the scene, take 
 points of vantage to see them. Miss Toby and Miss 
 Farrington enter at the right. Miss Toby sits on, 
 the table below the door, Miss Farrington lean- 
 ing against it. Miss Donahue sits on the window- 
 seat, M'GiNNis, Hickson and Steve stand at the 
 back of the window. Effie, Goldman and Bil- 
 lings appear in the door at the left. Smith re- 
 mains seated in his chair, Johnny at the desk. 
 Tompkins is in the wings at the left waiting for his 
 cue to enter as Henderson. Mrs. Dean in 
 Jerry's part of Dick, climbs on the window-seat, 
 Rosenbaum in Betty's part of Dora, gets the 
 bonds. Both of them are very serious in their in- 
 tention but highly ludicrous in the result as they are 
 naturally quite unfitted physically for the hero and 
 the heroine of "Dora's Dilemma." Rosenbaum, 
 forgetting the cigar in his mouth, imitates Betty's 
 stage ''business" at the desk, then backs up towards 
 the rear door. He opens it. The necessary ''cue" 
 of a closing door is not heard. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Irritably.] Where's that door slam? 
 [Hickson rushes off right. Maginnis rushes off left. 
 Immediately there are two door slams heard off left 
 followed by two off right. 
 
 Rosenbaum. My God! Four Hendersons! 
 
 [He staggers down to the table, falls into the chair, 
 still imitating Betty. 
 
 Tompkins. [Entering the rear door, sees the "situa- 
 tion."] "Help! Help!" 
 
 [The first "Help" is given loudly, the other two die 
 away as Tompkins, wishing to see the scene, does 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 171 
 
 not go as demanded by the "business" but remains 
 in the doorway. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Rushing down from the window.'] "Dora! 
 Dora! What's happened?" 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Rising, and meeting her at the centre. 1 
 "Dick! Dick! Here are your bonds!" 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Dramatically.'] "Dora! Dora! You have 
 saved my honour!" 
 
 [Mrs. Dean clasps Rosenbaum in her arms fer- 
 vently, crushing his hat over his eyes, forcing it to an 
 angle of 45 degrees. Rosenbaum blindly tries with 
 his left hand to find the pocket in Mrs. Dean's 
 clothes in order to imitate Betty's "business" of 
 placing the bonds in Jerry's overcoat. The com^ 
 pany, stifling their laughter, fall out of the room. 
 Smith is almost fainting with horror. Betty, stuf- 
 fing her handkerchief in her mouth, rocks with mirth. 
 Jerry is not so discreet, for shrieking with laugh- 
 ter, he advances to Rosenbaum and Mrs. Dean, 
 who at the sound of his glee have started apart. 
 Jerry. You see, you forgot the overcoat altogether — oh, 
 I beg your pardon, but you were so funny. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Angrily.] Funny! You ought to see your- 
 self! 
 
 Smith. [Rushing to Jerry.] Funny! You hold my 
 play up to ridicule, kill it, and think it's funny! 
 
 [He starts to the door at the left, 
 Rosenbaum. Where are you going? 
 Smith. Home. Will you do me one favour? 
 Rosenbaum. What? 
 Smith. Take my name off the programme. 
 
 [He goes, slamming the door. The noise of the row 
 attracts the notice of the company, who come run- 
 ning back to their former positions in time to hear 
 Smith's farewell speech. There is a pause. Mrs. 
 Dean, at first speechless with rage, breaks into a 
 fierce tirade. 
 
172 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Indignantly.] The base ingrate! He 
 ought to be on his knees to me. To think how I've worked 
 on his piffling play! I ask you all, could anybody who 
 heard him read it, recognise it now? [Tearfully.] If it 
 hadn't been for me, this play would never have seen New 
 York. Nobody believes in it but me. I've worked myself 
 into an untimely grave to give you all a season's run, and 
 you're all against me. [Crying.] You're all against me, 
 every last one of you! I'm just one lone woman against 
 a band of pessimistic knockers. I can't stand any more! 
 [She goes, sobbing. Betty rises to follow her but is 
 stopped by Effie, who runs out calling ^'Matilda, 
 Matilda." The company, who have all been unani- 
 mous in their dislike of Mrs. Dean, have a revulsion 
 of feeling now that she is apparently at the end of 
 her endurance. Talking quietly and sympathetically 
 everyone disappears, leaving Betty almost in tears 
 and Jerry remorseful. 
 Betty. Poor mother! She's utterly worn out! 
 /Jerry. I never thought she'd take it so much to heart"^) 
 Betty. It will just about kill her if it doesn't get over! 
 jEiiRY. Oh don't, Betty, you make me feel like a dog! 
 
 [He moves away. 
 Betty. [Following him.] Why, Jerry, you're doing the 
 best you can. It isn't your fault! I thought the play 
 was awful when we read it, and when it didn't go on the 
 road, I begged mother not to let Rosie bring it in, but she's 
 mad about it. Of course, she can't see any further than 
 that my part is good. Poor mother! 
 
 Jerry. [Turning to her and taking her hands.] Look 
 here, Betty, if you ever heard that I'd done something that 
 was — rotten — would you love me just the same? 
 
 Betty. But you couldn't. Besides, I'd love you what- 
 ever you did! 
 
 Jerry. You'll remember that, won't you? Promise. 
 Betty. Cross my heart! [She does so.] But why are 
 you so serious? 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 173 
 
 Jerry. Oh, it's nothing! We'll make it up to her. 
 
 Betty. To mother. Make up what? 
 
 Jerry. We'll be mighty kind to her if anything happens 
 to disappoint her, won't we? 
 
 Betty. Why, of course! But you are always kind to 
 her. I'll go to her now. 
 
 [She kisses him and starts to the door. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Entering.'] Are you two scrapping now? 
 
 Betty. No. Jerry's worried for fear the piece may fail. 
 
 [She goes. 
 
 RosENBAUM. What? Say, what's happened to you? 
 
 Jerry. Mrs. Dean's got me going, that's all. I almost 
 wish it wasn't going to fail! 
 
 RosENBAUM. Well, you'll lose your wish. 
 
 Jerry. Looks like a sure-fire failure, eh? 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Smiling.'] I made arrangements today to 
 invest that five thousand dollars. 
 
 Jerry. I didn't know. You seemed so interested to- 
 night. I thought perhaps you liked it. 
 
 RosENBAUM. I can't help it. I seem to like anything 
 when it gets as far as the dress rehearsal. 
 
 Jerry. [Starting to follow Betty.] Well, I'm going to 
 make a clean breast of my scheme to Betty. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Stopping him.] Don't speak to her, not 
 before we open! She'll make a hit. That's all her mother 
 wants. She'll blame the play. And just think of the 
 things she'll say about the author! 
 
 [Mrs. Dean returns, wiping her eyes, Betty and 
 Effie accompanying her. Tompkins appears at the 
 rear door. 
 
 Betty. Now, mother, what do you want us to do? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. We'll rehearse the curtain calls on this act. 
 
 Tompkins. Everybody on stage, please. First call, 
 everybody. [Mrs. Dean goes to the right and Rosenbaum 
 to the left. Betty and Jerry take their positions in the 
 exact centre, Jerry to the right of her. Johnny enters and 
 
 J 
 
174 THE SHOW SHOP [act m 
 
 comes to the left of Betty.] [Irritably.'] Miss Donahue, 
 you're over there. 
 
 [He pushes her into place next to Johnny, shoves 
 
 Miss Toby next to her. Mrs. Dean is arranging 
 
 the other end of the line. Billings gets into the 
 
 wrong place. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Impatiently to Billings.] Haven't you 
 
 any dramatic instinct? 
 
 [She grabs Billings and puts him next to Effie, 
 then returns to the extreme right. Tompkins takes 
 his place. The line-up for the "call" from left to 
 right is Miss Toby, Billings, Effie, Jerry, Betty, 
 Johnny, Miss Donahue, Tompkins and Miss 
 Farrington. 
 Tompkins. Curtain up! [He gives the signal for the 
 imaginary curtain. Everybody bows and smiles.] Cur- 
 tain down! [Everybody looks bored. This business is re- 
 peated for all the curtain calls.] Second call — Principals. 
 [All run off excepting Johnny, Effie, Jerry, Betty 
 and Billings, and Tompkins, who joins Rosen- 
 
 BAUM. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Mr. Billings, we said — principals/ 
 
 Billings. Quite so. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Get off, you're a "bit"! 
 
 [Billings goes grumbling. 
 Tompkins. Curtain up! [They repeat the bowing and 
 smiling.] Down! Third call. Miss Dean, Mr. Belden and 
 Brinkley. [Effie runs off quickly.] Up! [Business as 
 before.] Down. Fourth. Miss Dean and Belden [Johnny 
 goes.] tPp. [The same business.] Down. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Proudly.] And now — Betty. 
 
 [Jerry runs out the rear door. Betty goes up the 
 centre carrying her train. She starts down stage to 
 the left, dropping her train carefully. Then Betty 
 stops as though surprised by a burst of applause. 
 She bows. 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 175 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Shrink, darling, shrink! [Betty goes up 
 the stage shrinking.'] Hold out your hand. 
 
 [Betty holds out her hand as though desirous of 
 
 bringing someone to share her triumph. When she 
 
 gets to the rear door, Jerry jumps on and takes her 
 
 outstretched hand. Betty is annoyed. 
 
 Betty. [Complainingly.] Mother! 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Furiously.] Get off! Get off! [Jerry 
 
 hurries out.] Now darling, if those ushers earn their 
 
 money, drag on the company one by one. Save Effie until 
 
 the last. I'll show you. Oh Effie! [Betty moves away 
 
 and watches Mrs. Dean, who, smiling sweetly, gambols 
 
 across to the door at the right. Effie is a trifle slow in 
 
 coming on. Mrs. Dean jerks her through the door.] Oh, 
 
 hurry up! [She takes Effie, who is very sulky, to the 
 
 centre, makes a deep bow to her, then putting her arm 
 
 around Effie, turns to Betty.] See, dear, this is always 
 
 good for another one. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Smile, Efi&e, smile! 
 Effie. Do I have to rehearse the smile? 
 
 [She smiles stagUy, looks angrily at Mrs. Dean, then 
 stalks off. 
 Mrs. Dean. Now, darling, look for the author. [She 
 trips around from left to right looking off in the wings for 
 an imaginary author, then advancing to the footlights, 
 smiles coyly at an imaginary audience.] I don't know 
 where the author is. [To Betty in a business-like tone.] 
 Try it, darling. 
 
 [Betty imitates the "business** of looking for the au- 
 thor and in doing so sees Rosenbaum. 
 Betty. Do I look for Rosie, too? 
 Mrs. Dean. [Disgustedly.] No. He'll be out in front 
 applauding. And now the speech. 
 
 Betty. [Betty, advancing to the centre, smiles very 
 brightly.] I don't know where the author is. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Very kittenishly .] Be coy, Betty, be coy! 
 Betty. [Imitating her.] I don't know where the author 
 
176 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 is. I can't make a speech, except to say that we're all very- 
 happy and we've worked very hard 
 
 RosENBAUM. Cut that out. They don't give a damn 
 how hard you've worked. 
 
 Betty. We're all very happy. [Very brightly] and I 
 thank you. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Tearjidly.'] Cry, Betty, cry. 
 
 Betty. [^Crying.'] I thank you. I thank you. 
 
 [5/fe backs up the stage bowing. 
 The curtain is lowered to indicate a lapse of time. 
 
SCENE TWO: The First Night 
 
 After the curtain falls there is an instant of time, then 
 RosENBAUM appears in the left upper stage box of the 
 theatre. He looks over its railing at the audience, 
 then sits with his back to the stage mentally "counting 
 the house" Mrs. Dean, following him, looks over the 
 railing at the audience and then seats herself facing the 
 stage. Smith comes in and, sitting between them, 
 nervously crumples a programme. Rosenbaum is in 
 a dinner jacket, Smith in evening clothes, Mrs. Dean 
 in a wrap and over her head a scarf which she removes. 
 
 The idea sought to be conveyed is that the curtain is ris- 
 ing on the final scenes in the third act during the first 
 performance of ^'Dora's Dilemma.'^ 
 
 The curtain rises to disclose a completely furnished stage 
 setting representing the library in the Robert Chap- 
 man home. Effie, as Mrs. Bennett, is seated on 
 the couch. Betty, as Dora Chapman, is speaking 
 to her, 
 
 Dora. But, Mrs. Bennett, has the firm missed the bonds? 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. Not yet, but if Dick does not restore 
 them by ten o'clock tomorrow morning their loss will be 
 discovered, and my son will be arrested and branded as 
 a thief! 
 
 Dora. My God! But why did Dick give those securities 
 to my husband? 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. Mr. Chapman said he wanted the use of 
 ten United States bonds for just twelve hours. He prom- 
 ised faithfully to return them to Dick tonight. He's failed 
 him again. Now Dick has gone home hoping to find them 
 there. 
 
 177 
 
178 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Dora. How did you learn all this? 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. Dick's been anxious all the evening. 
 You noticed it. I saw him come in here, followed him and 
 found him ransacking that desk. Then I made him tell me. 
 
 Dora. But why should Dick run this risk? 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. Because of you. 
 
 Dora. Because of me? 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. Your husband threatened him! 
 
 Dora. What about? 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. A divorce suit, naming Dick as co-re- 
 spondent. 
 
 Dora. That's absurd. He knows it isn't true. 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. The coupling of your names would be 
 enough to ruin you both. 
 
 Dora. The beast ! To think of all the wrongs and humili- 
 ations that I have suffered in silence and then to threaten 
 to drag me down, to ruin the man I love! Oh, I'll confess 
 it. I do love your son. But you don't believe this of Dick 
 and me? 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. [Taking Dora's hands.'] No, no, I've 
 suspected that my son loved you, and that you loved him. 
 That's why I waited here after the others had gone, to 
 implore you to save him. 
 
 Dora. I will. I must! I'll find some way to get those 
 i)onds. 
 
 [Enter quickly Johnny, as Chapman, from the rear 
 door. He wears a business suit and carries a bag. 
 He stops at the sight of the women. 
 
 Chapman. Oh, good evening. [Mrs. Bennett rises.] 
 Oh, don't let me drive you away. 
 
 [He goes down to the desk and puts the bag on the 
 end of it. 
 
 Dora. Mrs. Bennett was about to leave. Will you ring 
 for Henderson? 
 
 [Chapman pushes the button on the desk. It rings off 
 , stage. 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 179 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. My son has been looking for you alL 
 evening. 
 
 Chapman. [Frightened.] Is he here? 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. No, he's gone home. 
 
 Chapman. [Relieved.] Make my apologies. Tell him I 
 was delayed unexpectedly. That I'll see him in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. [Eagerly.] Early? 
 
 Chapman. [Opening the bag.] Nine o'clock at my office. 
 
 [Tompkins enters as Henderson. 
 
 "^ora. Henderson, Mrs. Bennett's carriage. 
 [Mrs. Bennett goes, followed by Dora. Chapman 
 crosses to the window where he stands beside the 
 drawn curtains looking out. Dora returns. 
 
 Chapman. Dora, Dora, come here quickly. [Dora 
 crosses in front of Chapman to the window.] Do you see 
 anybody out there? 
 
 Dora. A policeman! 
 
 Chapman. Does he seem to be watching the house? 
 
 Dora. No. 
 
 Chapman. Anyone else? 
 
 Dora. No. 
 
 Chapman. Sure? 
 
 Dora. Yes. 
 
 Chapman. [Going to the desk quickly.] Dora, you've 
 got to help me. 
 
 Dora. Help you? How? 
 
 Chapman. Someone I can trust must sail on the Mau- 
 retania tonight with this. 
 
 [He indicates the bag on the desk, 
 
 Dora. What have you done? 
 
 Chapman. Unless late tonight when I give the alarm 
 with this [He takes a revolver out of Ms pocket] , I can 
 be found here chloroformed [He takes a bottle out of his 
 pocket and puts it on the desk], the safe in this desk opened, 
 robbed, they can send me up. 
 
180 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Dora. Oh, Bob! Bob! 
 
 Chapman. I was going to make a getaway, but I can't. 
 The secret service men are watching me. Will you go? 
 
 Dora. I can't. I can't! 
 
 Chapman. You'll be all right. I'll join you as soon as I 
 can. There's plenty of money in that bag, and these ten 
 United States Bonds are as good as cash. Will you go 
 through with this for me? 
 
 [Dora recognises the bonds which he displays to her 
 as those Dick has given Chapman. 
 
 Dora. Yes, yes. 
 
 Chapman. Good. 
 
 Dora. [Falling into the chair at the desk, as though 
 fainting.] Oh, oh, oh. 
 
 Chapman. What is it? 
 
 Dora. I feel faint — the shock — some water — downstairs 
 — the dining room. [The moment Chapman goes she shows 
 that the faint was pretended and stealthily rising gets the 
 telephone.'] Central, central; get me 84 Bryant, quickly, 
 quickly. [She waits anxiously.] Hello, 84 Bryant? Oh, 
 is that you, Dick. Can you hear me? I've got your bonds. 
 Come here at once, come through the garden to the library 
 window! 
 
 [As Betty is replacing the receiver, Chapman enters. 
 
 Chapman. To whom were you telephoning? 
 
 Dora. [Frightened, then recovering.] A wrong number 1 
 [She goes slowly up to the window to open it. 
 
 Chapman. [Watching her suspiciously.] What are you 
 doing? 
 
 Dora. It's so close in here. 
 
 [She opens the window. 
 
 Chapman. [Going to the desk.] Wrong number, eh? 
 [Dora watches him anxiously. He picks up the telephone.] 
 Central, what was that number just called from here? [Dora 
 starts from the window to him.] 84 Bryant! [Dora gives 
 faint cry.] Huh — I thought so. [He replaces the receiver.] 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 181 
 
 What did you have to say to Bennett? Come, out with 
 it! 
 
 Dora. [Hesitatingly.] Nothing. I simply telephoned 
 good-bye. 
 
 Chapman. I wonder if you're putting up a job on me? 
 Dora. Don't be absurd. I must hurry. [She starts to 
 the door.] We've no time to lose. 
 
 Chapman. You're anxious to go, aren't you? Maybe 
 Bennett's waiting for you? Is he? 
 Dora. Of course not. 
 
 Chapman. What did his mother tell you tonight? 
 Dora. [Hesitatingly.] What could there be to tell? 
 
 [She comes down to the back of the desk. 
 Chapman. By God, that's why you gave in! His 
 mother told you about the bonds. You're going to give 
 them to him. 
 
 [He makes a rush for her. 
 Dora. [Picking up the revolver from the desk.] Yes, I 
 am. Give them to me. 
 
 [She points the revolver at him across the desk. 
 Chapman. [Backing away a step or two.] What? 
 
 You 
 
 Dora. I'm not afraid of you, I mean this. 
 
 [Chapman opens the bag which is on the desk, takes 
 
 out the package of United States Bonds, and throws 
 
 them on the desk. As she reaches for them he 
 
 jumps, grabs her wrist, gets the revolver, then takes 
 
 the bonds forcibly from her, and puts them in the 
 
 bag. Dora sinks on the chair at the desk. 
 
 Chapman. I might have known I couldn't trust you, 
 
 I'll take a chance. I'll go myself, and you'll go with 
 
 me. 
 
 Dora. I won't. I won't. 
 
 Chapman. Oh yes you will, or I'll stay here and when 
 
 Dick Bennett comes through that window [Dora 
 
 gasps.] Oh, that's why you opened it! I'll shoot him 
 dead. 
 
182 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Dora. You wouldn't dare. 
 
 Chapman. Dare? Invading the sanctity of my home. 
 It mightn't be a bad idea at that. Wonder I didn't think of 
 it instead of that chloroform stunt. 
 
 [Sitting in the chair in front of the desk, he leans over 
 
 and opens the safe, and begins to empty it of its 
 
 contents. 
 
 I could plant the robbery on him. How would you like 
 
 that for your lover? [He laughs.] You thought you had 
 
 me beat! Me! That's funny. That's damn funny. 
 
 [He laughs, leaning back in his chair. At the mention 
 of the word ^' chloroform'^ Dora takes the bottle from 
 the desk and empties it on her handkerchief. Chap- 
 man roars with laughter and says ^'Damn funny," 
 Dora thrusts the handkerchief over Ms mouth, grabs 
 his right arm and brings it up back of the chair. 
 Chapman struggles. 
 Dora. You'll go? You'll stay here and be caught like 
 a rat in a trap. You can disgrace me, shame me, but you 
 won't make the man I love a thief I I've beaten you, do 
 you hear? You beast! I've beaten you I 
 
 [Chapman's hand falling limply on the desk presses 
 the button. The bell rings off stage. Betty 
 alarmed, listens, then dropping the handkerchief, 
 she gets the bonds from the bag, and starts to leave 
 when a door is heard to slam. 
 Dora. My God! Henderson! 
 
 [She looks wildly about, holding the bonds in front of 
 her, and runs down to the chair at the desk and falls 
 forward as though in a faint. 
 Henderson. [Entering, sees the situation, then goes 
 quickly, calling.'] Help! Help! Help! 
 
 [Jerry, as Dick, rushes in through the window. 
 Dick. Dora, Dora! what's happened! 
 Dora. O Dick, here are your bonds. 
 Dick. O Dora, you have saved my honour. 
 Dora. He was going to run away, leave the country. I 
 
ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 183 
 
 chloroformed him. [She puts the bonds in his overcoat 
 pocket,] Now, go, go. 
 
 [A police whistle sounds faintly. 
 Dick. Leave you? No. 
 
 Dora. You must. There are the police. They'll never 
 suspect me. Oh go, for God's sake go. [She pushes him 
 towards the window. The police whistle is heard nearer.] 
 No, no, get behind that curtain. 
 
 [She pushes Dick behind the curtain at the window 
 and starts for the door. 
 Henderson. [Entering.] Oh, Ma'am, are you all right? 
 Dora. Oh yes, yes. 
 
 [Enter Billings as a Policeman. 
 Policeman. What is it? 
 Dora. Help me out of here. 
 
 [Henderson leads her towards the door. Chapman 
 has been coming out of his daze. 
 Chapman. Stop her. She robbed me! 
 Policeman. Wait! 
 
 Dora. He doesn't know what he's saying. I'm his wife. 
 
 [She tries to go. 
 Chapman. [Rising.] Stop her. Search her. She chloro- 
 formed me, robbed me. [He turns toward the window and 
 sees the curtain move.] And get that man behind the cur- 
 tain. 
 
 [Dora, who is at the door, turns off the lights. Dick 
 rushes out. He and the Policeman struggle 
 Chapman. Turn on those lights. 
 
 [When the lights go up Dick is discovered wearing 
 the overcoat with the bonds sticking out of the 
 pocket, in plain view. Dora is at the couch looking 
 wildly for the overcoat. 
 Chapman. Search him! 
 
 Policeman. Put up your hands! Put up your hands! 
 [Billings sees the overcoat, and the bonds. He is 
 paralysed. A stage wait occurs. 
 
184 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [From the stage box.l Great Heavens! 
 He's got on the overcoat! 
 
 Smith. [From the stage box.'l I'll kill him! 
 [Billings, Johnny, Tompkins and Betty become 
 panic-stricken, losing their characterizations com- 
 pletely. Jerry siuidenly realises what he has done 
 but is unabashed. 
 Jerry. Come on, search me. [Billings looks again at 
 Jerry, then at Johnny.] Come on, you big boob, search 
 me! 
 
 [He hesitates. Jerry jumps for him, knocks him 
 down. 
 Betty. [Wildly.'] What will I do? What will I do? 
 Jerry. Do. You'll come with me! 
 
 [He dashes at Johnny who rushes off below the 
 
 tormentor. Jerry then jumps on the desk, and leaps 
 
 at Tompkins, who dodges. Then he grabs Betty 
 
 who has fainted and jumps out of the window. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [From the box.] Ring down. Ring down! 
 
 Tompkins. [Riishing off below the tormentor.] Ring 
 
 down! 
 
 curtain 
 
THE FOURTH ACT 
 
 Jerry's apartment in a Studio building in New York, — a 
 simply and attractively furnished room with a door 
 at the left to the bedroom and another at the back to 
 the hall. There is a fireplace at the right and extend- 
 ing from it into the room, its back to the spectator is 
 a large couch covered with corduroy. Facing it is a 
 comfortable wing chair and a table with a reading 
 light. At the left is a window with a cushioned seat 
 and in front of it a handsome table with writing ma- 
 terials, a lamp, a rack of books and silver boxes con- 
 taining Cigarettes. Behind the desk is a chair, in front 
 of it a bench with a cushion of corduroy. Against the 
 back wall is a Jacobean cabinet and a table with a 
 lamp. Another table for newspapers and magazines 
 stands at the left end of the couch. There are framed 
 photographs on the walls, the mantel-piece, the tables 
 and the desk, all of Betty in various poses. Bright 
 sunlight is streaming through the windows. 
 
 Walter, Jerry's man-servant, has placed the morning 
 papers and the mail on the desk and is starting for the 
 bedroom carrying the coat of a suit when the door 
 opens and Jerry appears. 
 
 Jerry. Good morning, Walters. What time is it? 
 
 Walters. Eleven o'clock. [Offering Jerry his coat.] 
 Will you have your coat, sir? 
 
 Jerry. Yes. [Taking off his lounging jacket.] Did you 
 get all the morning papers? 
 
 Walters. They're on the table, sir. Mr. Rosenbaum has 
 been phoning. He'll be over later. [He takes the loung- 
 ing jacket and starts to go. At the door to the bedroom he 
 
 185 
 
186 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 
 
 stops.] Beg pardon for mentioning it, sir, but I hope 
 "Dora's Dilemma" was a success last night. 
 Jerry. [Angrily.'] Don't talk about it. 
 Walters. Oh no, sir. Thank you, sir. 
 
 [He goes. Jerry takes a cigarette from a box on the 
 
 table, and is getting a match, when there comes a 
 
 knock at the door. 
 
 Jerry. Come in. [Jerry is lighting his cigarette, his back 
 
 to the door, and does not see Betty entering, carrying a 
 
 suit case. She places it beside the door, then with a little 
 
 sob comes towards Jerry, who, hearing the sound, turns 
 
 and goes to her quickly.] Betty! Good heavens, Betty, 
 
 what's happened? What are you doing here? Where's 
 
 your mother? 
 
 Betty. Oh, stop asking me questions and kiss me. 
 
 [Jerry takes her in his arms and kisses her, 
 Jerry. There! Now tell me, what's happened? 
 Betty. [Surprised.] Haven't you read the papers? 
 Jerry. I haven't had time. 
 
 Betty. [Crying.] Mother will never let us get married 
 now. 
 Jerry. Why? 
 Betty. The play's a hit. 
 Jerry. [Staggered.] What! 
 Betty. Look at the papers! 
 
 [She gets a paper from a table at the end of the couch 
 and hands it to him. 
 Jerry. It can't be true! [Reading.] "The dramatic 
 sensation of the century." 
 
 Betty. What did I tell you? 
 
 [She sits on the couch, her back to the spectators. 
 Jerry. It can't be a success! Your mother had hys- 
 terics after I bawled up that third act finish. 
 
 [He begins to read the review. 
 
 Betty. [Crying.] I know. She scolded me, too. I went 
 
 home so happy. Then this morning the first paper I looked 
 
 at said: "Not since Maude Adams took New York by storm 
 
ACT iv] THE SHOW SHOP 187 
 
 has any actress won such instant favour as Bettina Dean." 
 I'd like to boil that man in oil. 
 
 [She cries again, 
 
 Jerry. [Gloomily, from behind the newspaper.'] I was 
 a hit too. 
 
 Betty. The critics must be crazy. You were awful. 
 
 Jerry. But you saw what they wrote about me. 
 
 Betty. Yes, one of them said — "Where has Jerome 
 Belden been? Why have we been deprived of him all these 
 years?" 
 
 Jerry. Listen to this son-of-a-gun — [Reading] "Not in 
 the memory of the oldest playgoer has the New York stage 
 given to us so charmingly unconventional an actor as 
 Jerome Belden. Even the baldly melodramatic climax of 
 the third act was handled by Mr. Belden with such utter y 
 disregard of conventional method and technique. . . ." 
 What's technique? 
 
 Betty. Something you struggle all your life to get, that 
 makes the public tired when you give it to them. Oh, dear! 
 
 [She sobs. 
 
 Jerry. Don't, Betty, don't. 
 
 [He sits on the couch beside her his back to the audi- 
 ence and takes her in his arms. 
 
 Betty. How can those critics be so kind when they can 
 be so mean? 
 
 Jerry. Oh, maybe this is just newspaper talk. 
 
 Betty. [Releasing herself.] Oh, I'm afraid they liked it. 
 [They turn, their arms on the back of the couch, looking 
 directly at the spectators.] I saw all the first-nighters ap- 
 plauding. 
 
 Jerry. Yes; the whole lodge was there. 
 
 Betty. What lodge? 
 
 Jerry. The Ancient Order of Grave Diggers. 
 
 Betty. They gave us fifteen curtain calls. 
 
 Jerry. Oh, that's just first-night stuff. 
 
 Betty. No, if those Grave Diggers like a thing, they go 
 out and rave about it. 
 
188 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 
 
 [She cries. Jerry turns and takes her in his arms, 
 both again with their backs to the spectators. 
 . .Jerry. Well, maybe it won't draw. 
 Betty. Draw? Mother says it will run all season. 
 Jerry. Some plays run in New York for two years. 
 Betty. Don't, Jerry, don't. 
 
 [She sobs, 
 Jerry. Look at Monte Cristo! 
 Betty. [Sobbing wildly.] And Rip Van Winkle! 
 Jerry. Oh, who'd pay to see this show? 
 Betty. Go call up the box-office. 
 
 [Jerry rises and goes to the telephone on the table 
 at the left of the room. Betty wipes her eyes. 
 Jerry. Never thought of that. What's the number? 
 Betty. 680 Bryant. Mother was 'phoning this morning. 
 
 [She rises and follows Jerry. 
 Jerry. Give me 680 Bryant. 
 
 Betty. [Crying.] I'm the most miserable woman in the 
 world. 
 Jerry. Don't take it so much to heart. 
 Betty. Mother says it's absurd to talk of marriage in 
 the face of this success. 
 
 Jerry. What? Busy? Call me. 
 
 [He places the telephone on the table. 
 Betty. [Despairingly.] Surely they can't be telephoning 
 for seats already? 
 
 [She sinks on the bench beside the table, Jerry gets 
 a chair and brings it towards her, 
 Jerry. It's a judgment. 
 Betty. What do you mean? 
 Jerry. Betty, I've a confession to make. 
 
 [He hangs his head guiltily, 
 Betty. [Alarmed.] Jerry, don't tell me you've learned to 
 like the stage. 
 
 Jerry. [Despairingly sitting in the chair.] No, worse 
 than that. 
 Betty. Nothing could be worse. Go on, tell me. 
 
ACT IV] THE SHOW SHOP 189 
 
 Jerry. [In the manner of a stage confession.] You re- 
 member the night Rosie made the proposition to star you? 
 
 Betty. Yes, I'll never forget it or forgive him. 
 
 Jerry. Don't say that! I was responsible. 
 
 [In deep despair he bows his head in his hands. 
 
 Betty. What? 
 
 Jerry. Yes. I furnished the backing. 
 
 Betty. To make me a star? Why? 
 
 Jerry. [Seriously.'] Because I loved you. 
 
 Betty. [Indignantly.] Well, you had a nice way of 
 showing it. 
 
 Jerry. Your mother had said it would be death to your 
 career to be associated with a failure — ^well, I made up my 
 mind you'd fail. 
 
 Betty. You darling. 
 
 Jerry. Rosie had a lot of plays in his grip. I hadn^t 
 read any of them. I just picked this one out blindly, think- 
 ing, of course, that I'd pick a failure. 
 
 Betty. Oh, Jerry, why didn't you leave the choice to 
 Rosie? 
 
 Jerry. Why? 
 
 Betty. It takes someone who knows about plays to pick 
 a failure. 
 
 [The telephone hell rings sharply, 
 
 Jerry. [Rushing to the telephone.] Hello, 680 Bryant? 
 I want a couple of seats for tonight. What? One in the 
 fifteenth row. Four weeks from Monday! Oh, this is 
 awful! [Betty sobs aloud.] I'll never be able to live this 
 down. I'll never dare to show my face at the Club again. 
 
 Betty. And I'll never be Mrs. Jerome Belden now. 
 [Jerry in his irritation is walking up and down; he 
 stumbles over Betty's suit case, and gives it a 
 vicious kick. 
 
 Jerry. What the devil's that? 
 
 Betty. [Sniffling.] That's mine. 
 
 Jerry. Oh, excuse me. [He picks up the suit case, puts 
 
190 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 
 
 it tenderly and puts it on the chair beside the benchJ\ 
 Yours? Where are you going? 
 
 Betty. Nowhere. I've come to stay. 
 
 Jerry. Here? 
 
 Betty. Yes. 
 
 Jerry. You can't do that. I'd forgotten. You oughtn't 
 to be here now. How did you get up here? 
 
 Betty. I gave the elevator boy five dollars. 
 
 Jerry. [Growing agitated. 1 Good Lord, did anyone 
 downstairs see you? 
 
 Betty. Yes, a lot of hall boys. 
 
 Jerry. I'll fix them. They didn't recognise you? 
 
 Betty. I didn't wear a veil on purpose. 
 
 Jerry. {Very agitatedly.'] Come, Betty, you must get out 
 of here. Your mother might miss you, begin to look for 
 you. 
 
 Betty. She knows I'm here. 
 
 Jerry. What? Did you tell her? 
 
 Betty. No, she went out early this morning, but I left 
 a note. 
 
 [Jerry frantic, takes Betty's hands and tries to draw 
 her to her feet. 
 
 Jerry. Then come on; if she finds you here, it will be 
 terrible. 
 
 Betty. [Impatiently, pidling her hands away."] I want 
 her to find me here. 
 
 Jerry. She mustn't, Betty. Oh, I can't put it into words, 
 but it's impossible. This is a bachelor apartment. Don't 
 you appreciate the situation? 
 
 Betty. Perfectly, I'm trying to be compromised. This 
 is our only chance. 
 
 Jerry. Have you gone insane? I must take her to an 
 alienist. 
 
 Betty. [Indignantly."] If you loved me, you'd take me 
 to a minister. 
 
 Jerry. I will, Betty, I will, after we see your mother.. 
 We played the game squarely, we won't sneak now. 
 
ACT IV] THE SHOW SHOP 191 
 
 Betty. [Crying.] You don't love me any more. 
 
 Jerry. [Taking her in his arms.'] I do, Betty, I do. I 
 love you too much to let you marry me on the sly. Now, 
 come on, dry your eyes, powder your nose, I'll order the 
 car, we will drive to the Claremont, have some luncheon, 
 then fortified, we'll call on mother, and read the riot act. 
 [The telephone rings.] Hello, Mrs. Dean calling? Tell her 
 I'm not in. 
 
 Betty. [Running to him.] No — ^no. [She speaks into 
 the telephone.] Ask her to come right up. [Jerry tries 
 to talk into the telephone. Betty puts her hand across the 
 mouthpiece.] Say one word and I'll never speak to you 
 again. 
 
 Jerry. This is going to take some explaining. 
 
 Betty. Leave it to me. 
 
 Jerry. Your mother has every right to be furious. Every 
 right to suspect me. Every right to prevent our marriage 
 now. 
 
 Betty. Just let her try it. [There is a knock at the 
 door.] Quick, Jerry. [She grabs him, throws herself into 
 his arms, puts his arms around her, Jerry struggles, Betty 
 holds his hinds firmly.] Come in! 
 
 [Mrs. Dean comes in, smilingly, arrayed in a gor- 
 geous gown, a fur trimmed wrap of brocade, and a 
 befeathered picture hat. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Good morning, children. Gaze on your 
 mother — "Success," Herald. 
 
 [She sweeps across in front of them to display her, 
 clothes. 
 
 Betty. Mother, don't you see us? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. There's nothing the matter with my eye- 
 sight. 
 
 Betty. Mother, don't you see us? I'm compromised. 
 
 Jerry. No — no! 
 
 lyiRS. Dean. [Graciously.] Bless my little girl. Your 
 mother's here. I came as soon as I found the note. [She 
 strokes the fur on the sleeve of her wrap.] Isn't it a lovely 
 
192 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 
 
 piece of fup? They say it's sable, but I believe if you 
 stroked it the wrong way, it'd put up its back and spit at 
 you. 
 
 Betty. Mother, will you pay attention to us? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Parading across the room.'] My dear, 
 don't be selfish. Let me enjoy my glad raiment. After I 
 read the papers and 'phoned to the box-office, I said, 
 ^'Matilda, go out and squander." 
 
 Jerry. The hit's gone to her head. 
 
 [He sits on the bench. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. I went straight to the dressmaker's. He 
 says, I'm a perfect 40, the rascal. [She giggles.] Betty. 
 [Betty goes to Mrs. Dean, who takes her aside and whis- 
 pers.] Everything underneath this is embroidered crepe, and 
 I wish you could see the lilies of the valley on my corsets 1 
 
 Betty. You look lovely. You know how glad I am that 
 at last I see you looking 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Rich and recherche. 
 
 Betty. But it would have been more profitable and more 
 to the point if instead of visiting the dressmaker's you had 
 spent the time at the dramatic agencies. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Majestically.] My day for bending the 
 knee to the dramatic agents is over. In future, they'll 
 salaam to the mother of Bettina Dean. [Betty, shaking 
 her head hopelessly, joins Jerry on the bench.] I don't 
 mind telling you two in strictest confidence that I'm going 
 to be a power in this business. You saw what the news- 
 papers said about my prediction of this play. I've always 
 thought I could do a few things to Ibsen. 
 
 Betty. [To Jerry.] Oh, it's hopeless! 
 
 [Mrs. Dean pays no attention to him. She takes off 
 her wrap and throws it over the couch on which she 
 poses, then smiles in a stagey way at Jerry. 
 
 Jerry. [Coming to her.] Mrs. Dean, this is serious. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Contentedly.] What's "serious"? 
 
 Jerry. On Saturday night Betty and I say a fond fare- 
 well to Dora and her Dilemma. 
 
ACT iv] THE SHOW SHOP 193 
 
 Mrs. Dean. What? Are you going mad? 
 Betty. Yes, if being married is going mad. 
 
 [She rises and goes to Jerry. 
 Mrs. Dean. Married? Utteriy impossible. 
 
 [Betty starts to talk; Jerry quiets her. 
 Jerry. Let me talk, Betty. [Betty retires and sits on 
 the bench by the table.] Now, Mrs. Dean, you've kept us 
 apart on the plea that you wanted to see Betty on Broad- 
 way. You can take a long lingering look at her for five 
 more nights, and, of course, the usual matinees. 
 
 [He sits on the bench beside Betty. 
 Mrs. Dean. [Rising.'] What do you mean? 
 Jerry. Sunday we're married! 
 Betty. No. today; I'll take no more chances. 
 Jerry. Suits me, darling. Then on Sunday we start on 
 a still hunt for that farm with the chickens and the little 
 calf. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. I won't permit it. 
 
 Jerry. Then I'm afraid we won't wait for the permit. 
 [Rosenbaum bursts in. He, like Mrs. Dean, exudes 
 prosperity in every line of the palpably new morning 
 coat, silk hat, boutonniere and gloves. He is 
 beaming. 
 Rosenbaum. Well, we put it over. Didn't I always say 
 it was a great play? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Oh, Mr. Rosenbaum, I'm so glad you've 
 come. 
 
 Rosenbaum. I'd have been here before, but I was look- 
 ing over the plans for the Rosenbaum Theatre. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Talk to these children. I can't do anything 
 with them. They're impossible. 
 
 [She sits on the couch. 
 Rosenbaum. [Going to her.] You've got to make allow- 
 ances after the hit they made last night. It's the artistic 
 temperament. 
 Mrs. Dean. It's rank nonsense. 
 Rosenbaum. It's the same thing. [He goes to Jerry 
 
194 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 
 
 and sits on the chair beside the bench.'] Jerry, didn't I always 
 say it took just one fat part to make a Broadway star? 
 Find out what they Hke in your personality and hand it to 
 them. When you get old you keep on handing it to them 
 and they think it's character acting. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. We've no time to listen to your theories of 
 acting, even if you had any. They threaten to stop acting 
 altogether on Saturday night. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Rising.] What? 
 
 Jerry. That's right. 
 
 [He rises and goes to Rosenbaum. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Never. 
 
 Jerry. [Threateningly.] Who's going to make me act? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Nobody can do that, the critics notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 Rosenbaum. You don't dare quit. 
 
 Jerry. Don't I? You forget I own this show. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. What? You? 
 
 [She rises. 
 
 Jerry. Yes. I put up the money for "Dora's Dilemma." 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Indignantly.] Why wasn't I told? 
 
 [She glares at Rosenbaum, who sneaks away. 
 
 Jerry. Because I didn't want you to feel under obliga- 
 tions to me. 
 
 , Mrs. Dean. Obligations? To furnish a few paltry thou- 
 sands to put my daughter where she belongs? It was a 
 privilege. Nevertheless, it was very generous of you. Betty, 
 why don't you thank this noble-hearted man for all he 
 has done for you? 
 
 Betty. Thank him I 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Going to Mrs. Dean.] Listen to her, 
 she's as bad as Belden. But why expect gratitude from 
 actors? 
 
 Jerry. Gratitude to you? [He goes to him furiously.] 
 ^. fat lot you've done for us. Where's that failure you guar- 
 anteed me? 
 
ACT iv] THE SHOW SHOP 195 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Handing him a check.'] Here's your $5,000. 
 I don't need it. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. What's this I hear about failure? 
 
 [RosENBAUM moves away agaiuo 
 Jerry. He promised me that it would fail. I relied on 
 him. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. So, young man, you were going to put one 
 over on mother? 
 
 Jerry. You've put it all over us. Let that satisfy you. 
 But don't waste your time gloating. You'd better bend all 
 your energies to finding two people to play our parts, and 
 finding them quickly. 
 
 [He picks up Betty's suit case. Betty joins him, 
 
 and they start toward the door, Mrs. Dean rushes 
 
 to intercept them. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. You children don't realise what you're doing. 
 
 You can't leave this cast. You're both necessary to the 
 
 success of the play. 
 
 RosENBAUM. You leave it and it won't draw a cent. 
 Jerry. We don't need the money. 
 RosENBAUM. What about me? 
 Jerry. Oh, you! 
 
 Mrs. Dean. What about the others? You can't stop the 
 run of this play, throw all these people out of employment. 
 Think of Effie and Johnnie. Would you take away their 
 livelihood? Drive them back to a life of care and worry? 
 You can't do that unless you're both marked with a wide 
 streak of yellow. 
 
 Betty. Jerry, I suppose we must think of the others. 
 
 [Jerry throws down the suit case in disgust. There is 
 
 a slight pause, then he advances on Rosenbaum in 
 
 a fury. 
 
 Jerry. Why didn't you tell me if this was a success I 
 
 could not get out of it without hurting other people? You 
 
 promised me faithfully that my acting would kill it. Why 
 
 didn't you warn me that I was in danger of making a hit?, 
 
196 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 
 
 RosENBAUM. Oh, how did I know you had what gets 
 across, whatever the damn thing is. 
 
 Jerry. [Going to Mrs. Dean.] If I stick to this thing 
 
 [Betty protests.} I don't say I will. I'll do it on one con- 
 dition, Mrs. Dean, that you withdraw your opposition to my 
 marriage with Betty. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Going to Jerry.] You marry Betty over 
 my dead body. 
 
 Jerry. [Shaking his fist in Rosenbaum's jaceJ] Oh, I'd 
 go to the chair for you. 
 
 [He goes and sits on the table, his back to them. 
 
 Betty. I'll play Dora and her old Dilemma with a wed- 
 ding ring or not at all. 
 
 [She joins Jerry and sits with her back to them. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Mrs. Dean, are you going to stand there 
 and see them ruin me? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. Ruin us? 
 
 RosENBAUM. Who's going to pay $2 to see a man make 
 love to his own wife? [He runs across.} Oh, Betty, be rea- 
 sonable. I'll make a great actress of you. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. I've done that already, Mr. Rosenbaum. 
 
 RosENBAUM. Oh, Betty, don't do this! Stick to me! To 
 show you the kind of fellow I am, I'll let you both do 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Jerry. [Furiously, jumping off table and going to Rosen- 
 baum.] Shakespeare! You've done enough for me. Don't 
 you think you can put me in tights. 
 
 Betty. I have an idea. Why couldn't we be married 
 quietly? 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Scornfully.} Quietly? What can you do in 
 New York quietly? 
 
 Betty. No one need know. 
 
 Rosenbaum. The reporters would get it in a minute. 
 There's a bunch of them downstairs now. 
 
 Jerry. Why? 
 
 Rosenbaum. I brought them around to interview 5rou. 
 
 Jerry. [Going quickly to the telephone at the end of the 
 
ACT iv] THE SHOW SHOP 197 
 
 desk.'] Hello, is this the office? Send those reporters up to 
 Mr. Belden's room at once. Yes, at once. [Betty looks at 
 Jerry bewildered, Rosie and Mrs. Dean, horrified. Jerry 
 goes over to them.] Now you listen to me. I'm willing to 
 think of you and Effie and Johnnie and the others. I'm 
 willing to go on acting and acting and acting, to serve my 
 sentence, so that you can go on producing and producing 
 and producing. You can do your Shakespeare and you can 
 do your Ibsen provided we can get married. Oh quietly — 
 I'll keep the marriage a secret. Either you do this or I'll 
 give that bunch of reporters a story of our engagement that 
 will spread over the front page of every paper in this town. 
 Now, it's up to you. [There is a knock at the door. He 
 lowers his voice.] There they are. Now think and think 
 fast. 
 
 RosENBAUM. [Whispering.] What will we do? 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Whispering.] What can we do? 
 
 Jerry. [Whispering.] Come with us. 
 
 Mrs. Dean. [Whispering,] Where? 
 
 Jerry. [Whispering.] To the Little Church Around the 
 Corner. 
 
 Rosenbaum. [Getting Mrs. Dean's coat from the 
 couch, gives it to her, whispering.] For God's sake go, but 
 go quietly. 
 
 Jerry. [Reaching out his hand to Mrs. Dean.] Come, 
 mother. 
 
 [Betty, Mrs. Dean and Jerry start to the door at 
 the left, walking on tiptoes. Rosenbaum tiptoes to 
 the other door. The knocking becomes lotider. He 
 motions to them to hurry and they go smilingly as 
 he is about to admit the reporters, 
 
 the end 
 
THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 
 
 A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 
 

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 
 
 Jeffrey Fair 
 
 Nancy Fair 
 
 Alan Fair 
 
 Sylvia Fair 
 
 Peggy Gibbs 
 
 Angelica Brice 
 
 E. Dudley Gillette 
 
 Nora 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert Wells 
 
 Mrs. Leslie Converse 
 
 Mrs. Kellett Brown 
 
 Mrs. Norman Wynne 
 
 Mrs. Stuart Perrin 
 
 The Scenes of the First and Second Acts are laid at the 
 home of Jeffrey Fair on Long Island, in the months of 
 May and June; the occurrences of the succeeding acts take 
 place in his apartments in a New York hotel during an eve- 
 ning in October. 
 
THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 
 
 Original cast, as first presented at the Henry Miller Theatre, 
 New York, December 22, 19 19 
 
 It is arranged in the order in which they first appear. 
 
 Sylvia Fair Margalo Gillmore 
 
 Alan Fair Jack Devereaux 
 
 Nora Betty Hall 
 
 E. Dudley Gillette . . . Robert Strange 
 
 Angelica Brice .... Virginia Hammond ' 
 
 Nancy Fair ..... BLANCHE BATES 
 
 Jeffrey Fair HENRY MILLER 
 
 Mrs. Norman Wynne, . . Dallas Tyler 
 
 Mrs. Kellett Brown . . Marian Lord 
 
 Mrs. Stuart Perrin . . . Maude Allan 
 
 Mrs. Leslie Converse . . Alice Baxter 
 
 Mrs. Gilbert Wells . . Florence Williams 
 
 Peggy Gibbs Kathleen Conegys 
 
THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 
 
 THE FIRST ACT 
 
 The living-room of Jeffrey Fair's home on Long Island. 
 The walls are panelled and painted in soft tones; at the 
 left is a fireplace, at the right a door into a hall and at 
 the back three French windows opening onto a terrace 
 beyond which is a vista of wooded hills. The room is 
 charmingly and Itcxmously furnished, everything de- 
 noting wealth and refinement, A large table with a 
 lamp, writing materials, photographs, books and bowls 
 of flowers is at the right. Behind it is a chair and in 
 front of it a couch. Between the windows are con- 
 soles and, on either side of them, smcdl chairs. In the 
 corner of the room is a lacquer cabinet. There are two 
 large wing chairs, one in front of the fireplace, the 
 other against the left wall below the fireplace. Bowls 
 and vases of flowers are in every available place, giv- 
 ing a festive aspect to the room. Above the centre 
 '^ndow is a floral piece fashioned of laurel and red, 
 white and blue flowers, in the centre the words ''Wel- 
 come Home Our Heroine," at the base red, white and 
 blue ribbons fastened with a cockade and projecting 
 from its upper corners are miniature flags of the 
 United States, Great Britain and France. 
 
 Sylvia Fair is coming from the garden through the sun- 
 shine of a May morning. In a simple gingham dress 
 with her hair hanging in a golden cloud about her 
 shoulders, her arms filled with lilacs, she is a radiant 
 picture of sweet, unspoiled girlhood, not at all the usual 
 modern miss of eighteen. She runs up the steps and 
 into the room where she flits aboui arranging the 
 flowers, humming the air of a gay little song. Het 
 
 20cr 
 
204 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 task completed, she stands looking at the restdt with 
 joyftd satisfaction when the voice of Alan Fair is 
 heard outside in the hall. 
 
 Alan. [Calling.'] Oh, Sylvia 1 
 
 Sylvia. Yes, Alan. 
 
 [Alan Fair, a fine example of American youth, comes 
 in hurriedly. 
 
 Alan. Hello, Sis. 
 
 Sylvia. Hello, Alan! 
 
 Alan. Mother not here yet? 
 
 Sylvia. No. But she will be any moment. The boat 
 docked an hour ago. 
 
 Alan. Did you get in touch with Dad? 
 
 Sylvia. Yes. Last night as soon as I received the wire- 
 less. 
 
 Alan. Why didn't you meet mother? 
 
 Sylvia. They won't let you on the pier without an alibi 
 or something. 
 
 Alan. Hello! Give me John 6780! 
 
 Sylvia. What are you going to do? 
 
 Alan. 'Phone Peggy. I motored her in this morning. 
 Tire went bad* She was afraid I wouldn't be here in 
 time! 
 
 Sylvia. I wonder why mother didn't cable that she had 
 changed from the French Line to the Olympic? 
 
 Alan. Oh, hello! Is this 6780 John? I'd like to speak 
 to Miss Gibbs. [To Sylvia.] Say, but you're going to 
 be a big surprise to mother. 
 
 Sylvia. Yes. Two years makes a lot of difference in a 
 woman. 
 
 Alan. You! You're only a kid. 
 
 Sylvia. Why, I'm eighteen. 
 
 Alan. Oh, hello! Is that you, Peggy? Yes, I got here 
 in time. Boat's docked. 
 
 Sylvia. Give Peggy my love. 
 
 Alan. Sylvia says to give you her love! That goes 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 205 
 
 double for me. Oh, that's all right. I'm going to tell 
 
 Sylvia. No, I won't say a word to anyone else. I promise. 
 
 [Sylvia, astonished, goes to Alan and stiddenly 
 
 reaches over, turns the transmitter towards herself 
 
 and talks into it. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, Peggy, I've been hoping you were going to 
 
 be my sister-in-law. 
 
 Alan. [Greatly surprised.] Why, how did you know? 
 Sylvia. [Taking the telephone from Alan.] Peggy, Alan 
 wants to know how I knew. Isn't that funny? When did 
 you say "yes"? Last night? [Alan is impatiently trying 
 to take the telephone from Sylvia.] I'm so glad. Yes, 
 I'm awfully excited. I can hardly wait until mother gets 
 here. 
 
 Alan. [Grabbing the telephone.] Good-bye, darlingl 
 Don't get so fresh! What number do I want? You've cut 
 me off. 
 
 [Alan irritably moves receiver hook up and down. 
 Sylvia laughing, takes the telephone from Alan 
 and puts it on the table. Alan goes sulkUy to the 
 armchair. 
 Alan. How did you know I was in love with Peggy? 
 Sylvia. [Coming to him.] Oh, you weren't running up 
 to Connecticut every other minute since you've been de- 
 mobilised to see your "buddy," even if he is as nice a one 
 as Tom Gibbs. Why, the very first time I met Peggy, I 
 knew. 
 
 Alan. I didn't know it myself then. 
 
 [He siis. 
 Sylvia. [Leaning over the back of the chair.] Are you 
 going to tell mother and daddy? 
 Alan. Not right away. 
 
 Sylvia. Afraid they won't like your marrying beneath 
 you? 
 
 Alan. Where do you get that stuff? 
 Sylvia. Peggy is a stenographer, and you are the son of 
 Jeffrey Fair. 
 
206 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Alan. Yes, and Peggy's been self-supporting and, except 
 what Uncle Sam paid me, I've never earned a nickel. Mar- 
 rying beneath me! I'm marrying above me. 
 
 Sylvia. [^Sitting on the arm of the chair.'] I hope they 
 think so. Of course, mother's been helping for four years 
 to save the world for Democracy. I suppose that's made 
 her democratic, and daddy has no use for his ancestors.. 
 Still it's going to be an awful shock to everyone here. 
 
 Alan. I should worry about shocking the neighbours. 
 
 Sylvia. Then why keep it a secret? 
 
 Alan. Peggy thinks it might spoil the family reunion, 
 for mother if I — ^well, spring a new member on her. 
 
 Sylvia. That's very thoughtful, very sweet of Peggy. 
 
 Alan. Everything about her is sweet. I'm crazy about 
 the whole family. They have the homiest kind of a home» 
 You know, at night Mrs. Gibbs sewing and Mr. Gibbs read- 
 ing his paper and a bowl of apples on the table. 
 
 Sylvia. Of course, an apple at night would give me the 
 pip but it must be lovely. 
 
 Alan. It would be great if you liked Tom. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, Alan, I don't believe I could marry a po- 
 liceman. 
 
 Alan. He's not a policeman. He's a detective and the 
 best pal. Sylvia, you're not going to be a rotten snob 
 about a man who fought for you, side by side with your 
 own brother? 
 
 Sylvia. You know I'm not a snob. I love Peggy and 
 I like Tom. But I can't marry all the men who fought 
 for me. I don't want to marry anyway. All I want to do 
 is get acquainted again with my mother. 
 
 [Nora, a homemaid, enters, 
 
 Nora. Mr. Alan, a gentleman to see you. 
 
 [Alan takes the card, looks at it,^ 
 
 Sylvia. Why, Nora, we can't see anyone today. 
 
 Nora. That's what I told him. It's something to do* 
 with your mother. 
 
 Sylvia. [Going to Alan.] Who is he? 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 20t 
 
 Alan. [Reading.] "E. Dudley Gillette of the Gillette 
 Lecture Bureau." 
 
 Nora. He says it's very important. 
 
 Alan. Show him in. 
 
 Sylvm. What can he want? 
 
 Alan. [Reading.] "Business Representative for Tommy 
 Perkins, the Flying Ace; Montague Travers, War Cor-. 
 respondent." Seems to specialise in war heroes. 
 
 Sylvl\. I'll bet he's selling tickets. 
 
 [She sits in the armchair-, 
 [Nora shows in E. Dudley Gillette, a man of thirty- 
 five, of good appearance and address, but not a gen- 
 tleman. His manner is over-suave, his clothes toa 
 correct. 
 
 Gillette. Good morning. Captain Fair. 
 
 Alan. No, just plain Mr. Fair now. 
 
 Gillette. [Bowing to Sylvia.] I hope you'll excuse this 
 intrusion, [to Alan] but I have something here for Major 
 Fair that was too' important to entrust to a messenger as 
 I want her to receive it immediately on her arrival. 
 
 [He takes from his pocket an envelope and hands it 
 to Alan. 
 
 Alan. Won't you sit down? 
 
 Gillette. Thank you. 
 
 Alan. [Indicating the envelope.] Something of a confi- 
 dential nature? 
 
 Gillette. Well, no. It's an offer to make a lecture tour 
 of the country under my management. 
 
 Alan. A what? [He opens the envelope, 
 
 Sylvia. Mother lecture? Oh, how ghastly! 
 
 Alan. [Reading the contract.] This wouldn't interest her. 
 
 Gillette. Oh, I don't know. My London representative 
 cabled that she would give my offer her consideration. 
 
 Alan. That's my mother's way of being polite. 
 
 Gillette. Possibly. Still she did go to London to see 
 my man. 
 
208 ' THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Alan. You knew that mother was arriving on the Olym- 
 pic? 
 
 Gillette. Yes, that's why I am here. I wanted to be 
 the first on the ground. There will be a keen competition 
 for her among the lecture bureaus. 
 Alan. Why? 
 
 Gillette. The newspapers have been full of the work 
 done overseas by Major Fair and her Unit; her decoration 
 by the French Government, all that with her social position 
 
 here 
 
 Sylvia. [Indignantly. '] Why, I think it's perfectly awful 
 of you or anyone else to think that our mother is going 
 around the country showing off her Croix de Guerre. 
 
 Alan, Mother has no desire to boast of her work. There 
 is not the slightest use leaving this. 
 
 l^He replaces the contracts in the envelope which he 
 offers to Gillette, who rises. 
 Gillette. Because her family wouldn't permit her to 
 accept it? 
 
 Alan. [Snubbing him.] My mother makes her own de- 
 cisions. 
 
 Gillette. [Very suavely.] Then why can't I leave it for 
 her? 
 
 Alan. [Coldly.] No reason. 
 
 Gillette. Well, then 
 
 [Alan looks at Gillette, then, turning away, places 
 the envelope in the pocket of his coat. Sylvia is 
 looking at Gillette. Gillette looks at her inter- 
 estedly, in fact rather rudely "sizes her up." Sylvia 
 is puzzled and a little embarrassed, being utterly un- 
 accustomed to that kind of scrutiny. Alan turns, 
 Gillette quickly assumes a suave smile. 
 Gillette. Thank you. Good morning. 
 Alan. Good morning. 
 
 [Gillette goes. Sylvia rises and runs over to Alan. 
 Sylvia. [Distressed — almost in tears.] Oh, Alan, mother 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 209 
 
 wouldn't do it. Surely, when she's been home only once in 
 four years she won't want to go away again. 
 Alan. [Soothingly.] Certainly not. 
 
 [He puts his arms around Sylvia. 
 [Angelica Brice, a pretty blonde widow in the thirties, 
 fragile, appealing, essentially feminine and charm- 
 ingly gowned, appears at the door to the terrace, 
 Angy. Hello, Sylvia. 
 
 Alan. [Impatiently.] Oh 
 
 [He turns away in disgust. Sylvia runs to Angy. 
 Sylvia. Oh, Angy, darling. Come in. 
 Angy. Oh, no. I simply wanted your mother to have this 
 little welcome from her next-door neighbour. 
 
 Sylvia. That's lovely of you. Come in and tell me if you 
 think the place looks nice. 
 
 [She takes the violets, places them in a bowl on the 
 table. Angy comes into the room. She looks at the 
 decorations. 
 Angy. Oh, it's charming! How do you do, Alan? 
 Alan. [Coldly.] How do you do, Mrs. Brice. 
 Angy. Oh, it's charming. 
 
 [She sits in the arm-chair. 
 Sylvia. [Running over to her.] I'm so glad mother came 
 home in May. She loves the Spring flowers. 
 Angy. I suppose your father's at the dock. 
 Sylvia. I hope so. I had such a time getting him last 
 night at Washington. 
 
 Angy. Oh, darling, I could have told you he'd be here 
 today. I'm so glad for you that your mother's coming home 
 at last. 
 Alan. [Significantly.] I'm so glad for father's sake. 
 [He looks meaningly at Angy, who, although thor- 
 oughly understanding the implication in his speech, 
 is apparently oblivious. Sylvia is wholly unaware of 
 Angy's and Alan's fencing. 
 Angy. He must have missed her. Hasn't it been awfully 
 sporting of him never to have complained? 
 
210 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Sylvia. If it hadn^t been for you, we'd have died of lone- 
 liness. I'll never forget how good you've been to me and 
 daddy. 
 
 Alan. Neither will I. You've tried your darnedest to 
 take mother's place. And even if you haven't succeeded, 
 you've made a corking good stab at it. 
 
 Angy. [Ta Alan, very sweetly.] So glad you appreciate 
 it. 
 Alan. Why, no one in this family appreciates you as I do. 
 SvLvm. [Delightedly runs to Alan.] I knew you'd like 
 Angy when you understood her. 
 
 Alan. Why, Sylvia, I've always understood Mrs. Brice. 
 [He is standing, his arm about Sylvia, smiling at 
 Angy, who is furious with him, although she seems 
 to be unruffled. The voices of Nancy and Jeffrey 
 are heard in the hall. 
 Nancy. [Outside.] Oh, children! Where are you? 
 Sylvia. Mother! 
 Alan. It's mother! 
 
 [They rush into the hall calling excitedly, "Mother! 
 Mother!" There is a babel of excited greeting. 
 Angy rises and retires to a position where she can 
 watch unobserved the advent of Nancy Fair, who 
 appears presently, between Sylvia and Alan, her 
 arms about their shoulders. In her Overseas uni- 
 form of horizon blue, Sam Browne belt, beret and 
 ribbon of the Croix de Guerre, she is a vividly 
 arresting figure, the personification of those American 
 women brought into prominence during the war be- 
 cause of their executive ability, gay courage and 
 unselfish devotion. 
 Nancy is overjoyed at the meeting with her children. 
 She hugs and kisses Sylvia repeatedly. Alan is 
 trying to attract his mother's attention and finally 
 taps her affectionately on the shoulder. 
 Alan. Mother, I could do with a little of that. 
 Nancy. Alan! Alan! 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 2U 
 
 [Ske turns to him and he takes her in his arms. She 
 kisses him, puts him away from her, looks at him 
 fondly, then embraces him again and again. Sylvia 
 has run across to Jeffrey Fair, who has followed 
 them and is watching, happily, the reunion of his 
 family. He is fifty and represents the highest type 
 of the American man of affairs. 
 Angy, coming forward, is seen by Jeffrey. He is 
 slightly startled and visibly annoyed, but controlling 
 himself he bows, smilingly, then tries to attract 
 Nancy's attention. 
 Jeffrey. Oh, Nancy! [Nancy does not hear him. He 
 raises his voice.] Oh, Nancy— — ! [Nancy turns to him. 
 He indicates Angy.] This is Mrs. Brice. 
 
 [Alan, annoyed, moves away. Nancy turns to Mrs. 
 Brice, smiling, and is about to go to her, when 
 Sylvia runs to Angy and, taking her by the hand, 
 brings her to Nancy. 
 Sylvia. Mother, this is Angy! 
 
 Nancy. [Very cordially.] Oh, you are Sylvia's Angy. 
 The child's letters have been full of you. You've been so 
 kind to my little girl. 
 
 Angy. [Very sweetly.] Sylvia and her father have been 
 very kind to me. I hadn't meant to intrude. 
 Sylvia. Oh, mother, Angy brought these. 
 
 \_She picks up the bowl of violets, shows them to 
 Nancy, who exclaims at the sight of them, 
 Nancy. Oh, how sweet of you! 
 Angy. I must go. Good-bye, Sylvia. 
 
 [She starts toward the door to the terrace, 
 Nancy. You'll come again very soon, won't you? 
 Angy. Oh, I'll be sure to! [She smiles very sweetly at 
 Nancy, turns, looks at Jeffrey, waves her hand airily.] 
 Bye-bye, Jeffie! 
 
 [She goes, 
 [A slight pause. Nancy is surprised, amused, Jeffrey 
 annoyed, confused. 
 
212 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Nancy. [Imitating Angy.] "Jeffie" [Very inno- 
 cently.] Darling, have you been carrying on a little bit? 
 
 Jeffrey. Certainly not. [Nancy laughs. Alan is 
 amused. Sylvia oblivious. Jeffrey, embarrassed, pre- 
 tends to search for something on the table.] Damn it all, 
 you never can find a match in this house 1 
 
 Sylvlv. Here they are. You never look. 
 
 [Jeffrey goes to Sylvl\, who gives him a match. 
 Nancy laughs. She looks about her. 
 
 Nancy. Well, Alan, some swell dugout. 
 
 Sylvia. Daddy, listen to mother talking slang. 
 
 Alan. Get our decorations? 
 
 Nancy. Bless your hearts! They are lovely! 
 
 Sylvia. Our decorations! / did it all. 
 
 Nancy. Sylvia, that placard's going it a bit strong. Your 
 mother isn't a heroine. 
 
 Sylvia. [Expostulating.] Aren't you a Major, and deco- 
 rated, and everything? 
 
 Nancy. [With mock seriousness.] 'N everything! 
 
 Sylvia. Mother, when you were given the Croix de 
 Guerre, did the General kiss you on both cheeks? 
 
 [Jeffrey advances towards them. 
 
 Nancy. Ask me some other time, darling; your father is 
 listening. 
 
 Jeffrey. If he didn't, he was a poor fish! 
 
 [Nancy blows him a kiss. 
 
 Sylvia. Poor daddy When I think how you slaved in 
 that old Quartermaster's Department, I don't see why they 
 didn't decorate you. 
 
 Jeffrey. They don't pin any medals on you for trying to 
 save the people's money. 
 
 Nancy. [Looking about her.] Is all this magnificence 
 mine? 
 
 Jeffrey. Are you referring to me? 
 
 Alan. No. She means me. 
 
 Nancy. I mean Sylvia. Gracious, child, what have you 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 213 
 
 been taking to make you grow? Jeff, isn't she the prettiest 
 daughter that ever was? 
 
 Jeffrey. Look at her father. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, you! Alan, you look simply scrumptious I 
 
 Jeffrey. [Sitting in the arm-chair.] What about me? 
 
 Nancy. You! You haven't pined away for me at all. 
 I'm frightfully disappointed. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, mother! Why? 
 
 Nancy. He should be pale and wan, and look at him! 
 He's fat, positively fat! 
 
 Jeffrey. [Indignantly.] I am not fat. 
 
 Sylvia. He's not, 
 
 Nancy. [Laughing.] Alan, we'll have to take him in 
 hand. You know [illustrating] fifty times before breakfast. 
 
 Alan. [Laughs.] Too late. 
 
 [He sits on the couch, 
 
 Sylvia. You two stop picking on my daddy. I think he's 
 perfectly grand. 
 
 Nancy. He has me hypnotised just that same way, dar- 
 ling. 
 
 Alan. Yes. Taken by and large, he's not a bad old scout. 
 
 Jeffrey. Here, son, my wife has been mingling with the 
 flower of the youth of both hemispheres, so cut that old. 
 [Nancy goes to Jeffrey, sits on the arm of his chair 
 and hugs him. 
 
 Nancy. None of them so nice as you. 
 
 Jeffrey. Sure? 
 
 Nancy. Well, pretty sure. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, mother, you look so young. 
 
 Nancy. Nobody ever had a nicer daughter. 
 
 Alan. They've got to go some to tie you, mother — eh, 
 Dad? 
 
 Jeffrey. I'll say it. 
 
 Nancy. Such compliments from my family! You're not 
 getting me in a good humour so that you can spring some- 
 thing on me? 
 
 Alan. How does it seem to be home, mother? o 
 
214 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Nancy. If Sylvia won't be shocked by my language, I'll 
 confess I'm having a pippin of a time I 
 
 [Jeffrey puts his arm around her, 
 Alan. You are going to find it awfully flat. 
 
 [Nancy is smiling. Her expression changes. She looks 
 at Alan curiously. Sylvia turns. Jeffrey leans 
 forward in his chair. They also look in surprise at 
 Alan. 
 Nancy. What do you mean? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Indignantly.] Yes, I'd like to know what he 
 means. 
 
 Sylvia. Alan! The idea! She didn't find it flat when 
 she was here the last time. 
 
 Alan. Mother was busy getting money for her Unit, and 
 she was going back. Take it from me. I've been through it. 
 You're going to miss the something — I don't know what it 
 is — but life over there gets you. You know that, mother. 
 You'll find yourself thinking more about the people you left 
 over there than your old friends here. 
 
 [Nancy rises and moves toward Sylvia. She is think- 
 ing. The others watch her closely. Seeing that 
 Sylvia is looking at her anxiously, she smiles and 
 goes to her. 
 Nancy. What are you worrying about, dear? 
 Sylvia. You won't get bored at home, will you, mother? 
 Jeffrey. Sylvia, don't i>ay any attention to this young 
 kill- joy. [He rises and advances on Alan.] What the 
 devil is the matter with you? 
 
 [He glares in indignation at Alan, who rises and 
 goes to the door to the terrace. Sylvia, even with 
 her mother's arms around her, is still unconvinced, 
 Sylvia. But you won't get bored, will you? 
 Nancy. No. No. No. You silly little goose! 
 
 [She has taken Sylvia's jace in her hands, kissing 
 her after each "No'' and at the end of the speech, 
 then, taking her over to the arm-chair, swings her 
 onto the arm of the chair, where Sylvia perches, all 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 215 
 
 smiles again, her arm around Nancy, who is seated. 
 Jeffrey is sitting on the couch, looking at them and 
 smiling happily. 
 Jeffrey. It's good to see you over there, Nancy. We 
 missed you — eh, Sylvia? 
 
 Sylvia. You missed us, didn't you, mother? 
 
 Alan. When she had the time to think about you. But 
 
 you never had the time 
 
 Jeffrey. Say, will you let your mother speak for herself? 
 Alan. Just the same, I'm right, aren't I, mother? 
 Nancy. Perhaps — in a way. But I had lots of time to be 
 lonesome for all of you. 
 
 [She looks lovingly at Jeffrey. 
 [Nora comes in, bringing a tray. 
 Nancy. Well, if it isn't Nora! I am glad to see you, 
 
 [^She rises, greeting Nora warmly. 
 Nora. It's glad I am to see you, Mrs. Fair, safe and 
 sound out of them trenches! 
 
 [Nancy moves toward the tray and begins to examine 
 its contents. Jeffrey and Sylvia join Alan. They 
 stand watching her, much amused. 
 Nancy. What's this? 
 
 Nora. Luncheon's a couple of hours off and cook thought 
 you might like a snack. 
 
 Nancy. Don't tell me it's honest-to-God American boiled 
 coffee? And sugar! And butter! And real cream from a 
 cow! I simply can't bear it! 
 Nora. It's starved you've been by them Paris chefs! 
 Nancy. You've said it, Nora. Give cook a kiss. How 
 are all the others? 
 
 Nora. Oh, fine, and waiting in the kitchen to welcome 
 you. 
 
 Nancy. I'll be there very soon. 
 
 Nora. Oh, Mrs. Fair, take no notice of William if he's 
 kinda short with you. He's that annoyed; he didn't know 
 you were coming. He was for having a triumphal arch 
 over the front door. 
 
216 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Nancy. I won't. 
 
 [They laugh. Nora goes. Nancy sits on the couch. 
 Sylvia brings a chair and sits beside her. 
 
 Sylvia. Now, mother, tell us everything. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, let your mother drink her coffee. WeVe all 
 the rest of our lives to hear about it. 
 
 Alan. Oh, mother, they won't understand. You can't 
 talk about it. 
 
 Sylvia. What? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Guyingly.] You've done nothing else since 
 you've been home. [Tenderly.] But you've always had 
 one proud listener, son. 
 
 Alan. [Shyly.] Dad I 
 
 Nancy. And here's another! Come over here this instant 
 and kiss your proud mother. 
 
 Alan. Oh, mother! 
 
 Nancy. This instant minute. 
 
 Jeffrey. Captain Fair, the Major is talking to you. 
 [Alan snaps to a salute. Nancy jumps to her feet, 
 returns it. They laugh. Alan kisses Nancy and 
 she sits on the couch with Alan and Sylvia beside 
 her. Jeffrey, in the arm-chair, looks fondly at the 
 group. 
 
 Alan. Say, we're going to have some great talks! 
 
 Nancy. We're going to fight this old war right from the 
 beginning! 
 
 Jeffrey. Sylvia, it's going to be great to hear just what 
 Foch should have done. 
 
 Sylvia. You don't need to think you're going to sneak off 
 by yourselves. 
 
 Nancy. You can trail right along, darling. Well, Alan, 
 I suppose you can't wait to get back to Yale. 
 
 Jeffrey. He's not going back. 
 
 Nancy. What? 
 
 Alan. I'm going in for mining. 
 
 Nancy. Going to be a horny-handed son of toil with a 
 little lamp in your hat and everything. Now, I'm only 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 217 
 
 teasing. Bless your heart, you do what you want to do. 
 You would, anyway. [To Sylvia.] How are Biddy Wynne 
 and all my girls? 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, fine. They're coming over later. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Annoyed.] Today? 
 
 Sylvia. Yes. I 'phoned them last night. I knew mother's 
 Unit would want to welcome her home. 
 
 Nancy. Quite right, dear. I'm crazy to see them. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Grumbling.] I think people might let us have 
 you to ourselves the first day. 
 
 Nancy. [Changing the subject.] Now, Sylvia, tell me all 
 the news, and I wouldn't mind a little gossip. 
 
 Sylvia. The Wellington-Smiths have a new baby. 
 
 Nancy. So? Who's been divorced? 
 
 Sylvia. Not a soul. 
 
 Nancy. What? 
 
 Alan. Yes, this war has done that for the country. Fight- 
 ing in France has given a lot of husbands a rest from battles 
 at home. 
 
 Jeffrey. Old stuff, Alan. Possibly gave the wives a rest, 
 too. 
 
 Nancy. Thank you, Jeffrey. Sylvia, no matter how many 
 times you marry, always select a gentleman like your father. 
 Who is this Angy Brice? 
 
 Alan. Oh, mother, just as we were all so happy! 
 
 Sylvia. Why, I wrote to you about her. 
 
 Nancy. Yes, darling, I know your Mrs. Brice. [Mean- 
 ingly.] I want to know Jeff's Mrs. Brice. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Irritably.] She's not my Mrs. Brice. 
 
 Nancy. Why, Jeffrey, don't you want to tell me about 
 your little playmate? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Casually.] Of course. She's a little widow 
 who lives next door. Wasn't she here when you came over 
 last time? 
 
 Nancy. No 
 
 Sylvia. Daddy, don't you remember we met her just after 
 mother sailed? 
 
218 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Jeffrey. [Indifferently.] Oh, yes, I believe we did. I'd 
 forgotten. She's a charming woman. 
 
 Nancy. Uhmm. 
 
 Jeffrey. Took a great shine to Sylvia. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, I think she likes you, too. 
 
 Sylvia. She's devoted to us. We've seen her every day. 
 We three had great times. Motor rides, picnics 
 
 Nancy. Just a moment, Sylvia. Did I hear correctly? 
 Your father on a picnic? 
 
 Jeffrey. Sylvia liked them. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, I hope Angy did, too. Alan, don't you like 
 picnics? 
 
 Sylvia. Alan! Oh, he hasn't been here. 
 
 Nancy. Where have you been? Now, Alan, 'fess up. 
 Who is she? 
 
 [Alan is embarrassed, conjused. Sylvia enjoys it for 
 a moment, then comes to his rescue. 
 
 Sylvia. Alan has been visiting his "buddy." 
 
 Nancy. Oh! 
 
 [Alan looks gratefully at Sylvia. 
 
 Sylvia. So you see, mother, I had to depend on Angy. 
 I Red Crossed with her in town. 
 
 Nancy. Rather a fag, going to New York, wasn't it? 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, daddy drove us in and out. Sometimes we 
 dined on the way home, and when I was too tired I let 
 Daddy and Angy dine together. They didn't mind. 
 
 Nancy. [Quizzically.] No? 
 
 Sylvia. Wasn't it sweet of them? 
 
 Nancy. That was thoughtful. What made you tired, 
 dear? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Irritably.] Oh, the heat and one thing and 
 another. But let us drop Mrs. Brice. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, my dear, I couldn't. What would people say 
 when she has been so kind to you? I am going to be very 
 nice to her. 
 
 [Nora enters, 
 
 Nora. Oh, Mr. Alan, Mr. Gillette has just telephoned. 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 219 
 
 Alan. Yes? 
 
 Nora. I told him you couldn't be disturbed and he asked 
 me to remind you about the contract he left for Mrs. Fair. 
 [She takes the tray and goes. Alan and Sylvia 
 exchange glances. 
 
 Nancy. Contract? What contract? 
 
 Alan. Oh, it's nothing you need bother about now, 
 mother. 
 
 Sylvia. It can wait. 
 
 Nancy. [Rising.] Children, I am dying of curiosity. 
 
 Alan. Honestly, it's of no importance. 
 
 Jeffrey. Your mother is the best judge of that. Give it 
 to her. 
 
 Alan. [Giving Nancy the envelope.] Oh, all right. [To 
 Jeffrey.] It's a contract for a lecture tour. 
 
 Jeffrey. A wha — a lecture tour! Oh, this is immense! 
 [Jeffrey shrieks with laughter. Nancy, who has been 
 reading the contract , goes toward him. 
 
 Nancy. Well, Mr. Jeffrey Fair, there is nothing funny 
 about the money he offers me. Alan, what's a hundred times 
 $300? 
 
 Alan. $30,000. 
 
 Nancy. Help! 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, it's a fake. 
 
 Sylvia. [Rising.] Mother, you couldn't lecture. You 
 don't know how. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, don't I, miss? I gave a little talk one night 
 to the boys on the boat and they assured me that I was 
 a riot. 
 
 Jeffrey. What did you talk about? 
 
 Nancy. My experiences. 
 
 Sylvia. Did you like doing it? 
 
 Nancy. It was rather fun. Of course, if I did it here 
 it wouldn't be for money. 
 
 Jeffrey. But, Nancy, you're not going to do it here. 
 
 Alan. That contract calls for a Coast-to-Coast tour. 
 
 Nancy. I've never been to California. 
 
220 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Jeffrey. Why, you haven't been home for more than 
 twenty minutes. You're surely not contemplating going 
 away again? [Nancy is silent.] Nancy, what are you 
 thinking about? 
 
 Nancy. I was just thinking that $30,000 would do a lot 
 of reconstructing 
 
 Alan. She's back in France. What did I tell you? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Rising.] This home could do with a little 
 "reconstructing." 
 
 Nancy. [Meaningly.] Oh, come now, Jeff! After what 
 I've seen and heard today, you can't tell me that you really 
 need anything. 
 
 Sylvia. We need you, mother, awfully. 
 
 [She goes to Nancy. 
 
 Nancy. [Kissing her.] Well, my lamb, you are going to 
 have me. 
 
 Jeffrey. The question is, for how long? 
 
 Nancy. It's a wise wife who keeps her husband guessing. 
 Come along, Sylvia, and watch mother get the glad hand 
 from the help. 
 
 [Sylvia laughs as they leave the room with their arms 
 about each other. 
 
 Alan. I could choke Nora. I was going to hide that 
 contract. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, this Gillette individual would have got to 
 her sooner or later. [There is a slight pause.] Alan, I 
 don't want you to misunderstand about Mrs, Brice. 
 
 Alan. I don't on your end of it. But she's after you, 
 Dad. 
 
 Jeffrey. Maybe. But that'll be finished. As a matter 
 of fact, I didn't mean to go it so strong. Lonely. 
 
 Alan. Oh, Hell ! I know, I know. 
 
 Jeffrey. Do you think there's been any talk? 
 
 Alan. You can bet your life not where I could hear it. 
 
 Jeffrey, Alan, you're a great old son. 
 
 Alan. You're some dad! [A pause.] Say, dad, do you 
 mind if I say something to you? 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 221 
 
 Jeffrey. If you have some advice up your sleeve, shake 
 it out. 
 
 Alan. Kind of fresh, me advising you. 
 
 Jeffrey. You've seen things. You're not a kid any 
 longer. You fought for me. It seems to me that gives 
 you the right to speak your mind. 
 
 Alan. You know, mother is the greatest 
 
 [Jeffrey has started to say "greatest ever" also. He 
 stops. 
 
 Jefirey. If you are going to do this as a duet, let's get 
 together. 
 
 Alan and Jeffrey. Mother is the greatest ever. 
 
 Jeffrey. That's unanimous. Now, fire away! 
 
 Alan. Mother made a whale of a hit in France. 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes, I know. If she wanted to she could call 
 Pershing "J^ck," and Haig ''Doug." 
 
 Alan. Not forgetting ''Ferdie" Foch. [They laugh. 
 
 Over here, they are going to be there strong with the palaver. 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes, I expect that. 
 
 Alan. Mother's going to fall for it. 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes, I've discounted that, too. 
 
 Alan. Have you discounted the effect on her when it's 
 all over? 
 
 Jeffrey. I hadn't gotten as far as that. 
 
 Alan. Take a running jump and arrive there. 
 
 Jeffrey. Humm. 
 
 Alan. You've got to heel yourself for the day when 
 mother takes a look around and says: "France never was 
 like this." 
 
 Jeffrey. Humm. 
 
 Alan. And when that cold grey morning arrives, don't be 
 too busy to make life very damned interesting for mother. 
 
 Jeffrey. That's a pretty tall order for a man without any 
 gold lace on his chest, but I'll do my damnedest. 
 
 Alan. And if I see the symptoms coming, having been 
 through it myself, I'll give you the high sign. 
 
 Jeffrey. Do. Have a cigarette? 
 
222 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Alan. Thanks. 
 
 [They go out to the terrace , stopping to light their 
 cigarettes, they go down the steps into the garden. 
 Nora appears, showing in Mrs. Wynne. 
 Nora. I'll tell Mrs. Fair you're here. 
 Mrs. Wynne. Thank you, Nora. 
 
 [Nora goes. 
 
 [From the hall, arm in arm like three musketeers, come 
 
 Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Perrin and Mrs. Converse. 
 
 These women, including Mrs. Wynne, are members 
 
 of the Unit which has served with Nancy in France. 
 
 They are of contrasting types; all of them in their 
 
 thirties; they wear uniforms similar to that of Nancy. 
 
 Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Perrin and Mrs. Converse are 
 
 gay, excited; Mrs. Wynne is rather tearful. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. I'm so excited. I can hardly wait to see 
 
 Nancy. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Soft pedal on that, Lila, when your hubby's 
 around. 
 
 [She sits on the couch. 
 Mrs. Brown. Look at Biddy! Biddy, you poor old fish, 
 wake up; your buddy's home. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. [Tearfully.] I can't seem to realise it. 
 Mrs. Converse. Cut out the sob stuff, darling. 
 
 [She sits beside Mrs. Perrin. Their laughter is inter- 
 rupted by the appearance of the remaining member 
 of the Unit, Mrs. Wells, a woman of dominating 
 personality, about fifty years of age; she also is in 
 uniform, and carries a large and very elaborate 
 bouquet. 
 Mrs. Brown. Get Wellsie! 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Now, girls, after the salute — and for good- 
 ness' sake get some snap in it — you advance, Bridget, and 
 present the bouquet to Major Fair. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. [Protesting.] Why is this presentation 
 stuff wished on me? 
 Mrs. Wells. Weren't you Nancy's buddy? 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 223 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. [Sarcastically.] I never handed her any 
 bouquets. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Now's your chance. 
 
 [She sits on the arm-chair. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. {Scornjtdly.] It seems such a damn silly 
 thing to do. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. It is kind of sissy. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. [Indignantly.] I think it's a sweet idea. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. How in blazes can I salute and hand her a 
 bouquet at the same time? 
 
 [She salutes with her right hand, presenting the bouquet 
 with her left. It is obviously awkward, 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. I have an idea. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. [Guyingly.] No! 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Impossible! 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. Really! 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. [Going to Mrs. Brown.] Why couldn't 
 you hold it at your side like a sword and draw it — see? 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. [Disgusted.] Oh! You poor simp! 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Oh, Lila, awful! 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Terrible! 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Oh, if any of you had thought of it! 
 
 Mrs. Wells. [Witheringly.] Throw the old thing out 
 the window. I don't care. 
 
 [She sits beside Mrs. Converse on the couch. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. I was the goat of this Unit for four years. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. [Teasingly.] Well, won't you be our Httle 
 nanny for one more day? 
 
 Mrs. Converse. [Innocently.] What are you going to 
 say, darling, when you give it to her? 
 
 Mrs. Wells. [Casually.] A few graceful words of wel- 
 come. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. [Furiously.] I haven't got to make a 
 speech? 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Why, sweetie, you can't just shove it at 
 her. 
 
224 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. Here, Wellsie, take your pretty posies. 
 I'm going home. 
 
 [She throws the bouquet on the couch where Mrs. 
 
 Wells is seated ^ then starts to go. Mrs. Perrin 
 
 stops her J bringing her over to Mrs. Brov/n. They 
 
 expostulate with her. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Why, Bridget 1 Nancy would be sick if 
 
 you weren't here. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. No, I've stood enough. No, I tell you it's 
 ''finis." 
 
 Mrs. Wells. I seem to be the one at fault. I'll go. 
 
 \_She starts to the door. Mrs. Converse stops her. 
 Mrs. Converse. Oh, Wellsie, what's the matter with you? 
 Behave! It's like old times, hearing you two scrap. 
 Nancy. {Outside.'] Hurry up, Sylvia. 
 Mrs. Brown. [Joyously.'] She's coming! 
 Mrs. Wells. [In great excitement.] Fall in, Wynne here. 
 Then Brown. Converse next. [She turns in irritation to 
 Mrs. Converse, who has started to the door.] Converse! 
 [Mrs. Converse runs to Mrs. Wells, who grabs her and 
 places her next to Mrs. Brov^n.] Perrin! [She shoves 
 Mrs. Perrin into place next to Mrs. Converse, then takes 
 her own position at the end of the line. The women "dress** 
 to a perfect formation.] Attention! 
 
 [Nancy rushes in, followed by Sylvia. 
 Nancy. Oh, girls! 
 Mrs. Wells. Salute! 
 
 [All the women snap to a salute, which is returned by 
 
 Nancy. Mrs. Wynne takes two paces forward in 
 
 military manner and salutes again. Nancy returns 
 
 it. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. Major Fair, in the name of your Unit, I 
 
 wish to extend Oh, Buddy! Buddy! 
 
 [She breaks down and, rushing to Nancy, throws her 
 arms about her. They embrace wildly. 
 Nancy. Biddy! Biddy! My dear old Biddy! Oh, 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 225 
 
 Billy Brown! And Mary Anne! Oh, Lila! and Wellsie, 
 old girl! Oh, this is wonderful! 
 
 [She embraces them all in turn. They are laughing, 
 crying, in hysterical joy over their reunion. Sylvia^. 
 who has been watching them, is much affected. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. [Tearfully.'] Hello, Sylvia. 
 
 Sylvia. [Tearfully.'] Hello. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. [Tearjully.] Oh, Sylvia! Isn't it won- 
 derful, having mother home? 
 
 Sylvia. [Crying.] Wonderful. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. [Suddenly seeing the bouquet on the 
 couch.'] Oh, damn it all, I forgot the bouquet! 
 
 [She picks up the bouquet and gives it to Nancy, who 
 laughs. 
 
 Mrs. Brov^n. Everybody cried all they're going to? 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Well, Nancy, spill us the news. 
 
 Nancy. What do you want to know? 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. How's Clementine? 
 
 Nancy. Splendid. Sent all of you her dearest love. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Was there ever a cook like Clementine! 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Never. ! 
 
 Nancy. You know that tin Lizzie she used to drive? 
 "Ma chere Lizette." I gave her "Lizette" and four new 
 tires. I marked it on my report "abandoned." 
 
 Mrs. Wells. What will she do with it? 
 
 Nancy. I suppose she'll move the pig out of the parlor. 
 
 Oh, God love her, how I hated to say good-bye! I hope the 
 
 people at the Gare du Nord wore rubbers. We wept buckets! 
 
 [The women are seated, clustered about Nancy, 
 
 Sylvia stands beside her. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. My, doesn't it bring it all back! 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Yes, if somebody would only drop a bomb 
 I'd feel perfectly at home. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Speaking of bombs — remember Coucy? 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Oh, Billy, don't. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. [To Nancy.] Buddy, I'll always remem- 
 
1226 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 ber you driving that first ambulance down the road with 
 those Jerrys overhead, shooting at you. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, mother, how could you? 
 
 Nancy. Thank heaven, the Boche who followed me 
 couldn't hit anything smaller than the Hippodrome. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. That's why they decorated your mother — 
 for that and a few such trifles. 
 
 Sylvia. Did they only give her one measly little Croix 
 de Guerre for that? Why, they ought to have hung medals 
 all over her! 
 
 Nancy. Oh, girls, I have a lovely letter from Poincare 
 and a screed from Petain, thanking us for our four years' 
 work with the French Army. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Some Unit! 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. I'll say it was. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Not so worse. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. We'll frame those letters and hang them in 
 the club. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Yes. In the smoking-room, where all the 
 ^omen will be sure to see it. 
 
 Nancy. [Giving Sylvia the bouquet.] Oh, Sylvia, will 
 you put these in my room? Then look in my despatch box. 
 Here are the keys. Bring those kodaks. I had them fin- 
 ished at last. 
 
 [She gives the keys to Sylvia, who runs out. 
 
 Nancy. Now, girls, tell me and tell me true: How does 
 it feel to be at home? [There is silence.] Don't everybody 
 shriek with joy at once! 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. Seems to me I've been home a million 
 .years. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. After a couple of days with my kiddies, I 
 sighed for the peace and quiet of an air raid. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. You're in luck to have them. I've been 
 driven to card-indexing my hens! 
 
 Mrs. Converse. I wish you'd come over and card-index 
 my Swede! 
 
 Mrs. Wells. I must confess that after I had kissed my 
 
ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 22T 
 
 old man and all the grandchildren, they looked sort of 
 strange to me. 
 
 Nancy. Girls, this sounds awful! Possibly Alan was 
 right. He said I would find it flat. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. After being on the hop, skip and jump for 
 four years, it's the very devil to sit around "Bla." 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Have you any plans? 
 
 Nancy. I had thought of buying all the clothes in New 
 York, seeing all the shows, playing around with my f am- 
 ily . . . 
 
 Mrs. Converse. We've done all that. And then what? 
 
 Nancy. Why, eh 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Exactly. "Why, eh " 
 
 Mrs. Brown. You see, Nancy, now we have time ta 
 bum and no matches. 
 
 Nancy. What are all the other war workers doing? 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Kicking about being demobilised. 
 
 Nancy. It's a burning shame that Washington couldn't 
 have used all this organised talent. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Oh, what could you expect from Congress? 
 
 Sylvia. [Entering.] Here are the photographs! Oh, 
 mother, there are a lot of reporters here to see you. 
 
 Nancy. Where? 
 
 Sylvia. On the front door step. 
 
 Nancy. [Rises quickly.] Goodness, child! Run and ask 
 your father for some of his best cigars. 
 
 [Sylvia runs into the garden, calling *' Daddy." The 
 women have risen excitedly at the news of the re- 
 porters* arrival. They are congregated about the 
 table, examining the photographs, selecting those 
 they think most suitable for publication. Nancy is 
 adjusting her uniform. 
 
 Nancy. My hair's a sight. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. You look lovely. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. I'd give them these, Nancy; they're bully 
 of you. 
 
228 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 
 
 Nancy. I don't think I want any photographs. Jeff 
 mightn't like it. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. If you don't, they are sure to dig up 
 some horror. 
 
 Nancy. Well, give me some of the bunch. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Nancy, where's your Croix de Who's 
 Whoser? 
 
 Nancy. Would you wear it? 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Certainly. 
 
 [Nancy is pinning on the Croix de Guerre as Sylvia, 
 Jeffrey and Alan appear from the terrace. 
 
 Jeffrey. Hello. 
 
 All. Hello, Jeff. 
 
 Jeffrey. Which one of you girls wants a cigar? 
 
 Nancy. They're for the reporters. 
 
 Jeffrey. What reporters? 
 
 Nancy. From New York. Come on, girls. 
 
 Jeffrey. You're not going to see them? 
 
 Alan. {Whispering.^ Careful, Dad. 
 
 Nancy. Not if you don't wish it. 
 
 Jeffrey. Well, all right. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Hurry up, dear, before he changes his mind. 
 [The women surround Nancy and leave the room, 
 Sylvia in the lead. They are laughing and talking. 
 Jeffrey stands watching them, bewildered. 
 
 Jeffrey. My wife! Can you beat it? 
 
 Alan. That's not your wife. Dad; that's Major Fair. 
 
 curtain 
 
THE SECOND ACT 
 
 The scene is the same as that of the previous act. It is an 
 afternoon in June. 
 
 Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Wells, Mrs. Converse, Mrs. Wynne 
 and Mrs. Perrin and Gillette are seated, all of them 
 engrossed in the afternoon editions of the New York 
 newspapers. The women, in contrast to the uniforms 
 of the first act, are now wearing very charming after- 
 noon gowns. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. This reporter knows what he's talking 
 about. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Nancy's lecture sure made a hit last 
 night. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. A hitl Listen to this: [Reading.] "An- 
 other Platform Star. Major Fair Wins an Ovation. Thrills 
 Her Audience." 
 
 Gillette. I should say she did. I've managed a great 
 many lecturers, but I have never seen so successful a first 
 appearance. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. Did you hear what Angy Brice said last 
 night? 
 
 Mrs. Converse. No. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. [Imitating Angy's manner.] Nancy's ax:- 
 count of our work overseas made her quite envious that she 
 had never been one of the Thank-God-For-The- War- Women. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Kitty, kitty, kitty. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Meow I Meow I 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Oh, Mr. Gillette, is Mrs. Fair going to 
 sign that contract with you? 
 
 Gillette. I hope so. You all might help me to persuade 
 her. 
 
 229 
 
230 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 Mrs. Wells. When do you want her to go? 
 
 Gillette. In July. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Isn't that too early? 
 
 Gillette. The coast is full of tourists then; besides, I 
 want her to go out and get the money before the people 
 forget that there has been a war. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. But she's only been home a month. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. A month! Isn't that punishment enough? 
 [From the hall come Nancy and Sylvia, both of them 
 in pretty summer frocks. Nancy has in her hand 
 the contract offered her by Gillette and has evi- 
 dently been considering it. 
 
 Nancy. Hello, girls. 
 
 Everybody. Hello, Nancy; hello, Sylvia. 
 
 Nancy. Mr. Gillette, there's a photographer outside who 
 wants to see me. 
 
 Gillette. It's the man to take the photographs for that 
 Syndicate story. 
 
 Nancy. Which one? 
 
 Gillette. "A Day in the Life of Major Fair." It's to 
 show your domestic side. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, I don't know. Girls, don't you think it's 
 rather intimate? 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Not at all. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Go on, Nancy; be a sport. 
 
 Sylvia. [Going to him.] Mr. Gillette, what photographs 
 are you gomg to take? 
 
 Gillette. Major Fair with her morning's mail. 
 
 Nancy. Can't you use that one at my desk that was 
 published? 
 
 Gillette. That'll be fine. Then one in the garden. 
 
 Nancy. [Satirically.] Another on my knees to the cook. 
 
 Gillette. [Enthtisiastically.] One in the kitchen would 
 be great stuff. 
 
 Sylvia. I had better go out and break it to Hulda. 
 
 Nancy. She'll say, "Ay ban goin' quit." 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 231 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Put her in the photograph and she'll 
 stay for life. 
 
 Nancy. I hope so. She's the seventh in four weeks. 
 
 Gellette. We'll have the first picture in the garden. I'll 
 go and arrange it. Come on, Sylvia. 
 
 Nancy. Don't put me among the lilies. They toil not, 
 neither do they spin. 
 
 [Gillette laughs and exits with Sylvia to the garden. 
 Mrs. Wells rises and goes to Nancy, who has 
 joined Mrs. Converse. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Now, Nancy, you're not going to refuse 
 this great opportunity Mr. Gillette's offering you? Think 
 what we could do with the money. 
 
 Nancy. Reconstruction work in France? 
 
 Mrs. Wells. No. We could reconstruct some slums in 
 this country. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. Great idea, Wellsie! 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Splendid scheme! 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. It's what we ought to do. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. And right now. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. We could keep the unit together. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. [Rising.'] I'm for that. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. [Rising.] I'm for anything that would give 
 us all something real to do. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. You've said it. 
 
 Nancy. I can't make up my mind. I don't believe Jeff 
 would approve and unless he did I wouldn't want to go. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Wasn't he very proud of your success last 
 night? 
 
 Nancy. If he was, he has concealed it most carefully. 
 
 Mrs. Brown. Hasn't he congratulated you? 
 
 Nancy. Not a congrat. ''Kinda" took the joy out of it. 
 
 Mrs. Converse. Don't let that worry you, Nancy. A 
 husband hates to admit that his wife can do anything. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. He's likely making himself a bore at the 
 club right now, bragging about you. 
 
232 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 Nancy. Do you think so? But if I went, what about 
 Sylvia? 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. Why not take her with you? 
 Nancy. I don't believe she'd want to leave her father. 
 And I don't know that I'd be happy thinking of Jeff here 
 alone again. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin. Alan would be here. 
 
 Nancy. I hadn't thought of that. Well, I'll think it over. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Think it over seriously. 
 
 [Sylvl\ appears at the door to the terrace. 
 Sylvia. Oh, mother, Mr. Gillette's ready. 
 Nancy. All right. Come on, girls. How do I look? 
 Mrs. Brown. Fine. 
 
 Mrs. Wells. Nancy, I ought to go to market and get 
 Gilbert's fruit for breakfast. It's Saturday and all the 
 melons may be sold. 
 Nancy. Oh, Wellsie, you should worry. Give him prunes. 
 [The women laugh. Nancy takes Mrs. Well^- by the 
 arm and leads her up to door, Mrs. Wells expostu- 
 lating. They all go down the steps to the garden, 
 talking. Nancy has given Sylvia the contract. 
 Sylvia places it on the table and is about to follow 
 the women when Alan appears from the hall. He 
 is in golf clothes. 
 Alan. Oh, sis. 
 Sylvia. What? 
 
 Alan. Did you fix it with Peggy? 
 Sylvia. Yes. She's coming to tea. 
 Alan. That's great. 
 
 Sylvia. Are you going to tell mother and daddy this 
 afternoon? 
 Alan. Sure. 
 
 Sylvia. Before Peggy arrives? 
 Alan. No. 
 Sylvia. You should. 
 Alan. Not at all. If I tell them I'm going to marry a 
 
ACT n] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 233 
 
 stenographer they might be prejudiced. Once they see her 
 they won't care what she is. 
 
 Sylvia. I hope so. 
 
 Alan. Oh, she'll bowl them right over as she did me. 
 
 Sylvia. Where's Daddy? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Entering.] Right here. 
 
 Sylvia. How was your game? 
 
 Jeffrey. Rotten! Why didn't you and your mother 
 join us at luncheon? 
 
 Sylvia. Mr. Gillette came and we couldn't. 
 
 Alan. [Sitting.] Is that pest here? 
 
 Sylvia. [Indignantly.] Dudley's not a pest. [Smiling.] 
 He's charming. 
 
 Alan. Since when, ''Dudley"? 
 
 Sylvia. I can't go on calling a man I've seen almost 
 every day for a month Mr. Gillette. Can I, Daddy? 
 
 Alan. [Coming over to her.] Don't let me catch you 
 flirting with him. 
 
 Sylvia. Why, Alan Fair, I don't know how. 
 
 Jeffrey. Alan, don't talk such damn nonsense. 
 
 Sylvia. Thanks, Daddy. 
 
 [Alan returns to the arm-chair, 
 
 Jeffrey. Where's your mother? 
 
 Sylvia. In the garden, being photographed. 
 
 Jeffrey. Again? 
 
 Alan. What's the idea this time? 
 
 Sylvia. It's for a magazine article showing her domestic 
 side. 
 
 Jeffrey. I hope the camera qan find it. 
 
 [As he passes the table he sees the contract lying on it. 
 He picks it up, sits, and begins to read it. Sylvia 
 goes over to Alan, who is seated. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh! Have you seen the afternoon papers? 
 
 Jeffrey. We have. 
 
 Sylvia. Aren't they wonderful? [Alan is silent. Sylvia 
 goes to Jeffrey.] Aren't they wonderful? [Jeffrey does 
 not answer.] Oh, I think that you are both as mean as you 
 
THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 can be about mother! I should think you'd be proud of 
 her! 
 
 Jeffrey. We were. 
 
 Sylvia. Why aren't you now? Everybody was crazy 
 about her last night and neither of you so much as con- 
 gratulated her. 
 
 Alan. I couldn't get near her. 
 
 Sylvm. You didn't try very hard. And, daddy, you left 
 us flat and went home with Angy Brice. 
 
 Jeffrey. Angy was feeling seedy. 
 
 Sylvia. Humph! Maybe. Sometimes I think Angy 
 doesn't like mother. 
 
 Alan. Just finding that out? 
 
 Jeffrey. Nonsense, children; she admires her enor- 
 mously. 
 
 Sylvia. You might have waited and said something nice 
 to mother this morning. 
 
 Alan. We had a foursome on and she wasn't up. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, enough people will make a fuss over her. 
 
 Sylvia. I don't see why you two hate the "fuss" every- 
 one makes over mother. She can't help being celebrated 
 and having people chase after her. You see just as much 
 of her as I do. I don't mind, but you and Alan act so 
 funny. [Tearjtdly.] Nothing's the same as I thought it 
 would be when mother came home. I don't know what's 
 the matter. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Going to Sylvia.] Why, Sylvia, Alan and I 
 wouldn't do anything to worry you for the world, would 
 we? 
 
 Alan. Certainly not. 
 
 Sylvia. [Tearftdly.] Then why aren't you both nicer 
 to mother? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Taking her in his arms.] Oh, come now; don't 
 cry. Don't you know that your old daddy wouldn't hurt 
 you? Pick out your spot and I'll lie down and let you walk 
 on me. [Sylvia smiles.'] That's better. 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR ^35 
 
 [He kisses her, then Sylvia takes his hands and tries 
 to pull him towards the door to the terrace. 
 Sylvia. Don't you want to come out and get in the muss? 
 Jeffrey. Who's out there? 
 Sylvia. Bridget Wynne and the others. 
 Jeffrey. [Dropping Sylvia's hands.'] No. I saw all of 
 them yesterday. 
 
 Sylvia. Now, Daddy, you're not going to be nasty about 
 these photographs? 
 
 Jeffrey. Not a yap out of me. 
 
 [He laughs. Sylvia kisses him, then runs down the 
 steps, calling *^0h, mother!" Nancy and the women 
 who are at the right of the garden call to her. Jef- 
 frey follows Sylvia to the door, where he stands 
 looking off into the garden, from which come the 
 sounds of laughter and conversation. 
 Jeffrey. Gosh, I'd like to come into this place just once 
 and not find that bunch of women here. A man would have 
 more privacy in the Grand Central Depot. 
 
 Alan. You said it. Whenever mother is at home this 
 house looks like a Club women's Old Home Week. 
 
 Jeffrey. Wouldn't you think, after four years together, 
 they'd be tired of each other? 
 
 [Alan joins Jeffrey at the door, 
 Alan. And the line of flattery they hand out and mother 
 lapping it up like a cat does cream! 
 
 Jeffrey. I know. Even a woman as level-headed as your 
 mother will soon believe she's the greatest thing in the world. 
 
 [He goes to the arm-chair and sits. 
 
 Alan. Why don't you take her away, out of it all? 
 
 Jeffrey. She's booked up a month ahead. Banquets, 
 
 receptions, although I thought she had been given one by 
 
 everybody from the Mayor down to the Conductorettes' 
 
 Union. 
 
 Alan. And they have almost worn out that Croix de 
 Guerre passing it around from hand to hand. 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes, and what are you going to do about it? 
 
236 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 Alan. Why did you let her start? 
 
 Jeffrey. Who told me to keep her busy? 
 
 Alan. I did — I did. I wasn't counting on the endurance 
 of women. If I had hit a gait like mother's 
 
 Jeffrey. She hasn't rested a day since she arrived. 
 
 Alan. It's a wonder to me that she hasn't had a nervous 
 breakdown. 
 
 Jeffrey. Son, the only thing that makes a woman have 
 a nervous breakdown nowadays is having to stay at home. 
 [A noise of laughter and high-pitched gabble comes from 
 the garden.'] Listen to that cackle. What are they doing? 
 
 Alan. They're leaving. 
 
 Jeffrey. All of them? 
 
 Alan. No. Mrs. Wynne, the bodyguard, is sticking 
 around. 
 
 Jeffrey. What's Sylvia doing? 
 
 Alan. Standing there, adoring mother as usual. 
 
 Jeffrey. She is the sweetest kid. 
 
 Alan. [Coming to Jeffrey.] She is that. Doesn't even 
 see that mother is neglecting her. Why can't she settle 
 down and devote herself to Sylvia? 
 
 Jeffrey. She would if it weren't for those women and 
 that damn Gillette! He'll have her signed, sealed and de- 
 livered. 
 
 Alan. Why don't you tie a can to him? 
 
 Jeffrey. How? By forbidding him to come here? My 
 boy, I haven't lived with your mother all these years with- 
 out realising that, if you want her to do something, tell her 
 she can't. 
 
 Alan. I'm "kinda" that way. 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes. It works with you, too. 
 
 [They laugh. Jeffrey, rising, sees Angy, who has 
 come from the left side of the garden, and is now^ 
 at the top of the steps. 
 
 Jeffrey. Hello, Angy! 
 
 Angy. May I come in? 
 
 Jeffrey. Certainly. 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 237. 
 
 Angy. Sure I'm not intruding? 
 
 Alan. [Sarcastically.] Oh, not at all. Won't you sit 
 down? 
 
 Angy. Oh, I simply wanted to see Jeff a minute 
 
 Alan. Might as well be comfortable while you're looking 
 at him. 
 
 [With elaborate politeness, he indicates the arm- 
 chair. Angy looks at him sharply. Alan smiles 
 sweetly. Angy controls her annoyance, smiles at 
 him and sits. Jeffrey, oblivious, sits on the couch 
 on the opposite side of the room. Alan wanders over 
 back of Angy's chair, and takes up his position in 
 the centre of the room between Angy and Jeffrey. 
 
 Jeffrey. All right again? 
 
 Angy. Oh, yes. It was very close in the clubroom last 
 night. Then I got quite worked up over Mrs. Fair's lecture. 
 It was so harrowing. 
 
 Alan. [Very pleasantly.] Quite a success, though. 
 
 Angy. [Smiling sweetly at him.] Yes, being a woman in 
 uniform helped a lot, don't you think? I'm sure she'll be a 
 great success on tour. She's been so well advertised. You 
 can't pick up a magazine v/ithout seeing your mother's pic- 
 ture under "In the Public Eye." 
 
 Jeffrey. [Annoyed.] She's not on tour yet. 
 
 Angy. [Innocently .] She's going, isn't she? 
 
 Alan. It isn't decided. 
 
 Angy. [Affecting great surprise.] Why, Mr. Gillette told 
 me the other day that it was practically settled. He was 
 afraid that the family might interfere. I laughed at the 
 idea. Why should you object to Mrs. Fair going away for 
 a few months when she had left you all alone so long? 
 
 Alan. That was kind of you to reassure him. 
 
 Angy. Of course you could go too, Jeff. 
 
 Jeffrey. I? 
 
 Angy. [Sympathetically.] I suppose it would get tire- 
 some, being merely the husband of Major Fair. 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes, one can get fed up on it. 
 
2S8 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 Angy. I'd be perfectly willing to take charge of Sylvia 
 again. 
 
 Alan. Mother hasn't gone yet. 
 
 Angy. [Protesting.] If she wants to, I think she should. 
 It isn't as though Mrs. Fair were a home body like me, just 
 content to make a man comfortable and happy. You can't 
 expect anyone so brilliant as your mother not to get bored 
 with her home and her family. Not that I'm insinuating 
 that she is. 
 
 Alan. Oh, no. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Tired of the discussion.] What did you want 
 to see me about, Angy? 
 
 Angy. This letter, but there's no hurry. [There is a 
 pause; Angy looks at Alan and turns away, annoyed. Alan 
 smiles. Finally Angy, determined to be rid of him, turns 
 and smiles sweetly.] Oh, Alan, been to see your "buddy" 
 lately? 
 
 Alan. [Confused.] Why, yes. 
 
 Angy. He must be awfully attractive to have you so 
 devoted to him. [Meaningly.] Sylvia says he has a very 
 charming sister. 
 
 Alan. [More confused.] Yes — ^yes, he has. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Rising.] What's this I hear? 
 
 Alan. [Very much embarrassed.] I think I'll go change. 
 [He hurriedly leaves the room. Jeffrey watching 
 amused. Angy smiles to herself, pleased at having 
 rid herself of Alan. Jeffrey goes to Angy. 
 
 Jeffrey. Well, Angy, let me see the letter. 
 
 Angy. The letter was only an excuse. I saw those stupid 
 women in the garden and I knew how it bored you to have 
 them around, so I came over to give you an excuse to get 
 away. 
 
 Jeffrey. Good of you, Angy, but I'll stay here. They 
 have to go home some time, if it's only to sleep. 
 
 [He goes to a chair below the fireplace, where he 
 sits facing Angy, who looks annoyed at the failure 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 239 
 
 of her ruse; as Jeffrey turns to her she smiles 
 sweetly. 
 Angy. [Sighing.'l I'd like to be celebrated and have 
 women like me. 
 Jeffrey. They do. 
 
 Angy. They don't. All their nasty husbands do. 
 Jeffrey. Why aren't you as nice to the wives? 
 Angy. I don't get a chance. The husbands always grab 
 me and rush me off to a comer. The next man I marry has 
 to build me a house that's perfectly round. I'm sick of 
 corners. [Jeffrey laughs.] And I'm sick of other wom- 
 en's husbands, too. 
 Jeffrey. Including me? 
 
 Angy. I haven't had enough of your society since your 
 wife came home to get tired of you, and as I'm not going to 
 have any of it today, I may as well go home. 
 
 [She rises and starts toward the terrace. Jeffrey 
 follows her. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, wait, Angy, I 
 
 [He stops, arrested by the appearance of Nancy 
 and Mrs. Wynne entering from the terrace. Nancy 
 is surprised at the sight of Angy, then comes to- 
 ward her. Nancy's manner is polite but not cordial. 
 x^ancy. How do you do, Mrs. Brice? Oh, Jeff! I was 
 so sorry we couldn't come to the club. 
 Jeffrey. [Coldly.] That's all right. Sylvia explained. 
 Angy. Oh, Mrs. Fair, I don't know what you must have 
 thought of me running away with Jeff last night. 
 Nancy. Didn't even know you did! 
 Angy. I wanted to stay and tell you how splendid you 
 were, but I was rather upset. 
 
 • Mrs. Wynne. [Smiling.] Yes. Don't you hate to hang 
 around where another woman is making the hit? 
 
 Nancy. That doesn't often happen where Mrs. Brice is. 
 Does it, Jeff? 
 
 Angy. Oh, really. 
 
240 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 Nancy. You will have to excuse me. I have to put on 
 my hat and powder my nose. Come along, Biddy. 
 
 Jeffrey. Are you going out again, Nancy? 
 
 Nancy. Yes, dear, going over to the Club. 
 
 Angy. Oh, then may I borrow your nice husband to help 
 me with some stupid business things? 
 
 Nancy. If you'll be sure to return him. 
 
 Angy. I always have, haven't I? See you later, Jeff. 
 
 Jeffrey. If I can manage it. 
 
 Angy. Good-bye, Mrs. Wynne; give my love to dear old 
 Wynne. Good-bye, Mrs. Fair. Hope the photographs are 
 a success. I wish somebody wanted to take mine. It must 
 be lovely to be notorious. 
 
 [She smiles very sweetly, then goes down the steps 
 through the garden to the left. 
 
 Nancy. Sweet woman! 
 
 Mrs. Wynne. She's some fast worker with the harpoon. 
 Bye-bye, Jeff. 
 
 [She goes. Nancy is following her, but at the door to 
 the hall she stops, looks at Jeffrey, who is standing 
 at the fireplace, then advances toward him. 
 
 Nancy. Jeff, dear, why don't you come with us? 
 
 Jeffrey. What are you going to do? 
 
 Nancy. Mr. Gillette wants a photograph of me with my 
 girls on the steps of the club-house. 
 
 Jeffrey. Absurd idea! 
 
 Nancy. Why, what's absurd about it? You and Alan 
 were photographed in the Father and Son Tournament. 
 
 Jeffrey. That's different. I'm guyed enough by the 
 crowd as it is. I can't pick up a magazine at the club 
 without someone asking me if I'm looking for the Major's 
 picture. [He comes to her angrily.'] I can't come into this 
 house without falling over a camera, or finding some inter- 
 viewer smoking my best cigars. 
 
 Nancy. [Taken aback.] I'm sorry. I don't know quite 
 how I would explain to Mr. Gillette and the girls that you 
 object 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 241 
 
 Jeffrey. Don't let me embarrass you. If you want ta 
 go on making yourself and your family ridiculous, don't let 
 me stop you. 
 
 [He starts toward the door to the terrace. Nancy 
 is indignant y then controls herself. 
 Nancy. [Expostulating. ] Jeff! 
 Jeffrey. [Turning.] Yes? 
 
 Nancy. I didn't think 
 
 Jeffrey. No. You never think about anybody but your- 
 self. 
 
 [Nancy stands, annoyed, hurt, speechless. Gillette 
 enters hurriedly jrom the terrace. 
 
 Gillette. Oh, Mrs. Fair [Sees Jeffrey.] I beg 
 
 your pardon. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, that's all right. 
 
 [He goes, meeting Sylvia at the foot of the steps 
 
 to the garden. They talk. Gillette watches 
 
 Nancy narrowly. There is a slight pause, then 
 
 Nancy turns to go. 
 
 Gillette. Mrs. Fair, are you going to sign that contract 
 
 today? 
 
 Nancy. I haven't decided. I'll let you know before the 
 day is out. I'll be right down. 
 
 [She goes, Gillette looking after her annoyed. 
 Jeffrey leaves Sylvia and goes through the garden 
 in the direction taken by Angy. Sylvia runs up 
 steps and comes into the room. Gillette turns ta 
 her. 
 Gillette. Aren't you coming with us? 
 Sylvia. No. Miss Gibbs is coming to tea. 
 Gillette. Who's she? 
 Sylvia. Alan's buddy's sister. 
 
 Gillette. [Thoughtfully.] Gibbs? What's her brother's 
 name? 
 
 Sylvia. Tom Gibbs. 
 
 Gillette. [Quickly.] Tom Gibbs? What does he do? 
 
 Silvia. Arrests people. 
 
242 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 Gillette. [Startled.] What? 
 
 Sylvia. He's a detective. Same thing as a policeman, 
 only he doesn't wear a uniform or stand on the corner. 
 
 Gillette. I know what a detective is! Are these Gibbs 
 friends of yours? 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, yes. 
 
 Gillette. That's queer. They don't belong in your set. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, Dudley, you mustn't be a snob. It isn't 
 being done since the war. 
 
 Gillette. What does Miss Gibbs do now? 
 
 Sylvia. She is a stenographer. Why are you so inter- 
 ested in her? 
 
 Gillette. Interested in her! With you here! 
 
 [He goes over to Sylvia, who is seated in the 
 arm-chair. His manner becomes subtly, almost im- 
 pudently, familiar. He flatters Sylvia in order to 
 extract information from her. 
 
 Sylvia. You're not interested in me. 
 
 Gillette. I wouldn't dare tell you how much. 
 
 Sylvia. Why not? 
 
 Gillette. Your mother wouldn't like it. 
 
 Sylvia. She's not here. 
 
 Gillette. But she will be. Think your mother will sign 
 that contract? 
 
 Sylvia. I don't know. [Girlishly, but not flirtatiously.] 
 Why don't you tell me why you're interested in me? 
 
 Gillette. [Leaning over the arm of chair.] Don't tempt 
 me, you little siren. 
 
 Sylvia. I'm not. 
 
 Gillette. You're a regular little baby vamp. 
 
 Sylvia. You mustn't. You're dreadfully bold. 
 
 Gillette. You like it, don't you? 
 
 Sylvia. Uh huh. [Giggling.] It's funny, but you 
 shouldn't 
 
 Gillette. [Leaning over so that his face is very close to 
 Sylvia's.] You shouldn't be so fascinating. [Sylvia is a 
 little embarrassed, but is enjoying it. Gillette, feeling that 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 24S 
 
 he has impressed her sufficiently, turns away and in business- 
 like tone and manner begins to question her.] Has your 
 mother said anything about signing the contract? 
 Sylvia. [Disappointed.] I don't know. 
 
 [She rises slowly and goes to the mantel, her back 
 toward Gillette, who is not looking at her. 
 Gillette. Do you think your father will object? 
 Sylvia. [Impatiently.] I don't know. 
 Gillette. Do you think that Alan will put his oar in to 
 
 prevent your mother 
 
 Sylvia. [Angrily.] Oh, I don't know! 
 
 [She stamps her foot and starts to go. Gillette 
 realises his mistake. 
 Gillette. Why, Sylvia, what's the matter? 
 Sylvia. [Flaring out.] Oh, it's always mother, mother, 
 
 mother. I'm sure Alan needn't worry about my flirt 
 
 [She stops abruptly and turns away, confused. Gil- 
 lette smiles. 
 Gillette. About your what? 
 Sylvia. Oh, nothing. 
 Gillette. Flirting»with me? 
 Sylvia. I didn't say it. 
 Gillette. You were going to. 
 Sylvia. I won't tell you. 
 
 [Very much embarrassed, she runs away to the 
 other side of the room. Gillette looks at her as 
 though what she had said had given him an idea. 
 Gillette. [Slowly.] It had never occurred to me. [Syl- 
 via turns quickly.] I mean, that you would. 
 
 Sylvia. Well, I wouldn't, Mr. Dudley Gillette, so there! 
 [She goes toward the door to the hall. Gillette 
 is much amused. Nora shows in Peggy Gibbs. 
 Sylvia. Oh, Peggy, dear! Nora, tell Mr. Alan that Miss 
 Gibbs is here. 
 
 [Nora exits. Gillette has turned and starts slightly 
 at the sight of Peggy, who is a girl of twenty-jive, 
 sincere, clear-thinking, practical, yet not lacking in 
 
244 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 feminine charm and humour. She wears a severely 
 plain yet modish frock. 
 
 Sylvia. Peggy, may I present Mr. Gillette? 
 
 Gillette. [Bowing.] Miss Gibbs. 
 
 Peggy. [Puzzled.] I think we've met before. 
 
 Gillette. [On his gimrd.] Really? 
 
 Sylvia. Where? 
 
 Peggy. At the War Relief Bazaar in 1914. I was a 
 A^olunteer there. 
 
 Sylvia. The one there was all the scandal about? 
 
 Gillette. [Casually.] I do remember something about 
 it. But I wasn't in New York then. 
 
 Peggy. Then I'm mistaken. 
 
 Gillette. [Impressively.] Yes. I'm sure that if I ever 
 had the pleasure- of meeting you, it would have been utterly 
 impossible for me to forget you. 
 
 [Peggy, annoyed at the flattery, turns away. Sylvia 
 is pleased and smiles at Gillette. Nancy enters, 
 wearing a hat, carrying gloves and a parasol. She 
 is followed by Mrs. Wynne. 
 
 Nancy. I'm ready, Mr. Gillette. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, mother 
 
 [Nancy turns. Sylvia and Peggy advance to her, 
 
 Nancy. [Shaking hands.] Oh, is this Miss Gibbs? Sylvia 
 told me you were coming to tea. I'm so glad to meet you. 
 I've heard of you from Sylvia and of course Alan's told 
 me all about your wonderful brother. 
 
 Peggy. This is a great pleasure for me. I've heard so 
 much of you and I've been so thrilled by all the great 
 things you've done. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, Sylvia, isn't that sweet' Oh, Biddy, isn't 
 that charming! [To Peggy.] This is Mrs. Wynne, one of 
 my unit. I wonder if you are going to be very generous 
 and forgive me if I run away for a few minutes? Some- 
 thing unexpected and important. I'll hurry back as fast 
 as I can for I want to have a real visit with you. 
 
 Peggy. Of course. Don't let me interfere. 
 
ACT II] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 245 
 
 Nancy. That's all very understanding of you. I won't 
 be ten minutes. Sylvia will take excellent care of you. 
 [She goes, followed by Mrs. Wynne and Gillette. 
 They disappear through the garden, Peggy watching 
 them from the door as they go. 
 
 Sylvia. Well? 
 
 Peggy. Oh, Sylvia, she's charming. 
 
 Sylvia. Have I said too much about her? 
 
 Peggy. Not half enough. 
 
 [Alan in immactdate flannels comes rushing in from 
 the door to the hall. 
 
 Alan. Peggy! [Peggy tttrns. Alan goes to her quickly 
 and puts his arms around her.] Don't look, Sylvia. 
 
 Peggy. [Expostulating.'] Oh, Alan! 
 
 [Alan kisses her^ 
 
 Alan. Now, where's mother? 
 
 Sylvia. She's gone to be photographed at the Club. 
 
 Alan. What! That's the limit! Didn't she know Peggy 
 was coming? 
 
 Peggy. I've just met her and she's made her excuses and 
 is coming right back. 
 
 Alan. Oh! 
 
 Peggy. You'd better "Oh." Sylvia, has he always spoken 
 before he thinks? 
 
 Sylvia. Always. 
 
 Alan. Where's Dad? 
 
 Sylvia. I'll get him. He is at Mrs. Brice's. 
 
 [She goes. 
 
 Peggy. Oh, Alan, I'm going to love your mother. I hope 
 she likes me. 
 
 Alan. You should worry. 
 
 Peggy. That's just what I'm doing — worrying. 
 
 Alan. Well, if anybody in my family doesn't like you, 
 you know what they can do, don't you? 
 
 Peggy. Yes. Make it distinctly uncomfortable for you. 
 
 Alan. Well, anyway, I'm going to announce our engage- 
 ment today. 
 
246 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 Peggy. Why, if Sylvia had told me that I wouldn't have 
 come. She said that you simply wanted to introduce me 
 to your father and mother. 
 
 Alan. I didn't tell her in what capacity. 
 
 Peggy. Please, Alan, let your mother get to know me 
 first. If you thrust me at her it may prejudice her. 
 
 Alan. Nonsense. What's more, I'm going to tell them 
 that we are to be married right away. 
 
 Peggy. We are not. I'm not going to be rushed into 
 marriage. 
 
 Alan. Rushed? Why, I've known you eight weeks. 
 
 Peggy. Yes, you had me engaged to you before I knew 
 what was happening to me. 
 
 Alan. Only way to handle you. If you get too much 
 time to think 
 
 Peggy. I'm going to have a good long think before I 
 get married. 
 
 Alan. It's cold, then. Good-bye, darling. 
 
 [He moves away. Peggy fallows him. 
 
 Peggy. Oh, be sensible. How can we be married? 
 
 Alan. Why, you have a license and a ring and a min- 
 ister 
 
 Peggy. Yes, and money that you've earned, not that you 
 get from your father. 
 
 Alan. Don't need his money. I've got a job. 
 
 Peggy. What? What sort of a job? 
 
 Alan. That's my secret. 
 
 Peggy. Oh, is it so bad that you're ashamed of it? 
 
 Alan. Bad enough to pay me thirty dollars a week! 
 
 Peggy. I knew that you had hypnotic charm for women. 
 What did you do to the man? Frighten him? 
 
 Alan. No. He used to be my top sergeant. 
 
 Peggy. Oh, that explains it. 
 
 Alan. I thought you'd be pleased. 
 
 Peggy. Did he get himself a little job? Oh, darling, I'm 
 only funning. I'm very proud of you. 
 
 Alan. Then you'll marry me? 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 247 
 
 Peggy. Can't we wait until 
 
 Alan. Look here. I postponed our marriage to wait for 
 a family reunion that didn't "reune." Then I had to wait 
 until I got a job. Well, I have one. Now it's up to you. 
 If you don't want to marry me, say so. 
 
 Peggy. I do, Alan. You know I do. But I want your 
 father and mother to approve. There is a chance they 
 mightn't like me. 
 
 Alan. You're not marrying them. Who are you marry- 
 ing, darling? 
 
 Peggy. [Mischievomly.] None of your business. 
 
 Alan. Just for that, you sassy little devil 
 
 [He tries to take Peggy in his arms. She dodges 
 and runs away. Alan catches her and swings her 
 around into his arms. They are laughing and strug- 
 gling, their backs to the door to the terrace at which 
 Jeffrey appears. He stands amazed at what seems 
 to be Alan's efforts to kiss a girl against her will. 
 He frowns in annoyance and starts toward them.. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Sharply.] Alan! 
 
 Alan. [Over his shoulder.'] It's all right, dad. We're 
 engaged. [Peggy, who has ceased to struggle at the sound 
 of Jeffrey's voice, is kissed by Alan, then released. She 
 is much embarrassed. Alan crosses to Jeffrey, leading 
 Peggy by the hand.] Dad, this is Peggy. 
 
 Jeffrey. Peggy? 
 
 Alan. Peggy Gibbs. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Coldly.] How do you do, Miss Gibbs? 
 
 Peggy, Mr. Fair. 
 
 Alan. Well, dad, I suppose you're surprised. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Sarcastically.] Has the engagement just oc- 
 curred? 
 
 Alan. Oh, no; it's a month old. 
 
 Jeffrey. Really, Alan, I 
 
 Alan. Dad, don't be hurt because we didn't tell you. 
 
 Peggy. Alan didn't want to spoil his mother's home- 
 coming by the announcement. 
 
248 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 Alan. It wasn't my idea at all: it was Peggy's. 
 
 Jeffrey. Why should this engagement distress your 
 mother? 
 
 Alan. You see, dad, Peggy is my "buddy's" sister. 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes? 
 
 Peggy. Oh, Alan, let us be frank. [To Jeffrey.] It 
 annoys him when I say it, but I'm not of your class. I'm 
 a stenographer. 
 
 Alan. [Proudly.] She's a private secretary. 
 
 Jeffrey. What is the difference? 
 
 Peggy. Twenty dollars a week. 
 
 Jeffrey. Thank you; I deserved that. 
 
 Alan. Well, Dad, are you for me or "agin" me? 
 
 Jeffrey. That depends. 
 
 Alan. On what? 
 
 Peggy. [Hastily.] On me. You can't expect your father 
 to give a snap judgment on a person he has just met. Sup- 
 pose you leave us together so that we can have a little talk. 
 
 [She moves away, 
 
 Jeffrey. A very good idea. 
 
 [Alan goes to Peggy. 
 
 Alan. [Whispering.] Don't be nervous, dear. Dad's 
 aces. [He kisses Peggy, then goes to Jeffrey.] Now, Dad, 
 no heavy father stuff. 
 
 [He leaves them, 
 
 Jeffrey. Won't you be seated? 
 
 Peggy. Thank you. 
 
 [She sits on the couch. Jeffrey brings a chair and 
 sits facing her.] 
 
 Jeffrey. Well, Miss Gibbs? 
 
 Peggy. To begin with, Mr. Fair, my family and I are, 
 socially speaking, a total loss. 
 
 Jeffrey. In what way? 
 
 Peggy. My father is the village postman. My brother is 
 now in the Detective Bureau, but was a policeman. 
 
 Jeffrey. I see. 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 249 
 
 Peggy. [Drily.] Yes, I thought you would. My mother 
 does her own work, but the weekly washing is sent out. 
 
 Jeffrey. Very interesting, especially that bit about the 
 laundry. 
 
 Peggy. I graduated from High School, then went to 
 Brown's Business College. I am now employed at forty 
 dollars a week as a private secretary in the office of a firm 
 of lawyers, O'Brien and Rosen weber. 
 
 Jeffrey. I know of them. 
 
 Peggy. I am twenty-three years old, quite healthy, am 
 supposed to have a good disposition. Oh, there is one thing 
 more: I'm a suffragette, and while I am not militant, I do 
 parade. I believe that is all. 
 
 Jeffrey. And you have Thursdays off? My dear Miss 
 Gibbs, I'm not interviewing you as a prospective servant, 
 but as a possible daughter-in-law. 
 
 Peggy. Well, you wanted to know about me, didn't you? 
 
 Jeffrey. You suggested this interview. I appreciate that 
 it's a very difficult one for you. It isn't exactly easy for me. 
 Yet, if I didn't learn something of the girl my son wishes 
 to marry, I would be failing in my duty as a father, 
 wouldn't I? 
 
 Peggy. Yes. 
 
 Jeffrey. Why are you so on the defensive? 
 
 Peggy. Possibly because I'm a little afraid. 
 
 Jeffrey. Surely not of me? Unless you're marrying Alan 
 for 
 
 Peggy. For monej'- and this sort of thing? No! Not 
 that I wouldn't like it and enjoy it, but only if Alan earned 
 it. And he will in time. He's made a start. He has a job. 
 
 Jeffrey. Why didn't he come to me for a position? 
 
 Peggy. Oh, Mr. Fair, please don't help him. That would 
 spoil all my plans. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Surprised.] How? 
 
 Peggy. It's better for him to be entirely on his own. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Puzzled.] Why? 
 
 Peggy. The dear boy is full of the brotherhood of man. 
 
250 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 He got that from the trenches, and if he is going to keep it, 
 it's necessary for him to live simply for a time at least. 
 
 Jeffrey. Sounds to me like a very serious courtship. 
 
 Peggy. Is anything more serious than marriage? I'm 
 scared to death of it. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Amused.] Why? 
 
 Peggy. I have to give up a great deal of my liberty and 
 I want to be sure it's worth it. Oh, dear, life and what to 
 do with it and Alan's problem and mine seems so much 
 simpler on our back veranda. I suppose my family are 
 right. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Surprised.] Doesn't your family approve of 
 the marriage? 
 
 Peggy. Not at all. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Indignantly.] Well, I Don't they like 
 
 my son? 
 
 [He rises, 
 
 Peggy. [Smiling.] I like you for that. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Sputtering.] Well, I 
 
 Peggy. Oh, they are devoted to Alan, but they can't see 
 any happiness in the marriage for me. They're afraid that 
 the two families won't harmonise. 
 
 Jeffrey. That's true; they mightn't. [There is a slight 
 pause.] It seems to me you love my son. 
 
 Peggy. Very much. 
 
 Jeffrey. Then if I were Alan and you were you, I'd 
 marry you and say damn the families. 
 
 Peggy. Oh, Mr. Fair! 
 
 [She rises impulsively, starts as though to embrace him, 
 catches herself and recedes a little. Jeffrey follows 
 her, inviting her to embrace him. They laugh. 
 
 Jeffrey. Now we will put Alan out of his misery. [Calls.] 
 Alan! Come here, young man. 
 
 [Alan, who has been in the hall awaiting the verdict, 
 comes in quickly. He looks anxiously at Jeffrey. 
 ? Alan. Well? 
 ; Jeffrey. Son, I hope you appreciate how lucky you are. 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 251 
 
 Alan. [Joyfully.] Dad I [He goes quickly to Peggy.] 
 Excuse us. 
 
 [He kisses her. 
 
 Jeffrey. I could do with one myself. [Peggy crosses to 
 Jeffrey and offers her lips to him shyly. He kisses her 
 tenderly.'] Now, young man, what is this job? 
 
 Alan. It's with the Iverson Construction Company. 
 Time-keeper. 
 
 Jeffrey. Well, you held the interscholastic record of 
 America for wasting time. It's up to you to keep a little. 
 
 Alan. Dad, that's pretty awful. 
 
 Jeffrey. Peggy smiled. 
 
 Alan. Brazen truckling to her father-in-law, 
 
 Sylvia. [Running in.] Is it all right? 
 
 Jeffrey. If you mean Peggy, she's very much all right. 
 
 Sylvia. [Delightedly.] Oh, wait until you know her. 
 Now I wish mother would come. 
 
 Jeffrey. So she went to the club after all. 
 
 Sylvia. Yes. She won't be long. 
 
 [She goes up to the door to the terrace and looks off 
 toward the entrance to the garden. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Annoyed.] Did she know that Peggy was 
 coming here this afternoon? 
 
 Peggy. [Hastily.] Oh, yes, I met Mrs. Fair and she 
 explained. 
 
 Jeffrey. Left you here. That's most annoying. 
 
 Sylvia. Here is mother now. 
 
 [Nancy hurries in. 
 
 Nancy. You see. Miss Gibbs, I haven't been long. Oh, 
 you haven't had tea. Sylvia, dear, take mother's things and 
 tell them to bring tea right in. [Sylvia, taking Nancy's 
 hat and gloves, runs out. Nancy goes to the telephone on 
 the table.] I must 'phone to the Colony Club right away. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Irritably.] Can't that wait? 
 
 Nancy. It's very important. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Severely.] More important than to pay some 
 attention to the girl your son is going to marry? 
 
252 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 
 
 [Nancy looks at Jeffrey, dazed, then slowly turns her 
 regard upon Peggy, then on Alan. 
 
 Nancy. Alan, how long have you been engaged? 
 
 Alan. Since the day before you came home. 
 
 Nancy. A month ago. Why didn't you tell me? 
 
 Peggy. I'm to blame, Mrs. Fair. I didn't want Alan to 
 tell you because I feared it might distress you and spoil 
 your home-coming. 
 
 Nancy. Why should it do either? 
 
 Alan. Peggy's afraid that because she's a stenographer — > 
 
 you 
 
 Nancy. What right had Miss Gibbs to judge how I 
 would receive the news of my son's engagement? 
 
 Peggy. I can see now what I did might be misjudged, 
 
 but really my motives 
 
 Alan. It isn't necessary to explain your motives. 
 Jeffrey. I can vouch for Peggy. 
 
 Alan. Thank you, Dad, but no one needs to vouch for 
 her. The fact that I am going to marry her, that Sylvia 
 loves her, and that you approve, should be enough for 
 mother. 
 
 [Nancy flinches, but is so shocked by the news that 
 
 she says nothing, simply looks at Alan. Her eyes 
 
 fill with tears, her lips quiver, and to conceal her 
 
 emotion she turns away and goes to the door to the 
 
 terrace. 
 
 Peggy. Mrs. Fair, I know what you are thinking — feeling. 
 
 [Nancy is silent. Peggy, distressed, turns to Jeffrey.] It 
 
 is much better that I should go. 
 
 Jeffrey. Perhaps it would be as well. Alan, take Peggy 
 to the station. 
 
 [Alan and Peggy go. Nancy turns, stretches out her 
 hand as if to stop them. Then, covering her face 
 with her hands, she stands crying silently. Jeffrey, 
 ashamed of his outburst, man-like takes refuge in 
 irritation. He goes to the table, picks up a paper and 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 253 
 
 sits, making a pretence of reading. He waits, expect^ 
 ing Nancy to speak, then breaks the silence. 
 
 Jeffrey. You've made a nice mess of things. 
 
 Nancy. [Surprised.'] I? 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes. If you hadn't been so keen on publicity, 
 all this needn't have happened. 
 
 Nancy. {Coming toward him.] Do you suppose if I had 
 been told why Miss Gibbs was coming here that I would 
 have allowed a stupid photograph to interfere? Isn't Alan's 
 engagement something that could have been told me with- 
 out shocking me, bewildering me so that Oh, you've 
 
 made me seem ungracious to my boy. It was wicked, cruel 
 of you. 
 
 [She turns away and sits on the couch, crying. 
 
 Jeffrey. How did I know you were going to take it like 
 this? 
 
 Nancy. What did you expect me to do? 
 
 Jeffrey. Open your arms to her as any mother should. 
 
 Nancy. How long have you known of this engagement? 
 
 Jeffrey. Not until today. 
 
 Nancy. And did you welcome her with outstretched arms 
 at once? 
 
 Jeffrey. Frankly, I was surprised! But after I had had 
 a talk with her 
 
 Nancy. Exactly. You had an opportunity to judge of 
 her before you gave your approval, but I am expected to 
 give at once the son I've loved, watched over, prayed for, 
 to a girl of whom I know nothing. 
 
 Jeffrey. I told you I vouched for her. 
 
 [Nancy, in a rage, springs to her feet. 
 
 Nancy. What's that to me? He's my son, too. 
 
 Jeffrey. That's jealousy talking. 
 
 Nancy. Is it strange that I should be jealous? Isn't it 
 hard for any mother at first to give her son to another 
 woman? If Alan had had any right feeling for me he would 
 have told me tenderly, tactfully, that he loved someone else 
 more than me. Instead, he let you thrust the fact at me. 
 
254 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ir 
 
 I don't know what I have ever done that he should have 
 told you, even Sylvia, before me; made me feel like an out- 
 sider. 
 
 Jeffrey. Who is to blame for that? You put yourself 
 outside your home. You can't hope to receive Alan's confi- 
 dence if you are never here to get it. You can't go on 
 neglecting your family 
 
 Nancy. [Indignantly.] What? I give up everybody and 
 everything belonging to me and endure privations, horrors, 
 because I think it's my greatest duty, and then I am neg- 
 lecting my family! [Bitterly.] My family seems to have 
 gotten along very well without me. Ever since I came home 
 you and Alan have resented everything I've done. 
 
 Jeffrey. We don't approve of what you've been doing. 
 [He rises and begins to pace up and down. 
 
 Nancy. [Scornjully.] Approve! Must I secure the aj>- 
 proval of my husband and my son for what I think best 
 to do? 
 
 Jeffrey. Your desire to appear in public, for instance? 
 
 Nancy. [Very calmly.] If you had been overseas and 
 had been urged to appear in public, would you have had to 
 ask my approval? No. It would have been the perfectly 
 natural thing for you to do. 
 
 Jeffrey. It's not the same thing. 
 
 Nancy. Because I'm a woman. Well, this war has settled 
 one thing definitely. A woman's work counts for just as 
 much as a man's and she is entitled to all the rewards it 
 brings her. 
 
 [Her calmness maddens Jeffrey. He advances on- 
 her furiously. 
 
 Jeffrey. You've done your duty by your country, but,^ 
 by God, you're capitalising it. 
 
 Nancy. [Turning upon him.] Jeffrey? 
 
 Jeffrey. Ever since you've been home you've thought of 
 everything but your duty to your family. All you think of 
 is your appearance at public functions, getting your name 
 and photograph in print. Can you deny that you are eager 
 
ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 255 
 
 to sign that contract so that you can make a triumphant 
 tour of the country, telling the great American public how 
 you helped win the war? Well, you'll put an end to all this 
 publicity. You'll stop all these ridiculous lectures. You'll 
 tear up that contract. You'll give up this tour and remain 
 here where you belong. 
 
 Nancy. [Very quietly.] And why must I do all this? 
 Why must I remain here where I belong? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Emphatically.] Because I am your husband 
 and I forbid you to go. 
 
 [They look at each other for an instant in silence. 
 Jeffrey, feeling that he is master of the situation, 
 walks slowly away and stands at the fireplace, his 
 back toward Nancy, who smiles satirically, then goes 
 quietly to the table. She sits, draws the contract, 
 which is on the table, to her, and signs it. At the 
 sound of the scratching of her pen Jeffrey turns 
 quickly. He crumples the folded newspaper in his 
 hand and throws it irritably on the chair. Nancy 
 rises. They are standing facing each other in de- 
 fiance as the curtain falls. 
 
THE THIRD ACT 
 
 The sitting-room of Jeffrey Fair's apartment in a New 
 York hotel. The decorations, furnishings and appoint- 
 ments are tasteftd, luxuriom and characteristic of a 
 modern "smart" hotel. On the left are double doors 
 to the private hall and a door to a bedroom; at the back 
 is a large window and at the right a fireplace and a 
 door to another bedroom. A console table with a mir- 
 ror over it stands against the right wall below the fire- 
 place, in front of which is a Lawson sofa. On the 
 opposite side of the room is a writing desk, near the 
 window a small table with a telephone, and in the centre 
 an oval table to the left of which is an arm-chair. 
 There is a small chair in front of the desk, another at 
 the window and a third at the back of the centre table. 
 
 There are no photographs, books nor flowers; in fact, there 
 is a noticeable lack of any attempt to create a home- 
 like atmosphere, and, although the room is brilliantly 
 lighted, the curtains drawn and a fire in the grate, the 
 effect is one of dreariness in contrast to the charm in 
 the environment in the preceding acts. It is an even- 
 ing in October. 
 
 As the curtain rises Jeffrey enters from the door at the 
 right of the room. He wears informal evening dress 
 and carries an overcoat and a hat which he places on 
 the sofa. Then going to the doors to the hall he opens 
 them, showing across the hall a door, on which he 
 knocks. There is a slight pause and he knocks again, 
 calling "Sylvia." There is no response. He opens the 
 door, looks into the room, then closing the door returns 
 and goes to the telephone. 
 
 256 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 257 
 
 Jeffrey. Give me the desk, please. [A pause.] Is this 
 the desk? This is Mr. Fair speaking. Are you quite sure 
 my daughter did not leave a note for Mrs. Fair? If you 
 find one send it up. By the way, what is the correct time? 
 Nine twenty- three. Thank you. 
 
 [Jeffrey sets his watch, then takes a cigarette, lights 
 it and sits on the couch. His attitude is one of deep 
 dejection. There is a slight pause, then Alan en- 
 ters from the room at the right. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Turning to him.] Well, son? 
 
 Alan. [Happily.] It's all right. 
 
 Jeffrey. Made it up with your mother? [Alan nods.] 
 That's fine. Did she mention Mrs. Fair, Jr.? 
 
 Alan. Yes. She inquired very cordially for Peggy. 
 
 [He sits. 
 
 Jeffrey. Did she accept Peggy's invitation for dinner? 
 
 Alan. She couldn't. Her secretary reminded her that 
 she was to be the guest of honour at some banquet or other. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Satirically.] I suppose that's why she came 
 home. 
 . Alan. Why wasn't Sylvia here to meet mother? 
 
 Jeffrey. She wasn't expected until the day after to- 
 morrow and Sylvia had made a dinner engagement that 
 she didn't care to break. 
 
 Alan. That's queer. I wonder if they've had a quarrel? 
 
 Jeffrey. What gave you that idea? 
 
 Alan. Well, Peggy and I have never been able to get 
 anything out of Sylvia as to why she remained only a 
 month on tour with mother. 
 
 Jeffrey. I can understand just what happened. Her 
 mother was entertained a great deal. That was part of 
 the game of being the famous Mrs. Fair. It wasn't pos- 
 sible, to include Sylvia in all of the functions. Naturally 
 she was bored. So she came home. 
 
 Alan. Considering they haven't seen each other for two 
 months and that this is mother's first night at home, it is 
 very selfish of Sylvia not to give up one party. 
 
258 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR^ [act m 
 
 Jeffrey. [Irritably.] Sylvia's had to make her life with- 
 out her mother and can't be expected to drop everything 
 whenever she chooses to appear on the scene. 
 
 Alan. All right, Dad, all right. You are so touchy about 
 Sylvia. 
 
 Jeffrey. You've shown a disposition of late to criticise 
 your sister, and I don't like it. 
 
 Alan. Don't let us scrap about Sylvia. I'm sorry if I 
 have seemed unkind. But you know, Dad, you are spoil- 
 ing her. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, Hell, why not? A man's got to have some 
 woman to spoil. Sylvia's sweet and loving to me. I was 
 mighty glad to have her home again. It would have been 
 a damn sight better for me if I had never let her go away. 
 
 Alan. Now with mother at home, I suppose you'll give 
 up these rooms and go back to the country? 
 
 Jeffrey. She's going on another tour. 
 
 [He rises and begins to walk about the room restlessly. 
 
 Alan. I am disappointed. Damn Gillette. 
 
 Jeffrey. It isn't his fault. 
 
 Alan. [Surprised.] You're not sticking up for him? 
 
 Jeffrey. He's not a bad sort when you get to know 
 him. 
 
 Alan. You don't like him? 
 
 Jeffrey. No. But I no longer hold him responsible for 
 your mother going lecturing. If it hadn't been he it would 
 have been some other manager. 
 
 Alan. Gillette's around here a good deal, isn't he? 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes. [Bitterly.] I wouldn't deprive Sylvia 
 from seeing a man who knows a damn sight better what 
 her mother's doing than I do. 
 
 [He sits behind. 
 
 Alan. Sylvia is around with Gillette and his crowd a lot, 
 isn't she? 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes, he's been very kind to her. He's intro- 
 duced her to his friends. 
 
 Alan. You've met them? 
 
'act hi] 'the famous MRS. FAIR 259 
 
 Jeffrey. Casually. 
 
 Alan. Dancing a good deal, isn't she? 
 
 Jeffrey. Everybody does. Keeps good hours, always 
 tells me where she's going. 
 
 Alan. Where is she tonight? 
 
 Jeffrey. I ought to know. I don't remember. {De- 
 fiantly,] Why? 
 
 Alan. [Apologetically.'] Oh, nothing. It's getting late 
 and I wondered if I would see her before I go home. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Smiling.'] She'll come toddling in soon, bless 
 her. I hope she's had a good time. 
 
 Alan. By the way, what's become of Angy Briee? Syl- 
 via never mentions her. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Slightly confused.] She hasn't seen Mrs. 
 Brice. Don't you remember I had this place ready for 
 Sylvia when she came home? I thought she'd find the 
 country dull without her mother. 
 
 [Slightly embarrassed, he picks up a magazine, turns 
 over its leaves. Alan watches him narrowly as 
 Jeffrey replies to his questions. 
 
 Alan. [Castmlly.] Hasn't Mrs. Brice been in town? 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes. 
 
 Alan. Have you seen her? 
 
 Jeffrey. [Carelessly.] Occasionally. 
 
 Alan. Odd Sylvia hasn't looked her up. They used to 
 be such great pals. 
 
 Jeffrey. Angy's too old for Sylvia, and Sylvia's made 
 new friends. 
 
 Alan. [Disarmed.] When mother goes, Peggy and I 
 must see Sylvia oftener. I'm afraid we've been rather 
 selfish. 
 
 Jeffrey. Every newly married couple has that right. 
 My boy, if your wife wants to associate with you, don't 
 discourage her. 
 
 Alan. Peggy works all day. I study all evening, so we 
 don't have time to get bored with each other. 
 
 Jeffrey. I wish Peggy would give up her job. What 
 
260 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 
 
 the devil's the good of all my money? I can't spend it all 
 on Sylvia. 
 
 Alan. Well, dad, if a wife wants to work these days, 
 you have to let her. 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes, but sometimes I wonder in this modern 
 scheme of things where in hell the husband belongs. 
 
 Alan. Why don't you put up an argimient about this 
 new tour? 
 
 Jeffrey. I put up a good one once, but she went, didn't 
 she? No, son. 
 
 Alan. [Eagerly.'} Perhaps if I talked to her 
 
 Jeffrey. [Rising.] Don't you complicate things with 
 her by trying to force anything for me. Let me give you 
 a bit of advice. Never try to play God for your family. 
 You only raise the devil. 
 
 Alan. Very well, dad, you know best. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Rueftdly.] Son, I don't know anything, any 
 more. Don't you worry about me. So long as I have 
 Sylvia I can stagger along. 
 
 [He crosses and gets his hat and coat. 
 
 Alan. [Surprised.] Are you going out? 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes. 
 
 Alan. [Rising.] But mother? 
 
 Jeffrey. I wouldn't dream of intruding. She took great 
 pains to tell me at dinner that she had a stack of mail wait- 
 ing for her a mile high. Can I drop you at the subway? 
 
 Alan. I'm not going home. Peggy's at the office tonight, 
 working on an important case. I'm going to call for her. 
 Anyway I think I'll leave a little line for Sylvia. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Pleased.] Fine! Good night. 
 
 Alan. Good night. 
 
 Jeffrey. Give my love to Peggy. [He turns to leave 
 the room, stops, hesitates, turns to Alan.] Tell her if she 
 wants me tomorrow night, I'd be very glad to come. 
 
 Alan. [Going to him quickly.] Why, Dad, we always 
 want you. 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 261 
 
 [Jeffrey takes Alan's outstretched hand, puts his 
 arm around his shoulder, 
 Jeffrey. \^Smiling.'] Good night. 
 
 [^He goes. Alan watches him. His lips quiver; there 
 
 are tears in his eyes. He brushes them away and is 
 
 starting towards the desk, when from the door at the 
 
 left of the room Nancy enters. She wears a simple 
 
 evening gown. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, Alan, I'm so glad you haven't gone. I have 
 
 been thinking it over and I'm not going to that boring 
 
 banquet. I'm going to dine with you instead. 
 
 Alan. That's bully of you, mother. But it isn't neces- 
 sary. You can come another night. 
 
 Nancy. No, no. I insist. I want to telephone your 
 wife now. 
 
 Alan. Peggy's not at home. She's at the office tonight. 
 I'm going down to fetch her. 
 
 Nancy. I've a nice idea. I wonder if she would be too 
 tired to drop in on the way home. 
 Alan. [Surprised.] Tonight? 
 
 Nancy. It's early, and [shyly] if Peggy is willing, I'd 
 love to kiss and make up. 
 Alan. Mother! 
 
 [He goes quickly to Nancy and takes her in his 
 arms. She begins to cry. He kisses her and soothes 
 her. 
 Nancy. My boy, my boy! 
 
 Alan. [Very much affected.] There — there — smother. 
 Nancy. Alan, promise me you'll never be on the "outs'* 
 with me again? 
 
 Alan. I won't. I won't. 
 Nancy. It's almost made an old woman of me. 
 Alan. It's been tough on me. I was wrong. 
 Nancy. No, no, I was to blame. 
 Alan. I won't stand for that. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, my dear, it doesn't matter who was wrong, 
 so that it's all right now. 
 
262 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 
 
 Alan. You bet it is, but — ^but 
 
 Nancy. We won't spoil this by any postmortems. [She 
 kisses him.] Did you see your father? 
 Alan. Yes. 
 Nancy. Where is he? 
 Alan. He went out. 
 Nancy. [Disappointedly.'] Oh! 
 Alan. He thou^t you were too busy to be disturbed. 
 Nancy. I sent my secretary away, but it doesn't matter. 
 Alan. I must go for Peggy. She'll be on her ear. 
 Nancy. Don't you think you had better rescue her? 
 Now hurry right back. Oh, Alan, I have something for 
 her and I want you to see if you think she will like it. 
 [Tenderly.] I'm going to see you and Peggy very often 
 before I go away again. 
 Alan. When do you go? 
 
 Nancy. I don't know ju'st what arrangements Mr. Gil- 
 lette has made. He is coming to see me about them- to- 
 night. 
 
 Alan. Mother, do you think you ought' to go? I — -mean 
 — ought to come to us instead of to that ba;nquet?* 
 
 Nancy. That's all settled. I put them on the trail of 
 another celebrity. 
 
 [She laughs and goes into her room. Alan is smil- 
 ing happily, humming a little tune when the dqprs to 
 the hall open and Sylvm enters. She is completely 
 transformed. In dress, coiffure and manner, she is 
 the modern "cutie." Her face is rouged, her lips 
 painted. On her' head at a rakish angle is an ermine 
 toque and wrapped about her throat is an ermine 
 stole. She saunters over to the mirror at the right, 
 greeting Alan as she passes him. 
 Sylvia. [Indifferently.] Hello, Alan. 
 Alan. Hello, Sylvia. 
 Sylvia. Mother here yet? 
 Alan. Yes. 
 Sylvia. ["Primping."] What about friend wife? 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 263 
 
 Alan. It's all right. [Indignantly.] Why weren't you 
 here to meet mother? 
 
 Sylvia. [Carelessly.] I had a very special date. 
 Alan. [Disgustedly.] With that Gillette, I suppose. 
 Sylvia. That's my affair. 
 
 Alan. How you or anyone else can 
 
 Sylvia. [Crossly.] Alan Fair, don't you dare to knock 
 Gillie. You don't like him — I do. 
 
 [Enter Nancy smiling happily. She sees Sylvia and 
 is so shocked by the change in her appearance that 
 she stops speechless. The little jewelry box that she 
 is carrying falls from her head. Sylvia, quite obliv- 
 ious of the effect she has made on Nancy, runs 
 towards her. 
 Sylvia. Oh, hello, mother. 
 
 [Nancy cannot speak. Sylvia surprised, stops. 
 There is a slight pause. 
 Nancy. [Inarticulately.] Sylvia! [Heart brokenly.] 
 Sylvia! Sylvia! 
 
 [She rushes to Sylvia, folds her in her arms, kiss- 
 ing her frantically. Sylvia is happy, but rather 
 puzzled. 
 Sylvia. I v/as awfully sorry not to be here. You got 
 my note? 
 Nancy. No. 
 
 Sylvia. Isn't that the limit? I gave it to the clerk my- 
 self. I'll just ask him ''what's the idea." [She turns 
 toward the telephone, and sees a hat box on the table.] 
 Oh, the dam thing came at last. [She opens the box and 
 takes out a '^freakish" hat.] I was going to wear this to- 
 night. [She holds it up admiringly.] Isn't that a sweetie? 
 Alan. [Disgustedly.] Where did you get it? 
 Sylvia. [Going to the mirror.] At Francine's. She 
 makes for all the smart chorus girls. [She puts it on, then 
 strikes a pose.] How do I look? 
 Alan. Just like a movie "cutie." 
 Nancy. [Reprovingly.] Alan! 
 
264 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act m 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, mother, don't mind Alan. He's always 
 knocking my taste in clothes. 
 
 [She is furious, and, snatching the hat off her head, 
 throws it into the box and tosses it into a corner of 
 the room. As she turns away, Nancy, who has been 
 watching her in amazement, goes to Alan. 
 Nancy. Oh, what have you all done to her? 
 Alan. It isn't our fault. 
 
 Nancy. No, it's mine. [A slight patcse.] Alan, say 
 good night to your sister. 
 Sylvia. Where's daddy? 
 Alan. He's gone out. Mad? 
 Sylvia. [Kissing him.] Not so you'd notice it. 
 Alan. See you later, mother. 
 
 [He goes. 
 Nancy. Well, darling, glad to have your mother home 
 again? 
 
 Sylvia. Believe me, I am. 
 [She is wearing her hair in exaggerated curves over 
 her ears. Nancy puts her hands on either side of 
 Sylvia's face and pushes the hair gently off her 
 cheeks. 
 Nancy. Why do you wear your hair like that? 
 Sylvia. Everyone in my crowd does. 
 Nancy. Come and sit down. I want to know all that 
 you've been doing. 
 
 Sylvia. I wrote to you. 
 Nancy. Not so often lately. 
 
 Sylvia. [Resentfully.'] With somethin' doin* every min- 
 ute I didn't have the time. 
 
 Nancy. [Quickly.] I'm not reproaching you, darling. 
 Let's have a nice snuggly time. 
 
 [She sits in the arm-chair, taking Sylvia on her lap. 
 Then drawing Sylvia's head down on her shoulder, 
 puts her arms about her, kisses her. Sylvia begins 
 to cry. 
 Sylvia. My, I've missed this. 
 
ACT in] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 265 
 
 Nancy. [Very much affected.] So have I, dear. 
 [She takes her handkerchief and wipes Sylvia's eyes 
 and at the same time seizes the opportunity to remove 
 a little of the rouge from Sylvia's face and lips. 
 
 Nancy. Now let's begin at the beginning. 
 
 Sylvia. Let's skip the beginning. It was horrid. 
 
 Nancy. {Surprised.'] In what way, dear? 
 
 Sylvia. I was so lonesome. 
 
 Nancy. As soon as I knew you were to be at this hotel, 
 instead of at home I wired to Bridget Wynne. Didn't she 
 look you up? 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, all the women came once. Mrs. Wynne gave 
 me a luncheon and a box party and asked all the girls in 
 our set. It was a perfect lemon. 
 
 Nancy. How? 
 
 Sylvia. For all the attention they gave to me I might 
 as well not have been there. 
 
 Nancy. Why should they be rude to you? 
 
 Sylvia. They didn't mean to be. I didn't know all the 
 little intimate things they talked about. One girl's mother 
 was doing this for her, and another one's mother was doing 
 that — anyway I felt like an outsider in what should have 
 been my own crowd. When I got home I just bawled my 
 head off, and daddy said we wouldn't bother with any of 
 them again, but it was pretty awful especially as I didn't 
 have Angy to fall back on. 
 
 Nancy. No? 
 
 Sylvia. Daddy said you didn't like me to be intimate 
 with her. 
 
 Nancy. I see. Haven't you seen Alan and Peggy? 
 
 Sylvia. It's terribly dull at their fiat. They are so 
 crazy about each other that half the time they don't know 
 you're around. 
 
 [They laugh. 
 
 Nancy. Didn't father go about with you? 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, yes, daddy's a darling, but he is old. Gil- 
 lie's been my life saver. 
 
266 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act m 
 
 Nancy. [Mystified.'] Who is Gillie? 
 
 Sylvia. Mr. Gillette. He took me to a tea one day at 
 a dancing place and introduced me to his friends. When 
 he found I liked them, he said, "Sylvia, this little old town 
 is yours. We'll take it all apart and see what makes it 
 tick." 
 
 Nancy. That doesn't sound like Mr. Gillette. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, he puts on his grand manners with you. 
 You don't know the real Gillie. 
 
 Nancy. [Thoughtfully.'] No, I don't believe I do. [^4 
 slight pause.] Who are these friends? 
 
 Sylvia. I don't know. Just New Yorkers. 
 
 Nancy. Has your father met them? 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, yes. 
 
 Nancy. Has he gone around with you? 
 
 Sylvia. Not to the lively parties. 
 
 Nancy. [Shocked.] My dear, who chaperoned you? 
 
 Sylvia. A woman pal of Gillie's. 
 
 Nancy. Is she a married woman? 
 
 Sylvia. [Giggling.] Is she? Three times. 
 
 Nancy. How awful! 
 
 Sylvia. [Protestingly.] She's terribly nice. You must 
 know her. So sweet to me. Takes me motoring in the 
 park almost every afternoon. 
 
 Nancy. Where did you meet her, dear? 
 
 Sylvia. At a party at "The Drowsy Saint." 
 
 Nancy. Where's that? 
 
 Sylvia. It's a new freak place in the village. 
 
 Nancy. Who took you there? 
 
 Sylvia. Gillie. He's a sweetie lamb, and so generous. 
 He spends money like water. 
 
 Nancy. [Puzzled.] He does? 
 
 Sylvia. Yes, he's taken me on parties to all the cabarets, 
 'n' everjrwhere. 
 
 Nancy. Does your father know that you go to these 
 places? 
 
 Sylvia. Sure. 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 267 
 
 Nancy. He never objects? 
 
 Sylvia. Why should he when you go with your own 
 crowd, there's no harm in them, is there? 
 
 Nancy. They are not exactly the places for a girl who 
 has been brought up as you have been. Is Mr. Gillette 
 always your escort to these parties? 
 
 Sylvia. [SmUing,'] He's my "gentleman friend." 
 
 Nancy. He doesn't make love to you? 
 
 Sylvia. [Giggling,] No, but I guess he'd like to. 
 
 Nancy. Darling, you mustn't say such things. It isn't 
 nice. 
 
 Sylvia. [Sulkily.] Why not? 
 
 Nancy. Well, nice girls don't, — that^s all. 
 
 Sylvia. [Resentfully.] What else don't they do? 
 
 Nancy. [Hesitatingly.] Well, dear, they don't go to the 
 places you have been going, and they don't use rouge, or 
 wear hats from Francine's. 
 
 Sylvia. All the women in my crowd do. 
 
 Nancy. Then I think you're going with the wrong 
 crowd. 
 
 Sylvia. [Indignantly.] How do you know? You've 
 never seen any of them. They may not belong, but they 
 know how to be kind. 
 
 Nancy. Sylvia, I'm sorry, I don't mean to criticise 
 
 Sylvia. [Rising* in a jt4ry of rage.] But you are, you 
 are! Daddy is the only one that never finds fault with 
 me. He's the only one that loves me really. 
 
 [Nancy, horrified at the implication that she does not 
 love Sylvia, rises quickly, grasps her in her arms, 
 and almost roughly places her hand over Sylvta's 
 mouth. She stands there crucified by the realisa- 
 tion of the fact that she has apparently lost the love 
 of her child. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, my dear, my dear, — never* say that to me 
 again. [She pauses a moment , then very tenderly.] It 
 isn't always kind to allow you to do just as you please. 
 
268 THE FAMOUS MRS." FAIR [act m 
 
 Sylvia. [Sullenly.] Doesn^t everyone else in this fam- 
 ily do as they dam please? 
 
 Nancy. [Hopelessly.] Yes, I suppose we do. 
 
 [There is a slight pame. Sylvia looks defiantly at 
 Nancy, who moves slowly across to the fireplace 
 where she stands, her elbows resting on the mantel- 
 piece, her face buried in her hands. The telephone 
 bell rings sharply, Sylvia turns quickly to an- 
 swer it. 
 Sylvia. Yes. [Turning to Nancy.] Dudley's down- 
 stairs. If you don't want to be bothered I can see him 
 in the lounge. 
 
 Nancy. Ask him to come up. 
 
 Sylvlv. Have Mr. Gillette come right up. [To Nancy.] 
 Were you expecting him? 
 
 Nancy. Yes, he's coming to talk to me on business. 
 Sylvia. I want to talk to him too, but I hadn't better 
 butt in on your party. 
 
 Nancy. It won't interfere, dear. 
 Sylvia. I've a message for Gillie from the bunch. 
 Nancy. Can't you give it to Mr. Gillette now? 
 Sylvia. [Defiantly.] Any objection to my seeing him 
 alone? 
 
 Nancy. Why, none at all, dear; I'll let you know as 
 soon as we have finished. 
 
 [The buzzer at the double door sounds. 
 Sylvia. Come in. [Gillette enters.] Oh, there you 
 are. I thought you were going with us to dinner tonight. 
 [Gillette, who has entered smilingly, frowns in an- 
 noyance at Sylvia, and motions her to silence; then 
 smiling suavely, advances toward Nancy. 
 Gillette. Good evening, Mrs. Fair. It's a very great 
 pleasure to see you again. 
 
 [Nancy acknowledges Gillette's greeting coldly, 
 Sylvia. Mother, when you're through with Gillie, have 
 them page me in the lounge. I'll go down and hear a little 
 jazz. 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 26» 
 
 [She smiles sweetly at Gillette, who turns and 
 smiles at her. She starts towards the door into the 
 hall. Nancy crosses quickly to her. 
 Nancy. No, Sylvia, you will wait in my room, please. 
 [Sylvia turns angrily, looks at Nancy; there is a 
 brief clash of wills, then Sylvia goes into Nancy's 
 room, slamming the door. Nancy sinks wearily into, 
 the chair and sits staring before her, lost in thought. 
 Gillette places his hat, cane and gloves on the sofa, 
 then approaches Nancy. 
 Gillette. lEffmively.] Mrs. Fair, I must congratulate 
 you on the success of your tour. It was phenomenal. I 
 am proud to have had the privilege of presenting you to 
 the American public. [Nancy makes no reply. Gillette 
 looks at her in sur prise. 1 I trust that you have found it 
 agreeable to appear under my management. [There is no 
 response and Gillette looks at her again."] I hope our 
 association will continue. I've secured even better terms 
 for the new tour. 
 
 [He sits. 
 Nancy. I am not going on another tour. 
 Gillette. [Astounded.] You are not going on — ^but 
 Mrs. Fair, all the arrangements have been made. 
 Nancy. They will have to be cancelled. 
 Gillette. But you agreed to it by letter. You 'phoned 
 me to bring these contracts tonight. 
 
 Nancy. Things have occurred that have made me change 
 my mind. 
 
 Gillette. Are you dissatisfied with me? 
 Nancy. No. But I can't go on. 
 
 Gillette. You can't mean that you are going to give 
 up all your triumphs. 
 Nancy. [Satirically.] "Triumphs!'' 
 Gillette. Why, Mrs. Fair, I am leaving tonight for 
 Montreal to arrange for your appearance in Canada. The 
 people in the East haven't heard you talk of your great 
 work. 
 
270 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 
 
 Nancy. Mr. Gillette, there is nothing that could induce 
 me to talk of my great work again. [A pame.] I will 
 be very much obliged if you will bring me an accounting 
 tomorrow. 
 
 Gillette. [Nervously.'] Tomorrow? [He rises quickly, 
 
 Nancy. Yes. I think there is about fifteen thousand 
 dollars due. 
 
 Gillette. [Stammering.'] Why — why — I won't be able 
 to make a settlement tomorrow. It will take the book- 
 keeper several days to make out a statement. 
 
 Nancy. Let me have it as soon as possible, as I am going 
 to re-open our house in the country. And now I believe 
 Sylvia has some message for you. I will send her in and 
 you can say good-bye to her. 
 
 [She rises and goes to the door to her room. 
 
 Gillette. [Astonished.] Good-bye? 
 
 Nancy. [Turning to him.] I think it wiser. Sylvia has 
 been telling me of your kindness to her. I don't wish to 
 seem ungrateful, but I would rather you did not see her 
 again, at least for the present. 
 
 Gillette. [Angrily.] Are you insinuating that I am not 
 good enough to associate with your daughter? 
 
 Nancy. I never insinuate, Mr. Gillette. If I must speak 
 more plainly, I will, and I hope you will not resent it. 
 
 Gillette. [Rudely.] Well 
 
 Nancy. Sylvia's story of her friendship with you has 
 made me realise that you and I have rather different stand- 
 ards as to the sort of associates and amusements that are 
 suitable for girls of her age and up-bringing. 
 
 Gillette. [Sneeringly.] She enjoyed the associates and 
 the amusements. 
 
 Nancy. Possibly, but I am sure that she will like much 
 more the ones I intend to provide for her from now on. 
 When may I expect the statement? 
 
 Gillette. The day after tomorrow. 
 
 Nancy. Good night, Mr. Gillette. 
 
 Gillette. Good night, Mrs. Fair. 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 271 
 
 [Nancy goes into her room. Gillette walks up and 
 down. He is deeply annoyed, worried. Enter 
 Sylvl\. She runs across to him. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, Gillie, the bunch said to tell you 
 
 Gillette. [Irritably.'] Oh, hang the bunch. 
 
 Sylvia. Why, Dudley, what's the matter? 
 
 Gillette. Your mother has thrown me down. She has 
 cancelled her tour. 
 
 Sylvia. [Surprised.'] Mother's not going away? 
 
 Gillette. No, and she has put me in an awful hole. 
 
 Sylvia. How? 
 
 Gillette. Oh, you wouldn't understand about business. 
 Where the devil am I going to find fifteen thousand dol- 
 lars by the day after tomorrow? 
 
 Sylvia. I'm so sorry you're so worried. 
 
 Gillette. I can do with a little sympathy. She's made 
 me feel like a yellow dog. 
 
 Sylvia. Did Mother say something unkind to you? 
 
 Gillette. [Bitterly.] Did she? She spoke "plainly" and 
 "hoped I wouldn't resent it." Me doing all I could so that 
 you wouldn't be lonely. A lot of thanks I got. Told me 
 I wasn't good enough to associate with you. [He laughs.] 
 Well, if she objects to me, what's she going to say about 
 your father and Angy Brice? 
 
 Sylvia. Dudley! What do you mean? 
 
 Gillette. The minute your mother's wise, shell get a 
 divorce. 
 
 Sylvia. [Shocked.] Divorce! 
 
 Gillette. Why, you poor kid, aren't you onto your 
 father and Angy Brice? Everybody else in town is. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, I never thought my Daddy would go back 
 on me. 
 
 [Brokenhearted, she sinks into a chair, sobbing. 
 
 Gillette. Your whole family has gone back on you. 
 That selfish brother of yours has no time for anybody but 
 his wife. Your mother leaving you alone for years at a 
 
«72 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 
 
 stretch, and your father running around with Angy Brice. 
 A lot they care about you. 
 
 Sylvia. Nobody wants me. 
 
 [Gillette, suddenly alarmed lest Sylvia's sobs may 
 be overheard by her motker, crosses quickly to her 
 and quiets her. 
 
 Gillette. I want you. I'm the only one that cares any- 
 thing about you, and I've been ordered to say good-bye 
 to you. 
 
 Sylvia. [Bewildered.'] Good-bye? 
 
 GiLLBffTE. Yes, you're going to be taken down to the 
 country. 
 
 Sylvia. I won't go. 
 
 Gillette. You'll have to go and you'll soon forget all 
 about me. 
 
 Sylvia. I won't. 
 
 Gillette. Oh, yes, you will. 
 
 Sylvia. I won't. 
 
 Gillette. No? Then prove it. 
 
 Sylvia. How? 
 
 Gillette. Come with me to Montreal tonight. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, Dudley! 
 
 Gillette. We'll be married as soon as we get there. 
 
 Sylvia. I couldn't. They'd never forgive me. 
 
 Gillette. Sure they will. Didn't they forgive Alan? 
 Forgive you I Why, they'll be on their knees to you and 
 to me, too. 
 
 Sylvia. I don't know what to do. 
 
 Gillette. Oh, all right. I might have known you 
 wouldn't come through. You pretend to care for me. It's 
 only a bluff. Well, stay here where nobody wants you. 
 Good-bye. 
 
 [He makes a pretence of leaving hurriedly. Sylvia 
 rises and runs to him. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, Dudley, please don't go. 
 
 Gillette. Well, what are you going to do about it? 
 
 Sylvia. [Pathetically.'] You're sure you really want me? 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 273 
 
 Gillette. Of course I want you. We can't talk here. 
 Meet me down stairs in the lounge and we will talk it over. 
 Now you won't weaken? 
 
 [He opens the door to the hall. Sylvia crosses 
 it to her room. He closes the door and stands 
 for an instant smiling in triumph as he looks at 
 the door to Nancy's room, then chuckling, goes 
 hurriedly and gets his hat and cane from the sofa, 
 and is starting to leave the room quickly when 
 Nancy enters from her room. He stops and assumes 
 a nonchalant attitude. 
 Nancy. [Surprised.] Oh, Mr. Gillette, where is Sylvia? 
 Gillette. I've said good-bye to her. She's gone to her 
 room. Good night, Mrs. Fair. 
 Nancy. Good night. 
 
 [Gillette bows smilingly and leaves the room, clos- 
 ing the door. Nancy stands thinking, then goes 
 towards the door on her way to Sylvia's room. Her 
 hand is on the knob when the telephone rings 
 sharply, then again. Nancy answers it. 
 Nancy. Hello. Put her on, please. Who? Mrs. Brice? 
 Oh, this is Mrs. Fair. Yes. I'll give Mr. Fair your mes- 
 sage. [Enter Jeffrey.] That was Mrs. Brice on the tele- 
 phone. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Surprised.'] Really? Why, I saw her 
 
 Nancy. Yes, I know. She said that you had just been 
 there, but she wants to see you tomorrow. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, all right. [He goes towards his room.] 
 Sylvia home? 
 
 Nancy. Yes, she is in her room. Jeffrey [He stops], I 
 hardly know how to say it. I understand about Mrs. Brice, 
 but has it ever occurred to you that other people mightn't? 
 Jeffrey. What do you mean? 
 
 Nancy. The worst of these platonic friendships is, that 
 people will talk. 
 
 Jeffrey. Have you heard any talk? 
 
274 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 
 
 [He places his overcoat and hat on a chair and goes 
 toward Nancy. 
 
 Nancy. Well, Bridget Wynne isn't a gossip, but even she 
 wrote to me that you and Mrs. Brice were about a good 
 deal together. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, she is still reporting to her senior officer. 
 [^He sits at the right of the table. Nancy sits at the 
 left of it. 
 
 Nancy. Jeffrey, frankly, do you think it courteous to go 
 to see Mrs. Brice a few hours after my arrival? 
 
 Jeffrey. You were busy with your own affairs as usual. 
 
 Nancy. I have some pride. 
 
 Jeffrey. I don't understand. 
 
 Nancy. I was very glad to have the excuse of letters so 
 that I need not prolong your boredom at dinner. 
 
 Jeffrey. I wasn't bored. Sorry if you were. I thought 
 I was very entertaining. You'll have to make allowances 
 for me. I haven't had the advantage of mingling with 
 the mighty minds of two continents. 
 
 Nancy. Jeffrey, I'd like you to be serious. 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, haven't we been? I think being told by 
 your wife that you are a bore is fairly serious. Still if 
 there's more, let's have it. 
 
 [There is a slight pause. 
 
 Nancy. Jeffrey, long ago we decided that if we ever came 
 to the conclusion that our marriage had been a mistake 
 
 Jeffrey. I haven't said so. 
 
 Nancy. Words aren't necessary. Actions sometimes 
 
 Jeffrey. When it comes to actions, I haven't forsaken 
 my bed and board. 
 
 Nancy. We needn't go into that. 
 
 Jeffrey. Pardon me, but that is the crux of the whole 
 affair. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, no, Jeffrey, your attentions to Mrs. Brice 
 are the crux of the affair. 
 
 Jeffrey. What right have you to object to anything 
 I do? 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 275 
 
 Nancy. My right as your wife. 
 
 Jeffrey. Haven't you forfeited that right? 
 
 Nancy. How? 
 
 Jeffrey. If you prefer the public to your husband, you 
 mustn't kick at the price you have to pay. 
 
 Nancy. Meaning that I am not to protest if you choose 
 to make me conspicuous by your attentions to that woman? 
 Really this is delicious. 
 
 [She laughs, rises and goes to the desk, at which she 
 sits, 
 
 Jeffrey. Are you paying me the compliment of being 
 jealous of me? 
 
 Nancy. Jealous of a man who doesn't want me! 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, Nancy, you know damn well I want you. 
 You may not be jealous of me, but I am of you, and of 
 everything that concerns you. I'm jealous of your career 
 because it takes you away from me. [He rises.] I tried 
 to live up to our agreement. Haven't I the right to expect 
 that you'd live up to it, too? If it was my job to provide 
 the home, wasn't it your job to take care of it? Had you 
 the right, be honest, Nancy, to go on this tour? You 
 can't be married and be a free agent without making 
 someone suffer. I'm so damned sick of my life, as I'm 
 living it now — ^but there, I don't want to keep you if you 
 want to be free. 
 
 [He turns away from Nancy, who rises and follows 
 him quickly. i 
 
 Nancy. I don't want to be free. [As Jeffrey turns to 
 take her in his arms, she stops him.] Oh, wait, I want 
 to be honest with myself and with you. I couldn't go back 
 to my life as I lived it four years ago. It isn't that I don't 
 want a home. While I was in France there were glorious 
 moments and honours and flattery, but there were nights 
 when I was so sick of the horrors, the pain, the misery, that 
 it seemed to me if I couldn't put my head on your shoul- 
 der and cry out the loneliness of my heart against yours 
 I couldn't go on. [Jeffrey takes her in his arms, kisses 
 
276 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 
 
 her.'] With death on every side I used to worry for fear 
 you weren't taking care of yourself. They decorated me 
 for bravery. They never knew what a corward I was about 
 you. Why, on this tour the nights when I had had a great 
 success and while people were crowding around me con- 
 gratulating me, I'd see some wife tuck her hand through 
 her husband's arm, just as I had tucked mine so many 
 times through yours, and she would trot away home with 
 her man and I would go to a lonely hotel room and think 
 about you. Then is when I would reaUse that success 
 meant nothing if I had to give up you. 
 
 [She breaks down and cries. Jeffrey's arms are about 
 her, he murmurs her name and kisses her. 
 
 Jeffrey. Then Nancy, I've got you again. 
 
 Nancy. Yes, and hang on to me. If I ever try to go 
 away again, lock me up on bread and water. 
 
 Jeffrey. What about this supplementary tour? 
 
 Nancy. [Laughing in hysterical relief.'] There "ain't go- 
 ing to be no tour." 
 
 Jeffrey. Fine! When did you decide that? 
 
 Nancy. Tonight. But don't ask me why. 
 
 Jeffrey. I don't care a damn why, just so you're not 
 going. 
 
 [He kisses her. 
 
 Nancy. Bless you. The first thing we'll do will be to 
 get out of this hole. 
 
 [She moves away from him. 
 
 Jeffrey. I don't believe Sylvia will like the country. 
 
 Nancy. She'll like it with me. She's going to have all 
 
 the fun she's missed in four years crowded into as many 
 
 months. It's going to be very expensive for you, darling. 
 
 [She laughs and sits on the sofa. Jeffrey follows her 
 
 and sits beside her. 
 
 Jeffrey. Go as far as you like. 
 
 Nancy. She and I are going out tomorrow and buy a lot 
 of frills. And if the exchequer runs to it I want new cur- 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 277 
 
 tains for the living-room and then I am going to give the 
 grandest party for my two daughters! 
 
 Jeffrey. [Pleased.] You're going to take Peggy up? 
 
 Nancy. No, I'm going to try to make her love me, that's 
 all. 
 
 Jeffrey. She will. After that, what? Remember, 
 Nancy, I don't want to tie you down to the home. 
 
 Nancy. If you can have a career and do your duty to 
 the family too, can't I? I ought to be as smart as you. 
 But you'll help me find some welfare work to keep me and 
 my unit out of mischief, won't you? 
 
 Jeffrey. Sure. 
 
 Nancy. That's settled. Oh, Jeff, you are a nice old 
 thing. 
 
 [She leans back in Ms arms. 
 
 Jeffrey. Nancy, you're a darling. 
 
 Nancy. [Teasingly.] And you're quite sure that I am 
 as well suited to you as Angy Brice? 
 
 Jeffrey. Oh, forget her. I discharged all my obliga- 
 tions to her tonight. ' 
 
 Nancy. I am kind of sorry for poor Angy. [A pause.] 
 Obligations? What obligations? [Jeffrey does not re- 
 ply. Nancy draws herself away from him, looks at him.] 
 Has she any real claim on you? Tell me the truth. Tell 
 me the truth. 
 
 Jeffrey. Nancy, for God's sake, be big enough to un- 
 derstand. 
 
 Nancy. Oh! 
 
 [She shudders away from him, rises, goes to the man- 
 tel-piece and buries her face in her hands. 
 
 Jeffrey. It was just after you had gone on this tour. 
 You know how we parted. You didn't write to me. I 
 was lonely, reckless. But I've never loved her. You 
 won't believe it, but I've never ceased loving you. 
 
 Ni^CY. Stop, stop. Everything you say only makes it 
 more horrible. [She moves away from him across the room, 
 Jeffrey rises, moves about and finally stands looking into^ 
 
278 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iii 
 
 the fireplace. There is silence. Then Nancy goes towards 
 the door to her room. She stops.] I will go West and 
 establish a residence. We won't drag in Mrs. Brice. Your 
 lawyer will make all the necessary arrangements and com- 
 municate with me. 
 
 [She turns to go. 
 
 Jeffrey. You're going to divorce me? 
 
 Nancy. {Turning to him.'] You don't think I'd go on 
 living with you? 
 
 Jeffrey. Nancy, you're not going to hold me entirely to 
 blame. You're not going to dodge your own responsibility? 
 
 Nancy. For what am I responsible? 
 
 Jeffrey. Surely you don't think my affair with Mrs. 
 Brice was a greater sin against our love than your craving 
 for a career? 
 
 Nancy. And surely you are not daring to place me in 
 the same category as yourself? 
 
 Jeffrey. Why not? Do you think you can starve my 
 affections, my passion, for years, without moral guilt? 
 
 Nancy. You must be mad to think such thoughts, and 
 lost to all sense of decency to express them. 
 
 Jeffrey. I 
 
 Nancy. I refuse to listen to anything more. All I want 
 to know is, are you going to try to keep me against my will, 
 or must I make a scandal to get free? [Jeffrey is silent.] 
 Surely you don't want to blacken the name of the woman 
 you are going to marry? 
 
 Jeffrey. I'm not going to marry her. She knows it. I'm 
 not in love with her, nor she with me. A sum of money 
 will console her. 
 
 Nancy. Your bargain with her has no interest for me. 
 You may make what use of your freedom you choose. I 
 mean to have mine. 
 
 Jeffrey. Very well. My lawyer knows the amount of 
 my income. You may have what you wish of it. 
 
 Nancy. I wouldn't take any of it, were it not for Sylvia. 
 
 Jeffrey. What do you mean? Sylvia? 
 
ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 279 
 
 Nancy. Do you think I would allow her to remain with 
 you? Look what your neglect has made of her. Through 
 your carelessness Mr. Gillette has been allowed to intro- 
 duce her to a sort of life until she is no more the child I 
 
 sent home to you than Do you thinli when I realise 
 
 that you are responsible that I would trust her to you 
 again ? Never ! Never ! 
 
 Jeffrey. And do you think I'm going to let you have 
 her? She's the biggest thing in my life. I'll never let her 
 go. 
 
 Nancy. She's the only thing in mine. If you force me 
 to do it, I'll tell her the truth about you. 
 
 Jeffrey. So that is your threat! She is in her room, you 
 say. Well, you tell her the truth about me and let her 
 decide. 
 
 [He starts toward the door to the hall. Nancy stands 
 aghast. Alan rushes in, followed by Peggy. 
 Alan. Dad! Mother! Where is Sylvia? 
 Nancy. She is in her room. 
 
 Alan. She is not. [To Peggy.] I was right. It was 
 Sylvia in that taxicab with Gillette. [To Jeffrey.] They 
 drove away just as we arrived. 
 
 Peggy. I found this letter on Sylvia's dressing-table. 
 
 [She gives the letter to Alan, who hands it to Jeffrey. 
 Alan. For you, Dad. 
 
 [Jeffrey takes the letter. The others watch him 
 apprehensively as he opens it. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Reading.'] "Dear Daddy — ^I " 
 
 [He mumbles indistinctly, then, overcome by its con- 
 tents, he crumples it in his hand and drops his head 
 in misery. Nancy, who has been watching him in 
 jear, starts toward him. She is trembling and can 
 scarcely walk. Her hands are outstretched toward 
 the letter. 
 Nancy. [Hoarsely.] Jeff, Jeff! 
 
 [Jeffrey looks at Nancy, then hands her the letter. 
 Jeffrey. Sylvia has decided. [He riches to the tele- 
 
280 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 
 
 phone.] Hello, hello, give me police headquarters quickly, 
 
 quickly. 
 
 [Jeffrey is at the telephone, frantically calling Police 
 Headqtcarters. Alan and Peggy are beside him, 
 Nancy, with the letter cncshed against her breast, 
 leans for support against the table. She stares 
 straight ahead, her face drawn with agony, as the 
 
 CURTAIN FALLS. 
 
THE FOURTH ACT 
 
 The scene is the same as that of the previotis act. The room 
 is in semi-darkness, the curtains drawn aside showing 
 through the window, blurred by the drizzling rain, the 
 lights of a building across the street. Two hours have 
 elapsed. 
 
 Nancy is standing at the window, peering into the street. 
 Presently Peggy, a wrap over her arm, enters from 
 Nancy's bedroom. Nancy, with a little cry, turns 
 quickly at the sound of the closing door, then with a 
 sigh of disappointment resumes her watching attitude. 
 Peggy goes to her and places the wrap about her 
 shoulders. 
 
 Nancy. Thank you, Peggy dear. 
 
 [Peggy switches on the light in the chandelier. The 
 bell of the telephone on the writing-desk rings shrilly. 
 Peggy rushes to it. Nancy turns sharply and dur- 
 ing the telephone conversation, to which she listens 
 intently, moves down and stands behind Peggy. 
 Peggy. [^Excitedly .^ Hello, yes. Police Headquarters. 
 Oh, yes, Tom. Any news? — None. Oh — Gillette went to 
 his apartment. Was Sylvia with him then? — She waited 
 outside in the taxi. You haven't any idea where they went 
 from there. — ^Your men are watching all the depots and fer- 
 ries. [She breaks down.] Oh, Tom, you've got to find her. 
 — No. I won't. He's there with you? — Hello, Alan. Your 
 
 mother? Why 
 
 [Not knowing what to say, she turns to Nancy, who 
 takes the telephone. Peggy bows her head on the 
 desk, crying. 
 Nancy. Yes, dear, I'm all right. — Don't worry about me, 
 
 281 
 
282 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iv 
 
 there's a good boy. — ^Your father? He's gone out. I don't 
 know where. — Now, Alan, dear, you mustn't give up hope. 
 You'll find her. — That's better. — ^That's more like my boy. 
 Of course you'll bring her back to me. I know you will. — 
 That's it. Good-bye, dear. [She puts the telephone on the 
 table and, smiling bravely, places her hand on Peggy's 
 head.] Don't cry, Peggy dear; they'll find her. They'll 
 find her. [Then, beginning to lose her self-control, she turns 
 away to the window, her hands folded as though in prayer.] 
 Oh, God, find her. Find her. Find her. 
 
 [She goes to the window and, leaning against it, her face 
 pressed against the panes, breaks into long shiver- 
 ing sobs. Peggy goes to her and, putting her arms 
 about her, leads her to the fireplace and places her 
 in the couch where Nancy sits, holding out her hands 
 to the blaze. Peggy kneels beside her. There is a 
 pause, then Nancy loohs at the clock on the mantel, 
 Nancy. It's almost twelve o'clock. 
 Peggy. We'll hear some good news very soon, now. 
 [Rising.] Wouldn't you like a cup of tea? [Nancy shakes 
 her head.] Not if I sent for the things and made it myself? 
 I make very nice tea? 
 
 Nancy. I'm sure you do. But I couldn't. 
 
 [There* s a pause. 
 Peggy. Oh, Mrs. Fair! I wouldn't keep on reading that 
 letter. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, Peggy, I know it by heart. "I'm in every- 
 body's way. Nobody wants me. Dudley does, so I'm going 
 with him. . . . Sylvia." Oh, my baby! 
 
 [She breaks down again. 
 Peggy. Please don't cry — ^please! 
 
 Nancy. No, I mustn't. I mustn't. [A slight pause.] 
 Oh, if I could only do something! 
 
 Peggy. There is nothing to do but wait. 
 
 [She sits on the arm of the couch, her arms around 
 Nancy. Again there is a pause. 
 
ACT iv] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 283 
 
 Nancy. [Wildly.] Oh, Peggy, tell me again that they'll 
 find her! 
 
 Peggy. Of course they will. Now, Mrs. Fair, you 
 mustn't. Please don't cry. 
 
 Nancy. [Controlling herself.] Why are you so good to 
 me? 
 
 Peggy. [Very tenderly.] Because you're Alan's mother. 
 And because you're you. 
 
 Nancy. I don't deserve this, my dear, but I'm very grate- 
 ful. 
 
 Peggy. I've been wanting to do this ever since that day 
 we hurt you so cruelly. 
 
 [Nancy pulls Peggy's head down to her and kisses her. 
 Peggy sits beside Nancy and, taking Nancy's hand 
 in hers, strokes it affectionately. There is a pause. 
 Both of them are lost in thought. 
 
 Peggy. The one thing I can't understand is Sylvia's leav- 
 ing her father. She would never have gone if she hadn't felt 
 that in some way he had turned against her. She might have 
 
 left 
 
 [She stops abruptly. 
 
 Nancy. You could understand her leaving me. I'm be- 
 ginning to understand that, too. I'm beginning to see that 
 he has more right to her than I have. 
 
 Peggy. Oh, I don't mean that she doesn't love you, but 
 the love Sylvia had for her father was wonderful. 
 
 Nancy. He had earned it. 
 
 Peggy. I don't think Mr. Fair realised it, but he didn't 
 want her to love anyone more than she did him. 
 
 Nancy. This is going to be terrible for Jeffrey. [A 
 pause.] It's strange, Peggy, how one can seem to be doing 
 one's duty and fail so miserably — go so hopelessly wrong. 
 [A pause, then Nancy looks toward the telephone.] Queer 
 they don't telephone. I wonder where Jeffrey is? If they 
 don't find Sylvia 
 
 Peggy. Oh, they will, they will. 
 
284 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iv 
 
 Nancy. [Rising.] Oh, what is her father going to do 
 without her? 
 
 Peggy. Thank God, you're here. At least, whatever hap- 
 pens, he has you. 
 
 [Nancy winces and turns away as the door opens to 
 admit Jeffrey, tired, haggard. Both the women 
 turn to him inquiringly. He shakes his head. Then 
 places his hat and coat on the chair beside the door, 
 Peggy goes to him. 
 Jeffrey. Any news? 
 
 Peggy. [Cheer jully.'] Not yet. But there will be very 
 soon. 
 Jeffrey. You all right, Nancy? 
 Nancy. Yes, Jeffrey. 
 Jeffrey. Did Alan telephone? 
 Peggy. Yes, just a moment ago. 
 Jeffrey. No trace of them? 
 
 [Peggy shakes her head. Jeffrey moves slowly down 
 to the chair at the desk, where he sits, brooding, 
 Peggy sits in the armchair at the table. A pause, 
 Jeffrey. [Savagely. 1 Curse the day the swine came into 
 my house! 
 
 Nancy. Oh, Jeff, don't make me feel my responsibility 
 for it all any more than I do. I can't bear it. I can't bear 
 it. 
 
 Jeffrey. I'm so sorry, Nancy. 
 Nancy. That's all right, Jeff. 
 
 [Nancy goes to the window and looks down into the 
 street, shading her eyes with her hands to cut off 
 the light from the chandelier. Presently she rubs 
 the moisture off the pane and peers out again. Then 
 she lifts the sash and leans out, looking down into 
 the street. Suddenly she gives a little start. 
 Nancy. Jeff! Here comes a taxi! 
 
 [Jeffrey and Peggy run to the window and look out 
 over Nancy's shoulder. 
 Peggy. [Excitedly.'] Is it stopping? 
 
ACT iv] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 285 
 
 Nancy. No, it's going on. 
 
 [Peggy and Jeffrey return to their chairs; Nancy 
 remains at the window. A pause, then Jeffrey takes 
 out his watch, 
 Peggy. [Whispering.] What time is it? 
 Jeffrey. [Whispering.] A quarter past twelve. 
 
 [Peggy, sighing, sinks back into the chair, and after a 
 moment Jeffrey turns and looks at Nancy. 
 Jeffrey. Mother, you'd better come away from that win- 
 dow; there is a draught. You'll take cold. [Nancy does 
 not reply.] Nancy, you'll take cold. [Nancy does not 
 answer. Another pause. Then Jeffrey, rising, goes to 
 Peggy, touches her quietly on the shoulder.] Peggy, get 
 her away from that window. I can't stand it. I can't stand 
 it. 
 
 [Profoundly moved, he walks over to the sofa and 
 sits. Peggy goes to Nancy and touches her on the 
 shoidder. 
 Nancy. Yes, dear? 
 
 Peggy. I wouldn't watch for them, dear. 
 Nancy. No? 
 
 Peggy. You know a watched kettle never boils. [Nancy 
 smiles, but remains at the window. Peggy returns to the 
 arm-chair and stands behind it.] Is it raining now, Mr. 
 Fair? 
 
 Jeffrey. Yes. 
 
 Nancy. [Quite unemotionally.] I hope Sylvia hadn't 
 on thin shoes. She takes cold so easily. At least, she used 
 to. 
 
 [Jeffrey buries his face in his hands. Peggy's lips 
 quiver. Her eyes fill with tears. They wait. 
 Jeffrey. Nancy, did Gillette owe you any money? 
 Nancy. [Intently watching the street.] Yes, several thou- 
 sand. 
 
 Jeffrey. That's it! 
 
 Nancy. [Indifferently.] What do you mean? 
 
 Jeffrey. I found out from Tom Gibbs tonight that Gil- 
 
286 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iv 
 
 lette was the man who was mixed up in that Bazaar scandal. 
 He has stolen your money or was going to. 
 Nancy. I don't understand. 
 
 Jeffrey. Don't you see you can't prosecute him now 
 without bringing Sylvia into it? . . . Damn him! 
 
 [It all seems of little moment to Nancy, and she turns 
 again to the window. The door to the hall opens 
 very softly and Alan stands in the doorway, unseen 
 by Jeffrey and Nancy. Peggy, moving to sit in 
 the chair, sees Alan and goes quietly to him. He 
 whispers to her and she darts out and across the hall 
 into Sylvia's room. He comes in quickly, closing 
 the door. At the sound Nancy and Jeffrey turn. 
 Jeffrey springs to his feet. 
 Nancy. [With a great cry.] Alan! 
 Alan. She's here. 
 Jeffrey. Thank God! 
 
 [Nancy makes a rush for the door. 
 Alan. [Stopping her.] Wait, mother. What are you 
 going to say to her? What are you going to do? 
 Nancy. Oh, Alan, what would I do? 
 Alan. I didn't know. 
 Jeffrey. Where did you find her? 
 Alan. At 125th Street station. They were on their way 
 to Montreal. 
 
 Jeffrey. Where is he? 
 
 Alan. I've taken care of him. He's 
 
 Nancy. [Hysterically, and trying to pass Alan.] What 
 does it matter where he is? All that matters is that she's 
 here. Don't shut her outside. Alan, do you hear me? Let 
 me go to her! 
 Jeffrey. Easy, Nancy, easy. 
 
 Alan. [Taking her in his arms.] All right, mother, all 
 right. But be careful — treat her very gently. 
 
 [He goes. 
 Nancy. Jeffrey, I'm giving up my claims to her. She's 
 yours. So be kind to her. 
 
ACT IV] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 287 
 
 [Sylvia enters, white- faced, defiant, followed by Peggy 
 and Alan. Nancy rushes toward her to embrace 
 her. Sylvia, stretching out her hands, stops her. 
 Nancy, surprised, stunned for the moment, looks 
 toward Jeffrey bewUderedly. 
 
 Nancy. Jeff 
 
 [Jeffrey looks at Sylvia, who looks coldly at him. 
 
 Nancy. Won't you sit down, dear? 
 
 Sylvia. I can take what everybody has to say, standing. 
 
 Nancy. [Very tenderly.] Darling, don't be afraid. 
 
 Sylvia. I'm not afraid. 
 
 Nancy. We're not going to scold you. We're not going 
 to say anything. 
 
 Sylvia. No? Well, I am. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Sternly.] Very well. Go on. I'm interested 
 to hear what you have to say. 
 
 Nancy. [Turning to him.] Jeff, please. 
 
 Jeffrey. I'll handle this, Nancy. Alan, take Peggy into 
 your mother's room. 
 
 Sylvia. She needn't go. She's in on this. 
 
 Peggy. I? 
 
 Sylvia. You were responsible for our arrest, weren't you? 
 
 Alan. You weren't arrested. 
 
 Sylvia. We would have been if you hadn't been there. 
 
 Peggy. No, no, dear. Tom would have brought you here 
 to us. 
 
 Sylvia. Oh, then, you did arrange it all? Don't you 
 think, for a new member of this family, you were taking a 
 good deal on yourself to 
 
 Jeffrey. Come, come, Sylvia; it was I who got Tom 
 Gibbs on the wire. You should be very grateful to Peggy 
 and her brother. God knov/s we are. 
 
 Sylvia. [Turning upon him.] I'm not. What right has 
 she — what right have any of you — to butt in on my affairs? 
 
 Nancy. Why, my dear, we all love you. 
 
 Sylvia. You acted like it, didn't you? What have you 
 all got against Dudley? 
 
288 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i/ 
 
 Alan. Sylvia, I've told you that he was an embezzler, 
 and that his only idea in marrying you was to use you to 
 prevent mother prosecuting him. 
 
 Sylvia. That's what you say. Mother, has Dudley taken 
 any money from you? 
 
 Nancy. No. 
 
 Sylvia. Well, Alan, mother ought to know. 
 
 Alan. He confessed that he was short in his accounts. 
 
 Sylvia. I didn't hear him. 
 
 Alan. You weren't there when he was begging Gibbs to 
 let him go. 
 
 Sylvia. No. I was being made conspicuous, seated on a 
 bench on the platform between two officers. Oh, I'll never 
 forget it! 
 
 [She puts her hands to her face as though to shut out 
 the memory. Momentarily her spirit is broken. 
 
 Nancy. [Whispering.'] Jeff, go to her now. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Going to Sylvia.] I am sorry, dear, that all 
 this had to happen — that you feel we've all conspired to 
 disgrace you. But we were only trying to protect you. 
 
 Sylvia. Protect me? If you wanted to protect me, why 
 wait? You knew that I was going about with him. 
 
 Nancy. But, Sylvia, dear, your father didn't realise the 
 sort of friends that Mr. Gillette had — introduced 
 
 Sylvia. He introduced me to the only friends he had. 
 What do you know about them? You never met them. 
 
 Jeffrey. Sylvia, I forbid you to use that tone to your 
 mother. 
 
 Nancy. Sylvia is right, Jeff. I judged them solely by 
 what she told me of them. 
 
 Sylvia. And while you were judging you passed sentence 
 on Dudley, too, didn't you? You forbade my best friend 
 seeing me again. 
 
 Jeffrey. Your mother had every right to do that. 
 
 Sylvia. She had no right to make him feel that he wasn't 
 fit to associate with me, when it was she who introduced 
 him to me. 
 
ACT iv] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 289 
 
 Jeffrey. She did not know that you were associating 
 with him so intimately. 
 
 Sylvia. No. She wasn't here, was she? 
 
 Nancy. No, Sylvia, I wasn't here. 
 
 Jeffrey. But I was. I'm to blame. I should have 
 watched over you. 
 
 Sylvia. But you didn't care what I was doing, where I 
 was going, just so you were free to run around with Mrs. 
 Brice. 
 
 [Jeffrey flinches as though he had been struck, 
 
 Nancy. Sylvia, how dare you talk like that to your 
 father? 
 
 Alan. Haven't you any respect? Haven't you any feel- 
 ing? Can't you see that you are hurting father and mother 
 cruelly? 
 
 Sylvia. Well, haven't they hurt me? 
 
 Alan. [Indignantly.] Hurt you! You ought to be down 
 on your knees, thanking them for saving you from a mar- 
 riage 
 
 Sylvia. Were you worrying about how cruelly you hurt 
 mother when you told her about Peggy? Would you have 
 been on your knees thanking them if they had tried to save 
 you from marrying her? 
 
 Jeffrey. Stop, Sylvia. How can you? If it hadn't been 
 for Peggy 
 
 Sylvia. I wouldn't have had to stand all this. 
 
 Alan. You don't think it's pleasant for us, do you? 
 
 Sylvia. There's an easy way of stopping it. 
 
 Jeffrey. How? 
 
 Sylvia. [Hysterically.'] Let me get out of here. 
 
 [She makes a rush for the door. Alan stops her. 
 
 Jeffrey. Where do you want to go? 
 
 Sylvia. [Jerking herself away from Alan.] Anywhere 
 away from all of you! Why am I dragged back here, where 
 nobody loves me, wants me? 
 
 [She throws herself in the arm-chair at the table, sob- 
 bing wildly. 
 
290 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iv 
 
 Nancy. Your father loves you, wants you. 
 
 Sylvia. A lot he loves me! He loves Angy Brice. 
 
 Alan. Who told you this damn lie? 
 
 Sylvm. [Sobbing.] It's not a lip. Everybody has known 
 but us, that he was going to get xid of mother and marry 
 Angy. 
 
 Alan. Dad — my God! — this isn't true? 
 
 Sylvia. [Rising.] It is true. Mother, aren't you going to 
 leave Daddy? 
 
 [There is a pause. Sylvia, Alan and Peggy are wait- 
 ing for the answer. Jeffrey stands with bowed head, 
 
 Nancy. No. 
 
 Jeffrey. [Turning , makes an effort to speak, and finally 
 articulates.] Nancy! 
 
 [Then, overcome, he turns away to the window. 
 
 Sylvia. [Going to Nancy.] Why, Dudley said 
 
 That's why I went away with him. I didn't know what 
 would become of me when you separated. I thought my 
 Daddy had gone back on me. 
 
 [Nancy jolds her in her arms, kissing her, J'e.^^'b:e.i 
 comes to them. 
 
 Jeffrey. Your daddy will never go back on you, if you 
 will only 
 
 Nancy. Jeff, don't make conditions; we've both been 
 wrong. We must be content with whatever Sylvia wants. 
 
 Sylvia. I only want you all to want me. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, my dear! my dear! 
 
 Peggy. [Snivelling.] Alan, where is Gillette? 
 
 Alan. In an ambulance. 
 
 [He smiles and shows his clenched fist. 
 
 THE END 
 
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