1^ '{ PAINE'S IfOPULAR PLAYS 1 1 ^i ■ ^ That Awful - Letter Mac KENZIE PAINE PUBLISHING CO, DAYTON, OHIO NO PLAYS EXCHANGED New Entertainment Songt By Edna Randolph Worrell. These songs can be used in all manner of entertainments. The music il ea$7» and both music and words are especially catchy. Children like them. Everybody likes them. Sheet music. Price 26 cents each. Five copies, 11.00. WE HOPE YOU'VE BROUGHT YOUR SMILES ALONG. A welcome song that will at once put the audience in a joyous frame of mind and create a happy impression that will mean half the success of your entire program. Words, bright and inspiring. Music* catchy. WE'LL NOW HAVE TO SAY GOOD-BYE. This beautiful song has snap and go that will appeal alike to visitors and singers. It is just the song to send your audience home with happy memories of the occasion. WE'VE JUST ARRIVED PROM BASHFUL TOWN. This song will bring memories to the listeners of their own bashful school days. Words, unusually clever. Music, decidedly melodious. A capital welcome aong. or it may be sung at any time on the program with assured success. MY OWN AMERICA, I LOVE THEE. A song that wUl bring a thrill of patriotism to the heart of every one who hears it. The chil- dren and grown-ups just can't resist the catchy music. It snakes a cap- ital marching song. COME AND PARTAKE OP OUR WELCOME CAKE. A merry welcome song and a jolly one, too. The audience will be immediately curious about the Welcome Cake, and the children will love to surprise the listeners with the catchy words. Music, easy and tuneful. LULLABY LANE. The music and words blend so beautifully that people will be humming the appealing strains long after they hear this charming song. A wonderfully effective closing song, whether sung by the school or a» a solo by a little girl, with a chorus of other little girls with dolls. < JOLLY PICKANINNIES. Wor^s by Elizabeth F. Guptill. Music by Edna R. Worrell. This spicy coon song will bring down the house, especially if you use the directions for the motions which accompany the music. The black faces and shining eyes of the pickaninnies will guar*^ antee a hit. The words are great and the music just right. THE LITTLE BIRD'S SECRET. Here is just (he song for those two little folks to sing together. They won't have to be coaxed to sing it, especially when they find that the whole school is to whistle the chorus. This is a decided novelty, and will prove a rare treat to your audience. A GARDEN ROMANCE. This is a dainty little song telling of the romance and wedding of Marigold and Sweet William. It is just the song for dainty little girls to sing. COME TO THE NURSERY'^HYME GARDEN AND PLAY. Here is something different for the little folks to sing. The Nursery Rhihne Folk are so familiar to children, it will be no trick for them to remember the words. The music has a most captivating swing. Paine Publishing Company • - Dayton, Ohio That Awful Letter A Comedy for Girls BY EDNA I. MAC KENZIE Copyright. 1919. by PAINE PUBLISHING COMPANY PAINE PUBLISHING COMPANY DAYTON. OHIO APR 25 1919 /Vv>o \ THAT AWFUL LETTER CHARACTERS Margaret Neilson — A Snobbish City Girl. Elizabeth Norton — Pier Country Cousin. Helen Montgomery — Margaret's Dearest Friend. Edith Browning — A Friend of Elizabeth's. Nora — A Maid of Neilson's (This part may be taken by Edith Browning.) Time of Playing — About Forty Minutes. THAT AWFUL LETTER SCENE I {Sitting-room in Neilson's house, well furnished. Mar- garet overdressed, is sitting reading a magazine. She looks up impatiently and throws it down in disgust.) Margaret — {crossly.) There's no use in my trying to read or do anything else when I'm so provoked. I don't see why dad can't {the hell rings) Oh, drat that bell! I don't want to see any person. I wish people would stay at home. (Goes and looks out.) Oh! it's Helen! I wonder what she wants now. She is always running over and I'm sure I'm never over there any more than four times a day at the most. {Helen comes in and Margaret rushes to embrace her.) Oh Helen, you dear girl! I'm so glad to see you. I was just wishing you would come over. Do take off your hat and stay awhile. I've just been so mad I could boil over or bite somebody or do something awful. Helen — Why, what is the matter with you ? What are you mad about? {Aside, It seems to me she is alzvays in hot zvater or a steiv about something.) Margaret — Well, sit down and I'll tell you about it. {They sit down on a couch.) It seems that dad has some country relations somewhere in the backwoods. He's had them ever since he was born but he's just remembering them now. Well, it seems that there's a girl about my age and dad was looking over some old photos last night and came across one of her when she was six years old. That picture put him into the notion that he would like to see that girl and nothing will do but I must write and ask her up. 4 THAT AWFUL LETTER Helen — That won't hurt you, will it? I think it would be nice to have a girl visiting you. I know when Marian Staddon was visiting me, we had a dandy time — parties, dances, and heaps of things Margaret — Yes, but can't you get anything into your head? This is a cousin from the backwoods and just imagine the kind of figure she'd cut in our set! Why, she'll likely have the oddest clothes and speak most horrible English and, and — not know beans. And then that would spoil all our plans for getting in with Edith Browning. The Brownings, you know, are such an aristocratic family and are the whole cheese since they moved to the city. I'm just crazy to get in with them, but of course if they saw me with that girl, that would spoil everything. Edith would know that my father had sprung from common ordinary farmers and we have just succeeded in making people think we had very important ancestors. Helen — (aside) Gee! but isn't she some snob. Well, nobody is deceived I can vouch for that, (aloud.) I know Edith Browning is the whole thing just at present. I've met her several times and think, she is lovely, (pause) not a bit stuck up, you know. Of course we want to get in with her, especially this winter when Beth Norton is going to visit her for everybody will be having parties and things for her. Margaret — And pray, who is Beth Norton? Helen — Don't you know ? Why, she is the girl that all the girls at Erskine College were just crazy about. Why, they say there's never been a girl there before who was as popu- lar. And act! Why, she took the chief parts in all their THAT AWFUL LETTER plays and the girls said she had any professional actress beaten all to pieces. Oh yes, we must manage to get in with them if we can. Now about your cousin, say, why can't you have her up for just a couple of days and keep her out of the way? Margaret — Dad is bound that I'll invite her up for two weeks anyway. I can generally manage him pretty well, but this time he's as obstinate as a mule. I'm glad I didn't inherit his bad qualities. Helen — (aside) I think she has all of his and some of of her own to boot, [aloud) I have an idea. Write her such a letter that if she has any sense at all she'll know she's not wanted and then perhaps she won't come. Margaret — {jumping up) That is a good idea! Let's write it now. What shall we put into it? {goes to a table where there is paper and ink, sits down to write) Helen — {going to the table) Tell her that, — oh, I don't know. You ought to be good at that sort of thing. {Marga- ret looks tip sharply). Writing letters I mean. You can write such splendid ones, you know. {Margaret writes awhile zvhile Helen looks over her shoidder.) Margaret — {rising) There, that ought to do the trick. What do you think of it ? Helen — Well, if she can't take the hint from that that she's not wanted, she must be as dense as a — a fog! {goes to put on her hat.) I must go for I promised to stay only a few minutes. Good-bye {goes tozvards the door) I hope your cousin won't be too boorish if she does come. THAT AWFUL LETTER Margaret — Good-bye. We'll trust to luck. {Helen dis- appears. Margaret comes to centre of stage) Well, that letter is a good stunt, but my, wouldn't dad be angry if he knew ! But I'll chance it that he doesn't find out. Now for a toast. {Pretends to drink.) Here's to the refusal of my invitation to my country cousin. CURTAIN SCENE II {A country kitchen. Elizabeth in iniddy and skirt, enters sloichj tozvard centre of stage, examining an envelope.) Elizabeth {still examining envelope.) I wonder who this letter's from. I don't know the writing and it's from New York City. But there's lot of people I know there. Per- haps it's from one of those little girls at Erskine College that were always getting a crush on us bigger girls and bothering us to death with their gushing. Now, who is it from anyway? {laughing.) Say, I never thought of it, but perhaps if I opened it I'd find out. {Opens and glances over it, and seems amazed and reads very slozvly aloud) 14 Riverside Drive, New York City. Dear Cousin Elizabeth : Father wished me to write and ask you to visit us for a couple of weeks. I know that you really wouldn't want to come as you'd feel so shy and awkward in a city home and among the girls in our set and doubtless you have no clothes suitable for the city ; but as he wished me to ask you, I have done so. Yours truly, Margaret Neilson. THAT AWFUL LETTER {Elizabeth looks up bezvildered.) Elizabeth — What a queer letter! I wonder if any of the girls are playing a trick on me. (thinks.) Now, I have it. I've heard mother mention her brother, Jerry Neilson, who went to the city and his aristocratic wife made him cut his country relations when they got rich. So this must be from my cousin. But how could any girl write such a rude, inso- lent letter like that ! She certainly was forced to write against her will. I bet her father never saw that letter. It would serve her right if I sent it to him. I'd feel out of place in a city home and in her set! Well, (laughing) that's a joke, when I've been in some of the best homes in New York City. I wonder what Edith Browning would say to that and a lot of the other girls at dear old Erskine. Well, my dear cousin, I'll just write you a polite note of refusal. (Goes to table and writes^ then reads aloud). "Miss Edith Norton regrets with pleasure the sincerely cordial and hospitable invitation of Miss Margaret Neilson." Oh, (suddenly jumping and clapping her hands.) I've an idea! I'll accept my kind and hospitable cousin's invitation since she's so anxious to have me and since she expects me to be such a queer freak from the backwoods, it would be too bad to disappoint her, so I'll dress and act the part of the poor country cousin she's looking for. Oh, (dancing around) it will be heaps of fun. I'll stay there a day and then I'll pay Edith Browning that visit I've promised her for ages. (Going towards the exit.) The girls at Erskine always said I was a born actress and now I'll have the chance to prove whether they were just flattering me or not. (Stops and glances at the address, 14 Riverside Drive.) 8 THAT AWFUL LETTER Why, Mildred Ewing lives just a couple houses from there. I'll dress there and just slip over when the coast is clear. There's some of my masquerade costumes up in the attic. I'll run and see if I can find something suitable for my new- role. Say, but won't I lead my dear cousin a merry dance! {Laughs and runs off the stage.) CURTAIN SCENE III (Sitting room in Neilson-s house. Margaret is seated doing fancyzvork. Helen comes in and Margaret rushes to meet her.) Helen — Say, what's up now that you had to have me come over in such a hurry? Have you any startling news? (Both go towards centre.) Margaret — Oh Helen, I'm in a terrible fix and all over that awful letter you made me write to — Helen — (interrupting indignantly.) I made you write! Margaret — Yes, to Elizabeth — or Lizzie as I guess she's called. Would you ever think she'd accept that invitation? Helen — No, she hasn't, has she? IMargaret — Yes, she has and here's her answer, (shows her a letter written on some very brightly colored paper or trapping paper.) Just look at the spelling and the style! Wouldn't it crimp you? And just wait until I read it to you (begins to read, zvhile Helen follozvs her over her shoulder and giggles all through the reading of it.) THAT AWFUL LETTER Dear Maggie — (Isn't that abominable t) — I've been wanting ter visit the city ever since I was skin high to a grasshopper, but didn't know I had any kin in the city that I could visit. It's awferlly kind of youse to ask me and I'll be there as sure as guns this coming Wednesday. I jest got some new clothes made by Susannah Sparks and they're mighty stylish, I kin tell yer. I aint a bit bashful so youse kin invite all the people in youse like. I'd like ter meet yer friends awful well. Remember me to yer pap. Yers to a sliver, Lizzie Norton. (tJirozvs the letter down on the table in disgust and make^ a face.) Isn't that perfectly awful? That means she'll be here tomorrow and oh, she must be dreadful ! And what if she should tell dad about that awful letter we wrote! Oh, why did I do it, and whatever will I do? {Sinks dozvn in chair and begins to cry.) Helen — (going over and putting her arm around her.) Oh, cheer up ! Things might be worse. You can manage to avoid the girls for awhile and you can give Lizzie books to read or something to keep her in the background and out of mischief. Margaret — (drying her eyes.) It's a good thing she isn't coming today for you know I've invited Edith Browning for tea and I want to be on my best behavior and be as nice as I can so as to make a good impression. If Lizzie were here, I would be mortified to death, (bell rings behind stage.) Oh, there's the bell. It's too early for Edith. I wonder who it is. (goes to the door and looks out.) There's 10 THAT AWFUL LETTER Nora answering the door now. (throzus up her hands in horror.) Good heavens, who can that awful person be! Helen — What person? {Goes and looks too and giggles. ^ Goodness, I bet she's escaped from some asylum. But listen, Nora's going to settle her. {both listen at door.) Nora — {behind the scenes) Yez can't come in here. This is no place for the likes of ye. Ye'd better thry the asylum where ye belong. Elizabet^h — {behind the scenes) Yer'd better go there yerself. Let me tell yer that I kin come in if I want ter. I've come to visit my Uncle Jerry and yer needn't think a red- haired freckled flip of a thing like yer can stop me. Now stop making a door of yerself and let me through or I'll tell my cousin Maggie on yer, Helen — Good heavens, here she comes! {Drags Mar- garet to front of stage zvhere they both fall limp into chairs.) Margaret — Merciful powers, it's Lizzie! Isn't she — {Elizabeth appears at door, dressed in a most ridiculous fashion and carries an old-fashioned telescope and a big sc'tchel. Both girls sit staring at her.) Elizabetpi — {Rushing up to them and throzving down her telescope) Helloa, girls! Be one of youse my cousin Maggie ? I'm Lizzie Norton. I got a chance ter come up a day earlier so I didn't think it would make any odds. ( The girls have jumped to their feet thunder-struck.) Elizabeth — {looks from one to the other) Say, what's the *Tvatter with youse ? Be youse both deef and dumb ? 11 THAT AWFUL LETTER Margaret — {extending her hand zvhich Elizabeth seizes) I'm Margaret Neilson so I suppose' you must be my cousin Lizzie. We were not expecting you until to-morrow. (Aside to Helen.) Oh, Helen, isn't she perfectly dreadful? Helen — {aside to Margaret) Well, I should say! And her clothes sure are the latest style as there's never been any like them — yet ! Elizabeth — {tugging at the elastic on her hat) Well, youse didn't tell me ter take off my hat, but I guess I'll make myself ter hum. {Takes off her hat and throzvs it on the couch and stares around.) My, aint everything here perfect- ly grand! {Goes around the room.) Youse folks must be pretty stylish. Now, ter home us folks aint never seen such nice things. {Turns suddenly.) Say, how's Uncle Jerry, Maggie ? Margaret — If you're referring to my father, his name is J. Ernest Neilson, so please call him Uncle Ernest. As for myself, I detest the name of Maggie. Do call me Margaret. Elizabeth — Oh, yer rather peppery aint yer? I'm sure Jerry is just as good a name as yer kin find anywhere. Why, w^e named our old white horse that and a better horse yer couldn't have. As for Maggie, our black and white spotted cow is called that and she gives more milk than any of them. {Margaret looks more and more disgusted and Helen amused.) Say, aint vou going to interduce me to your friend? At hum we always interduce everybody to everybody else. Margaret — I beg your pardon. This is my friend, Miss Helen Montgomery. {Helen raises her hand very high and Elizabeth pulls it dozvn and shakes it heartily.) 12 THAT AWFUL LETTER Elizabeth — Please ter meet you, Helly. I suspect I'll get real acquainted with yer before my visit's over. Yer don't look quite as stuck-uppish as my cousin there. {Mar- garet makes a face zvhile Helen laughs.) Helen — I feel greatly complimented, I'm sure. {Aside) She's summed up Margaret pretty well for a green country girl. Elizabeth — {examining the girl's clothes) Say, girls, yer dressed up mighty swell. Be yer going to a party? Margaret — {proudly) Why, no, these are just our every- day clothes. Elizabeth — {in surprise). You don't say! {Smoothing dozvn her own dress proudly.) Don't you like my new dress? {Margaret looks disdainfid.) I was bound to have Susannah make it stylish and put in all the pleats and frills she could. I think she made a real good job of it, don't youse? Helen — {sarcastically) Why, yes, I think it is beautiful {looking at Elizabeth's hat) and what a lovely hat you have and so becoming. {Turns her hack to laugh.) Elizabeth — {getting the hat and turning it around in her hand) Yes, I think it mighty nice and so should it be for it was awferlly expensive. I paid $1.98 for the shape itself at {names a local milliner) and I trimmed it myself. (Puts it back on sofa. Helen and Margaret sit dozvn.) Helen — {aside) It wouldn't need a detective to make that discovery, that's one thing sure. Elizabeth — {unfastening satchel and taking out a gaily colored centre-piece) Now, I'll jest set down and work at 13 THAT AWFUL LETTER this centre-piece. {Sits down in rocking chair and zvorks.) I'm going to give it to you, Mag — Margaret, I mean, for yer parler table. Margaret (aside) Oh, gee, imagine that on our highly polished table. I guess it will be more likely to adorn the attic, (aloud) Oh, that's very nice of you. By the way, how did you find your way here? Helen — Oh yes, how did you when you had never been in the city before ? Elizabeth — Well, now, I did have a mighty hard time of it at first. I asked one of them policemen if he could tell me where Uncle Jer — where Mr. J. Ernest Neilson lived and he just laughed at me. (She keeps rocking.) Helen — Well, I should think he would. Didn't you know any better than that? Elizabeth — (still sezving) Why, I was told that them policemen could answer any kind of a question. At hum everybody knows where everybody else lives so I thought it would be the same here. (Both girls laugh.) Anyway he asked what his address was and I showed him the top of yer letter. Margaret — (in horror) You didn't show him my letter! Elizabeth — Sure and he must have got a good squint at what was in it, too, for he looked so funny. Well he told me to get into one of them street car things, and the feller who was all dressed up in brass buttons and took the tickets told me when to get into another so it was real easy. But I think the people here are dreadfully imperlite. They kept 14 THAT AWFUL LETTER giggling and giggling. I asked one what the joke was and she grew awfully red and didn't answer. I think it's mighty rude not to tell other folks the joke, why down to huni' — (looks lip just as the girls are turning up their noses). Say, what's the matter with your noses? Have they nervous twitches in them? Get a bottle of Dr. Cure-all's syrup of tar at (name of local druggist) and it will soon stop that for it cured my cold. (Rising and throzving fancy zcork on chair.) Laws a me, I'm awfully thirsty. Where's the kitchen (goes tozvards door, Margaret starts up). Never mind coming. I'll just use the dipper so you don't need to get me a glass. Margaret — Well, tell Nora to get you a drink. (Exit Elisabeth). Oh Helen, I never saw anybody so common — Helen — (interrupting). Why she's the most wwcommon specimen I ever met in all my life. Margaret — (proceeding) — and horrid before — and oh, (jumping up in consternation), I forgot all about Edith coming. She'll be here soon now and I simply must get Lizzie out of the way before she comes. Oh Helen, (putting her arm around her), hurry up and think up something to help me out of this hole. Helen — (aside), And she was so grateful when I tried to help her the last time. But she's in a pretty tight box now so I guess I'll have to try and patch it up. I wish her impor- tant ancestors had given her some brains. (Aloud.) Oh, tell her — tell her — . Now let me think (thinks for a minute and suddenly grabs Margaret's arm). I have it. Tell her that you know she must be very tired after her long journey and 15 THAT AWFUL LETTER that you're sure she would like to rest and have tea quietly in her own room. Nora could take it up on a tray. Lizzie will think it's so considerate of you, I'm pretty sure, and the novelty of having things sent up to her might appeal to her. Let's try it anyway. Margaret — All right. I'd try anything. (Elisabeth ap- pears.) But here she comes now. (Elizabeth comes toivard centre and Margaret goes to meet her and puts her arm around FAizabetKs zvaist). Oh Lizzie, I know you must be pretty tired after your long journey. I think perhaps you had better rest quietly until tea time. Then I'll tell Nora to fix you up a nice dainty tray and you'll be under no ner- vous strain at all. Elizabeth — Me tired after that speck of a ride on the train ! Why I've saw me walk five miles ter town and go home and milk ten cows and not be a bit the worse for it. And talk about nerves. Well I may be nervy but I aint got them nerves that make people act like sillies. Now I'll just go up and put on my red chiny silk dress Susannah fixed up that stylish with yeller bows and six frills and point de spit lace. It will only take me a few minutes and I'll be down in lots of time for supper. (Gets valise and goes tozvards exit, then stops at one end of stage), (Aside), I guess it's time that I ended this farce. I think I've given my dear cousin a pretty strong jolt, judging from her face and actions. Gee, she's the limit all right. Anyway, I had better change into a decent dress as I would hate to offend Uncle Terry — I mean Uncle J. Ernest Neilson (exit Eliza- beth). ^ (Margaret sits moodily in chair with head propped on knees. Helen sits toying with some fancy zvork.) 16 ^ THAT AWFUL LETTER Helen — For goodness sake, Margaret, cheer up, you're not dead yet ! Margaret — I wish I were. What am I going to do? and Edith is due any minute. I wonder what made Lizzie strike today. Helen — (explosively) Well, do you know, I like her! Margaret — (in surprise) Do you really? Well, I believe I do myself. There's something rather refreshing about her and she's so frank and good-natured. She doesn't bear the least grudge for that horrid letter we sent. Perhaps she doesn't see anything wrong with it though. Oh, whatever made me do it? I feel as mean as dirt everytime I think of it. I'd give anything if I had never written it. Helen — Yes, I guess it was pretty shabby, but what's done cannot be undone. Anyway, I don't suppose she knows enough to take offense at it. (Starting up.) Oh, I have an idea! Margaret — (moodily), I notice that you do catch on to one once in a while. Well let's hear it. Helen — (aside in disgust) Now, wouldn't that crimp you ! She couldn't find an idea all by herself in a thousand years. (Aloud). Why, I was just thinking that Lizzie would look quite pretty if she had a decent dress to wear and was fixed up some. Now, what's to hinder you lending her one of your pretty dresses and doing her hair in some becoming fashion? I bet she wouldn't look bad at all. Margaret — Why, she wouldn't. I'll go right up now and do it (starts toward exit), or she'll be coming down in 17 THAT AWFUL LETTER some awful concoction of a dress. Oh, dear, I feel awfully nervous. Helen — Did you hear what she said about nerves? The very idea, when nerves are all the go now. (Bell rings). Oh, there's Edith now. I wish she had stayed away for half an hour longer. Margaret — So do I. And however will I manage to fix Lizzie up now ? Helen — Talk for a few minutes and then excuse yourself and I'll entertain Edith until you come back. Margaret — (warmly) Helen, you're a dear and just full of ideas. Idon't know what I'd do without you. (Goes out). Helen — (aside dramatically), Behold the expanding of Miss Margaret Neilson's character. She is actually waken- ing up to what I am trying to do for her and has even ex- pressed one grain of gratitude. Well I guess I'll hang on to the grain, perhaps it will sprout. (Sees Lizizie's hat and fancy zuork.) Goodness I'd better get these out of sight or they'd be a sure giveaway. (Rims and thrusts fancy zvork under a cushion and throws^ hat behind couch. Margaret appears arm in arm with Edith who is well hut quietly dressed. Helen goes to meet them.) Margaret — You know Helen Montgomery don't you, Miss Browning? Edith — Oh call me Edith, it's more sociable and I'll call you Margaret. Why yes, (shaking hands with Helen), I have met you several times, haven't I? Coming to a new 18- THAT AWFUL LETTER city it takes a person quite awhile to get acquainted, but I'm managing not too badly. Helen — Why, I should say not. You have made hosts of friends already from all accounts. Edith — Yes, everybody has been awfully kind to me and then Fd met several people when I was at Erskine. (All girls take seats, Edith sitting zvhere she can see the exit by turning slightly.) I hope you girls weren't expecting me any sooner. I had some shopping to do and that delayed me. Margaret — Oh, that's all right, but we were just saying we wish you'd hurry up so that we could have a nice, long chat about everything before supper, so — Helen — {interrupting) Oh, Edith, do tell us about some of the jolly times you had at Erskine College. I'm just aching to hear about them. (Drazvs chair closer to Edith). Margaret — Yes, please do! (Draws her chair closer). Edith — Why, I could tell you lots, but really I w^ouldn't know where to begin and once I began, I wouldn't know where to stop. Eor one thing we used to have midnight sup- pers whenever one of the girls would get a box from home. We'd all meet in one room and have nothing but candles for a light and when we heard anyone coming, we would have to blow them out, quick as wink. Oh, but it was ex- citing when we heard any footsteps outside! There'd be a wild scamper, I can tell you. Helen and Margaret — I guess there would be. What would you do ? 19 THAT AWFUL LETTER Edith — Everybody would grab the first thing that came handy and we'd make ourselves as small as possible. We'd squeeze four or five into bed with the eats and a few under while the rest would get into a closet. One of the girls would snore and the teacher would think she was asleep and pass on. It was pretty hard on the eats, though, being grabbed in such a hurry and getting all crushed up, but then it was lots of excitement and fun. Helen — What else did you do? Edith — Well, we put on some pretty good amateur plays. Beth Norton, was simply grand in anything like that. Say, {with enthusiasm) you just ought to know Beth. She's the dearest girl out. Everybody raved over her at Erskine. She was just bubbling over with fun and mischief and kept things lively all the time. She was so good-hearted and kind too and had the most forgiving nature. One girl said she was so full of fun that there wasn't a speck of rooi.i for spite to lodge in. Margaret — She must be lovely. I'd like awfully well to meet her. Edith — Well, I don't see why you couldn't for I just got a letter from her and she said she was going to visit me in a couple days. She said she was visiting some snobbish cousin of hers who needs to be taken down a peg or two. I'd love to see her do it, but I wouldn't like to be the cousin, I can tell you. Margaret — No, nor I either, but those people who put on such airs ought to have it taken out of them some way or other. I wonder who she is. 2(5 THAT AWFUL LETTER Edith — I don't know. Beth wouldn't think of giving her away. {Helen stares fixedly at Margaret and nods. Mar- garet rises). Margaret — I wonder if you'd excuse me for a few min- utes. I have some things I must attend to. Editpi — Why of course. Don't hurry back. {Gaaes at Margaret starting to go out. Elizabeth appears at exit very daintily dressed.) Edith — {rushing past Margaret seizes Elizabeth and hugs her), Why Beth, you dear girl, {pulls her tozvards centre), wherever did you come from? The girls were just saying they didn't know you. {Margaret and Helen both stand in amazement.) That's funny. Elizabeth — Oh, helloa Edith ! I didn't know you knew my cousin. I'm just staying here until tomorrow and then I'm going to your place for awhile. Edith — {aside in horror), So this Margaret Neilson is the snob Beth is to take down a peg. Good gracious, but I've put my foot into it. {Edith and Beth go to one side and eagerly converse in lozv tones). Margaret — {to Helen), Lizzie, Beth Norton! Why whatever does it mean anyway? {thinks). How can she be one and the same person ? Oh, oh, I see it now. The names are both nicknames and I never imagined my cousin Eliza- beth was the much talked of Beth. And so I'm the snob that Edith said Beth was to take down a peg ! {Pauses) And the worst of it is I know I deserve it after that horrible letter. I don't deserve to have her ever speak to me again. 21 THAT AWFUL LETTER Helen — But, whatever did she mean by dressing up like that ! Margaret — Why, don't you see? Didn't you say that when she acted, she had all the professionals beaten to pieces? Well, she's acted that country gawk I inferred in that letter to take me down that peg. Gee, she's taken me down a whole bunch of them. And oh look how we treated her since she came. Oh, Helen, I'm so ashamed. I wish there was a hole in the floor so that I could crawl into it. Helen — (aside), Thank goodness, she's admitted that much. There's hope for her yet. (Aloud.) We both acted awfully mean and for my part I'm going to take my pill and swallow it. Margaret — I will too. It's mighty bitter, but the worse the medicine tastes, as a rule, the better are the results. I'll never — (Elisabeth comes up to her). Elizabeth — Well, Mag — Margaret, I guess it's up to me to explain. You see when I got your letter which showed me so plainly that you considered any person brought up in the country was some sort of a curiosity and nothing but an ignoramus,. I thought I would come and explain to you that the farmers of today are among the best educated and most wealthy people there are and their daughters are re- ceiving the very best advantages that can be gotten. But when I read your letter over, I couldn't resist the temptation of acting the awkward gawk of a specimen you expected. Did I succeed? Margaret — Succeed! Oh goodness, it was awful. (Sinks into a chair and starts to cry), Oh, Liz — Beth, I mean. I 22 THAT AWFUL LETTER know I've been as nasty and snobbish as I could. And you don't know how mean I've felt ever since I wrote that awful, awful letter. I've wished again and again that I'd never been so rude and horrid. Will you ever forgive me? (Cries). Elizabeth — (Putting her arm arojind her), Oh, cheer up, Margaret, of course I'll forgive you; you just need some of your notions changed. That's all. And when it comes to for- giving, perhaps I'd better ask you to forgive me for playing such a trick on you. (Aside, laughing), But, gee it was the best fun I've had for ages. Their shocked faces! (laugh), their turned up noses, (laughs), their open disgust. Oh glory, it was worth a circus to see them. Edith — Well, let's forget everything that's been done and said and begin all .over again. I think we'll be great friends. Let's shake over it. (She takes Helen s hand, Eliza- beth takes Margaret's and they stand zvith crossed hands in front of stage). Elizabeth — Oh girls, see how our hands are crossed ; I wonder who's going to be married first. CURTAIN Christmas Entertainments CHRISTMAS AT PUNKIN HOLLER. A new Christmas play by EHz*. beth F. Guptill that abounds in clean, wholesome fun from beginning to end. It depicts the trials of the teacher of an old-fashioned "deestric school" in conducting the last rehearsal for the Christinas Entertainment. Some of the pupils are in "custom." as big Jake puts it, and "Sandy Claus" is there. The children go through their parts with gusto and more or less success. May be ffiren in any schoolroom by any number. Easy to produce. Costumes sitnplc, Children and grown-ups will be delighted with CHRISTMAS AT PUNKWt HOLLER. Price, 15 cents. A TOPSY TURVY CHRISTMAS. Another new Christmas, play by lizabeth F. Guptill. It is decidedly humorous from start to finish. The characters are strong and at every turn of the play there is a happy surprise for the audience. The children are tired of "minding," and the everything being "Must so," so they start to find a place where they will find things different. They find it in Topsy Turvy Land, where they have strange experiences. When at last they have a Topsy Turvy Christmas, they are ready to go home and be satisfied with things just as they are. May be given in any school- room by any number of children not less than fifteen. In two short scenes. This clever play will prove a sure winner wherever produced. Price, 15 cents. CHRISTMAS AT MCCARTHY'S. Elizabeth F. Guptill. Here is a new Christmas play for the older children and as many young children as are available. It combines in a marked degree the gentlest pathos and the most •■arkltng humor. Several nationalities are represented in the tenement and ere is opportunity for the introduction of specialties if desired. Circum- ances cause Elsie, the tenement orphan, to believe Jimmy, the newsbojr, will auy her a Christmas present, and it seems it is up to Jimmy to do it. Christmas is an unknown quantity at the tenement, but all agree that Elsie must ,not be disappointed, and plan to have one somehow. The entertainment is given by the ^'inhabitints thimsilves," at McCarthy's. In the midst of the fun, Elsie's lost father walks in, and the finale is a general rejoicing. Price, 25c. CHRISTMAS DIALOGUES. By Cecil J. Richmond. A book full of the choicest new and original dialogues for Christmas, parts for both boys ana girls being well provided for. Some are for the little folks, in rhyme* some are for intermediate grades, and others for older children. Every dialog'ie in this book is decidedly to the point and easy to prepare. They will delight young and old alike. Contents i Is There a Santa Claus? 2 small children, Santa Claus and chorus; Herbert's Discovery, 2 boys; The Christmas Dinner, 2 little girls, 1 larger girl and 2 boys; Playing Santa Claus, 1 small and 2 larger boys; A Double Christmas Gift, 2 small girls, 2 larger girls, and 3 ^>oy8. Pnce, 15 cents. EVERGREEN AND HOLLY— SONG AND DRILL. By ElJzabeth F. vuptill. A drill for any even number of boys and girls, or all girls. The girls carry ^garlands of evergreen while the boys carry wreaths of the same. After a spectacular drill and fancy march they all sing a beautiful Chistmas song, which accompanies the drill. Following the song they wind a spiral to the center of the stage, unwind same and march off. Complete instructions are given. It is the best Christmas drill ever published; easy to produce and decidedly novel. Price, 15 cents. PEARL'S CHRISTMAS. Original, pleasing and interesting Christmas dialogue with an excellent moral, for 3 boys and 4 girls. Price, 5 cents; seven copies, 25 cents. SITTING UP FOR SANTA CLAUS. A humorous dialogue for 6 girls, 6 boys, and Santa Claus. If you expect to have a Christmas entertainment. you surely want this. Single copy, 10 cents; or 10 copies, 60 cents. Paine PubUsbing Company. Dayton, Ohio 014 211997 3 • iJl^ »««r short dilr RCXDIf COMIC ENTERTAIl to-4ate cotWction of thci poetry u to i%Ht almost i Io«raet, two for mfldt A»k can !>« IMied ixid is worthy of its place in this useful work. It ie undouljtedly th« best book oi the kind, for thtj money, published; and is highly refcc mended by teachers everywhere. Price, twenty cents. LITTLE PIECES FOR LITTLE PEOPLE ^--^ ' - - .^ cards containing twenty-nine bright, pretty recit. from five to ten yeara of j^ge. Teachers Mke tb oonrenient form. Being printed on cards, all weas Pric*. fifteen centa. MONOLOGUES POP YOUNG FOLKS IS, cir |?ifty-four original, cl: «iK to sixtoen, or for jnay b« a recounting t alirc, and you are car By Vayirn X?.lddle P>?tnoy, ous mono who imp. but a- mo d;pg~witU inter »•'. of subjects. Also twenty-eight selections as follows For Washington's ay (4). For Memorial Day. Flag Day, and (i). ror Memorial JL^ay. tae-eDny, ana For Thanksgiving Day (8). For Oxnel- Birthdar (4). For I^bor •other Fatriotic Occaaion^ (S). XDBS (9). Price, nhirty cent*. RECITATIONS FOR PRIMARY GRADES, ORIGINAL AND UNIQUE. By Eli«abeth F. GuptiiL A collection of an nnusual sort Every one k as int«r«8ting as a story, and ererv one has a rery 'ji- croas descriptions and characterirations? Do you want the est and moat fide-splitting humor? Do you want to ,'; onsr n »» litarature and elocution flimong your pupils? D ■ '»• recited by the moet eminent elocutionists? Do 'h« quint«e»enoe of all that is suitable for reading -^ols, e«hibition«, literarv societies, picnics, or in the ihnniy or in? vale reading room? Buy the Normal Sp««iker ani^you will be sure to find m it eoniO' thing that will supply your wants. Pnce, thirty cente. Our large Entertainment Catalogue sent on request PAINE PUBLISHING COMPANY. DAYTON, OKXO.