Henry, Where Are You? 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I|i *-l^'«'^F^ ^F^^ir^ Henry, Where Are You? A Play in One Act By BEULAH KING Author of ' The Rev. Peter Brice, Bachelor'' etc. NOTE The professional rights in this play are strictly reserved and application for the right to produce it should be made to the author in care of tlie publishers. Amateurs may produce it with- out payment of royalty on condition tliat the name of the author appears on all programmes and advertising issued in connection with such performances. BOSTON WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 1920 c^55a Henry, Where Are You? CHARACTERS Uncle Henry. Mrs. Maria Pratt, /ns sister. Frances Fenton, /its niece. Mary Moore, his 7iiece. Anne Mowbray, his niece. Mrs. LePage, widow. Maid. Copyright, 1919, by Walter H. Baker & Co. { Henry, Where Are You? SCENE. — The west veranda of Uncle Henry's country house, Grasmere. At r., steps leading to the lawn. At L., a door leading within the house. The furnishings are of wicker and cretonne with hunches of flowers in vases hung and set about. A large wicker settle at c. hack with cretonne cushions and pillows; at the left of it a high-hacked chair. Tahle, chairs, etc., complete the setting. {At the rise of the curtain the stage is empty. A sec- ond and Anne, a very pretty girl of twenty, enters hurriedly from l., walks half across the stage, stops, listens and runs down the steps at r. At the same time Aunt Maria's voice is heard from the house speaking to Uncle Henry.) Aunt Maria. There, there, what did I tell you ? Did you see? There, there, if I never breathe again— (Uncle Henry, a small, kind man of forty- five, and Aunt Maria, gaunt and sharp- faced, enter) I saw a woman Uncle Henry. Oh, Maria, don't— not a woman, I beg of you. Aunt Maria. Well, a figure, a figure in skirts— a ghost — a spirit, then. Uncle Henry. By, my dear Maria, I never thought . Aunt Maria. Of course you never did. Any one would know that by your actions. (She sits in the high- 3 4 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? hacked chair and Uncle Henry continues to walk about nervously.) Henry, that woman is here and you are trying to deceive me. As your sister, I have a right to know, and I should think that out of kindness to me, who have put myself out — yes, put myself out con- siderably to come to you because I thought you were lonely Uncle Henry (deprecatingly). Don't, Maria, don't! Aunt Maria. Ah, you know too well it is the truth. Your own conscience tells you that you are wrong. (Pause during zvhich she glozvers at him.) Henry, have you or have you not married that widow ? Uncle Henry. I have not, Maria. Aunt Maria. My God! (In a sepulchral voice.) Henry, is she here at this house? Uncle Henry. Maria, you insult me with such a question. I refuse to answer you. Aunt Maria (tragically) . Henry, then who — who is that figure that wanders through this house, oftentimes just escaping us by a tree, a hedge, a corner? Henry, in the name of honor, tell me. (Pause.) Ah, you cannot! You know you cannot, for it is she — the Widow LePage ! Uncle Henry (suddenly getting possession of an idea). Maria, this is an old estate. This house, built in eighteen hundred, has its traditions. Can you, a Dudley, who have grown up among the associations of this place, forget that night in November, after the guests had gone, when on your way to your bedchamber, you Aunt Maria (unnerved in spite of her efforts to con- trol herself). Don't, Henry, don't ! Uncle Henry (realizing he has made a good begin- ning) . But you saw with your own eyes, Maria. You described every detail of the dress it wore. Aunt Maria. //. Oh, don't! (She shudders.) Uncle Henry. The startled look of the eyes— the paleness. Just where did you see it, Maria ? Aunt Maria (catching the spell he has woven). In the east corridor just beyond the first door, but her white ruffled dress trailed almost to the top stair. I had just reached the landing — oh, it was horrible HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? 5 Uncle Henry. There, there, Maria, don't try to re- call it. Aunt Maria {whose eyes are staring straight ahead). when I heard a whisper as plain as I heard you speak just now. It said — and oh, the agony of it — " Henry, where are you ? Henry, where are you ? " {She shudders.) It was the ghost of poor Mary Dudley calling for her lost lover. Uncle Henry {with feeling). Poor Mary, she had a hard time of it. Aunt Maria. Yovi never saw anything out of the way — at — at any time, did you, Henry? Uncle Henry {a little ashamed of himself). Once when I sat on this piazza in the late afternoon — the clock had just struck seven, I had been reading — I happened to look up when I saw just where that chair is by the rail Aunt Maria {unable to control herself, rises hastily). Oh, don't ! I can't bear to hear it. {She goes off at l. ; Uncle Henry chuckles to himself as he takes a seat on the settle; a second and Anne Mowbray enters from r, and goes up to him.) Anne. Has she really gone at last ! Uncle Henry {who suddenly realises some one is be- side him, starts). Oh- — hulloa, my dear, you here! Anne. You have a perfectly horrible way of not no- ticing your niece, you naughty uncle. You're always thinking, thinking, thinking. Look at me ! {She turns his face tozvard her.) Now tell me {severely) , what are you thinking about ? Uncle Henry {somewhat embarrassed). No, no, my dear— that is, nothing, nothing at all. Anne {roguishly). Do you call the charming widow LePage nothing? There, you didn't know I knew how you felt about her, did you? But I'll never tell, you dear old thing, never. Aren't you my friend and protector, and besides, she's a dear! I love her myself. Uncle Henry. She is rather fine — that is — er — er rather splendid. 6 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? Anne (kissing him). Wonderful, you old dear, and I don't blame you a bit for falling in love with her. You've a perfect right to marry if you wish and Aunt Maria can go to grass. She married, and I've heard she just hazed the young man. (Smoothing Uncle Henry's hair, which is beginning to get sparse in spots.) How old are you, Uncle Henry? Uncle Henry (with a little sigh). Forty-five. Anne. Forty-five. Why, that's nothing. Aren't you still handsome? (She opens his mouth.) Haven't you all your teeth? (Examining his hair.) And your hair. Why, Uncle Henry, you've a regular football head of hair. I'd marry you myself if it weren't for John. (Pause, while she fondles Uncle Henry absently and gazes out over the lawn.) Dear John, I wonder what he's doing now — right at this minute. (With sudden en- thusiasm. ) Uncle Henry, what time is it ? Uncle Henry (taking out his watch). Just eight and one-half minutes past two. Anne. He's on his way to town. (Sweetly reminis- cent.) Let's see, he's about at the crossroads near the inn. (Shakes Uncle Henry affectionately.) And oh, Uncle Henry, he's coming to-night. Uncle Henry (rising and walking about). You have told him about your Aunt Maria, my dear? Anne. Of course, and he's going to wait for me under the sycamore tree. You see I had to tell him because he would think it was strange. Uncle Henry. Of course, of course, my dear, but even so he must think it a little strange, my dear, that — that you are staying in the same house as your Aunt Maria and that — that she doesn't know it. Anne. We-ell, I just told him what a bear she is, and that if she did know I was here he couldn't come — that's all. Uncle Henry. And that was enough, I suppose. Anne. And do you realize that if it hadn't been for you I never could have seen him at all? (Pause, during which she regards him earnestly.) Uncle Henry, why do you suppose mother doesn't like John ? HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU f 7 Uncle Henry (earnestly). Ah, my dear, we cannot account for the likes and dishkes of our relatives. They are strange indeed. Anne. But John is such a dear. Were you awfully surprised the day you got my letter asking if I could come here? Uncle Henry (who at the time received the shock of his life). Why, no, my dear, not at all. Anne (persistently). Not even when I said why — not even when I wrote mother wouldn't have John at the house and that I just had to see him? Uncle Henry. No, my dear, I seemed to understand. Anne (her arms about him). Of course you did, and I'll do something for you some time. I just wish I had the chance right now. Uncle Henry (suddenly). You — you wouldn't — er — er Anne (eagerly). Yes? Uncle Henry. I — I was — going to say you wouldn't — er — er Anne. Invite the charming widow to tea? Of course I would — love to. (Uncle Henry beams.) But what about Aunt Maria? She doesn't even know I'm here and we mustn't tell — oh, never. Uncle Henry (still beaming). Aunt Maria is going to town, my dear, by appointment. She won't be home until eight. Anne (catching him about the waist and whirling him around). Couldn't be better — couldn't be better. The gods favor us, Uncle Henry. Uncl-e Henry (attempting to stop her). You don't think — you don't suppose — (she stops suddenly and puts both hands on his cheeks), that we could have tea here, do you ? The view of the pond and the sunset Anne. Of course we could. Just the thing. I'll fix the table all cosy. Uncle Henry (absently, a picture forming in his mind). Dear child, dear child, you are too good, Anne. Not a bit of it. Didn't you rescue me from an enraged parent and give me a home under your root HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? and a chance to see the dearest man in the world ? Didn't you? Uncle Henry. There, there, my dear, don't think of it. You (shyly) you have repaid me. Anne. Have I really — just the least little bit? Uncle Henry {getting bolder). Doubly paid me. Enter Maid. Maid. A young lady to see you, sir. Uncle Henry (unbelievably) . A young lady to see me Maid. She asked for you, sir. Uncle Henry. Er — er show her in — of course. Anne (in a whisper). Out, you goose. Uncle Henry. Yes, yes, of course, show her out. [Exit Maid. Anne. The widow ! (She giggles.) Uncle Henry (not a bit sure but what she is right). Oh, no, my dear Enter Mary Moore, a fluffy, dainty little blonde, very pretty. She rushes straight across to Uncle Henry, flings her arms about his neck and begins to sob un- controllably. Anne. Mary Moore, what is the matter? Uncle Henry (in a smothered voice). There, there, my dear, don't feel so. There, there, don't cry. What is it, my dear, what is it ? Tell your Uncle Henry. Come, do. (More sobs.) Anne. Cousin Mary, stop it. (Shakes her gently.) Stop it, I say, and tell us what you are making such a fu-^ii about. (Exasperated.) Uncle Henry, make her stop. Uncle Henry. There, there, my dear, do stop. Come, you will make yourself sick. Mary (with one mighty effort). I — c-c-c-an't! Uncle Henry. Yes, yes, my dear. You can if you try. There, there. (Pats her affectionately; more sobs.) Anne (getting hysterical in turn). Stop, Mary, you ridiculous thing. HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? 9 Uncle Henry {fearing worse trouble). Yes, yes, she will; won't you, my dear? Anne (fairly screaming). She s terrible Oh, it you don't stop. (Anne begins to sob and falls on Uncle Henry's other shoulder.) Uncle Henry (freeing one arm to put about Anne). AVell weU, this is too bad. This is unfortunate. (Sobs aga-n. ) Come, come, please, my dears. Anne. WeU, Mary is s-s-so f-fooh-sh Mary (from Uncle Henry's shoulder) Im not You don't^know a-any-th-thing a-bout .t.. (More sobs.) Uncle Henry (a bright idea occurring). Husii .— your Aunt Maria ! (Both stand up straight and cease instantly.) Anne and Mary (simultaneously). Aunt Maria! Mary. Is Aunt Maria here? ,x ^7 u„. Uncle Henry (fearing another outburst). Yes, but you won't have to see her-no, no indeed, you won t. In fact, just at present she is ovit Anne She doesn't know I m here. Mary." Why, neither do I-did I, I mean. What are vou here for, Anne? Anne The same reason as you are, 1 suppose. Mary' (a bit nonplussed). Well, weU, of course you must think it strange-that is. Uncle Henry must think it strange for me to come in on him like this, but Uncle Henry (quite spent). No, no, my dear, not at all—not at all ; in fact quite nice, my dear. Anne (reproachfully). You did frighten him, Mary, and Uncle Henry has troubles of his own Mary (resentfully). Well, then, perhaps hell undei ^' ANNE." Yours-pooh ! I don't believe they're half so ^%lf(near to tears again). They are. Papa won't let me see John. Uncle Henry and Anne. What ! 10 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU? Mary. Papa won't let me see John, and I just can't live without seeing him. Uncle Henry. Won't let you see John? Why, I am surprised at your father, my dear, surprised. Mary {fluttering up to him). Oh, Uncle Henry, do you know John? Anne. He knows my John too. Mary. I knew you would understand, you dear, dear Uncle Henry! (Kisses him.) And so I came here to ask you if — if I might see him here — at your house. Uncle Henry. By all means, my dear. Mary (smothering him with her arms). Oh, how can I ever repay you? Anne (drawing Mary to one side). I'll tell you, Mary. (She winks at Uncle Henry.) You may not know it, biit Uncle Henry has an affair of his own. yiK^Y (round eyes). What! Uncle Henry! Anne. Yes, and beside it our own affairs are quite commonplace. He's in love with the widow LePage. Uncle Henry. There, there, my dear Anne (arcA/y). Well, aren't you ? Uncle Henry (at a loss). Well, of course, if I — if I Mary (going up to him). How romantic. Who is she? Tell me about her. Anne. Just a minute, Mary — not so fast. And I say Uncle Henry has a right to marry if he wants. Mary (with all the sympathy in the zvorld). Of course, poor dear! Anne. The worst of it is Aunt Maria has heard of the widow and she has come down here to break things up. Uncle Henry (glad of an idea). And still, and still she says I must be lonely here. Mary. Well, oo dear, if oo wants to marry the widow oo do it, that's all. We'll help oo, yes we will. Anne. We were planning a tea party for five. I think she would come. Mary (whose ozvn affairs have been straightened out well for her). Oh, do, do. Out on this delightful porch — a tea party. (Squeals with delight.) HENRY, WHERE ARE VOU ? II Uncle Henry. Do-do you think she would care to '°ANNE.'''caTt7rome, you ridiculous man ; of cou«e she'd care to come. Who wouldn't want to be MisUess of Grasmere and have my Uncle Henry for a husband i iCcS Henry. Theie, there, my dear, you Hatter me ^NNE rU go ring her up. Come, Mary, you don t ev^. lo'ow whe're your room is yet, and I've got to hide Unc^e Henry). You're not angry, are you, because I TlNrTF Henry (captivated). Not a bit. Mary And you don't mind if I did cry a httle on your shoulder? TTnttf Henry. My dear! ,^ _ ^^ Mary And I can really entertain John all I want? Uncle Henry (putting an arm about her and waxmg ellql^lS) It woM be cruel to deny h.m the s.ght of ''°Mary Thank you so much. (She draws away gently anJwMs toward An^^-) And I am sure I shall love the widow. (Anne and Mary go into the house. Uncle Henry ^ paces the floor, thoughts of the coming tea party making him smile. Enter Maid.) Maid A young lady to see you, sir. . Uncle Henry (m just the tone he said it before). A young lady to see me ? Maid. She asked for you, sir. ^ Uncle Henry. Ah, yes, show her m-that is out, my d (Exit Maid; Uncle Henry braces himself as if for ^ aJLIl Tf/ac^. Enter Frances Fenton, a tail. wiU lowy, stunning girl.) Frances (offering a hand and placing a hearty kiss on Uncle Henry^s cheek) . Do you know me ? 12 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? Uncle Henry {not daring to say no before the chal- lenge of her eyes). Why, why 3^ou must be — that is, you are Frances {taking pity on his apparent einbarrassment) . Of course I am. I knew you'd know me although you haven't seen me since that winter in Paris. Uncle Henry {obliged to carry on). Of course — so it is that winter in Paris. Frances {catching his hands). Didn't we have the lovehest times together? Will you ever forget them? I won't. Just this morning I was thinking of that night at the opera — Uncle Henry. Yes, yes, of course, at the opera ; but who Frances {gaining enthusiasm as she talks). And that night before we came away, father and I. I was so sad and you told me, do you remember, that I was like a drooping lily. Uncle Henry. Yes, yes, like a drooping lily. Frances {laughing gayly). And papa said, "Well, Henry, if you weren't her uncle, I might think " Uncle Henry {light dawning upon hiui). Oh, you are Frances — my dear niece. Of course, of com-se. Frances. Well, now, I've caught you. You've taken so many women to the opera in Paris that you couldn't recall just which one Oh, yes, I see it all. {Roguishly.) I wouldn't have thought it of you, though. But there, I suppose you are wondering why I came in on you so suddenly, you poor dear. {She pulls him on to the settle beside her.) You see, you and I are such good friends — that is, we always were such good friend^, that somehow I thought if I came to you with my troubles you would help me. You see, it's this way. Fm in love. Uncle Henrys Why, yes, of course, my dear. I un- derstand perfectly, perfectly. Frances. And he's the cleverest and best man in the world, but because he's poor — you see, he's a doctor and just building up his practice — mother says it's ridiculous and all that. {Earnestly.) It isn't ridiculous, is it, Uncle Henry? HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? ^3 Uncle Henry. No, my dear, not at all. In fact, not ^ Frances. And you can't help it if you love somebody, 'T^ri HENRY imore vehemently). I should say no; "^FjANcir Not if all your people are against you. ' '^-::^1S^Z^S:;ed ,y so ,nany JoHns). J°f"kLces. Yes, Dr. John Atherton. Isn't that a fine name' And I know you'll hke hun. riNCLE Henry When is he coming, my deai ? EcE^ Well, he's going to run down by motor to- -Sls?;-i:srjrs,rtS^^^^^^^^^^^ ^r.c^.rSEl:" Tht: dear, we'll fix things all right. In fact your cousins have everythmg arranged. ^^^cirHEN^^r^Yetlear, your cousins are here too -ScE^s'iTally! How strange- What are they ^'uJcEE HENRY (chuckling). Well, they came-why, the?came?o'r the sLe reason yot. *d, ^^f -^ -^">'- Frances (giving herself away). To^«« J°^^; TTncle Henry Um-um, so they said, my deai FRANCEr But, Uncle Henry, they don't know John^., Uncle Henry. Don't they niy deai ? But they saiQ thev did They spoke of a John-yes, Im sure tliey poL dfstinctly'of a John. That was the name. Frances. But I don't understand. 14 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? Uncle Henry {now quite bewildered). Run up and speak to them, my dear. They'll explain. Third floor — last suite. {Leads her to the door.) Here — here's Susan. She'll show you. {Exit Frances; Uncle Henry stands by the door mopping his brow. Presently the picture he has in mind of the tea party returns to his vision and he smiles at the table, mentally placing each guest. In his enthusiasm he moves the chairs around and while in the act Aunt Maria enters from l. Uncle Henry, aghast. ) Maria ! Maria. Well, you are nervous. Really, Henry, I don't know what has come over you. You act strange. Uncle Henry. But, Maria, you told me yoti had left. Maria. Told you I had left ? Henry ! Uncle Henry. I mean — that is, I meant that you were going. {In desperation.) Aren't you — aren't you going, Maria? Maria. One can be delayed, can't one? Uncle Henry {zvith relief). Of course, of course. Maria. And what are you doing with those chairs? It looks as if you were having a nice little game of Going to Jerusalem. Henry, living alone in this great house has made you strange. I intend to see to it that such a life as you have led this last year does not continue. Uncle Henry. So do I, Maria, so do L Maria. I shall close up Cedarwood and come here. It is my duty. Uncle Henry. You would never be happy, Maria, never. The — the house is strange. You are not used to it. You are nervous, far too nervous, Maria. In fact the — the house is haunted. Maria. You tell me it is haunted, but how do I know ? Uncle Henry. You saw, Maria, you saw on the night of November Maria. Henry, I implore you. Uncle Henry. And the time I sat on this very piazza, Maria, and at the stroke of seven Maria. Henry ! Uncle Henry. And the tones of the voice, the agony of it. " Henry," it cried, " where are you ? " Tell me, HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU? 15 Maria, have you heard nothing, seen nothing strange ^'"MArcXLTwW.). I -fu- to tell, Henry . I refuse absolutely. {Rising suddenly.) Good-bye. 1 '""t^tr^'^T' sepulchral tones). Seven-Maria ^l^AMA (trying not to notice). Seven or a little after. Uncle Hl'nrI Better make it a little after, Maria. Good-bye. (Exit Aunt Maria. Uncle Henry goes on arrang- Una the chairs, smiling as before. Presently the Three nieces enter dressed in dmnty mushns ■FrTnces and Mary have made themselves at home and are very good friends indeed.) Anne. Uncle Henry. Mary. Has she gone? (Th^v rush Frances Oh, we almost ran into her. (1 hey rusn upandUss him all at once.) How did you ever manage Vipr^ You're a wonder! .,, 114. A^^Tisitting on settle). But what will we do about to-night? She'll be back early. Uncle Henry. Not before seven, my dears, not be- %ll7''icurling up in the high-backed chair). Why '^Uncle Henry. A mystic hour, a mystic hour for ""TnTipulling UNCLE Henry do^n beside her) Y^ ridiculous old thing, what have you been doing with the ""^Uncle Henry (with some anxiety). Is she coming? All. She's coming. {A smile spreads over Uncle Henry's face.) Mary (shaking a finger at him) And if you don't go up-stairs pretty soon and get fixed up, shell think you're a terrible old pig! l6 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? Uncle Henry {who is immaculate in spite of his recent rimiplings) . What time is she coming? Anne {severely). Promptly at five, and it's four, after four, now. Uncle Henry {rising). After four? Anne {rising). Now put on your white flannels. You do look too sweet in them. Mary {zvith feeling). Oh, of course, your white flannels. Anne {her fingers running through his hair). And comb your hair a little to one side and then the place where it is thin will be covered. Mary {rising and going over to him). Uncle Henry, have you a dark figured tie? I just adore them. Anne. Of course he has. He's a regular dandy. He has every kind of a tie, I'll have you know. Frances {joining the group so that now Uncle Henry is completely surrounded). And don't forget your white shoes. Anne. Yes, those that you wore the day I came, with the plain tips. Mary. ■ Oh, I just adore that kind. Anne {pulling him from the group toward the door). Come, if you intend to make all these preparations, sir, you'd better be about it. Scoot ! {She pushes him off at l. and returns to the girls.) Mary. Isn't he a dear? I just adore him. Why do you suppose he never married ? Anne. Never met the right one until this summer. Frances. What do you mean ? Has Uncle Henry Anne. Yes, he has. He's in love with this very charming widow who's coming to tea. I'm sure of it, and we ought to do all we can to help him wnn her. Frances. Why, of course! Mary {vehemently). Why, most certainly. Isn't he helping us? Frances. If only Aunt Maria would go home. Anne. Well, she won't of her own accord anyway. We must find a way to get her home. HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU? 17 Mary (earnestly). But how? Anne (sparkling). I've a plan. (5/i^ /'w//^ ^/^^w down on the settle beside her.) Aunt Maria thniks the house is haunted. One night she saw Mary. Oh— don't! Frances. Hush! Put your feehngs aside. We ve got to get rid of Aunt Maria, haven't we? Mary (meekly but fearfully). Yes. Anne It happened two or three years ago but she never forgot it, and the other day she caught a ghmpse of me down by the pond and of course not knowing i was here she thought naturally tvt • i Mary (zvith deep feeling). Oh, poor Aunt Maria! Anne (severely). Hush! She thought I was a ghost — the ghost. Frances. But who is //i^ ghost? Mary Probably great-aunt Mary, who was kept a prisoner here by her horrid old father. Her lover's name was Henry, and she goes around saying with a nioan, " Henry, where are you? Oh— Henry— where — — Anne. Well, no matter who she thinks it is, well frighten her. . Mary. Suppose, just suppose she should take it into her head to return early while the tea was at its height. (Anne and Frances laugh.) Frances. You ridiculous child, tea is never at its height. It's just a mild beverage and a safe means of entertainment. Enter Maid. Maid. Mrs. LePage. Anne (dramatically). Show her out. (Exit Maid; hysterical giggles from Mary.) Frances. I wonder what she's like. Anne. Well, you won't have to wonder long, my dear Mary (softly). I hope she loves Uncle Henry. It would be so dreadful if l8 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? Frances. Hush! {A second of expectancy, a flutter, and Mrs. LePage, a sweet, affectionate woman of about thirty-five, enters. ) Anne. My dear Mrs. LePage, how sweet of you to come. Mrs. LePage. Not at all, my dear, but how sweet of you to ask me. Anne. My cousins, Mary Moore and Frances Fenton. {Business of introduction.) Mrs. LePage. What! More cousins. {All laugh.) How popular you must be with your uncle. {Business of finding chairs; Frances pidls the chairs around facing the settle, Mrs. LePage having been ensconced there among the pillows, and the three cousins sit before her prepared to worship.) Anne. The other way around. He's popular with us. Ever since we were little tots he's been a kind of magician sending us the things we wanted most. Mary. And when he came to visit us — oh my, such times ! Do you know he's the best person in the world to go to a circus with. Do you like circuses? Mrs. LePage. Indeed I do. Mary. Well, you'd just love to go with Uncle Henry. He can't do enough. Why, when I was scarcely four he took me to a circus in London and we didn't get home until dark and mother was nearly wild. Frances. And the opera. Why, when I was in Paris we went to see everything there was to see. - I never spent such a glorious winter in my life. He couldn't do enough. Do you like opera? Mrs. LePage. I love it. Frances. Then you'd love to go with Uncle Henry. He always knows the best and all about the singers. He's so interesting. Anne {with enthusiasm). Oh, Uncle Henry's a HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU? I9 dear — a perfect dear. {Enter Uncle Henry, resplendent and beaming,) Aren't you, Uncle Henry? Uncle Henry {absently using the words that are most frequent with him). Why, yes, of course, my dear, of course. {Every one laughs; business of greeting; Uncle Henry sits in the high-backed chair.) Mrs. LePage {with content). Isn't this delightful! Uncle Henry. You think so, really ? I'm so glad. {Girls exchange glances. It has become the mission of their lives to make Uncle Henry happy.) Frances. We think this porch is the best. The view Uncle Henry {rising and addressing Mrs. LePage). You can't see the pond from where you are sitting. Mrs. LePage {rising and going toward Uncle Henry). Pond? Is there a pond? Mary {affectionately to Mrs. LePage). Do you adore ponds? So do I. (Uncle Henry leads her to the rail at the hack and the girls group themselves near the front.) Mrs. LePage. Ah, now I see! What a delightful spot ! {With a sigh.) Oh, after Moorlands this is para- dise. Uncle Henry {radiant). You think so? I am so g]pd! Mrs. LePage. It is ideal, perfect. What more can I say? Uncle Henry {with a sigh). I am so glad ! Mrs. LePage {archly). I wish I had such a spot in which to entertain you at Moorlands. (Anne goes out for the tea; Mary and Frances ar- range things.) Uncle Henry. Don't speak of it. You — you, madam, quite suffice for any lack of beauty in scenery or 20 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU? Mrs. LePage. Oh, Mr. Dudley, you are too kind Uncle Henry {earnestly) . Don't call me Mr. Dud- ley. Dear lady, I — I — I had hoped it was to be Henry- after — after Mrs. LePage {suddenly demure). Oh — but I Uncle Henry {catching her hand). Don't you love me ? A — a little ? I — I love you so much Mrs. LePage {fearing the girls may overhear). I — I can't say now — wait. {She draws her hand away gently.) The girls — your nieces What will they think Uncle Henry {fidly aware by this time of the sym- pathy of his nieces). But you will call me Henry ? You will do that, won't you? Enter Anne and Maid with tea things. Mrs. LePage. I — I — {turns to the girls in relief al- though it is apparent she loves him) I suppose Gras- mere has a wonderful attraction for you. Frances {joining her). Most certainly. I expect to spend some of my happiest days here. {Business of serving tea begins.) Mary. Isn't it just adorable here? And then there's nobody like Uncle Henry. Frances. She says that as if she were •the only one that thought so. Mrs. LePage {with a twinkle). Oh, but she isn't, my dear, she isn't. {All laugh.) Anne. I should say not. Wasn't I the first one to discover him ? Wasn't I [Exit Maid. Mary {to Mrs. LePage). I'll tell you something if you won't tell. He's the best man in the world, and it's about time somebody found it out besides his relatives. (Uncle Henry moves nervously.) And he's going to let us entertain our beaux to-night. Uncle Henry {suddenly reminded of Aunt Maria, whom he has completely forgotten). Provided, my dear, provided T'Iary {misinterpreting his thought). Provided, of course, we help him. {Awkward pause.) HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU? 21 Mrs. LePage (tactfully). Isn't your sister here, Mr. Dudley? Uncle Henry. Why, yes, that is, I beheve so — that is, she was called away unexpectedly. Mrs. LePage. Pm so sorry. Anne. Aunt Maria has an appointment in town. Mary (with her usual tact). Aunt Maria is terribly stern. I don't believe you'd like her. Uncle Henry {nervously). Yes, yes, Maria has a will of her own. Mary {hound to out with the truth). She doesn't know we're here ! Mrs. LePage {wondering what she has gotten into). Your Aunt Maria doesn't know you are here? But how Frances. Oh, it's awful to be dodging some one all the time. Mrs. LePage. But doesn't she suspect? I don't un- derstand. (Mrs. LePage gets more and more puzzled as the con- versation goes on until in the end she is quite be- wildered. ) Anne. One day she caught a glimpse of me and she thought I was a ghost. Mrs. LePage. Poor soul! Anne. She saw a ghost here once, you know, three years ago, and she thinks the house is haunted. Enter Maid. Maid. A gentleman to see you, Mr. Dudley. Mary. Now, Uncle Henry Frances {catching his sleeve). You can't go. Anne. Tell the man you have Uncle Henry {rising with an effort). But — but I had an appointment {Looking at Mrs. LePage.) It won't take long. I shall be back presently. (Backing toward the door.) You can spare me for a moment. Mrs. LePage. But no longer. 22 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? (Uncle Henry, beaming, follows the Maid out.) Anne. His tea will get cold. Mrs. LePage. Oh, we'll make him some new gladly, at least I will Mary {anxious to hasten the affair). Of course, and he'll probably like it all the better. Mrs. LePage (unable to get Aunt Maria and the strange circumstances out of her mind). But couldn't — couldn't your Aunt Maria be won over by kindness ? Frances. Kindness ! Aunt Maria ! {The girls laugh heartily; voices from the house.) Aunt Maria {speaking to the Maid). Has Mr. Dud- ley company? Anne. Hush ! It's she. It's Aunt Maria ! Mary {beginning to cry). Aunt Maria, oh, what shall we do? What shall we do? What shall we do? Anne. Hush! {She rises hastily; to Mrs. LePage.) Get behind the high-backed chair. Mrs. LePage {rising in bewilderment). Behind the big chair? Anne {in desperation, dragging her toward it). You m.ust ! Mary {running about hysterically). Oh, you don't know Aunt Maria. You don't know Aunt Maria. You don't know Aunt Maria. You don't Frances {running after her and shaking her). Hush ! Mrs. LePage {being unwillingly pushed behind the chair). But — but I don't understand. Anne {pushing her dozvn so that she is completely hid- den). But you don't have to. Just stay there until you are called out. You must. Mrs. LePage {with one final groan of misapprehen- sion, doubt and fear) . Oh — oh, Henry, where are you ? (Aunt Maria's voice without.) Aunt Maria. It's strange, all very strange ! Anne. Quick ! {She grabs Mary and literally pulls her down the steps. HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU? 23 Frances, suddenly aware of the significance of fvve teacups, rushes to the table in afi attempt to grab what she can of them before her escape. She reaches the top of the step, having managed to get three of them, when Aunt Maria enters, followed by the Maid.) Aunt Maria {much flurried). There, did you see? Did you see, I say? Maid {terrified). No, madam, nothing Aunt Maria. Yoti did not see a woman in white descend those steps Maid. No, madam. Aunt Maria. But, Susan How can {She flops into the high-backed chair, half convinced the house is haunted.) Susan! Maid. Yes, madam. Aunt Maria. How " long have you been in service here ? Maid. One year and two months, madam, come Thursday Aunt Maria. And during that time you have never seen anything — anything strange? Maid. No, madam, aUhough I've heard the house was haunted. Aunt Maria. Heard so ? And who told you ? Maid. One night Annie, the cook, saw a figger on this very porch Aunt Maria {her old nervousness returning) . Did — did it say anything — Susan ? Maid. Yes, madam. Aunt Maria {fearf idly, yet bound to know the zvorst). And what did it say, Susan ? MAiD.(m an awfid whisper). It said, madam, it said, "Henry, where are you?" (Aunt Maria, unable to control herself, screams.) I beg your pardon, madam. Aunt Maria {rising and walking up and down). Susan, has any one else seen it? Maid {whose imagination grows zvhen she has an eager listener). Yes, madam, Nora saw it just one week later. Aunt Maria. And did — did it say anything then ? 24 HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU? Maid. The very words, madam, the very words. Aunt Maria (who in her walkmg has come suddenly upon the tea table). Susan! (Aghast.) Maid. Yes, madam. Aunt Maria. There — has — been — a — tea — party ! Maid (terrified). Madam? Aunt Maria. A — tea — party — for two. (She starts to touch the things and recoils from them; Susan cannot restrain from a giggle.) There, there, child, of course you're upset. This is enough to upset any one. The strain is awful, awful, but don't get hysterical, I beg of you. I can't stand hysteria. Susan, I am going to ask you something which I hope you will have discretion never to repeat. Maid. Yes, madam. Aunt Maria. Did — did you ever think that — that Mr. Dudley was a little strange Maid. Strange, madam? Aunt Maria. Yes, a little unbalanced, a little queer — that is, well, for instance, this tea party and all Of course I mean no harm, but you know it does look strange, and, of course, I'm not accusing him — not for a minute, you understand — but — but does he often order tea for two? Maid (bewildered). Yes, madam. Aunt Maria. Of course you understand his living alone and all. It affects some people. (She looks at the cups, all the while horror on her face.) The second cup has been used too, Susan. Maid (desperate). Perhaps the spirit, madam. (Aunt Maria shudders in spite of herself.) Nora says as' how they eat victuals in Galway ; the spirits and the peasants put out a morsel for 'em. Aunt Maria. Susan. Maid. I beg your pardon, madam. Aunt Maria. Have — have you ever — after bringing in the tea, watched to see whether Maid. Ah, no, madam, not me. I'm that nerv- ous (The door-hell rings.) If I may go, madam? [Exit Maid. HENRY, WHERE ARE YOU ? 2% (Aunt Maria, left alone, sits perfectly still and re- gards the two empty cups in horror. The clock from the front hall strikes seven slowly. Aunt Maria » waits as if spellbound. The Widow LePage, cramped, hurt, and unable to understand, thinking every one has gone, cries out in agony.) Mrs. LePage. Henry, Henry, where are you? (Aunt Maria rises and stands frozen with horror; Uncle Henry enters from the house, hears Mrs. LePage and can only realize that she has called him Henry. He does not see Aunt Maria.) Henry, where are you? (Aunt Maria, unable to control herself longer, screams and rushes past Uncle Henry into the house calling, "Susan!" Simidtaneously the widow frees herself and runs to Uncle Henry, zvho is only too glad to take her in his arms.) Oh, Henry, I'm hurt. {He soothes her.) Uncle Henry (blissfully happy). There — there — there — there ! What have they done to you ? Mrs. LePage. It must be that — that creature. Uncle Henry. What creature? Mrs. LePage. That— that Aunt Maria. (Aunt Maria's voice is heard speaking without.) Aunt Maria. Yes, tell her to pack my bags at once. The house is haunted. (With rising inflections.) Its master is haunted. At once, I say. Uncle Henry (chuckling). Can't you see? (Mrs. LePage shakes her head.) Why, it's simple enough. If you hadn't called me Henry, it wouldn't have happened. (Mrs. LePage is still uncomprehending, but submits to him entirely.) CURTAIN LOST— A CHAPERON A Comedy in Three Acts by Courtney Bruerton and W. S. Maulsby, Six male, nine female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an m terior and an exterior. Plays a full evening. A lot of college girls in camp lose their chaperon for twenty-four hours, and are provided by a camp of college boys across the lake with plenty of excitement. The parts are all good, the situations are very funny and the lines full of laughs. Recommended for high-school performance. price, 2J cents THE PRIVATE TUTOR A Farce in Three Acts by E. J. Whisler. Five male, three female char- acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two simple interiors. Plays two hours. Tells of the endeavors of two college boys to disguise the fact that they have been "rusticated" from the family of one of them. Hans Dinklederfer, the leader of a German band, trying to make good in the character of a private tutor, is a scream. All the parts are good. A capital high-school play. Price, 2^ cents THE REBELLION OF MRS. BARCLAY A Comedy of Domestic Life in Two Acts by May E. Countryman. Three male, six female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, easy interiors. Plays one hour and three-quarters, A clever and amusing comedy with all the parts evenly good. There are many Mr. Barclays all over this country, and Mrs. Barclay's method of curing her particular one will be sympathetically received. Good Irish comedy parts, male and fe- male. Strongly recommended. Price, 2j cents THE TRAMPS' CONVENTION An Entertainment in One Scene for Male Characters Only by Jessie A. Kelley. Seventeen male characters. Costumes, typical tramp dress ; scenery, unimportant. Plays an hour and a half. An entertainment in the vaudeville class, with possibilities of unlimited fun. Music can be in- troduced, if desired, though this is not necessary. The opening is very funny and original and the finish — The Ananias Club — can be worked up to any extent. Strongly recommended. Price, 2^ cents THE DAY THAT LINCOLN DIED A Play in One Act by Prescott Warren and Will Hutchins. Five male, two female characters. Costumes, modern ; scene, an easy exterior. Plays thirty minutes. A very effective play suited for a Lincoln Day entertain- ment. It offers plenty of comedy, and is a piece that we can heartily recommend. Professional stage-rights reserved. Price, 2^ cents PA'S NEW HOUSEKEEPER A Farce in One Act by Charles S. Bird. Three male, two female char- acters. Modern costumes ; scenery, a simple interior or none at all. Plays forty minutes. Jack Brown, visiting his chum, is tempted by his success in college theatricals to make up in the character of the new housekeeper, an attractive widow, who is expected but does not arrive. He takes in everybody and mixes things up generally. All the parts are first rate and the piece full of laughs. Strongly recommended. Price, i^ cents TAKING THE CENSUS IN BINGVILLE An Entertainment in One Act by Jessie A. Kelley. Fourteen males, eight females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant. Plays an hour and a half. One of the always popular go-as-you-please entertainments; lust a lot of laughs strung on a very slender wire of story. Full of eccen- tric character bits and chances for local hits. A sure success for the laughter-loving. Recommended for church societies or intimate com- munities. Price^ 2^ cents MISS PRIM'S KINDERGARTEN An Entertainment in One Scene by Jessie A. Kelley. Ten males, eleven females. No scenery or curtain needed; costumes introduce grown people dressed as children. Plays an hour and a half. Full oi laughs and a sure hit with the audience. All the parts very easy except the Teacher's, and as it is possible for her to use a book, the entertain ment can be got up with exceptional ease and quickness. Can be recom- mended. Price, 2^ cents THE PACKING OF THE HOME MIS- SIONARY BARREL An Entertainment in One Scene by Mrs. Henry A. Hallock. Ten f(k- males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant. Plays thirty minuter. One of those little satires of feminine ways that are so popular even with the ladies; very shrewd and effective, but perfectly good-natured. An as, sured success and very easy to get up. Strongly recommended. Price, IS cents A MODERN SEWING SOCIETY An Entertainment in One Scene by O. W. Gleason Fourteen females. Costumes, modern ; no scenery required. May be easily presented on a bare platform. Plays forty-five minutes. A humorous picture of this much-abused institution, briskly and vivaciously written and full oi -* points," Its characters offer a wide variety of opportunity for local hits, and satire of local characters and institutions. Price, /j cents, HOW THE CLUB WAS FORMED An Entertainment in Three Scenes by Mrs. O. W. Gleason. Eighteen females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unimportant. Plays one and a half hours. A humorous skit on the Woman's Club suited for perform- ance by either young or middle-aged women. Full of points and chances for local hits and thus a sure laugh-maker. Parts well distributed ; can be recommended. Price, /y cents SCENES IN THE UNION DEPOT A Humorous Entertainment in One Scene by Laura M. Parsons. Twenty-four males, eighteen females and eiglit children, but can be played by less if desired. Scenery, unimportant ; costumes, modern. Full of humorous points and chances lo introduce local hits. Plays from an houl lip, according to specialties introduced. Price, zs cents yrAAAAAAAAillral ^j^^ SmjS^ iftuti Ejdlkj^ .^rfk^ .AAAi i Plays and Novelties That Have Been ' ' Winners '' jM Males Females Time Price Royalty j The Americana ■B Anita's Trial II ^'A hrs. 25c Free II 2 (( 25c «« i Art Clubs are Trumps 12 Yz « 25c «( ] Behind the Scenes 12 iK « 25 c « 3 The Camp Fire Girls 1 A Case for Sherlock Holmes 15 2 « 25c u 10 iX « 25 c « 3 The Farmerette 1 2 « 250 <« i Getting the Range Yz (1 25c «« ] Her First Assignment 10 I « 15c ft J Hitty's Service Flag II iX « 25c (« 5 Joint Owners in Spain 4 Yz « 25c ;555.oo ] A King's Daughter II 2 « 25c Free ] The Knitting Club Meets 9 Yz (( 25c « J A Lady to Call 3 Yz « 15c (( J Leave it to Polly II ^Yz « 25c <« ] The Minute Man *3 ^Yz (« 25c «i Miss Fearless & Co. 10 2 « 25c <« A Modern Cinderella 16 ^Yz « 25c « Moth° Balls 3 Yz « 25c (« Rebecca's Triumph 16 2 « 25c « The Thirteenth Star 9 ^Yz " 25c " ^— ^ Twelve Old Maids 15 I <« 25c f< -■' An Awkward Squad 8 X « ISC ■" «« The Blow-Up of Algernon Blow 8 Yz it 15c M The Boy Scout? 20 2 (( 25c «« A Close Shave 6 Yz « 15c « The First National Boot 7 2 I « 15c ^ « 25c Free i The Colonel's Maid 6 3 2 « 25c <« ^ Daddy 4 4 iH « 25c « < The Deacon's Second Wife 6 6 ^Yz « 2SC i< J The District Attorney lO 6 2 «« 25c « J The Dutch Detective 5 5 2 « 25c «( S An Easy Mark 5 2 >^ 4« 15c « M The Elopement of Ellen 4 3 2 « 25c «( jj Engaged by Wednesday 5 II '>^ (4 25c «< < The Farmerette 7 2 « 25c « 4 For One Night Only 5 4 2 « 15c M 5 Hamilton II 5 2 " 50c Special 4 Higbee of Harvard 5 4 2 <« 15c Free i Hitty's Service Flag II 1^ «« 25c « ^ The Hoodoo 6 12 2 (« 25c « 4 The Hurdy Qurdy Qlri 9 9 2 «« 25c « i Katy Did 4 8 '>^ <( 25c « 3 Let's Get Married 3 5 2 « 50c Special 4 LoTidon Assurance lO 3 2 «« 15c Free M Losr a Chaperon 6 9 2 " 25c " 3 The Man from Brandon 3 4 K « 15c « 4 The Man Who^Went 7 3 2^ « 25c Special M The Man Without '^'.CouniTy 46 5 I^ « 25c Free 3 Master Pierre Patella 4 ^^ « 50c « 4 Me and Otis 5 4 2 I( 15c « i The Minute Man 13 I>^ " 25c «< 3 Mose II 10 IK « 15c <• 4 Mr. Bob 3 4 I^ <« 15c i< i Mrs. Briggs of the Poultry Yard 4 7 2 « .25c « 3 Nathan Hale 'i 4 2>^ « 50c ;55 10.00 4 Nephew or Uncle 3 2 « 25c Free i Professor Pepp 8 8 2>^ " 25c " 3 A Regiment of Two 6 4 2 " 25c « 4 The Revenge of Shari-Hot-Su 3 4 I>^ <« 15c (« ig The Rivals 9 5 2^ « 15c «( 3 The Romancers 3 I 2 « 25c « 4 The Rose and the Ring 16 5 I^ « 25c (( i Sally Lunn 3 4 ^y^ « 25c « 3 The School for Scandal 12 4 2>^ « 15c « 4 She Stoops to Conquer 15 4 2>^ " 15c M M Step Lively 4 10 2 <« 25c « 3 The Submarine Shell 7 4 2 « 25c Special 4 The Thirteenth Star 9 IK « 25c Free 1^ The Time of His Life 6 3 2>^ « 25c «« 3 Tommy's Wife 3 5 IK « 2SC M 4 The Twig of Thorn 6 7 IK " 66c M fl For "special" royaltie s, see catalogue descript ions for j detailed information. ^ BAKER, 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Mass. ,,,,,,.,,,,.,.„,,„,^