A LAWYER'S TRIALS A FARCE IN ONE ACT GEORGE ALBERT DROVIN m^ LAWYER'S TRIALS A FARCE IN ONE ACT BY GEORGE ALBERT DROVIN THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Copies Received APR. 24 1901 Copyright entry CLASS sQxXc. N». COPY B. copyright, 1 90 1, by George Albert Drovin. CHARACTERS Burton Coke, a young lawyer. Dorothy Ring, an heiress. SCENE ; Coke's Office. TIME: To-Day. Law office of Burton Coke. Door in back, left of center. Windows, R. and L. Desk, R., with office chair. Chair L. Typewriter on stand, R. of door. Coke discovered sitting in chair R., with feet on desk, reading a newspaper, and smoking a pipe. After studiously examining the paper for a while, he puts it down, and continues smoking, thoughtfidly . Coke. If the length of time a lawyer waits for his first case is any indication of his greatness, I ought to be famous, unless I starve to death in the interval. {Though /fully.) Let me see. Blackstone waited many years for his first brief, and our own Horace Binney was not much better off. But they must have had money to fall back on. When I fall back, I shall have nothing but the cold, cold ground beneath me ; and I am likely to strike that before long, with a thud of the variety described as dull and sickening. I am not a fool ; I can reason clearly ; and I know the law. Besides, I have the incentive of ambition to do my work well. Yet the public lack confidence in me. They object to my youth, as if youth were a crime. Well, that is a thing I will recover from, if I live long enough ; but the immediate prospects of a recovery are very slight. I am likely to die before the cure is effected. If the public only knew that the majority of the opinions, for which they pay old practitioners such high prices, were the work of the young assistants in the offices of the seniors, perhaps they would be more gracious to the struggling younger members of the bar. (Rising- and pacing up and down?) Oh, if I had just one big case, I would show them what I could do ! All I need is just a foothold on the ladder of fame, and I shall soon rise to the top, where riches and other pleasant things are to be found. Perhaps I shall find Miss Ring — Dorothy — at the top. Who knows? Now, isn't it annoying to love a girl to distraction, and not to be able to tell her so, just because you are poor? Love is all very well in its way, but it is likely to be very much in the way when a fellow has no money. {Knocking heard at the door?) Coke. Hello ! Who's that, I wonder ? Come in ! {Enter Dorothy, disguised as a book-agent?) Dor. I beg pardon ; is Mr. Coke in ? Coke. I am Mr. Coke. What can I do for you ? Dor. You can do a great deal for me, if you will. Indeed, I am sure you are just the man I want. Coke. I do not think that you will have cause to regret your choice. Will you be seated ? (She sits in chair, which he brings over to the desk from L. He sits at the desk.) Dor. Thank you. Coke. Now, just state your case as directly as possible. Dor. Well, you see, I am a poor girl, and my landlord is a grasping fellow, who wants his rent promptly on the day it is due. Coke. Ah, yes! Dor. I have no father ; and my mother is ill, so I must support her. Coke. Too bad ! Dor. Therefore, I have taken to selling this book. (Opens satchel, and takes out volume. Coke manifestly dis- 5 appointed.) It is called "Asylums I Have Inhabited," by E. P. Liptic. Coke. Never heard of Liptic ; who is he? Dor. Oh, he's an authority on mental disorders ! Coke. But, really, I have no possible use for such a book. Dor. It is very cheap, I am sure. It costs only a dollar down, and a dollar every month for four months ; and the book is yours right away. Coke. But I am not interested in asylums. Dor. No ; but you might be. Coke {aside ; ruefully). That's very true. Dor. Beg pardon ? Coke. I did not say anything. Dor. Oh, I thought you did. Coke. No. Dor. No? I thought maybe you said that you would buy it. Coke. But I don't want it. I have my professional books to buy, and they cost like h {catching himself Just in time) — hot-cakes. Dor. They ought to be cheap, then. Coke. Well, this sort of hot-cakes is not. - It is the very expensive kind. Look at this work, now {taking vol- umes from top of desk); I bought that at second hand, and it cost me nine dollars. Dor. Nine dollars ! What wasteful extravagance ! You should not have done it. Now, had you bought my book, you would have saved money, besides owning a per- fectly new copy. You see, it costs but five dollars — one dollar down, and one dollar a month. Coke. But the work I have is useful to me in my pro- fession ; yours is not. Dor. How do you know ? You might have a client in an asylum, some day ; and he might be in one of the asylums spoken of in this work ; and the keepers might not treat him well ; and you might be able to get your inside informa- tion from this book. {With conviction.) Oh, you can't tell; you can't tell ! {With energy.) And think how cheap it is ! Coke. I am afraid the possibility is too remote. I can- not take it. Dor. {tearfnlly.) And I had counted on getting your order ! Coke, {rising.) I am sorry ; but you made a miscalcu- lation. Dor. {weeping.) I have not taken an order to-day; and I did so want to tell mother that I had made some money ! Coke, {disconcerted.) Don't cry. There, there ; for Heaven's sake, don't cry so ! Dor. [sobbing.) But — I — c — can't help — help it ! Coke, (opening his pocket book and taking ont bill.) Here; here's five dollars to pay for the book. You may send me a copy. No doubt I will find it useful. Dor. {joyfully}) Oh, thank you ; thank you ! I will have it sent up, this afternoon. {Handing Jam a memorandum book.) Just put your name and address in this book, if you please. {He writes in book.) That's it. Thank you. You have been very good to me. Good-morning ! {Exit Dorothy.) Coke, {looking after her) Well ; of all things ! Con- found these woman book agents ! they would weep a fellow out of his last cent. Oh, I shall never succeed at the law ! I am too soft hearted. I am ; yes, I am. Now, I have paid five good dollars for something I do not want, and cannot use, just because she let loose the torrents of her sorrow. {Suddenly.) I'll bet that was just a trick on her part ! But then a fellow can't see a girl cry, you know ; it doesn't do. The only way to dam those tears was to buy — [Dis- gustedly.) "Asylums I have Inhabited " ! Now, wouldn't that give you the nightmare! "Asylums" — well, I think that I am a fit candidate for one, myself. The next book- agent who comes here, shall find that I am out ; or, if I can- not escape in that manner, she shall find that I already pos- sess the particular work and edition that she has to sell. And I'll have it, too ; if only in my mind ! {Knocking heard at door.) Coke, {hurriedly sitting at desk). I wonder if that's another? Come in ! {Enter Dorothy, disguised as a Salvation Army Lassie.) Dor. Is this Mr. Coke ? Coke. It is. Dor. I'm so glad. Coke {aside). So am I. {To her.) Did you want to see me? Dor. Of course. Coke. Why, of course ! How absurd a question ! Dor. Wasn't it? Coke. Yes, it was. Won't you be seated? Dor. {sitting). Thank you. Now, Mr. Coke, your name has been given me by one of your friends, as a man charitably inclined. Coke {aside). Well, if I had that fellow here I would punch his head. Dor. {continuing). And as a young lawyer, who is rap- idly rising in his profession. Coke {aside). That's a good reputation to have circu- lated ; but all my friends know better than that. ( With de- termination}) Oh, he's a deep one ! Let me just get my hands on him ! Dor. Therefore, I make bold to ask you for a small subscription in aid of our Home for Indigent Bums. It is a very worthy charity, designed to take care of tramps when they can no longer work at their profession. Coke. I have no interest in tramps. Dor. But you should have. Just put yourself in their place. Coke. That's just where I'll be, if people like you do not leave me in peace. Dor. Why, Miss Ring told me that you would help me ! Coke {astonished). Miss Ring ? 8 Dor. Yes. Coke. Was she the friend who told you about my inter- est in tramps and such things? Dor. Yes. Coke {aside, and with resignation). I see the marriage day fading off into the dim distance. {To her.) Well, if Miss Ring was the one who sent you here, of course I shall be glad to help you. Here {again opening pocket-book, and taking out note) ; take this. It is all I have, at present. Very glad to oblige, I'm sure. Dor. How generous ! Five dollars ! You have done a noble work, sir ; a noble work ! {Rising.) Good morning. {Exit Dorothy) Coke. That settles it ! That is the end ; the very end ! The next woman who enters my office, leaves it before she can state her business. I believe every woman in this con- founded building is, under one guise or another, seeking charity. But no other need hope to find me willing to give faith to her story. That last bill was the last in very truth. {Puts hand in trousers pocket, and takes out a few small coins) I have exactly twenty-five cents in change — all my available assets. Hardly enough with which to buy a decent lunch. Dorothy ! Dorothy ! Why did you get me into this scrape? {Someone knocks at the door. Coke evidently does riot hear it.) Coke {continuing). If you keep on at this rate, I shall never be able to ask you to marry me. {Knocking continues. Woman's voice heard, "Anybody in?"). Coke. Now, that's another woman. I'll not let her in. {Sits at a desk.) Keep at it. I'll not hear you. {Knocking continuous) Coke. {Writes. Knocking grows more vigorous). You'll get tired after awhile. {Rising, impatiently, and rushing to the door) Confound you ! What do you {flinging it open) want ? {Perceives Dorothy ivitJiout, in her own proper person) He is visibly embarrassed?) Why, Miss Ring, this is an unexpected pleasure ! Dor. It must have been, indeed. I am sure you kept me waiting long enough. Coke {embarrassed). My fault, entirely. Dor. Of course it was. Coke. Really, I cannot find words to express my regret. Dor. Are you sure you were not alseep ? Coke. Positive. Never more wide awake in my life. Dor. Then you heard my knocking? Coke. I was deeply absorbed in the intricacies of an important problem. Dor. How exciting ! Coke {thinking of his rush to the\door). Yes ; yes. {Sud- denly recollecting himself. Aside?) What am I saying, any- how ? Dor. I was in the neighborhood, and thought I would stop in to see how you were fixed. Coke. Now, that was handsome of you ? Dor. I suppose you are very busy ? Coke. I have never worked harder than I have this morning. {Aside). Which is the gospel truth. Dor. Just look at all those books ! Do you have to study them all ? Coke. They are mostly books of reference — reports and digests, chiefly. By the way — speaking of digests — it is about lunch time, I think. You will surely come out to lunch with me? Dor. I shall be delighted. Coke. Where do you prefer to go ? Dor. I shall leave that entirely to you. Coke. Suppose we go Good Lord ! (Aside.) I entirely forgot that that confounded Salvation Army freak took my last note. Dor. Why, what's the trouble ? Aren't you well ? Coke. Never felt worse in my life. IO Dor. Oh, dear ! What shall I do ? I hope you are not going to faint. Coke. Never ! That is one bad habit I have never acquired. Dor. Let me run for the doctor. [Starts towards the door.) Coke {stopping her). Don't do that ! Dor. But, what is it? Coke (aside). There's nothing left for me to do but to tell her. Now, isn't this awful ? (To her.) I suppose, Miss Dorothy, there is no way out of the matter, but for me to make a clean breast of the whole affair. Dor. I do not understand. Coke (with conviction). But you will though, before I've finished. I was so overcome with pleasure at your unex- pected visit, that I completely forgot that I had spent practi- cally all my money this morning. Dor. But how were you going to eat? Coke. Fortunately, my bunco steerers left me some small change ; but not enough to buy a meal for two. That is all I have to tide me over Sunday. To-day being Saturday, the banks close at twelve o'clock, and it is now after that ; so you see how awkward is my position. Dor. Let me help you. Coke. Couldn't think of it. Dor. But you must. I am responsible for all this. Coke. You ? Dor. Yes. I was that book-agent. Coke (amazed). The deuce you were ! Dor. And the Salvation Army lassie. Coke. You don't mean it! Dor. (reproachfully.) And you never knew me ! Coke. What a thick-skulled chump I am, to be sure ! Dor. This time, however, I come with good news. Coke. Yes ? Dor. What would you say if I told you that I had II secured for you the position of assistant solicitor for the Bluestone Steel Company ? Coke. I would say what I have always thought — that you are the only angel this side of Heaven. Dor. That's putting it pretty strong ; but we will dis- miss all that as irrelevant, immaterial, and impertinent — that is the phrase you lawyers use, isn't it? {He nods.) You know, father is a director in that company ; and I have been requesting him for some time to give you a chance. Coke. That was awfully good of you, Miss Dorothy. Dor. {ignoring the remark, and going on with her story, as if no interruption had occurred). So, as soon as a vacancy occurred, he had you appointed to the place ; which pays its occupant three thousand a year. Coke. And you bring me the news, yourself? Dor. Yes. Coke. Why ? Dor. {blushing) I don't know. I thought maybe you — might prefer to learn of it in that way. Coke {coming close to her). So I would, Miss Dorothy ; so I would ; and I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. This gives me the right to say what has long been in my heart to tell you, but that poverty kept me silent. I love you. Do you think that you could be happy with me ? Dor. {with a little sigh) I am willing to try. {Silence for a while.) Coke. Why did you come here disguised ? Dor. I wanted to see what manner of man you were, when you did not have on your company manners. Coke. And you found me pretty cross and unkind. Dor. Yes ; just cross enough to help a poor girl whom you believed to be in distress ; and unkind enough to give money to a Salvation Army recruit, because I recom- mended her to call on you. {Looking him over slavly.) On the whole, I think you'll do. Coke. I shall try my best. 12 Dor. {warningly). But no more references to hot- cakes. Coke, {smiling). That was a narrow escape; wasn't it? Dor. And no more extravagence. Coke, {with determination). I shall hold on to my money with an iron grasp, and shall not even give you enough for an Easter bonnet. Dor. {smiling). Well, I shall make an exception, in that case. Coke. Do you know, that Salvation Army costume was very becoming ? Dor. {in horror). You are not going to make me wear that, all the time ? Coke. I don't know. Tell me ; how did you manage to change your costumes so quickly? Dor. My friend, Mrs. Barnes, the woman physician, has offices just across the corridor. I dressed and made up in her private room. My training in amateur theatricals came in useful, in every part of the frolic ; and I am well satisfied with the result. Coke, {ruefully). You ought to be. You held me up for all I had. ( With resolution). I will lunch with you, to-day, after all ; but the waiter shall present the check to you ; and you, in penance for your clever ruse, shall pay it. {Tableau.) {Curtain.)