LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 ©fjajt Sojt^i-iBlt !^a. 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
MR. BRANDER MATTHEWS 
 
THE DECISION OF THE COURT 
 
 U ComeDi2 
 
 / 
 
 BRANDER MATTHEWS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 
 V 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
 
 1893 
 
 fy^(p y ' 
 
Harper's ''Black and White" Series. 
 
 Illustrated. 32mo, Cloth, 50 cents each. 
 
 The Decision of thb Court. 
 A Comedy. By Brander Mat- 
 thews. 
 
 George William Curtis. By 
 John White Chadwick. 
 
 Slavery and the SlaveTrade 
 IN Africa. By Henry M. 
 Stanley. 
 
 The Rivals. By Francois 
 Copp^e. 
 
 The Japanese Bride. By 
 Naomi Tamura. 
 
 Whittieb : Notes of his Life 
 and of his Friendships. By 
 Annie Fields. 
 
 Giles Corey, Yeoman. 
 Marv E. Wilkius. 
 
 By 
 
 Coffee and Repartee. By 
 
 John Kendrick Bangs. 
 James Russell Lowell. An 
 
 Address. By George William 
 
 Curtis. 
 Seen from the Saddle. By 
 
 Isa Carrington Cabell. 
 A Family Canoe Trip. By 
 
 Florence Waiters Snedeker. 
 A Little Swiss Sojourn. By 
 
 William Dean Howells. 
 A Letter of Introduction. 
 
 A Farce. By William Dean 
 
 Howells. 
 In the Vestibule Limited. 
 
 By Brander Matthews. 
 The Albany Depot. A Farce. 
 
 By William Dean Howells. 
 
 Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or -will be sent by the publishers, 
 postage prepaid, on receipt of price. 
 
 t '■-, 
 
 Copyright, 1893, by Harper & Brothers. 
 
 All rii'/its reserved. 
 
:y 
 
 vV 
 
 k 
 
 ^ 
 
 NOTE 
 
 l^Tliis comedy was first acted in America by the 
 Theatre of Arts and Letters at its fourth sub- 
 scription performance in New York^ March 23, 
 1893, with Mrs. Agnes Booth- Schoeff el and Mr. 
 J. H. Gilmour as Mrs. and Mr. Stanyhurst. A 
 performance for copyright purposes was given in 
 Londo7i, at the Comedy Theatre, Ifarch 20th. 
 Stage-right and copyright are therefore fully pro- 
 tected, both in Great Britain and in the United 
 States.'] 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 MR. ERANDER MATTHEWS FrontlSpiece 
 
 MRS. AGNES BOOTH-SCHOEPPEL .... Facing page 16 
 
 "her photo!" " "30 
 
 "speak for yourself, kitty" . . " "44 
 
THE DECISION OF THE COURT 
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS 
 
 Mrs. Algernon Stanthurst. 
 Mr. Algernon Stanthurst. 
 The Maid. 
 The Messenger- boy. 
 
 Scene:— The parlor of Mrs. Stanyhurst's cottage at New- 
 port, R. I. 
 
 TniE :— Late in September. 
 
The time is late September, and the scene 
 is the parlor of a cottage at Newport, the 
 broad windows of which overlook the har- 
 bor. It is a handsomely furnished room, 
 showing that its occupant is a woman of 
 taste. On one side there is a conservatory 
 bow-window filled with flow^ers, and having 
 a hanging bird-cage in the centre. On the 
 other side there is a mantel-piece, with a 
 mirror over it and a clock upon it. An 
 open piano stands against the wall near the 
 mantel-piece. There is a sofa near the cen- 
 tre of the room, with an umbrella lamp be- 
 hind it, 
 
 Mrs. Stanyhurst is seen seated at a desk 
 near the sofa engaged in writing. 
 
 Mary, the maid, enters through the draped 
 doorway which connects the parlor and the 
 
12 
 
 ball of tlie house. She stands silently be- 
 hind Mrs. Stanyhurst. 
 
 Mrs. S. {looking up): " Well, Mary, what is 
 it?" 
 
 Mary: " What time is it you want the tea, 
 ma'am?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "At five o'clock always; you will 
 understand your duties in a day or two. And 
 serve it promptly, whether I am here or not." 
 
 Mary {going): " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "And tell Martha to have the 
 toasted crackers hotter than they were yes. 
 terday." 
 
 Mary: "Yes, ma'am." [Exit. 
 
II 
 
 Mrs, S. : " Where was I? [TaJdng up let- 
 ter from desk and reading it aloud.'] ' If you 
 will go to Japan and to India, you must not 
 expect to have the latest news. Yes, it is 
 true that I am suing for a divorce. Alger- 
 non and I are absolutely incompatible. If 
 baby had lived, perhaps we might have got 
 along together somehow — I don't know. As 
 it was, we quarrelled every week of our sec- 
 ond year, and almost every day of the third ; 
 yet when I try to remember what we quar- 
 relled about, I simply can't. Algernon was 
 disagreeable enough to say that I was the 
 most exasperating woman he had ever met! 
 So you see what a bad temper he has! And 
 he was absurdly jealous ; and at the same 
 time he was so indifferent and easy-going 
 that he was absolutely impossible ! At last 
 
14 
 
 we agreed to disagree once for all, and to be 
 divorced. So I have been living here in 
 Newport for a year now all by myself— it 
 appears that residence is necessary — and I 
 have sued for divorce on the ground of non- 
 support. I suppose you will smile at this, 
 since you know my income is quite as large 
 as Algernon's. But that's the excuse I must 
 give, so my lawyer says. I have an excel- 
 lent lawyer, Mr. Eichard Hitchcock, really 
 a most agreeable man, who has taken charge 
 of my case himself ; and he has been just 
 too lovely. I wish Algernon's lawyer had 
 been as considerate ; but his name is Bull, 
 and he is a brute.' [Spoken.] I remember 
 what I was going to say. [Writing.] ' The 
 case came up last week, and I testified that 
 Algernon hadn't given me any money for 
 months, and that he had abandoned me and 
 left the country. Algernon's lawyer made 
 a cheap joke about my being a grass-widow 
 now, and being able to make hay while the 
 sun shines. It's just like him to hire such 
 
15 
 
 a man 1 The jiitlge asked me a few ques- 
 tions, and then he took the papers and said 
 he would tliinlc about it. Mr. Hitchcock 
 tells me that we must win, of course. He 
 hopes for a decision soon — maybe this week. 
 He is to telegraph me at once. So perhaps 
 before this letter gets to Chicago I shall have 
 been unmarried.' 
 
 [87ie reads over last few lines to herself 
 
 and then signs and folds the letter. 
 [While she is doing this, Mr. Slany hurst 
 is seen to pass the icindoios and to stand 
 before door, where he rings hell. 
 [Mrs. Stanyhurst, intent on folding letter 
 and on addressing envelope, does not 
 hear the hell. The door is opened., 
 and Mr. S. disappears from mew; 
 the door closes with a hang. 
 Mrs. S. {Starting): "Perhaps that's the 
 decision now ! Really, it is a great strain 
 on one's nerves not to know whether one is 
 married or not." 
 
 [Mary enters with card on salver. 
 
16 
 
 Mrs. S. {Rising): " Is it a telegram?" 
 
 Mary {lianding card): "No, ma'am; it's a 
 gentleman to see you." 
 
 Mrs, S. {reading card; aside): "Algernon! 
 [Surprised.'] What does he want with me?" 
 
 Mary: " He didn't say, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. S. : *' Well, you may show him in." 
 
 Mary {going) : ' ' Yes, ma'am. " 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Stop ! [RusJies over to the mirror 
 over the mantel-piece.'] I suppose I must look 
 like a fright. [^Ooing.] Show him in here, 
 and say Mrs. Stanyhurst will be down in a 
 minute." 
 
 [Exit through small door opposite the 
 mantel-piece. 
 

 
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 MRS. AGNES BOOTH-SCHOEFFEL 
 
Ill 
 
 Mary: "Yes, ma'am. [Going out, and re- 
 cqjpeamig at once toitli Mr. S.] Mrs. Stany- 
 hurst will be down in a minute, sir." 
 
 Mr. S. {constrained and awkward): "Cer- 
 tainly, certainly; there's no hurry at all- 
 [Seeing Mary loaiting, The- takes seat on sofa, 
 holding hat in one hand and stick in the other. 
 Mary exit.'\ Really, you know, this is awk- 
 ward. A man doesn't really know what to 
 do when he has to call on his own wife, not 
 knowing whether she is his wife or not. It 
 is deuced awkward; that's what I call it — 
 deuced awkward. That American judge 
 may have given his decision to-day, you 
 know, and when I'm talking to my wife per- 
 haps she won't be my wife. And it was quite 
 awkward enough before. Still, it had to be 
 done. "Wife or no wife, I wouldn't have her 
 
18 
 
 tliiuk I could do a thing like that, you know. 
 [Pause.] She said she'd be down in a min- 
 ute; but I know how long her minutes are- 
 I suppose she's prinking before the glass. 
 Fancy her prinking for me now! [Pause.] 
 It's here she's been living since I abandoned 
 her, as we agreed when we had our last row. 
 That last row! — it was pretty lively that last 
 row — but then so were most of the others. I 
 doubt if any man and wife ever had more 
 rows than we did in four years. And I don't 
 see why we quarrelled either — I'm sure I'm 
 good-natured enough. [Pause.] Snug little 
 crib this. She always had good taste; I will 
 say that for her. [Bises, and stands hy desk.] 
 There's the inkstand the mater gave her, and 
 that's the writing-case the governor had made 
 for her. [Crosses to mantel-piece, and adjusts 
 Ms cravat in mirror.] Deuced dusty, these 
 roads here in America. [Moves up, and sees 
 her 'photograph on mantel-piece. ] Her photo !" 
 
IV 
 
 [As he takes it in his hand, Mrs. S. enters, 
 and stands in doorway. 
 
 Mrs. S. (aside): "What is lie up to now? 
 Ob, my portrait." 
 
 Mr. S. {holding picture): "I say, she hasn't 
 been mourning for me, you know. Slie isn't 
 fading away. She's positively improved. 
 That's it — she's positively improved." 
 
 Mrs. S. {aside): " He's just as handsome as 
 ever; and he looks as though he could be just 
 as irritating." 
 
 Mr. S.: "She has filled out a bit, and it 
 suits her. [Putting back the photograph on 
 mantel - piece, he catches sight of her in mir- 
 ror, and is instantly confused.'] Oh, I say, 
 she's been watching me. [He goes up), pre- 
 tending not to see her. He looks up finally 
 
 and catches her eye. Moment of embarrass- 
 3 
 
20 
 
 ment Hesitating. "[ I have — I — I have 
 called—" 
 
 Mrs. S. {sitting on sofa, calmly) : " Take 
 a chair, Mr. [looking at card in her hand] — 
 Mr. Stanyhurst." 
 
 Mr. S. (aside): "That was one for me. 
 Clever old girl. I thought she'd make it 
 uncomfortable for me. [Places chair, and 
 sits. Aloud.] Thank you. Standing makes 
 a fellow feel so awkward." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "You have been abroad, I be- 
 lieve, Mr. [glancing again at card] — Mr. 
 Stanyhurst." 
 
 Mr. S. : "I got back yesterday morning, 
 on the Etruria, and so I — so I — " [Confused. 
 
 Mrs. S. {after a pause) : ' ' And what gives 
 me the honor of this visit?" 
 ■ Mr. S. : "That's what I'm coming to- 
 only you — you — Well, last night at the 
 club I heard two fellows talking about our 
 divorce case, you know — " [Pause. 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Yes, I know." 
 
 Mr. S. : "They didn't know I was in New 
 
21 
 
 York, and one of them said that Bull— that's 
 raj^ lawyer, you know—" 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Yes, I know that too." 
 
 Mr. S.: "He said my lawyer, Bull, had 
 made some sort of disparaging remarks about 
 you, you know." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Yes, I know. And what then?" 
 
 Mr. S. : "What then? Well, you know, I 
 didn't want you to think that I had anything 
 to do with it— so I ran down here at once to 
 tell you so." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Oh, you need not have taken so 
 much trouble for a little thing like that." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Of course I wouldn't let my 
 lawyer say an insulting word to you." 
 
 Mrs. S.: " Of course not. That's a privi- 
 lege you desire to reserve for yourself." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Come, now, I say — that isn't 
 fair. That's one below the belt. Bull be- 
 haved like a brute, I dare say—" 
 
 Mrs. S.: " Like master, like man." 
 
 Mr. S.: "But I try to behave like a gen- 
 tleman, I hope." 
 
22 
 
 Mrs. S.: "No doubt you do your best." 
 
 Mr. S. : "And I come down here to tell 
 you it's all a mistake, and I hadn't anything 
 to do with it ; and then you jump on me, as 
 you Americans say." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " I'm by way of being irritated, 
 as you English say. Your Bull lawyer was 
 a brute — such a contrast to Mr. Hitchcock! 
 You ought to have heard Mr. Hitchcock 
 describe your infamous conduct to me. He 
 almost made me cry when he told the judge 
 how you had abandoned me, and refused to 
 contribute to my support. Just as if I would 
 ever ask you for a cent!" 
 
 Mr. S. : " Your lawyer seems to have been 
 pitching into me." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " That's different." 
 
 Mr. S.: "Who is this Hitchcock fellow? 
 I've met him somewhere, haven't I?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Mr. Hitchcock is my counsel. 
 He has been kindness itself— and sympathy. 
 He has the most exquisite manners, too. Of 
 course he simply despises your little lawyer, 
 
23 
 
 but he treated him always with the most 
 disdainful courtesy— except when that Bull 
 insulted me, and then he talked back. It 
 was so like you to hire a man of that sort. I 
 could have smiled if I hadn't been so mad." 
 
 Mr. S. : " But I came here to tell you I—" 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Oh, I exonerate you, of course ; 
 I know you wouldn't have permitted it if 
 you had been here." 
 
 Mr. S.: "Thanks, I'm sure." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "I was just writing to a friend 
 [taking letter out of pocket], and I had told 
 her that I didn't believe you were respon- 
 sible." 
 
 Mr. S. : " That's really very good of you, 
 you know. [Pause.] Oh, I say, if you've 
 been writing like that, then I needn't have 
 bothered to come down here." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " If Vve been writing? So you 
 are still as suspicious as ever. See for your- 
 self !" [Holding out the letter. 
 
 Mr. S.: ''Really— I— I— really— " 
 
 Mrs. S.: " See for yourself!" 
 
24 
 
 Mr. S. : "I don't want to read your letters, 
 you know, but if you insist — " 
 
 [Beaching out hand for letter. 
 
 Mrs. S. {suddenly withdrawing letter) : ' ' Per- 
 haps you had better not read it, after all." 
 
 Mr. S.: "Just as you like." 
 
 Mrs. S. {looking over the letter): " There are 
 other allusions to you, which — which it 
 might be awkward for you to see." 
 
 [Pocketing letter. 
 
 Mr. S.: " It's all deuced awkward as it is, 
 don't you know." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "It is indeed." 
 
 Mr. S. : " You see, until that judge makes 
 up his mind, I don't know whether I'm a 
 married man or not." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Neither do I. I mean, I don't 
 know whether I'm a married woman or 
 not." 
 
 Mr. S.: "I'm like that fellow's coffin, you 
 know — " 
 
 Mrs. S. : " That fellow's coffin? Oh, Mo- 
 hammed's." 
 
25 
 
 Mr. S. {admiringly): "You always knew 
 such a lot ! Yes, that's it — I'm like Moham- 
 med's coffin — suspended between heaven and 
 the other place, you know." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "The other place? Meaning 
 me ? Oh, thank you." 
 
 Mr. S. {confused): "Oh, I say!" 
 
 Mrs. S. : "That wasn't delicate, perhaps, 
 but it was direct enough." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Come, now, I didn't mean that; 
 you know I didn't mean that." 
 
 Mrs. S.: " It's no matter what you meant. 
 I can judge of that only by what you say." 
 
 Mr. S. {protesting): " But— I— " 
 
 Mrs. S. : "After all, this suspense is ever 
 so much worse for me than for you, for I 
 don't even know what my name is." 
 
 Mr. S. : "I don't see that." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " You don't suppose that I shall 
 keep your name, do you, when I cease to be 
 your wife?" 
 
 Mr. S. : " My name's all right. Nobody's 
 ever done anything to disgrace it yet." 
 
26 
 
 Mrs. S. (indignantly): "You need not in- 
 sinuate that I shall do so." 
 
 Mr. S. {protesting): "You do take one up 
 so sharp!" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "I am Mrs. Stanyhurst now, I 
 suppose, if the judge hasn't come to a de- 
 cision yet. But when he does I shall take 
 my father's name again. I shall be Mrs. 
 Van Kortlandt." 
 
 Mr. S.: "You are not going to do that 
 really, are you?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "Why not? You don't think 
 that I'm so proud of having married the 
 younger son of a lord that I'm going to hold 
 to the name after I've cast off the man?" 
 
 Mr. S. : "Cast off? I say, you mustn't 
 talk about me as if I was an old dressing- 
 gown." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "It's no matter what kind of ap- 
 parel you are. I'm not wrapped up in you 
 any longer. If I were only a widow, now!" 
 
 Mr. S.: "Oh, I say!" 
 
 Mrs. S.; "They are making such lovely 
 
2T 
 
 things in crape this year. But then you 
 never had any consideration for me." 
 
 Mr. S. : "You wouldn't have me die just 
 to leave you a widow?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Why not? When a man really 
 loves a woman he is willing to die for her! 
 Or at least he tells her so. It must be de- 
 lightful for a woman to be a widow; she 
 can do as she pleases, and make all the men 
 do what she pleases. She is her own hus- 
 band—and she has no wife." 
 
 Mr. S. : "If my widow were to remarry, 
 I'd come back to worry her." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Just as you did your wife? 
 Precisely. As for me, since I can't be a 
 widow, I must be the next best thing — di- 
 vorced. " 
 
 Mr. S. : "It is deuced awkward, of 
 course." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "It is indeed deuced awkward 
 — I mean, very awkward." 
 
 [Pause. Clock on mantel-piece strikes Jive 
 slowly. 
 
28 
 
 Mr. S. {rising): " Five o'clock. I must be 
 going. I've got to get back to New York 
 to-night." 
 
 [Mary enters with kettle, puts it on stand 
 on tea table before window, lights lamp, 
 and carries table down and sets it be- 
 fore Mrs. S. Mr. S. awkwardly gets 
 out of way of table. 
 Mrs. S. : "Can't I offer you a cup of 
 tea?" 
 
 Mr. S. {astonished) : "Really you are very 
 good, but — " 
 
 Mrs. S. {lifting sugar-tongs) : ' ' One lump or 
 two?" 
 Mr. S.: "One, please." [Exit Mary. 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Do you take cream?" 
 Mr. S.: " Come, now, you ought to know 
 that — really, you know. " 
 
 Mrs. S. : "No cream, then. But perhaps 
 you would like a slice of lemon?" 
 
 Mr. S. : " No, thanks, no. I don't think I 
 shall need any lemon." 
 
 [Putting hat and cane on chair between 
 
29 
 
 piano and fireplace, and sitting on 
 
 piano -stool. 
 
 Mrs. S. {passing cup) : ' ' Five-o'clock tea 
 
 always reminds me of marriage. You need 
 
 two spoons, of course, and sooner or later 
 
 they get into hot water." 
 
 Mr. S. {taking cup and stirring it) : "That's 
 very good. That's very good indeed. But 
 then I always said you were clever. [Sip- 
 ping tea, and getting scalded. ] The water was 
 hot !" 
 
 [Mary enters with plate of toasted crack- 
 ers. She passes them to Mr. S., who 
 takes one. Then she puts plate down 
 on tea table, and exit. 
 Mr. S. {watching Tier off): "Pretty girl 
 that." 
 Mrs. S. : "So you noticed it?" 
 Mr. S. : "I noticed that you never had any 
 pretty girls like that when you and I—" 
 [Mrs. S. looks at him. Mr, S. hesi- 
 tates, and tJien stops, and drinks tea 
 abruptly. 
 
30 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Don't judge others by your- 
 self, rm not jealous." 
 
 Mr. S. {with mouth full) : "This toasted 
 biscuit is really delicious." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "The biscuit? Oh, you mean the 
 crackers? You English really ought to learn 
 our language." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Your language? The English 
 language? Well, I like that!" 
 
 Mrs. S. : "You would like it if you could 
 only speak it as we do. When I hear our lan- 
 guage maltreated by you English, I wish we 
 Americans had kept our native Choctaw." 
 
 Mr, S. : "It isn't your native Choctaw, you 
 know; you haven't any red-Indian blood in 
 you." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "Haven't I? My grandmother 
 was a Virginian, and I'm a direct descendant 
 of Pocahontas — I'm her great-great-great- 
 great-great-granddaughter. " 
 
 Mr. S. : "Dear me!" 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Would you like me to do my 
 ancestral scalp-dance for you?" 
 
"her photo!" 
 
31 
 
 Mr. S. : "It might be very good fun." 
 [^Rising and piUting teacup on mantelpiece 
 behind Mm. 
 
 Mrs. S. : "I know that your family goes 
 bacli to the time of the Black Prince, but I 
 can trace mine back to a red princess." 
 
 Mr. S. {negligently): "Pocahontas was a 
 nigger, wasn't she?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : " She was the daughter of King 
 Powhatan!" 
 
 Mr. S. {indifferently): "I dare say." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "That's just like you English; 
 you are abject before royalty in your own 
 country, and yet you turn up your nose at 
 our kings." 
 
 Mr. S. {standing stiffly behind sofa): "I 
 didn't know you Americans had any kings." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " I've been thinking about these 
 international marriages, as the society re- 
 porter calls them, and I've come to this con- 
 clusion, that if an American man marries an 
 English woman, it's all right; but if an 
 American woman marries an Englishman, 
 
32 
 
 it's all wrong. In the first case tliey get on 
 splendidly, because the English woman is ac- 
 customed to be obedient, and the American 
 man is in the habit of being attentive, and so 
 both sides are satisfied. But in the second 
 case there is slim chance of happiness, be- 
 cause the American woman is used to inde- 
 pendence and to deference, and the English- 
 man is always waited on by all his women — 
 mother, sisters, wife, daughters — just as if he 
 were a Mormon." 
 Mr. S. {protesting): "Oh, I say!" 
 Mrs. S. : "There is not only incompati- 
 bility of temper; there is incompatibility of 
 training. You, now, you — " 
 Mr. S.: "What about me, now?" 
 Mrs. S. : "You ought to have married 
 some Lady Hildegarde Fitzplantagenet, who 
 would have been happy to fetch your slippers 
 for you and wait on you hand and foot, day 
 and night. Instead you married Kitty Van 
 Kortlandt — and we have both regretted it 
 ever since." 
 
33 
 
 Mr. S.: *' Speak for yourself, Kitty [she 
 looks up] — Mrs. Stanyhurst, I mean," 
 
 Mrs. S. : " It is too late for you to make 
 me believe that you don't regret it now. No, 
 you were not cut out for a husband, and—" 
 
 Mr. S. {gallantly): "If I thought any fel- 
 low had been cutting me out, I'd — " 
 
 Mrs. S. {calmly) : " Well, what would you 
 do?" 
 
 Mr. S. {hesitating) : " I don't know. I— I—" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "What could you do? Nothing; 
 that's what you could do. You see, I've had 
 a good many hours of solitude in the past 
 year, and I've spent some of them in analyz- 
 ing your character." 
 
 Mr. S. {energetically): "I say, now, do 
 you think that was fair?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Oh, I wasn't unjust to you; I 
 gave you credit for your good qualities. 
 You are not clever, for example, but you 
 are not a fool either." 
 
 Mr. S. : " Thanks— thanks awfully." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Your education is lamentable, 
 
34 
 
 of course, but you know a lot about horses 
 and dogs, and shooting and fishing, and sport 
 of all kinds." 
 
 Mr. S. : " What else should I know?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "What else indeed? Well, for 
 one thing, you might know something about 
 women — about the way a wife feels; you 
 might have learned to look at life from her 
 point of view, and to — [^Suddenly changing 
 wice as Mary enters.'] It has been unusually 
 warm for so late in September. Don't you 
 think so?" 
 
 Mr. S. {astonished): "I? Don't I think? 
 [Seeing Mary, who is taking away tea things.'] 
 Oh yes, I think so too. Of course. I agree 
 with you." 
 
 [Going up after Mrs. S. Mary exit with 
 tray. 
 
 Mrs. S. {at window): "Those dark clouds 
 over there seem to threaten a storm soon. 
 The equinoctial is due now." 
 
 [Mary enters and takes taUefrom before 
 sofa and puts it before window. 
 
35 
 
 Mr. S.: " Shouklu't wonder if we luid rain 
 before night." 
 
 [Looking over sJioulder to see if Mary has 
 
 gone. 
 [Mary looks at Mm and then at Mrs. S , 
 
 and then exit. 
 [Mrs. S, stands looking at hirds in con- 
 servatory how-window. 
 Mrs. S. : ''And my birds are excited, too; 
 that's another sign," 
 
 Mr. S. {looking at cage with single eye-glass) : 
 " What sort of birds?" 
 Mrs. S.: "Love-birds." 
 Mr. S. : " Funny little beggars." 
 Mrs. S. {dryly): "Their open affection for 
 each other is rather absurd, isn't it? But 
 they can't get out of the cage, you see; and, 
 like many other couples, perhaps they are 
 merely making the best of it, and pretend to 
 affection while people are looking at them." 
 Mr. S. {admiringly) : "You always did have 
 a way of saying things." 
 Mrs. S. : "I've practised that speech before. 
 
 5 
 
36 
 
 The last man I said it to was Mr, Hitcli- 
 cock." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Hitchcock? Oh, he's your law- 
 yer fellow? I remember now — you used to 
 know him before we were married." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "He's a charming man. It's a 
 pleasure to talk to him — he's so quick. He 
 said that flirtation was more fun than mar- 
 riage, just as a novel was more amusing 
 than a history." 
 
 Mr. S. : "I don't see that that's so very 
 clever." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "No? Then perhaps you won't 
 approve of my retort that I didn't under- 
 stand why marriage should be a bar to flirta- 
 tion." 
 
 [Mr. S. is about to protest, but is inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 Mrs. S. : " The privilege of flirting is 
 guaranteed to every American woman by the 
 Declaration of Independence ; it is the right 
 to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." 
 
 Mr. S.: "You Americans talk a great 
 
37 
 
 deal about independence, but I remember 
 you bad a cbaperon tbe first time I met you 
 — at tbe Patriarcbs', wasn't it ?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "It was at tbe Assembly. Tbat 
 just sbows bow mucb you took notice of 
 me." 
 
 Mr. S.: "I did take notice of you. I re- 
 member wbat I said to tbe fellow wbo took 
 me to tbe dance." 
 
 Mrs. S.: " And pray wbat did you say?" 
 
 Mr. S.: "I said, 'Tbat's a devilisb pretty 
 girl, tbat Miss Van Kortlandt, and clever 
 too!' Tbat's wbatlsaid." 
 
 [Lea?iing back on desk. 
 
 Mrs. S.: "Tbank you. And wbat did be 
 say to tbat?" 
 
 Mr. S.: "Wbat did be say? I remember 
 tbat too. He said : ' You just look out. Kit- 
 ty Van Kortlandt is a terrible flirt!' Tbat's 
 wbat be said." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " Tbe idea! As if I ever flirted!" 
 
 Mr. S. : " You didn't flirt witb me, I know 
 tbat. You wouldn't even dance witb me." 
 
38 
 
 Mrs. S.: "You know you dance like a 
 bear." 
 
 Mr. S.: "Come, now—" 
 
 Mrs. S. : " You English don't begin to know 
 anything about dancing. I can't think what 
 they teach you in your schools. Do you re- 
 member the first time you tried ' Dancing in 
 the Barn ?' \_LaugMng , and crossing to piano, 
 and playing the tune while talking omv her 
 shoulder to Mr. S., who has followed her across.'] 
 It was here in Newport, at the De Ruyters', 
 five years ago, when they gave their first 
 ball at their new cottage on the Cliffs." 
 
 Mr. S. : " You have such queer dances here, 
 you know." 
 
 Mrs. S. {still playing)'. "We never had a 
 queerer dancer than you were when I tried 
 to show you ' Dancing in the Barn.' You 
 looked so absurd." 
 
 Mr. S.: "Did I, though?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "You did indeed. So at last I 
 took pity on you, and I gave up the dance, 
 and we went out on the piazza," 
 
39 
 
 Mr. S. : *" Yes. I liked that better." 
 
 Mrs. S. {still playing) : " So did I." 
 
 Mr, S. : " That was the first time you had 
 been polite to me, don't you know. Before 
 that you were always oflish. I never knew 
 how to take you." 
 
 Mrs, S. : " Perhaps I didn't intend to let 
 you take me at all," 
 
 Mr. S.: "I know I didn't think I'd ever let 
 any American girl take me." 
 
 Mrs. S. {still playing, hut more slowly, and 
 ''Dancing in the Barn'" has changed into a 
 waltz of Chopin's): " You don't suppose I had 
 intended to marry an Englishman, do you? 
 I don't know how I ever came to do it. It 
 must have been the music and the moon- 
 light — I remember there was a heavenly 
 moon that evening," 
 
 Mr, S.: "Was there? Idon't.know. But 
 I remember you looked devilish pretty." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "Did I?" 
 
 [Turning on piano-stool and facing him. 
 
 Mr. S. : " You did. And I remember I 
 
40 
 
 said to mj^self: Til risk it, I don't know 
 whether she'll have me, but I'll risk it.' And 
 I asked you to marry me." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "And do you remember what I 
 said?" 
 
 Mr. S. t "You said you wouldn't. But you 
 looked so charming and so tantalizing — I 
 don't know how it was, but I kissed you." 
 
 Mrs. 8. : " Don't you think that it was very 
 ungentlemanly to kiss a lady who had just 
 refused to marry you?" 
 
 Mr. S. : "I'm not so sure about that, you 
 know. You let me, you know." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " There wasn't anything else for 
 me to do. You were a great big hulking 
 man, and I was only a girl." 
 
 Mr. S. : "You made me fetch and carry 
 for you that winter; I remember that well 
 enough. You led me a pretty dance, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 Mrs. S. (sadly): "A. girl can be engaged 
 only once, and if she does not have a good 
 time then, when is she to have it?" 
 
41 
 
 Mr. S. : "I dare say you had a good time, 
 as you call it. I know I didn't. I don't like 
 going about to balls and parties night after 
 night, and seeing the girl I'm going to marry 
 dancing with a parcel of fellows who — " 
 
 Mrs. S. : "But you know you dance so 
 badly. I simply couldn't dance with you. I 
 shouldn't have had a ball dress to my back." 
 
 Mr. S. : "I was glad when the winter was 
 over and we were married." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "At Grace Church, by the Bishop, 
 on a beautiful spring morning. {^Facing piano 
 again, and playing the ' ' Wedding March " of 
 ''Lohengrin " gently.] I'm sure it must have 
 been a lovely wedding. The church was 
 crowded, and all my friends were there in 
 their spring bonnets. The music was heav- 
 enly — and there are people who say they 
 don't like Wagner !" [Pause. 
 
 Mr. S. (icatching her; aside): " She's hand- 
 somer than ever. She didn't look better on 
 her wedding-day than she does now. I won- 
 der if— [Pause.] By Jove, I will!" 
 
42 
 
 [Goes to extreme end of piano ^ so that he 
 
 faces her. 
 [Mrs. S. continues playing softly, con- 
 scious that he is gazing at her ; she 
 changes time of music, plays louder 
 and move brilliantly, and then stops 
 abruptly. 
 Mrs. S. {icith a return of her former sharp) 
 manner)'. "A divorce isn't as romantic as a 
 wedding, is it? Nor as picturesque. There 
 isn't half enough ceremony about a divorce. 
 There's no music, no veil, no flowers, no 
 bridemaids, no Bishop. They'll never make 
 divorce really popular with the women till 
 it is as spectacular as a wedding, with ushers, 
 and best men, and pretty girls, and cake — 
 cake to take home in a box, so that every 
 woman can dream of the man she is some 
 day to be divorced from." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Oh, I say, now, that's too bad, 
 really." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "And of course there would have 
 to be something to correspond with the 
 
43 
 
 honey -moon aud the weddiug trip. Per- 
 haps the happy pair who had just been 
 divorced would go on a little journey 
 around the world, one east and one west, 
 with an understanding that they should 
 pass each other in the middle of the Pacific 
 Ocean." 
 
 Mr. S.: "When we were married we 
 went home, you know." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "It was home for you, of course, 
 but it was exile for me." 
 
 Mr. S. {stiffly): "My people were good to 
 you, weren't they? The governor thought 
 you were no end of fun." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "Yes; I received the welcome of 
 a professional humorist." 
 
 Mr. S. : " The mater liked you. You can't 
 deny that, can you?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "I think she did— in her way. 
 
 The first time we met she told me she was 
 
 so glad you had a wife to keep you out of 
 
 mischief." 
 
 Mr. S. {exultingly) : "She never would have 
 
 6 
 
44 
 
 said that if she hadn't cottoned to you from 
 the start, would she?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : " And she said she was glad to 
 find I had so little Yankee twang — as if we 
 were Yankees in New York! And she has 
 an English accent of her own as thick as a 
 London fog. You could cut it with a knife 
 [imitating], don't you know." 
 
 Mr. S. {stiffly again): " I think all my peo- 
 ple were very civil to you." 
 
 Mrs. S. {bitterly) : ' ' Yes, as war is some- 
 times civil, and then the wounds rankle 
 longest." 
 
 Mr. S. : " The governor was nice to you — 
 nicer than he is to me half the time. And 
 the mater — " 
 
 Mrs. S. {impatiently): "No doubt the gov- 
 ernor and the mater, as you call them, meant 
 to be nice, as you say. They were as nice as 
 they knew how. [Sitting on sofa.] But, oh, 
 how hard it was to be in the same house with 
 such simple folks! I'm complicated, I am, 
 and intricate; I'm modern and nineteenth 
 
45 
 
 century. And your father and mother are 
 simple beyond belief, simple with a pre- 
 historic simplicity — so simple that when I 
 saw them go out for a walk together, I was 
 always expecting that the robins would come 
 and cover them up with leaves." 
 
 Mr. S. : "You are deuced hard on my 
 people. Now I never say anything about 
 yours." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " How can you? You had an un- 
 fair advantage when we married. I'm an 
 orphan." 
 
 Mr. S. {doubtfully): " There's your brother, 
 you know." 
 
 Mrs. S. {suddenly): "I know what you 
 were going to say. Well, it's true, he does 
 drink, sometimes — but then he is frequently 
 sober." 
 
 Mr. S. : "I wasn't going to say it. I don't 
 care if he gets as drunk as a lord. That 
 might happen to any fellow, you know. 
 After the second bottle, wine goes to my head 
 sometimes." 
 
46 
 
 Mrs, S. : " It's no news that nature abhors 
 a vacuum." 
 
 Mr. S. : "I don't see anything funny in 
 that." 
 
 Mrs. S. {laughing): "Don't you? Well, 
 perhaps it was unfair. Don't mind my be- 
 ing sharp with you to-day. There's a storm 
 coming, and my nerves are unstrung." 
 
 Mr. S. {leaning over the back of the sofa): 
 " Do you remember that storm we had cross- 
 ing the Channel when we went over to the 
 continent?" 
 
 Mrs. S. {shuddering): " Shall I ever forget 
 it? I thought I should never see land again. 
 But you — I will say that for you— you were 
 not a bit frightened." 
 
 Mr. S. {laughing lightly'): "Frightened? 
 There was only a capful of wind." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "It ruffled the feathers in my cap, 
 I can tell you; and I was glad to get my foot 
 on shore again. I did enjoy my first dinner 
 in Paris : you hadn't any idea where Worth's 
 was, but you knew all the good restaurants." 
 
47 
 
 Mr. S. : "They give you filthy things to 
 eat in Paris, if you don't know where to go." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Yes, we had a good time in 
 Paris then." 
 
 Mr. S.: " And in Switzerland." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "Yes, we had a good time in 
 Switzerland too." 
 
 Mr. S. : "It was very jolly, Paris and Swit- 
 zerland, and all that. We were happy then, 
 weren't we?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "I suppose so." 
 
 Mr. S. {suddenly): "That's what I say! 
 Well, now, why shouldn't we be happy 
 again? You know I always loved you." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "I used to think so." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Think so again, can't you?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "I don't know." 
 
 Mr. S.: "And you loved me then, when 
 we were on our honey -moon and wedding 
 trip, and all that, you know. Is all that 
 love gone? Don't you love me at all now? 
 [Pause.'] You don't hate me, do you? You 
 say sharp things to me, but I don't mind 
 
48 
 
 that, you know, I've got a tough hide of 
 my own, and I don't mind it. Besides, I 
 know you don't mean anything by it. Kow 
 come, let's have a fresh start, and see if we 
 can't get off all together this time. It's odds 
 we make a better match of it now than we 
 did at the first meeting. We got along first 
 rate in Paris and Switzerland. I've got to 
 go to San Francisco to-morrow. Come with 
 me." 
 
 Mrs.S.: '' Oh, I can't." 
 
 Mr. S. : " Come with me, and we'll have a 
 second wedding trip and honey-moon and all 
 that. It '11 be better than the first time of 
 asking. Come." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "1 can't, I can't. Oh, what 
 would people say?" 
 
 Mr. S. : " Damn people ! Who cares what 
 they say? They say too much always. It's 
 all right for husband and wife to go off trav- 
 elling together, isn't it? And you are my 
 wife, aren't you, Kitty?" 
 
 Mrs.S.: "Am I? Am I now? Perhaps 
 
 3 
 I 
 
49 
 
 the judge has made up his mind by this 
 time." 
 
 Mr. S. : " The divorce? I forgot about the 
 divorce! We can stop the divorce, can't 
 we?" 
 
 Mrs, S. {tlioughtfully) : "I suppose so. 
 [Rising and facing 1iim.'\ So you think you 
 are in love with me still ? I doubt it. I 
 don't believe it. It's all a delusion on your 
 part. And I'm a delusion too." 
 
 Mr. S. {coming forward to her) : "I'd like 
 to hug that delusion. [Putting Ms arm about 
 her.l Say you will withdraw the suit." 
 
 Mrs. S. {escaping from Mm): "I can't, I 
 can't — but you may, if you insist." 
 
 Mr. S. {following lier): "It isn't my suit, 
 you know. I'm not going to court to com- 
 pel you to support me, am I?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "Of course that was only an ex- 
 cuse." 
 
 Mr. S. : "It isn't a good excuse, now. I'm 
 ready to support you." 
 
 [With his arm about her again. 
 
50 
 
 Mrs. S. : "But if you did take me off 
 to San Francisco, tlie judge might divorce 
 us Tvliile we were on our second lioney- 
 moon." 
 
 Mr. S.: "That's what I say, don't you 
 know. You must withdraw the suit." 
 Mrs. S.: " How can I ?" 
 
 [Messenger -hoy is seen through windows. 
 He stands before the door, and rings 
 hell. 
 Mrs. S. {starting): "What's that? [With 
 hand to heart.'] It's a messenger-boy! He 
 has a telegram ! Perhaps the judge has 
 made up his mind." 
 Mr. S.: "Perhaps he has." 
 Mrs. S. : "I'm certain it's the decision — 
 absolutely certain. And Mr. Hitchcock said 
 he would telegraph me at once." 
 
 [Door opens, and messenger -hoy disap- 
 pears in house. 
 Mrs. S. : "I know now how a person feels 
 when he is waiting for the verdict." 
 Mr. S. : "It is awkward, isn't it? — deuced 
 
51 
 
 awkward. But I shall be glad to know 
 whether we are man and wife or not." 
 [Mary enters, with telegram on a salver. 
 
 Mary: ** A telegram for you, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. S. {taking it): " I don't dare to know 
 my fate." [Mary exit. 
 
 Mr. S. : "Don't hesitate. You might as 
 well get it over as soon as you can. Have 
 your tooth out at once if it aches. I always 
 do." 
 
 Mrs. S. {teai's open envelope, reads telegram, 
 and drops her arm): "So that is settled." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Is there a decision?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Yes." 
 
 [^Holding out the telegram to him. 
 
 Mr. S. {taking it): "Let's see. Really, I'm 
 a bit nervous myself. [Meads.] 'Court 
 granted your application this afternoon. You 
 are again a free woman. [Stops and looks at 
 Mrs. S.] I congratulate you on being sepa- 
 rated from the brute who has made you so 
 miserable. Will bring down papers to-mor- 
 row. Richard Hitchcock.' " 
 
 7 
 
52 
 
 Mrs. S. {snatching telegram): "1 didn't 
 mean you to read it all." 
 
 Mr. S. {indignantly): "He didn't mean 
 me to read it either. You can let me go, 
 can't you? Now that Hitchcock has done 
 what you wanted him to do. I knew he'd 
 do anything for you !" 
 
 Mrs. S. {turning suddenly, with change of 
 manner): " What do you mean by that?" 
 
 Mr. S. {shrinking back a little) : ' ' He's a 
 friend of yours, isn't he?" 
 
 Mrs. S. {insisting, and with rising temper): 
 "That isn't what you mean. You know it 
 isn't!" 
 
 Mr. S.: "Come, now, don't be so sharp 
 on a fellow — don't. I meant what I said, 
 didn't I? He's your lawyer, this Hitchcock, 
 isn't he? And he's got to do what you tell 
 him." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "But that isn't all you meant. 
 You forget that I know your ways of old." 
 
 Mr. S. : "I say, now, don't let's dig up old 
 bones." 
 
53 
 
 Mrs. S. : "And you said it in time, fortu- 
 nately, I might have been fool enough to 
 listen to you again. But I'm not going to 
 make myself the victim of your absurd sus- 
 picions a second time." 
 
 Mr. S.: "Suspicions?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : "I'm not going to suffer again 
 from your ridiculous jealousy." 
 
 Mr. S. : "Jealousy? I say, now, this isn't 
 a joke!" 
 
 Mrs. S. {coming up close and looking him in 
 the eye): "Do you dare to tell me that you 
 did not intend to insinuate that I had been 
 flirting with Mr. Hitchcock?" 
 
 Mx. ^. {taken aback): "I? I suggest that? 
 Nothing of the sort, I assure you." 
 
 Mrs. S. {turning away from him): "Don't 
 be a hypocrite too— don't ! Don't try to sneak 
 out of it. To be suspicious and jealous is 
 bad enough, but you might at least be frank 
 about it." 
 
 Mr. S. : " Oh, I say, this is really too bad, 
 you know. I didn't say anything about 
 
54 
 
 this Hitchcock; I didn't mean to insinuate 
 anything; I wasn't even thinking about his 
 attentions to you. I wasn't indeed. [Pause.] 
 Come to think of it, though, he took your 
 case up eagerly, I'm told, and I know he 
 pitched into me in court. He pitched in 
 pretty strong, too — didn't he?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: "He had to tell the truth about 
 you— didn't he?" 
 
 Mr. S.: "I suppose the fellow was glad 
 of a chance to get even with me. He knew 
 you before you were married, and I doubt he 
 has ever forgiven me for cutting him out." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "There 5^ou go again! That's 
 the way you always are. You object now 
 to the friends of my childhood. I wonder 
 what next. I suppose you won't want me 
 to see my own brother soon !" 
 
 Mr. S. {laughing harshly): " I don't mind 
 your seeing him, but I shouldn't grieve if I 
 never laid eyes on him again." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "That's unworthy of you. Oh, 
 I know what you are going to say." 
 
55 
 
 Mr. S. : " I'm not going to say anything." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "You are going to say that my 
 brother has called on you at the office and 
 at the club, perhaps a little flushed with 
 wine." 
 
 Mr. S. : " Flushed with wine? He couldn't 
 stand straight. He hung around the neck of 
 the club porter." 
 
 Mrs. S. : " I've no doubt it is true—although 
 of course you exaggerate; but it isn't nice of 
 you to say it." 
 
 Mr. S.: "I didn't say it, did I?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : "I've never accused your father 
 or your mother of drinking." 
 
 Mr. S. : " Come, now, I say — " 
 
 Mrs. S. {dropping in chaii\ and wiping eyes 
 with handkerchief)'. "Before we had been 
 married a month, I saw you didn't under- 
 stand me." 
 
 Mr. S. {impatiently walking up and down): 
 " I don't understand you now, that's clear." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "I had been writing to a friend 
 this very afternoon [taking letter out of 
 
56 
 
 pocket], and I told her 3'ou had always been 
 a brute to me." 
 
 Mr. S. : " Oh, you told her that, did you?" 
 
 Mrs. S. : ''Do you doubt me again? 
 [Holding out letter.'] See for yourself." 
 
 Mr. S.: " Thanks, but I don't care to see 
 for myself." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "I told her there was not merely 
 a personal disagreement between us; there 
 was also a total international incompatibili- 
 ty. No Englishman could make an Ameri- 
 can woman happy; and that I never expected 
 to set eyes on you again, and that I didn't 
 want to. [Looking omr letter.] I thought 
 I wrote her that. But that must have been 
 in a letter to somebody else." 
 
 [Putting letter in pocket. 
 
 Mr. S. {sharply)'. " If there are two women 
 you've been telling you don't want to see 
 me again, there's no use my stopping here 
 any longer." 
 
 Mrs. S.: "Certainly not." 
 
 Mr. S. {taking hat and gloves): "I'm going 
 
5T 
 
 to San Francisco to-morrow. It's odds I 
 never see you again, you know." 
 
 Mrs. S.: " True. You will probably never 
 see me again. Well, I wish you a pleasant 
 journey, Mr. Stanyhurst." 
 
 Mr. S. : "And I wisli you a good-after- 
 noon, Mrs, Van Kortlandt." 
 
 Mrs. S. {mechanically re'peating) \ "Mrs. 
 Van Kortlandt ?" 
 
 [Mr. S. how8 automatically, but sJie does 
 
 not look at liim as he leaves the room. 
 [Mrs. S. stands silent as he is seen passing 
 the windows. As he goes out of sight 
 she glances up quickly. 
 
[Mrs. S. suddenly takes the letter from her 
 pocket, and goes to the desk. 
 Mrs. S. {writing): "'P.S.— The decision 
 has just been rendered, and I'm a single wo- 
 man again. Congratulate me.' " 
 
 \^8he puts the letter in the envelope, seals 
 it, leaves it on the desk as she rises, 
 crosses to sofa, turns and looks up 
 at window, and thsn drops on sofa, 
 burying her face in her handkerchief 
 IMary enters, followed by the messenger- 
 boy. 
 Mary: "Is there any answer to that tele- 
 gram, ma'am? The boy is waiting." 
 
 Mrs. S. (automatically) : ' ' The boy is wait- 
 ing. [Suddenly spiinging to her feet.] Where 
 is the boy?" 
 Boy: "I'm here." 
 
69 
 
 Mrs. S. {seizing boy and rusJiing him to the 
 window, which she throws open): "Boy, do 
 you see that geutlemaa there? The one 
 walking so fast?" 
 
 Boy {out oil piazza): "The one with the 
 cane and the dicer? I see him." 
 
 Mrs. S. : "Then run after him quick and 
 tell him to come back — " 
 
 Boy: "All right." [Exit. 
 
 Mrs. S. {half out on piazza): "Tell him 
 I've changed my mind ! Tell him there 
 was something I forgot to say to him. Tell 
 him — Oh, he can tell him what he likes, so 
 long as he brings him back. \_Pause.'\ The 
 boy has caught him. \_Pause.'] He's com- 
 ing 1 [Pause. Then suddenly she leaves win- 
 dow and goes to sofa, standing behind it, with 
 her back to the window.'] And what shall I 
 say to him when he comes?" [Pause. 
 
 Boy {at window): " Here he is. I got him 
 easy." 
 
 Mr. S. {at window): "Kitty! [Stepping 
 inside.'] Did you send for me?" 
 
60 
 
 Mrs. S. : "No. {^Looking around.'] Oh, 
 is that you?" 
 
 Mr. S. : " You sent for me. Did you want 
 to ask me something?" 
 
 Mrs. S.: ''Did I? Yes; I wanted to ask 
 you how long it will take us to go to San 
 Francisco. " 
 
 And so the curtain falls, with Mr. Stany- 
 hurst's arm about Mrs. Stanyhurst, and with 
 Mary and the messenger-boy looking at them 
 wonderingly. 
 
 THE END. 
 
BY BRANDER MATTHEWS. 
 
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