Successful Rural Plays A Strong List From Which to Select Your Next Play FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur Lewis Tubes. For five male and six female characters. Time of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New Yorker. Philip's mother wants him to marry a society woman, and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by intercepting a letter from Philip to Flora. She agrees to marry Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple plot, but full of speeches and situations that sway an audience alternately to tears and to laughter. Price, 25 cents. HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur Lewis Tubes. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior — same for all four acts. Costumes, modern. One of the strongest plays Mr. Tubbs has written. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave Ruth. Harold, who docs not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost him also. Then he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. Price 25 cents. THE OLD NE^W HAMPSHIRE HOME. A New England Drama in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For seven males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a play everybody understands and likes. Price, 25 cents. THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy in Three Acts, by Fr.\nk Dumont. For five males and four females. Time, two hours. Rural costumes. Scenes rural ex- terior and interior. An adveaturer obtains a large sum of money from a farm house thr«fL»gK the intimidation of the farmer's niece, whose husband he ckJims to be. Her escapes from the wiles of the villain and Ws female accomplice are both starting and novel. Price, 15 cents. A "WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. Price 15 cents. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA THE AMATEURS A Burlesque iit One Act By RAYMOND M. ROBINSON PHILADELPHIA THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 1914 Copyright 1914 by The Penn Publishing Company The Amateurs. JUL 15 1914 0)C1.D 37572 TMP96-006688 The Amateurs Nathaniel Mossborough Rosalind Mossborough Oliver Douglass . Henry Douglass . Jenkins . CHARACTERS a retired business vian ids daugliter . lier fiinice an old acquaintance . the butler Also in Evidence The Prompter The Orchestra Leader A Couple of Stage Hands Time of Playing: — Thirty Minutes Notice to Professionals This play is published for amateur use only. Professionals are forbidden to use it except by permission of the author, who may be addressed in care of the publishers. STORY OF THE PLAY This is an absurd little comedy that pokes fun at the average amateur performance. The orchestra misses its cue, the curtain sticks or rises too soon, the lights go wrong, the actors forget their lines and cues, mix up their speeches and commit all the other amateur sins, to the intense amusement of the audience. The play they give is a ridiculously burlesqued bit of melodrama. Rosalind, daughter of Nathaniel Mossborough, is about to marry Oliver Douglass, when his father turns up with an old secret and threatens Natlianiel's ruin unless bought off. He is touched by Rosalind's singing, discovers she is marrying his own son and decides not to blast their happiness. COSTUMES Nathaniel Mossborough. A portly old gentleman in cape and silk hat. His make-up is conspicuous by the white wig and side whiskers, and the Skye-terrier eyebrows. Rosalind. Street suit with furs and muff. Oliver. A straw hat and a slick. Henry Douglass. A shabbily dressed man of middle age. The traditional stage villain, dark complexioned, drooping moustache, with a soft black hat pulled well over his eyes. Jenkins. Butler's livery. All the make-ups should be a little overdone. PROPERTIES Newspaper, a clock that will strike, lamp, box of matches, box of cigarettes, pnper money, paper copy of the play, bouquet of artificial flowers. NOTE The idea being to burlesque an amateur performance, the supposed mistakes may be made as absurd as possible. Make them plainly and deliberately so that the audience will be sure to get the point of each. It will be found best, however, not to empliasize too much the usual amateur slowness of performance. 4 The Amateurs SCENE. — The library in Nathaniel Mossborough's house. A conventional stas[e library — well-worn stock scenery of the green and gold variety. Doors R. and L., and a wider doorway at the back, hung with portieres — any sufficiently inharmonious color will do. Assorted furniture placed about the room, including a table at the right, on ivhich is a reading lamp fed by a cord run- ning plainly visible to a floor plug somewhere off stage. (^Before the curtain rises a bell rings. Silence a moment, then it is repeated. Finally the stage manager, who plays Oliver Douglass, peers from behind the curtaiti and calls to the orchestra leader in an audible whisper.') Oliver. Ready for the overture. Didn't you hear the bell? {The orchestra finishes the overture and relapses into silence. Oliver's head appears again.) Give 'em another. We ain't quite ready. Jimmy ain't made up yet. (^He zaithdraivs and the orchestra starts a^ain on its over- ture. Before it is finished the footlights flash on and the curtain rises about four feet and sticks. Oliver heard off .) Come on, you, pull up that curtain ! The Voice of a Stage Hand. I can't ; it's stuck ! {After a few jerks the curtain rises. Jenkins is seated by the table smoking a cigarette and reading the paper. The orchestra continues its overture. Jenkins makes two or three ineffectual attempts to be heard, bes^ins to look wor- ried, tries to signal the leader, and finally looks off stage appealingly. Oliver appears again and catches the con- ductor'' s eye.') « 5 6 THE AMATEURS Oliver. Shut up ! ( The orchestra stops suddenly, all bat the trombone, which continues alone for a couple of measures, until conscious of its prominence.) Jenkins. Hi wish the master wouldn't smoke these beastly Turkish cigarettes. They bite my tongue so that Hi can't 'ardly get no henjoyment hout hof them. {Reads the newspaper.) Hm — Hi see by the hevening paper that Suffragette ran the second 'eat in two ten an' a quarter yesterday. Now if Hi'd only laid the little wager as Hi'd a mind to do, why, by now Hi'd *a' been just so much the richer. {^Throws down the paper.) Hi was never cut hout for a servant. Hit mortifies me so to 'ave to take horders. Hi've a proud 'eart, Hi 'ave, hunder me 'umble liver — livery. {^He rises and goes up stage, calling off in an audible voice.) House lights haven't been turned off yet. Oliver {heard off). Turn out the house lights. {All the stage lights go out.) No, no, no ! House lights ! {House lights go out.) Put those stage lights on again ! {fl^lie house lights come on while the stage remains in dark- ness. Oliver starts to rush across the stage in a fury. When he is half-way across, the house lights go out and the stage lights come on. Oliver ducks back out of sight ; out- side.) Fool ! Go on ! Jenkins. Hi've a proud 'eart under me livery. {At back.) Hi wonder what can be keepin' the master. 'E's late to-night. Six o'clock a'ready. {A clock outside strikes eight.) Six o'clock a'ready, an' 'e ain't 'ere yet. Ah ! Hi must light the reading lamp. {He approaches the lamp and scratches a match, but the stage electrician apparently beats him to it, for the lamp lights itself before Jenkins has time to apply the match.) There, that's a bit cheerfuUer. {Enter Rosalind Mossborough and Oliver.) Oliver. But, Rosy dear. Rosalind. Don't call me Rosy ; I delest it ! Oliver. But, dearest Rosalind. Hush, Jenkins — (Jenkins starts as if sur- prised ) has papa returned from his walk yet ? Jenkins. Not yet, my lady. THE AMATEURS 7 Rosalind. Strange ; what can be detaining him ? (Sniffing.^ Jenkins, have you been smoking my father's cigarettes again ? Jenkins. Why, no (^Removes ike cigarette from his lips and tries to blozv out the Sfiioke so that it won' t be seen.) No'm. Rosalind. Jenkins ! Jenkins. No, m'ln, I never Rosalind. That will do, Jenkins. Jenkins. Yes, m'm. Rosalind. You may go, Jenkins. Jenkins. Very well, m'm. {He starts out door l., corrects himself ajid makes for the opposite door.') Rosalind. Oh, Jenkins Jenkins {turning back). Yes, m'm. Rosalind. We dine at seven. Jenkins. Very well, m'm. {Going out. ^ Rosalind. Oh, Jenkins Jenkins {turning back). Yes, m'm. Rosalind. If any one calls, I am out. Jenkins. Very well, m'm. {Goitig out.) Rosalind. Oh, Jenkins Jenkins {turning back). Yes, m'm. Rosalind. I — er — er — that is all ; you may go. (Jen- kins remains motionless.) You may go. (Jenkins re- mains motionless.) You — you may go. Jenkins {in an aside). That's not my cue. Rosalind {becoming very Jiervotts). You — you Olivek {7viih significant emphasis). You may go, Jen- kins. (Oliver adds force to the tuords with emphatic ges- tures. ]e^kins retires reluctant/y.) Dearest Rosamond — er — Rosalind, I have seen your father. Rosalind {removing her hat and furs and throiving them on a chair). You have ? What did he say, tell me ! Oliver. Well, I didn't exactly ask for your hand, you know. (Oliver stands his stick in the corner ; it promptly falls to the floor.) Rosalind. You didn't? S THE AMATEURS Oliver. No, not exactly. I made him comprehend what I was attempting to convey to him, however. J think he understands our attitude toward each other. He — he said {He sidles toward the chair a7id sits on the hat. He rises quickly. ) D — n ! Rosalind {involuntarily.') Oh ! (Olive i< sits carefully on the edge of the chair.) Oliver. He said httle, but he was extremely agreeable and oh {rising), Rosalind, my own, I know he will welcome me as his son-in-law when he realizes that we love each other so dearly. Rosalind. I feel sure that he will ; and we will {rising) be happy with each other, won't we ? {She goes to hitti at the end of the speech.) Oliver. Happy as the day is long, my precious; happy Rosalind. And you will always Oliver. happy as two humming birds in their downy nest ; happy • Rosalind. And you will Oliver. happy as the moonbeams that rip — {grop- ing for her hands) ripple on the tiny wavelets ; happy as Rosalind. And you Oliver. as the violets, sleepmg in their mossy dells, my sweetheart. {An expectant pause ; then Rosalind, suddenly recognizing her cue, shouts.) Rosalind. And you will always love me, won't you? Oliver. Forever and ever. {They embrace. Enter Hon. Nathaniel Mossborough.) Nathaniel. Ahem ! {The lovers separate, after Rosalind disentangles her hair from Oliver's scarf-pin.) Rosalind. Oh, is it you, daddy? THE AMATEURS 9 (Nathaniel removes his cape and hat and holds them for the butler to take. The butler is missing.) Nathaniel. I am not late for dinner. 1 hope I was detained. Has any one called ? (Nathaniel has 710 very intelligent conception of the mean- ing of his lines, although he tries his best to be dramatic. ) Rosalind. No one while I have been here, (Nathaniel's arm begins to tire and he turns as if expect- ing to find Jenkins. Not finding him he peers off stage anxiously. Jenkins r us lies on abruptly, seizes the cape, drops tlie hat, recovers it and rushes out.) Nathaniel, 1 expected no one. Well, Jenkins, what is Oh ! (Jenkins reenters hastily.) Er — well, Jen- kins, what is it ? Jenkins (speaking at the same time). Hif you please (Both stop abruptly ; each waits for the other to speak. After an awkward pause both start again.) Nathaniel. Well, Jenkins Jenkins. Hif you please (^Another abrupt stop. Then Jenkins tries once more.) Hif you please, sir, there's a man outside wants to see you. Nathaniel. A man to see you? Er — see me? Who is he ? Jenkins. 'E wouldn't give 'is name, sir. Said it was hurgent. Nathaniel. Hurgent? Hurgent? (He pronounces the word as if he thought it was the man'' s name.) Sliow him in. (Exit Jenkins. Nathaniel sits at the table.) Who can it be at this hour? Rosalind. I hope he won't stay. Nathaniel. Never fear, my child. You will excuse me? (Rosalind and Oliver go out l., closing the door after them. When they are gone Jenkins ushers in Henry Douglass. He turns to make sure tliat Jenkins has gone, then starts toward the door L. His foot lands on Oliver's fallen cane and he is sent sprciivling on all fours. II is hat 10 THE AMATEURS drops off but is quickly recovered, and jammed down Ofito his head. Henry />o in is to the door L.) Douglass. Nathaniel. Douglass. Nathaniel. Douglass. Mossborough. Nathaniel. Douglass. Who was that ? A friend. Why do you ask ? No matter; 'twas but a passing fancy. And now You do not ask me to be seated, Nat]ianiel You speak as though you knew me. As though I knew you ! Hah ! I know you. Aye, I know you well, Nathaniel Mossborough. Nathaniel. Who and what are you ? Douglass. You ask that, Nathaniel Mossborough ? Nathaniel. That voice ! Douglass. You recognize that voice, eh ? Nathaniel. No, no, it cannot be (Douglas yVr^i- off his liat and faces Nathaniel across the table. A lock of red hair has slipped from under his wig.^ Douglass, you ! Aye, Henry Douglass. I thought you were dead. I am not dead. Why have you come to me? Why? Because I am in trouble. Henry I need And you expect me to give you hel and I come to you for it. Douglass Nathaniel. Douglass. Nathaniel. Douglass. help Nathaniel. Douglass. Nathaniel. And you expect me to give you help? Douglass. Nathaniel, years ago we were near friends. We quarreled as friends will and parted. Each went his way. You have prospered. Fortune has smiled less kindly on me. I have passed through many adventures, faced many a hardship. Nathaniel, I have returned once more to the old home town where we were boys together. I am in trouble. I ask your aid. Nathaniel. Explain yourself, Henry Douglass. Douglass. I cannot explain. Nathaniel. You cannot? Douglass. I cannot explain. Nathaniel. You cannot ? Douglass. I cannot explain. Nathaniel. You — er — you THE AMATEURS II Douglass. I cannot ex The Prompter. Ask me nothing. Douglass {looking inquisitively off ■l.'). Huh? The Prompter. Ask me nothing. (Douglass walks across to the prompt side. The prompter repeats the line. Douglass returns to his position with a relieved air.^ Douglass. Oh ! Ask me nothing. I can tell )'0U nothing. Nathaniel. Then how can I help you ? Douglass. I must have one hundred dollars at once. Nathaniel. One hundred dollars ! Douglass. At once. Nathaniel. What you ask is impossible. Douglass. Bah ! Nothing is impossible to a man in your position. Yjpu must let me have it. Nathaniel. Must? Douglass. You dare not refuse. Nathaniel. Dare not ! Who are you that should speak thus to me? Listen, Henry Douglass. Years ago you left me in anger. You went your way, I went mine. Now after these years you come to me to beg tliat which you in your shiftnessless — shiftlessness — have failed to earn honestly. Douglass. Honestly? The word brings the scurl of corn — curl of scorn — to my lip. Honestly ! You speak that word who stole from my heart that which was dearest in the whole world to me — the love of a good woman. Nathaniel. You married anotiier. Douglass. Aye, but the marriage that soothed the wound effaced not the scar, Nathaniel Mossborough. I need one hundred dollars. You cannot refuse me. Nathaniel. I do refuse you. Douglass. You mean that ? N/\THANIEL. I do. {He rises.) Douglass. Wait. (Douglass leans across the table. Nathaniel sits down a^ain.) 1 have heard it said that you pride yourself on the fact that you founded your fortune on ten dollars. Nathaniel. Well ? Douglass. Where did you get that ten dollars? Nathaniel. Whe-where? 12 THE AMATEURS Douglass {pointing his finger at him). Yes, Nathaniel, where did you get that ten dollars? Nathaniel. I — I earned it. Douglass. • You lie ! Nathaniel. What? Douglass. Listen. It is a Sunday in June. The scene is the little village church. The sermon is over. The ushers, two young men, are taking up the collection. Near the back of the church sits a stranger, a rich traveler, who has dropped into the service. As the plate reaches him he places in it a ten dollar bill, folded small. Only two people saw the act to recognize the denomination of the bill. They were the two ushers. When the collection was counted after the service the amount was announced as four dollars and thirteen cents. Who, then, stole the ten dollars? The only person who had the opportunity to — the usher who held the plate. Nathaniel, you were that usher I Nathaniel, Ah ! You rave ! Douglass. You stole the ten dollars ! I know, for I was the other usher. Nathaniel. You can't prove it. Douglass. Can't I? Wait. In the course of your first memorable business deal which marked the beginning of your fortune I — {(iramatically) I got that ten dollar bill, Nathaniel. You I Douglass. Aye. Nathaniel {tremulotisly). Henry, did you give it back to the church ? Douglass. I did not, I kept it for evidence. {He produces a ten dollar bill, which he thrusts tinder Na- thaniel's 7iose. Nathaniel falls back in his chair. Ins eyes staring, panting tragically. Douglass replaces the money in his pocket.) Now will you let me have the money? Or will you have the truth spread before the public ? Nathaniel. No I Douglass, Then I will cry out the story from the housetops. Nathaniel, You dare not. Douglass. I dare anything ! I am a desperate man. Nathaniel {i?t horror). A convict ? Douglass {aside). We ain't got to that yet. Nathaniel {uncertainly). A — a convict ? THE AMATEURS I3 Douglass (with a desperate attempt to pick up the broken dialogue). 1 — 1 am a convict (He begins to back toward the prompter, still facing Nathaniel.) 1 am any- thing I dare — 1 mean 1 dare — I {Still keeping his eyes on the old man and talking wildly to cover his con- fusion Douglass backs squarely into tlie scenery with a crash. He frantically seizes tJie sivaying pieces to prevent their falling, while the arms of a stage hand reacJi out to jerk them back into place.') 1 — I am — I {To the prompter.) Give me my line. The Prompter. Gosh, I've lost the place ! Douglass {loudly). Gosh, I've lost the place No ! The convict {To the prompter.) What the devil comes next ? The Prompter. The police Douglass {suddenly). Aye, Henry Douglass, — no — aye, Nathaniel Mossborough, I am a convict. The police are even now at my heels. Give me the money Nathaniel. Never ! Douglass. You defy me ? Nathaniel. No ! Yes ! Douglass. Then by heaven Nathaniel {rising). Leave my house ! Douglass. You dare Nathaniel. Leave my house ! I am an old man, but you have stirred my anger ! (Nathaniel takes a step toward Douglass. They struggle and Douglass drops to the floor. When he rises one side of his moustache has falle7i off, evidently without his kno7v ledge.) Douglass. I could kill you for this ! Rosalind {outside). Pa-pah ! Douglass. Who was that ? Nathaniel. My daughter. Douglass. You have a daughter? I must not be seen here. Hide me. {He dives toward the door l. and crashes into Or.iVER as the latter enters follozved by Rosalind. Douglass has- tily turns and dashes out the opposite side.) Oliver. I beg your pardon. I ilionght you spoke. H THE AMATEURS Nathaniel. No, I — I was talking to Jenkins. Oliver. But Jenkins has gone out to mail a letter for me. Nathaniel. Yes, I sent him. Rosalind. Has your company gone ? Nathaniel. Yes, quite gone, my dear, quite gone. But you must excuse me a moment longer. 1 Rosalind. But, papa Nathaniel. Just a moment. {He succeeds in steering Rosalind aiid Oliver out of the roo7n, tlien crosses to the opposite door where Douglass went out.) Come in, Henry Douglass. (Douglass enters by the door at the back, while Nathaniel stands as if expecting him to enter R.) Douglass. Hum ! (Nathaniel, startled, turns to find Douglass at his elbow.) Nathaniel. Come in, Henry Douglass. Douglass. That young man, who was he ? Nathaniel. A friend of my daughter's. Douglass. His name ? Nathaniel. By a strange coincidence the same as yours, Douglass. Douglass. Is't possible ! A friend of your daughter's? No more than a friend ? Nathaniel. I might say my daughter's affiansayed. Douglass. Nathaniel, is not your pride sorely tried to see your daughter afifiansayed to such a man ? Nathaniel. Such a man ? Douglass. To the son of such a man ? A son of a Nathaniel. What do you mean, Henry Douglass? Douglass. A son of a Nathaniel. You know not whereof you speak. The lad's father is dead these many years. Douglass. Dead ? Hah ! So I am dead, am I ? Nathaniel. You ! Douglass. • Aye — I. Oliver Douglass is my son. Nathaniel. Your son ? Douglass. How proud ynn will be to have the world know that your daughter married the son of a convict. THE AMATEURS I5 Nathaniel. No, no Douglass. Then listen. Give me the money I ask for and I will go — far away, never to return. To the world I will be as one dead. Come, Nathaniel, for your daughter's sake. Nathaniel {greatly perturbed^. No — no (Douglass ivaiks to the back of the stage and turns at the door.^ Douglass. You still refuse ? Nathaniel. 1 must. Douglass. Then, Nathaniel Mossborough, the world shall know that you are a church robber, that your daughter is the wife of the son of a tliief, a fugitive, a convict ! Re- venge shall be mine ! Upon your head shall be heaped the fires of shame and dishonor. Long have 1 waited for this hour, but now the flood-gates are opened to fan into flame the embers of anger that have these years slumbered in my heart. You scorn to lend a helping hand to me, an old friend. Very well. But wait ! {He turns to go.) ' Nathaniel. Henry — Henry — you would not ruin me? Douglass. That 1 would. Twenty-five years ago you took the light out of my life. This night 1 hold the cards. Nathaniel. Henry — oh, Henry (Douglass is about to go when Rosalind /;/ the next room begins to sitig the ^^ Last Rose of Summer." He pauses attd listens.) Douglass (///V voice breaking). 'Tis her mother's voice. {Both 7tien listen, motionless. As she finishes Nathaniel breaks dotvn and sobs on the table. Douglass walks to him and touches him on the shoulder.) Nathaniel, forgive me. The sound of that voice stirs within me all the man- hood I have got left. There is no longer anger in my heart. . My threats die in my throat. Henry, — 1 mean Nathaniel — I mean — yes, Nathaniel — I am going far away. You will never see me again. My son thinks me dead. It is better so. {He goes to the door.) Her mother's voice ! {The words end in a tragic gulp as he staggers blindly off. Nathaniel ra/j-,?^- his head to find him gone. He strug- gles to his feet ^) l6 THE AMATEURS Nathaniel. Henry — Henry (^E liter Rosalind and Oliver. Oliver carries a copy of the play in which he is frantically looking for his cue. Suddenly conscious of what he is doing he passes the book to a /land which readies out to receive it.') Rosalind. Has your company gone, daddy? Nathaniel. Yes, my child, quite gone. Rosalind. Who was it? Nathaniel. Only an old friend, my dear. Rosalind. I'm glad he's gone. And may I ask Oliver to stay to dinner, daddy?' Nathaniel. If you want him, my dear. Rosalind {shyly). I — I do want him, papa. {They seek each other'' s hands.) . Oliver. She says she does. Nathaniel. Bless you, my children. And you promise me to be good to her, Oliver ? Oliver {fervently). 1 do ! {The men clasp hands.) Nathaniel. You will, I know. You are like your father. Oliver. You knew my father? Nathaniel. Years ago. He was a good man. (Jenkins enters l.. finds lie is in tiie wrong entrance, backs out anil reappears at tlie center door.) Jenkins. Dinner is served. {The orchestra strikes up the wedding march from " LoJieri- ^riri " a7id Rosalind and Oliver march out followed by Nathaniel and Jenkins. The curtain falls.) {The curtain rises again for ilie encore. The members of the cast all reappear, line up and bo7v. The orchestra leader passes up a hunch of floivers. The actors look at each other to see who shall go for it. Nathaniel and Oliver start together, then each steps back to his place to allow the other to ^o. After a pause both start again. This time Oliver heats Nathaniel to the footliohts and accepts the floivers, smiling and lionnng to the audience.) THE AMATEURS 17 The Leader of the Orchestra. That ain't for you. Oliver (/// surprise). Huh ? The Leader. It's for her. {Points to Rosalind.) Oliver. Oh ! (^He gives the flowers to Rosalind, who smiles and bows graciously. The curtain falls. Nathaniel is left be- tween the curtain and the footlights, and tries frantically to find his way back.) Nathaniel. Hey ! Pull up that curtain ! {The curtain rises and Nathaniel disappears in the wings. The actors are not expecting another curtain call. Doug- lass is removing his wig. Scene-shifters are clearing the stage. Rosalind is congratulating Douglass.) Rosalind. Say, you were perfectly grand ! Oh, gee ! {They hurriedly line up and boiv as the curtain descends for the last time.) curtain Unusually Good Entertainments Read One or More of These Before Deciding on Your Next Program GRADUATION DAY AT "WOOD HILIi SCHOOIi. An Entertainment in Two Acts, by Ward Macauley. For six males and four females, with several minor parts. _ Time of playing, two hours. Modern costumes. Simple interior scenes; may be presented in a hall without scenery. The unusual com- bination of a real "entertainment," including music, recitations, etc., with an interesting love story. The graduation exercises include short speeches, recitations, songs, funny interruptions, and a comical speech by a country school trustee. Price, 15 cents. EXAMINATION DAY AT WOOD HILL SCHOOL. An Entertainment in One Act, by Ward Macauley. Eight male and six female characters, with minor parts. Plays one hour. Scene, an easy interior, or may be given without scenery. Cos- tumes, modern. Miss Marks, the teacher, refuses to marry a trustee, who threatens to discharge her. The examination in- cludes recitations and songs, and brings out many funny answers to questions. At the close Robert Coleman, an old lover, claims the teacher. Very easy and very effective. Price, 15 cents. BACK TO THE COUNTRY STORE. A Rural Enter- tainment in Three Acts, by Ward Macauley. For four male and five female characters, with some supers. Time, two hours. Two scenes, both easy interiors. Can be played effectively with- out scenery. Costumes, modern. All the principal parts are sure hits. Quigley Higginbotham, known as "Quig," a clerk in a country store, aspires to be a great author or singer and decides to try his fortunes in New York. The last scene is in Quig's home. He returns a failure but is offered a partnership in the country store. He pops the question in the midst of a surprise party given in his honor. Easy to do and very funny. Price, 15 cents. THE DISTRICT CONVENTION. A Farcical Sketch in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For eleven males and one female, or twelve males. Any number of other parts or super- numeraries may be added. Plays forty-five minutes. No special scenery is required, and the costumes and properties are all easy. The play shows an uproarious political nominating con- vention. The climax comes when a woman's rights cham- pion, captures the convention. There is a great chance to bur- lesque modern politics and to work in local gags. Every part will make a hit. Price, 15 cents. SI SLOCUM'S COUNTRY STORE. An Entertainment in One Act, by Frank Dumont. Eleven male and five female characters with supernumeraries. Several parts may be doubled. Plays one hour. Interior scene, or may be played without set scenery. Costumes, modern. The rehearsal for an entertain- ment in the village church gives plenty of opportunity for specialty work. A very jolly entertainment of the sort adapted • to almost any place or occasion. Price, 15 cents. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA Unusually Good Entertainments Read One or More of These Before Deciding on Your Next Program A SURPRISE PARTY AT BRINKLEY'S. An En- tertainment in One Scene, by Ward Macauley. Seven male and seven female characters. Interior scene, or may be given with- out scenery. Costumes, modern. Time, one hour. By the author of the popular successes, "Graduation Day at Wood Hill School," "Back to the Country Store," etc. The villagers have planned a birthday surprise party for Mary Brinkley, recently graduated from college. They all join in jolly games, songs, conundrums, etc., and Mary becomes engaged, which surprises the surprisers. The entertainm.ent is a sure success. Price, 15 cents^ JONES VS. JINKS. A Mock Trial in One Act, by Edward Mumford. Fifteen male and six female characters, with supernumeraries if desired. May be played all male. Many of the parts (members of the jury, etc.) are small. Scene, a simple interior ; may be played without scenery. Costumes, modern. Time of playing, one hour. This mock trial has many novel features, unusual characters and quick action. Nearly every character has a funny entrance and laughable lines. There are many rich parts, and fast fun throughout. Price, 15 cents. THE SIGHT-SEEING CAR. A Comedy Sketch in One Act, by Ernest M. Gould. For seven males, two females, or may be all male. Parts may be doubled, with quick changes, so that four persons may play the sketch. Time, forty-five minutes. Simple street scene. Costumes, modern. The superintendent of a sight-seeing automobile engages two men to run the machine. A Jew, a farmer, a fat lady and other humorous characters give them all kinds of trouble. This is a regular gat- ling-gun stream of rollicking repartee. Price, 15 cents. THE CASE OF SMYTHE VS. SMITH. An Original Mock Trial in One Act, by Frank Dumont. Eighteen males and two females, or may be all male. Plays about one hour. Scene, a county courtroom ; requires no scenery ; may be played in an ordinary hall. Costumes, modern. This entertainment is nearly perfect of its kind, and a sure success. It can be easily produced in any place or on any occasion, and provides almost any number of good parts. Price, 15 cents. THE OLD MAIDS' ASSOCIATION. A Farcical Enter- tainment in One Act, by Louise Latham Wilson. For thirteen females and one male. The male part may be played by a female, and the number of characters increased to twenty or more. Time, forty minutes. The play requires neither scenery nor properties, and very little in the way of costumes. Can easily be prepared in one or two rehearsals. Price, 25 cents. BARGAIN DAY AT BLOOMSTEIN'S. A Farcical Entertainment in One Act, by Edward Mumford. For five males and ten females, with supers. Interior scene. Costumes, mod- ern. Time, thirty minutes. The characters and the situations which arise from their endeavors to buy and sell make rapid-fire fun from start to finish. Price, 15 cents. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA Successful Plays for All Girls In Selecting Your Next Play Do Not Overlook This List YOUNG DOCTOR DEVINE. A Farce in Two Acts, by Mrs E J. H. Goodfellow. One of the most popular plays for girls. For nine female characters. _ Tmie in playing thirty minutes. Scenery, ordinary interior. Mod- ern costumes. Girls in a boarding-school, learning that a young doctor is coming to vaccinate all the pupils, eagerly con- sult each other as to the manner of fascinating the physician. When the doctor appears upon the scene the pupils discover that the physician is a female practitioner. Price, 15 cents. SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque in One Act, by Frank DUMONT. For eleven females. Time, thirty minutes. Costumes, fantastic gowns, or dominoes. Scene, interior. A grand expose of Masonry. Some women profess to learn the secrets of a Masonic lodge by hearing their husbands talk in their sleep, and they institute a similar organization. Price, lo cents. A COMMANDING POSITION. A Farcical Enter- tainment, by Amelia Sanford. For seven female char- acters and ten or more other ladies and children. Time, one hour. Costumes, modern. Scenes, easy interiors and one street scene Marian Young gets tired living with her aunt, Miss Skinflint. Slie decides to "attain a commanding position Marian tries hospital nursing, college settlement work and school teaching, but decides to go back to housework. Price, Id cents. HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For ten female characters. Time, half an hour. Scene, an easy interior Costumes modern. Mabel Sweetly has just become engaged to Harold, but it s tne deepest kind of a secret." Before announcing it they must win the approval of Harold's uncle, now in Europe or lose a possible ten thousand a year. At a tea Mabel meets her dearest friend. Maude sees Mabel has a secret, she coaxes and Mabel tells her But Maude lets out the secret in a few minutes to another friend and so the secret travels. Price, 15 cents. THE OXFORD AFFAIR. A Comedy in Three Acts, by Josephine H. Cobb and Jennie E. Paine. For eight female characters. Plays one hour and three-quarters^ ^'^on' of the iors at a seaside hotel. Costumes, modern. The action of the play is located at a summer resort. Alice G-'^ham in order to chaperon herself, poses as a widow, and Miss Oxford fir t clam her as a sister-in-law, then denounces her. The onerous duties of Miss Oxford, who attempts to serve as chaperon to Miss Howe and Miss Ashton in the face of many obstacles, furnish an evening of rare enjoyment. Price 15 cents. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA ^__ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS The Power of ||1H^^^^^ Expression and efficiency go hand i lilllillillllilllllllliil'«^ rru . , 016 103 918 4 * ihe power of clear and forceful expression brings confi- dence and poise at all times— in private gatherings, in public discussion, in society, in business. It is an invaluable asset to any man or woman. It can often be turned into money, but it is always a real joy. In learning to express thought, we learn to command thought itself, and thought is power. You can have this power if you will. Whoever has the power of clear expression is always sure of himself. The power of expression leads to: The ability to think "on your feet" Successful public speaking Effective recitals The mastery over other minds Social prominence Business success Efficiency in any undertaking Are these things worth while? They are all successfully taught at The National School of Elocution and Oratory, which during many years has de- veloped this power in hundreds of men and women. A catalogue giving full information as to how any of these accomplishments may be attained will be sent free on request. THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OF ELOCUTION AND ORATORY Parkway Building Philadelphia