PS 3503 IE 3 ii^r ;'.-■/■■' 't^'! « 5» •*•!,'" ^Iuh! :^r:i/ i!^ w.*'**!''! { \ V »' .^ ' ' I mm M m:mM CONGRESS ?' \:ii'\ nl ^ M' I 1^ i|' DDDD2'^01,74E I V mim f.i 1 !'i ♦ .0' '•^, V »'- ■*^o« •. ^-.^* .*^'' \/ :^^^'' ^- -^^ ^''^'''•- ^ l^'' . u / . ^^0^ ,40, ^^ ^^^ ^^-;^. ^^'y .* ^"^. '. ^ "^^^^ <^ .o««. <: <5, *' VVT* A <*■. »o. >* C .r^■« •^oV* '^^. -^Ad* BITS OF BACKGROUND IN ONE ACT PLAYS BY EMMA BEATRICE BRUNNER NEW YORK ALFRED A. KNOPF MCMXix COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY EMMA BEATRICE BRUNNER In their present form these plays are dedicated to the reading public only, and no performances of them may be given without the permission of the author who may be addressed in care of the publisher. Any piracy or infringe- ment will be prosecuted in accordance with the penalties provided by the United States Statutes: — Sec. 4966. — Any person publicly performing or repre- senting any dramatic or musical composition, for which copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of the said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs or assigns, shall be liable for damages therefor, such damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to thfe Court shall appear to be just. If the unlavyful performance and rep- resentation be wilful and for* profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeaHcU", and upon conviction be imprisoned for a period not* 'exceeding one year. — U. S. Revised Statutes, Title 60, Chap. 3. Mi 24 1919 \^ PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OT AMERICA ©CI.A525988 ^r^ CONTENTS Over Age 5 The Spark of Life 51 * Strangers 71 i Making a Man 99 OVER AGE CHARACTERS Mrs. Annersley, an actress Will Annersley, her son Mrs. Beaseley, a friend Leontine, the maid Mrs. Sarah Mulqueen PLACE New York City. TIME Autumn of 19 17 when Government regulations did not permit women relatives of men in service to engage in overseas work and passports were re- fused to applicants over forty years of age. OVER AGE r g iHE scene is the living room in the home of g an actress, a famous one, so the room is -^ well furnished with taste and charm. It is essentially a becoming background although just now, a rather sombre one. At least Will An.nersley thinks so. He enters, pulls up the shades, letting in the sunshine; sits on the couch, disarranging the pillows; drags out the news- papers which were neatly piled on the table; in short upsets everything. He is probably priv- ileged because he is delicate and the only son of a highly emotional, adoring mother. Suddenly Leontine, Mrs. Annersley's maid, comes bustling in. In the glare of the light she looks her fifty years, though her hair is still black, her eyes dark and snapping. At sight of the room she is much perturbed and therefore over- bold. Leontine Ah, Monsieur, it is too bad I This room — the look of it! I implore you adjust those curtains. You know that madame your mother could never 9 lo OVER AGE stand this glare. She is coming in now; this min- ute ! I beg of you ! {While Leontine is hustling around try- ing to put everything in order at once, Mrs. Annersley enters,) Leontine Monsieur! Ah, Madame! (^Leontine is torn between the very charming woman who has appeared in the doorway J and her son who has risen to re- ceive her. The woman is jifty, hut even in the glare there is nothing to he tray it, except her son. She is in a luxurious tea gown that harmonizes with the apartment, Leontine has now arranged the couch, Mrs. Annersley recognizes her hack- ground and flits into it. She raises a news- paper to her eyes.) Mrs. Annersley (Shrinking in the glare) Billyboy — Billy! Annersley Oh, forgive me. Mater. (He pulls down the hlinds, and her face becomes radiant with smiles.) Vm worried about my job ! OVER AGE II Mrs. An.nersley Don't let anything worry you ; I never do. Annersley (Importantly) You're not working for the Department of Jus- tice; I am. Mrs. Annersley No, thank heaven ! Annersley I've been there this morning, talking to them and to some of the Secret Service people. There's such a lot to be done ! What with spies and German intrigues they have their hands full. And I've done nothing, nothing! Mrs. Annersley (Plaintively) But, Billy boy, what can you do ? Annersley (Moodily) I don't know ! That's it. Nothing ever comes my way ! They were telling me this morning about a woman whom they strongly suspect is one of a gang of bomb makers, a spy in the service of the enemy! They say she hangs about the thea- 12 OVER AGE tres a good deal. You haven't happened to see, or hear anything about anyone by the name of Mulqueen? That's the name she goes by now. Mrs. An.nersley No. Anything new in the papers this morn- ing? Annersley Nothing special. They've arrested a Ger- man, masquerading as a Belgian. I knew they were going to yesterday. He's been using Ger- man-American firms as dummies to get wool for Germany. Then — Mrs. Annersley (Irritably) Oh, I didn't mean that sort of news! We seem to talk of nothing but spies in this house ! (Annersley jumps to his feet nervously, conscious of wrong doing.) Leontine (Quickly with infinite comprehension) Madame was superb last night! A packed house again! Mrs. Annersley (Willing to admit both counts) Yes — yes. OVER AGE 13 Leontine There was more applause than ever ! Mrs. Annersley (With a sigh of satisfaction) Yes, I believe there was. Leontine And again the house It was sold out I Mrs. Annersley Do you wonder I feel half dead this morning? Annersley (Anxious to make amends) But you look great! (The faithful Leontine seeing now that all is well, disappears about her work.) Mrs. Annersley (All smiles) Oh, Billy boy, you're a dear ! What should I do without you? How I suffered the day you went up for examination! If they had accepted you! Ah, the poor mothers and wives! My heart bleeds for them! (Now almost in tears.) Billy boy, if they were to take you — I'd kill my- self. 14 OVER AGE Annersley Oh, no, you wouldn't. Mrs. Annersley No; no; perhaps not! I should live! My face would show my suffering; my breaking heart, my tortured soul would be reflected there.^ (^Mrs. Annersley acts her suffering to the full and is only interrupted by the en- trance of Mrs. Beaseley.) Mrs. Beaseley Leontine said I could come in. (The interruption comes from their neigh- bor and intimate friend. She is a splen- did specimen of womanhood^ big, fine, fifty. A few grey hairs, a few lines, but healthy and strong, full of exuberance and energy.) I stopped just for a moment to ask if I might bring you over some eggs from the farm — but what's the matter? Mrs. Annersley Oh, we poor mothers and wives I Mrs. Beaseley (In consternation) My dear! OVER AGE 15 Mrs. An.nersley Those who have sons in France. If my son were there! Mrs. Beaseley But he isn't. Mrs. An.nersley But if he were there ! If he were strong enough! My dear when one has an imagination one suffers. (Her tone indicates that her neigh- hor has none,) Tell me, what news have you? Anything more ? Mrs. Beaseley (Simply) My boy is not dead, or I should have heard. Mrs. Annersley How do you stand it ? Mrs. Beaseley By keeping busy ; by helping other boys. Mrs. An-nersley If you could only go over to nurse, or some- thing — Mrs. Beaseley Impossible, no mothers are allowed. And then my age ; they want young women. If I only looked thirty-five I i6 OVER AGE Mrs. An.nersley (Complacently) Yes, you do look older. Annersley (Breaking in) There's a lot to be done here ! Mrs. Beaseley Yes, yes, looking after our boys. Annersley And looking after the spies ! (Enter Leontine with card) Leontine For madame ! Mrs. Annersley For me ? Why, Leontine, you know Fm not at home I Who is it? (Reading card.) "Dear Lady: I hope you will receive me, pardon the liberty. I need advice that you above all others can give me. Yours in heartfelt admiration. Sarah Mulqueen." I never heard of her! Annersley (In great excitement) Read that again! OFER AGE 17 Mrs. Annersley Why, what's the matter? Billy! What is it? Annersley Let me see that card! (He reads it eagerly.) Sarah Mulqueen ! Mother, that's the name I just told you ! Sarah Mulqueen is a spy, a famous spy! The Secret Service has been after her for weeks! You must see her! It's the most won- derful coincidence ! Leontine, where is she ? Leontine In the reception room. Annersley Go back to her! Don't let her out of your sight ! Tell her Madame will see her in a minute ! Keep her. Mrs. Beaseley, help me ! (^Leontine nods reassuringly and exits,) Mrs. Beaseley It seems worth while, Julia! Annersley She doesn't dream she's going to walk into a trap ! Mrs. Annersley Julia Annersley traps a spy ! {Visualizing headlines in the morning papers and yielding graciously.) 1 8 OVER AGE Annersley (Briskly) Now we must be prepared for everything, any- thing; she's probably a coarse, bold creature, who will offend you every time she speaks. They told me she had several aliases and any number of dis- guises. One man said she was young and blonde ; another swore she had dark hair ! She's here for a purpose, of course. We must be on our guard; none of us must tell her anything, and yet we musn't seem to suspect. There's something she wants to find out, of course, or she wouldn't have asked for the interview ! And, mother — she may want to see you alone. Mrs. An-nersley (Interrupting nervously) What? Annersley But I'll be within call if she does. See, I'll watch from here ! (Indicates a curtained door leading to an- other room.) Mrs. Beaseley rU go as soon as I've seen her! Annersley And none of us must forget that she has said she'll never be taken alive! OVER AGE 19 Mrs. An-nersley (Seeing herself in a new role) You mean she carries a pistol? Annersley Possibly. But so do I ! Now, mother, are you ready? (He raises the shade again.) Mrs. Annersley (Protesting) Billyboy! Annersley (Impatiently) Mater, remember she's a spy, a dangerous character ! We must be able to see her ! Mrs. Beaseley Shall I ask Leontine to bring her in? Mrs. Annersley One moment! Here move the couch forward! Annersley (Placing chair in light) This is her chair, mother. Now be careful! Now Mrs. Beaseley! (Mrs. Beaseley exits.) 20 OFER AGE Annersley (Quickly) And one thing more, mother; don't let her leave under any circumstances I No matter what hap- pens you must keep her! Let her have what- ever she wants. Anything, anything ! Don't fail me ! (In the slight pause that follows, they ar- range themselves for the proper reception of Mrs. Mulqueen. Then Mrs. Bease- LEY returns followed hy Leontine.) Leontine (Announcing) Madame Mulqueen ! (A small pathetic, insignificant, elderly person carrying a black bag comes timidly in at the door, a figure in dingy grey. Skin, hair, eyes, all look as if tinted with the same dull hue. Altogether Mrs. Mulqueen in manner and appearance is a surprise to everyone.) Mrs. An.nersley (Recovering first, after an awkward pause) Are you Mrs. Mulqueen? (^Mrs. Mulqueen nods timidly.) This is my friend, Mrs. Beaseley, a great worker for the Red Cross, and my son> Mr. Annersley. Won't you be seated ? OVER AGE 21 Annersley Here; here, sit here. (Mrs. Mulqueen has moved awk- wardly to an arm-chair^ hut Annersley actually insists upon the chair in the light. She moves it out of the light. He pushes it back. Finally she sits on the extreme edge of it,) Mrs. Mulqueen (Uncomfortably) I wasn^t expecting to see anyone. I thought you'd be alone. I — I — (She hesitates, and pauses. They all ex- change significant glances.) Mrs. Annersley You didn't mention that your business con- cerned me alone. Mrs. Mulqueen (Awkwardly) Oh, didn't I ? I'm sorry. I don't express my- self well. I never could, not even at school. That's my trouble. I mean one trouble. There now, I've blurted It out! Have I hurt anyone's feelings? I hope not; I wouldn't do that for the world. 22 OVER AGE Annersley (Quickly, with a glance at his mother) Oh, we were going anyway. IVe got a lot of things to do ! Mrs. Beaseley I was going too. I'll bring you over the eggs before I start for the hospital. (Annersley crosses to his mother, and lays his hand on her shoulder, reassur- ingly,) Mrs. Mulqueen (To Mrs. Beaseley) You're in a hospital? Mrs. Beaseley Yes, helping, helping all I can for my -son. He's over there — (Annersley makes a sign for her to tell nothing, and she ends lamely) some- where in Europe. Mrs. Mulqueen (Quivering suddenly) Your son — over there? Mrs. Beaseley Yes — Why, what's the matter? OVER AGE ±i Mrs. Mulqueen (Apparently confused) Nothing. I was just thinking — you've a son ! That's all. Mrs. Beaseley That seems to surprise you. Mrs. Mulqueen (Hesitating) No — no — I — (Stupidly) Lots of women have sons! Mrs. Beaseley (Proudly) Mine's a Colonel in the 38th Infantry. Mrs. Mulqueen (Shrilly, as though losing control of her voice) The 38th! Mrs. Beaseley You know someone in the 38th? Mrs. Mulqueen Yes — that is — well — I didn't say I knew anyone, did I ? I didn't mean to. I — no — no. You see I express myself badly. I told you I did. I'm not. used to people. 24 OVER AGE Mrs. Beaseley (Bitterly) Oh, well, I can see you haven^t anyone very near to you over there ! Mrs. Mulqueen Can you ? To be sure ! Of course you can. (Through all this, WiLL Annersley has been getting more and more irritable. Things don't seem to be progressing his way at all. This Mrs. Mulqueen is a most curious person. One minute she seems to be on the verge of tears; the next her voice is shrill with excitement. But he has had experience enough to know that any sort of person may be a spy. He is anxious to get to work.) Annersley (Abruptly, even sharply) I must be off. Are you coming, Mrs. Bease- ley? ; Mrs. Beaseley Yes; yes, to be sure. I'll be back again with the eggs. (The two women are left alone. There is a long pause. Sarah Mulqueen never moves her eyes from the actress. At last Mrs. Annersley rises nervously.) OVER AGE 25 Mrs. An.nersley Well, what Is it? You wrote you wanted to see me. Well? Mrs. Mulqueen (Looking around timidly) It's — It's — I'll come to It In a moment. Oh, you're so wonderful! (Mrs. Annersley, un- deniably pleased, sits down again. Another pause.) And that was your son that went out of the room a moment ago? Mrs. Annersley (Wonderingly) Yes. Mrs. Mulqueen I heard you had a son, about twenty-five. That makes It all the more wonderful. (Mrs. Mulqueen stares at Mrs. An- nersley, stares and stares, in a way that is almost embarrassing.) Mrs. Annersley (At last) Makes what wonderful? Mrs. Mulqueen (JVith genuine admiration) The way you look. Not more than thirty- five! Thirty even, at a pinch! 26 OVER AGE Mrs. Annersley Thank you. (Another pause, which threatens to he em- barrassing.) Mrs. Mulqueen Now your friend, the lady that just went out — what's her name? (Carelessly playing with a paper cutter ly- ing on table.) Mrs. Annersley (Suspiciously and eagerly, because she is glad to have something to be suspicious about.) Why? Why do you want to know? Mrs. Mulqueen Why just so as to Indicate her. What else should there be? Mrs. Annersley (Still suspicious, nervously removes paper cutter) Her name is Beaseley. Mrs. Mulqueen (Reflectively) She looks her age. OVER AGE 27 Mrs. An-nersley (Puzzled, but not displeased) Yes, she does. Mrs. Mulqueen So does the woman who let me In. Mrs. An.nersley My maid, Leontine. Mrs. Mulqueen And I. Three old women! And you young among us! Mrs. An.nersley (Her most gracious self) What do you mean? Mrs. Mulqueen I shouldn't be surprised If you look all the younger because we look so old. It makes a heap of difference. Mrs. Annersley But you haven't asked to see me about that? Mrs. Mulqueen No; no. (Looks around timidly.) I'm com- ing to it. Even here In this room close to, you're wonderful. Oh, I've seen you in all your plays. Every night I've been to see you, and I 28 OVER AGE wasn't sure If youM look young off the stage. So I sent in my card, asking you to see me. Mrs. An-nersley It was most unusual. Mrs. Mulqueen (Awkwardly) Would you mind changing seats with me? Mrs. An.nersley (Alarmed) What for? Mrs. Mulqueen Oh, just — I want to see how you look in the sunlight. You don't mind? Mrs. An.nersley Indeed I do mind ! Mrs. Mulqueen Ah, that's a point I Mrs. Annersley (Bluntly and no longer afraid. No one could he afraid of this woman) Are you here taking points? For what? Mrs. Mulqueen I want to be young. You're always young; young when you're sad; young when you're gay; OVER AGE 29 young; young! I look so old, so much older. Yet, you won't mind if I say it ? (In a whisper,) I'm not. Mrs. Annersley How do you know? Mrs. Mulqueen Well, your son. Mrs. An.nersley (Very patronizing) Yes, but you see I was only sixteen when he was born, and he's just past twenty. So — Mrs. Mulqueen (Interrupting eagerly) That's what I want to say! I'm dying to say just that; but I can't! Mrs. Annersley (With genuine amazement) You! Mrs. Mulqueen I can't, because people wouldn't believe me; because I can't look it. Any woman who can look it, can say it. And nowadays there are so many. Oh, help me! Help me! Mrs. Annersley Help you? 30 OVER AGE Mrs. Mulqueen Help me to be able to say it, to look it. Mrs. An.nersley That's most extraordinary. You! You want to be — Mrs. Mulqueen (Eagerly interrupting) Young! Young! Mrs. An.nersley But — Mrs. Mulqueen (Pleading earnestly) If you can, why can't I ? Mrs. An-nersley Well, you are the most astonishing person I ever met! Mrs. Mulqueen Will you help me ? Mrs. Annersley I? Mrs. Mulqueen That's what I came for. Now it's out. And you'll think I'm a fool, but I'm not. I'm only a woman — a woman — (Breaking off feebly.) OVER AGE 31 Mrs. Annersley Oh, my dear madam, it's not every woman who can throw off a dozen years at will. It's a talent like any other. Mrs. Mulqueen But perhaps I have the talent; perhaps I'm like the man who didn't know he could play the violin till he tried. I've never tried, because no one cared. You see I just let myself go, for years and years. I lived for my husband. I didn't men- tion before I had a husband. He was one of the kind that never noticed how I looked, what I had on. It didn't make any difference to him so long as the stew was right, not too thick, and the po- tatoes crisp. Once, or twice, on our wedding day for instance, I dressed up. I bought a fichu, a lace fichu. I've got it here in this bag. I put it on, hoping he'd notice it and like it. I felt just like a girl. '' Where did you get that? " he asked. " At Simpson's," said I. Simpson's is the little store near us. " What for? " says he. " What did you get it for? " Well, it just seemed as though I didn't know what I did get it for. So 1 said nothing, and that night I laid it away with some other things I had when I was young. But even after that, sometimes in my room alone, I've had a feelings (Glances timidly about her.) as though I wanted to be young. One night I 32 OVER AGE looked so pale and wan that I even tried with some roses, red roses I had on a bonnet. You know, the kind the colour comes off of. I rubbed them on my cheeks, and I looked like myself twenty years ago. I felt as though I could do most anything that I did then, sing or dance. I took some time that night doing up my hair, made it looser, fluffed it out. Of course I rubbed off the colour before I went out to dinner, but some of it must have stayed. "Been putting up jams?" ^aid James; his name was James. "You look all het up." I guess I was born with ambitions, for I was often miserable, used to cry when I was alone because I amounted to so little! Mrs. An.nersley (Uneasy and somewhat moved) That's where you made a mistake. Mrs. Mulqueen To cry? Yes, I know. Hurts the eyes and fades them out. Mrs. An.nersley To cry alone is always a mistake. Mrs. Mulqueen (Apparently not understanding) But I was so miserable. OVER AGE 33 Mrs. Annersley When I'm miserable, everyone knows it. My servants, Leontlne, my son. I share my misery with the world. Hidden emotion is most wearing. Mrs. Mulqueen You share it? And I, I've waited all day crushing back my tears, stifling my sighs, going about with a breaking heart, and smiling lips ; wait- ing for the dead of night, ashamed. For years I've been ashamed to show what I felt; ashamed to want to look pretty; afraid I'd seem conceited and foolish. You never feel foolish? Mrs. An.nersley Certainly not. It's my business. Mrs. Mulqueen (Resolutely) And now it's my business ! At last I don't feel foolish at all or vain. I have a reason for It all; a reason to be young; a reason greater than van- ity, greater than — (Breaks of abruptly as though realizing she has gone too far.) Mrs. Annersley (Curiously) This Is very interesting. What is your reason ? Who is it you want to please ? 34 OVER AGE Mrs. Mulqueen (Confused) Who? The world, everyone! Mrs. Annersley Some man? Mrs. Mulqueen (Jumping at the suggestion) Yes, yes, I'm young here in my heart; just as young as ever I was, just as anxious to please. Mrs. Annersley But my dear woman — Mrs. Mulqueen (Quickly interrupting) I know you have wonderful black eyes, and lovely hair. Not a grey hair. But look at mine. (She pulls of her hat to plead her cause.) If it was combed smooth and glossed up, and dressed right. That's it ! I'm taking points from you all the while. I've got to learn quickly, and then I'll come out somewhere. You'll see, you'll see. I've never had the chance. I've lived in my kitchen while the world was going on, never dreaming what youth meant, and looks, and the real business of a woman. OVER AGE 35 Mrs. Annersley How old Is he ? The man you love ? Mrs. Mulqueen The man I love ! How old should you guess? Mrs. Annersley Well, he must be elderly; sixty or so, I should say. Mrs. Mulqueen He's beautiful ! Young, blonde, fearless — twenty-five. Mrs. Annersley Twenty-five ? You ! If you can have a lover of twenty-five youVe young. Mrs. Mulqueen But he — he — (Abruptly breaking of.) No, that's my secret. Mrs. Annersley Ah, he doesn't love you ! And you're trying to get him back? Mrs. Mulqueen (Insisting upon comparing herself with the beau- tiful Julia Annersley^ You still please men, don't you? 36 OVER AGE Mrs. Annersley But I always did ! Mrs. Mulqueen So did I once. See, that's the way I was, once. (Digs down into her hag and brings out a photo- graph.) My dress was pink. I never had but one pink dress, and it had a fichu of lace like the one I got at Simpson's. I've got it here. It gives me a long line like yours, the fichu does ; and I had little slippers with high heels. Oh, I can remem- ber how tall I felt in them ! And now my dress is dull and grey, and my shoes are broad and low, and I'm sloppy and old. Mrs. Annersley And in love with a boy twenty-five I (The actress folds her arms and looks at Sarah Mulqueen as from a height.) Mrs. Mulqueen Don't move! I'm learning! I'm learning! When I fold my arms I do it this way — (Stoop- ing and slopping over.) But you, you fold them high, like Napoleon. I've seen pictures of him. Mrs. Annersley He was short. So am I ! OVER AGE 37 Mrs. Mulqueen And your high heels ! My shoes are disgrace- ful. I've really got pretty feet. Then your walk! Oh, I know how you glide. And your back is young, your shoulders straight. (Suddenly Mrs. Mulqueen picks up her hag.) \ Mrs. Annersley (Alarmed and remembering that she was to keep the spy at any cost) What are you going to do ? Mrs. Mulqueen I've had my lesson. I wish you could see what it's done for me. I wish I could make myself pretty for you. I've some things in my bag ! If I only could — Mrs. Annersley (Completely roused) Wait a minute — I'll call my maid. You mustn't go! Leontine! (Leontine appears.) Leontine is very clever; she'll take you to my room ; she'll dress your hair ! Your feet are no larger than mine. She'll give you a pair of my slippers. She'll show you how to add a little col- our to your cheeks ! She's very clever. Go with her. Go; go! Leontine, make Madame beau- 38 OVER AGE tiful, do your best. Then let me see how you look. Please; please! (Mrs. Annersley actually pushes her out with Leontine and then sinks exhausted into a chair.) (Annersley comes in cautiously.) Annersley (In an excited whisper) Well? Well? What do you think? Mrs. Annersley You heard what she said? Annersley (Nervously and beginning to wonder if he*s on the right track after all) She's clever, eh? Mrs. Annersley She wants to be beautiful for some man 1 Annersley (Scornfully) Some man ! Don't you believe it. Mrs. Annersley She's a most interesting study; I never saw any- one quite like her. If one were to put her on the stage, no one would believe — OVER AGE 39 Annersley (Breaking in, always with an eye on the door through which Sarah Mulqueen disap- peared^ and in a low voice) She's notorious! Mrs. Annersley It seems Incredible ! I'm sure you're wrong. Annersley Nonsense! I know all about her! She's a dreadful person! Mrs. Annersley Well, then, she's wonderful! Annersley (Knowingly) Precisely! That's what they all say. Don't let her fool you ! Mrs. Annersley But this woman is so timid, so faded. I can't make it out ! Annersley (With great superiority) I know! That's nothing. It's some sort of make-up. She's clever, wonderfully clever. I grant you that. But you were superb! We'll have the gratitude of the whole nation tomorrow! 40 OVER AGE Mrs. An-nersley What are you going to do ? Annersley Do? Hand her over! What do you suppose? Mrs. Annersley (Still unconvinced) A spy with that make-up! Incredible! You heard her say she was going over to the other side? Annersley Yes — when ? Mrs. Annersley I don't know. Annersley She mustn't leave this house, Mater, till I'm ready; no matter what we sacrifice. I'll bet she's planning to blow up a transport this minute. Mrs. Annersley Hush, she's coming! Annersley Remember they said she'd never be taken alive ! (Mrs. Mulqueen enters^ transformed. Leontine has covered her hair with one of Mrs. Annersley's wigs. She has on the fichu from her hag. Her cheeks are OVER AGE 41 rouged, her slippers are high-heeled. Her walk and her manner are quite different. She has thrown off twenty years.) Mrs. Mulqueen (Showing pleasure almost like a child, turns to Annersley) You don't know mt ! Do you now ? Annersley Well, you're wonderful! No one would know you ! I swear they wouldn't. Mrs. Mulqueen (With satisfaction) Yes. I'm the old lady that went out of here ! Am I young? Do I look natural? See my hair! How old do I look? Annersley (Slowly with cleverness) Let me see ! My mother tells me some man — Mrs. Mulqueen (Following him eagerly) Yes — Annersley How old is he ? 42 OVER AGE Mrs. Mulqueen Young; your age; twenty-five! Annersley Where Is he ? Mrs. Mulqueen Over there — somewhere. I'll tell you some- things a secret; he's wounded and I'm going over to him. I can do my bit as well as the youngest. You believe me now when I look like this; now that I am no longer wrinkled and withered. I'm young, young. I haven't an ache or a pain. I'm going to him. I can do anything now, that youth and strength can do; anything, now that some- one isn't telling me I'm old and useless. Annersley Have you got your passport? Mrs. Mulqueen (Proudly) Yes; see! Sarah Mulqueen! (She hands him her passport,) Annersley By Jove! (Annersley takes the passport, ex- amines it carefully; grabs magnifying glass from table, shrugs and grunts out at a venture,) It's forged ! OVER AGE 43 Mrs. Mulqueen (Shrilly) Forged ! Not genuine ? Annersley No. Mrs. Mulqueen But I've paid for It! Annersley You? What? Mrs: Mulqueen (More and more excited) You mean I can't go over on It! You mean — What do you mean? Annersley (Looking at her threateningly) I mean that Sarah Mulqueen Is an enemy alien! The Department of Justice has been hunting her for weeks. Mrs. Mulqueen (As though appalled) An enemy — Sarah Mulqueen? Boy, do you know what you're saying? 44 OVER AGE Annersley (More and more menacing) Yes. She and her gang have laid plans to blow up our boats in the harbour. We've been trailing her for weeks. I don't mind teUing you now we had almost given up hope when you — (The entrance of Mrs. Beaseley in great excitement interrupts; so excited is she that she takes even the transformed old lady for granted,) Mrs. Beaseley News ! Wonderful news ! The wounded of the 38th Infantry are coming home. (Suddenly Mrs. Mulqueen appears to be on the verge of collapse; Annersley never takes his eyes of her.) Mrs. Mulqueen (Gasping) The 38th! Mrs. Annersley (Joyfully) Your boy I Mrs. Beaseley (In ecstasy) Yes, my Albert! OVER AGE 45 Mrs. Annersley Oh, my dear friend ! Annersley (To Mrs. Mulqueen who is now strangely excited) What is it? Mrs. Mulqueen (Between tears and smiles) The 38th! The 38th! That's my boy's regi- ment. He's wounded ; he's coming home ; my boy ! Uncle Sam has played fair; he's given me back my boy! Mrs. Annersley Your boy! Annersley Who are you? Mrs. Mulqueen (With quivering lips) I'm the mother of a soldier in the 38th — the mother of a wounded boy — Annersley (Resentfully) You're not Sarah Mulqueen? 46 OVER AGE Mrs. Mulqueen Bless you no! I'm the mother of a boy like you; only he's wounded. There was no place at his bedside for an old lady who happened to be his mother. I was trying to cheat to get over to him, to be with him, to nurse him. My husband was Colonel Andrews. My boy is Charlie An- drews. I came on to New York from Minne- apolis a year ago. Oh, I wanted so to go over. Can you understand it? I didn't realize I was too old. I only knew I was a mother. My age came upon me all of a heap when they looked at me and turned me down. That was before they knew I had a son over there. " Knit, knit," they said, *'Knit!" The old lady's job! But I didn't want to knit. I didn't want to sit at home and knit. Good Lord, that meant thinking! I told them I was willing to do anything. I'm vigorous* if I am more than 35. I can work as well as the youngest, and I can suffer and be silent. They turned me down when I told them the truth ; turned me down for silly girls in love with ad- venture; turned me down because I was a mother, a mother and fifty I And I made up my mind to cheat Uncle Sam, to go to my boy in spite of rules and regulations. I met Sarah Mulqueen. She's young and has no son to give. She sold me her passport, gave me her name in exchange for mine. Then I saw Mrs. Annersley, young and OVER AGE 47 yet my age ; young with a son as old as mine. Do you see? And now Uncle Sam has played fair; he's bringing my boy home — (To Mrs. Bease- LEY.) Your boy and mine! (Recovering and crossing over to mirror.) I wonder if he'll know me this way ! What do you say, boy? Mrs. An.nersley (fVith conviction) She's telling the truth I Mrs. Mulqueen (As if anyone could doubt it!) The truth? Annersley By thunder! I believe she is! I've made a fool of myself. What shall I do? Mrs. Mulqueen What is it? What's wrong? Annersley (With sudden inspiration) Listen : If you can help hand Sarah Mulqueen over to the detectives, you'll be one of the greatest women of America! Mrs. Mulqueen (Enjoying it hugely) I? Old Mrs. Andrews? Great? 48 OFER AGE Annersley (Eagerly) Can you? Can you? Mrs. Mulqueen Can I ? Why, she's waiting for me now. I'm to give her another hundred dollars for her pass- port. I'll take you to her! Annersley (Suddenly) Good ! I'll be with you in just a minute. (Hurries out, closing the door after him.) Mrs. Mulqueen (With a sudden hurst of patriotism) Ah, there's work here for American women if they only knew it! Mrs. Annersley (Slowly relinquishing her own dream of adver- tisement) Mrs. Andrews of Minneapolis traps a spy! Mrs. Mulqueen (With savage determination) Leave her to me ! OVER AGE 49 Mrs. An.nersley (After a moment's consideration joyously discov- ering some balm in Gilead) Trap set in the home of Julia Annersleyl (The three women smile happily ^ each in her own way, when in through the door bursts Annersley.) Annersley (Breathless with excitement) It is I It is! She is Sarah Mulqueen! Lock the doors ! (He locks one while the women fly to the others.) I've just been talking to head- quarters! She and her pal were out together; they caught the pal but she escaped; slipped into this house ; intending to appear in a new disguise from new quarters. Knew you lived here, Mater! It was all planned ! Her pal has confessed. Mrs. Mulqueen Damn him ! (Recognizing that the game is up, she suddenly reveals herself with startling vulgar- ity.) The dirty little hound ! Well, I'll die game ! And don't any of you forget how I fooled the great Julia Annersley! Some acting, eh? And I'd have got away with it too — if — if — God, how I hate all men ! (Snarling and struggling viciously in An- nersley's hands, as the curtain falls.) THE SPARK OF LIFE CHARACTERS Mrs. Barstable The Nurse Dr. Cartwright Dr. Walker THE SPARK OF LIFE 7^ HE curtain rises on an empty sta^e, dis- closing a luxurious living room in a mod- em apartment house. A single doorway opens into the hall, which ap- parently leads on the left to the front door, on the right to the dining room, and beyond to the bed- room. The room is essentially cheerful. Everything in it suggests home and people of taste. There are books and magazines, and vases of flowers on the tables, harmonious draperies at the windows, comfortable chairs, an open piano. A small al- cove hung with red curtains is on one side. The curtains are open so that a luxurious couch with cushions may be seen, a becoming background for the Mistress of the house. Into this cosy scene a woman enters quickly. She is Mrs. Barstable. She is good looking, well groomed, pale and tense. One can see plainly that she is on the verge of collapse. She makes a tremendous effort and succeeds in recovering some of her self-control, as the NuRSE enters, S3 54 THE SPARK OF LIFE Nurse Mr. Barstable is asking for an extra pillow. Mrs. Barstable (Indicating the couch in the alcove) You may take one of those silk ones. Oh, Nurse, when the doctors come out of Mr. Bar- stable's room, show them in here where they can be alone. I'll see them after the consultation. Nurse They're coming right out now. (The Nurse exits. Mrs. Barstable moves to the table, takes a pistol from the drawer, and, listening all the time for the coming of the doctors, places it somewhere out of sight. There is a sound of voices outside. She quickly crosses to the red curtains and conceals herself behind them as Dr. Walker and Dr. Cartwright enter.) Dr. Walker (In a low voice, with visible concern, as though continuing a conversation) Nothing to be done, eh? Dr. Cartwright Nothing. THE SPARK OF LIFE 55 Dr. Walker And everything to be feared? (Dr. Cartwright nods gravely.) Dr. Cartwright (After a pause) Has he a family? Dr. Walker Just the wife, who adores him. They were such pals. I've known him all my life. I'm much more his friend than his doctor, you under- stand. Why we've lived In the same house for twenty years. I've the key to their front door: their home Is mine. (Dr. Cartwright nods sympathetically,) He never had a day's Illness, never In all the years I've known him. Frightful ! A man of his physique! Such an end! His poor wife! What shall I tell her! When she finds out that it's hopeless — (Breaks of uneasily.) Dr. Cartwright Oh, she won't; she needn't know for a time; not till — (Makes a hopeless gesture.) Dr. Walker He had a horror of disease. I've heard him say he'd kill himself if ever he had warning. 56 THE SPARK OF LIFE Dr. Cartwright Oh, that was when he was sound and strong. You'll find an entirely different man; with a new philosophy. The hospitals are full of them: brave fellows — heroes, who'll play the game to the end. Dr. Walker If only those cursed Germans had killed him outright I Poor Jack, doomed to live God knows how long I Paralysed, maimed, helpless — (Both men pull up sharply and look to- wards the curtains. Mrs. Barstable stands in front of them, ashen.) Dr. Walker (Uneasily) Jack is — we were just — we must talk things over — see what's best to be done. Mrs. Barstable (Deadly calm) I know — I heard. (She sinks into a chair with a hopeless gesture.) Dr. Cartwright (Uncomfortably) Too bad. THE SPARK OF LIFE 57 Dr. Walker (Almost irritably) Really Ella, we should have told you In due time. Mrs. Barstable (With emphasis) What it w as good for me to know. Dr. Walker Well, well; after all we must have faith. Mrs. Barstable (Interrupting with despairing insistency) The end is inevitable ! And what an end ! Dr. Cartwright Oh, now — now — our wounded men are won- derful ! Give your husband time ; you'll see ; time works wonders. Dr. Walker will do everything possible and I'll see you again in a few days. Mrs. Barstable (Suddenly springing to her feet) Wait — wait just a minute ! Wait I I have a proposition to make to you. (She throws hack her head and the colour rushes to her cheeks.) Kill him I (She says this calmly^ without the slight- est hint of hysteria.) 58 THE SPARK OF LIFE Dr. Cartwright (Gruffly) 'Nonsense ; nonsense ; you shouldn't upset your- self in this way. Be brave, brave as our splendid boys. Dr. Walker You're overwrought, Ella I I don't wonder. I'm going to give you and Jack something to make you sleep ; both of you need it. Dr. Cartwright Yes, yes. Mrs. Barstable Eternally ? Dr. Walker (Almost impatiently) Oh, come — come ! Dr. Cartwright You'll find that your husband will gradually ac- commodate himself, believe me. Mrs. Barstable Never ! Dr. Cartwright I assure you ; you'll see. (Enter the NuRSE with a box of flowers.) THE SPARK OF LIFE 59 Nurse Mr. Barstable is asking for you, madam. Mrs. Barstable (Suddenly regaining control of herself) I'll go up. Nurse These flowers just came. Mrs. Barstable (Quite calmly) Arange them for me, please, — here in one of these vases. (Turning to doctors.) Oh, I'm all right now; quite calm, quite myself again. I know it's your office hour, George. (To Dr. Walker.J Don't wait, but come back. You will, won't you ? ( The Nurse exits with the vase, leaving the flowers on the table.) Dr. Walker Surely, at the first minute. (Mrs. Barstable exits.) Dr. Cartwright I must run on now. If you need me, let me know. (Both men leave the room together talk- ing; the front door is heard to shut, as the 6o THE SPARK OF LIFE Nurse returns with a vase of water. Dr. Walker follows her into the room almost immediately,) Dr. Walker Now, Nurse, Mrs. Barstable is naturally much overwrought. She must have something to make her sleep ; I'll be back with some powders for her. (Dr. Walker exits and the sound of the front door closing again is heard. The Nurse left alone hums as she arranges the flowers. She is still busy when Mrs. Bar- stable enters^ locking the door behind her^ swiftly and softly. She is completely calm, but in the few minutes she has been out of the room she seems to have aged years.) Nurse (Holding up the flowers in the vase) Aren't they beautiful? Mrs. Barstable (Distractedly) Yes — yes — Nurse Shall I take them up to Mr. Barstable? Mrs. Barstable Presently. THE SPARK OF LIFE 6i Nurse Is he alone? Mrs. Barstable I think so. (Through all this the Nurse keeps look- ing at Mrs. Barstable whose manner seems to her unusual^ to say the least.) Nurse (Uneasily) I'll go up. (Crosses to the door and finds it locked.) What does this mean ! Why have you locked the door? Mrs. Barstable (Firmly) To give my husband a chance. Nurse A chance at what? Mrs. Barstable (Dispassionately ) To get out of it! He's doomed. There's no hope. Sit down. (The Nurse recoils horrified.) There's no use, you know. There's nothing for you to do ; you can't help it. You might as well be calm. I've promised him his chance, and he's going to have it. 62 THE SPARK OF LIFE Nurse You mean — ? that you? Mrs. Barstable Yes; precisely. (The Nurse tries to reach the window. Mrs. Barstable picks up the pistol^ which she has concealed for just this emergency , resolutely.) Sit down. When I am ready you may leave this room; not before. Nurse My God! It's murder! Mrs. Barstable (With conviction) If it is, it's righteous murder! You'd kill an animal if it were suffering. A human being asks for a chance and you won't give it to him — you with your medical ethics! It's his life; he has a right to do as he pleases with it. ( The Nurse, hy this time completely ter- ror-stricken, falls into a chair.) Nurse You're mad! Mrs. Barstable I never was more sane in my life, and neither was he. THE SPARK OF LIFE 63 Nurse He's not; he's a sick man; you've no right; it's taking advantage of him. Mrs. Barstable (Beginning triumphantly , and ending in pitiable choking sobs) I gave him my word, and I've kept it as he'd have kept his ! When we were both well and strong in the midst of health and beauty — happy, young, free — we made a solemn compact. It was at Aix les Bains, at the Hotel de L'Europe. Oh, we had such pretty rooms there, full of sun- shine, on the corner, with a balcony, and a view. Children were playing under our windows; colour, light, happiness everywhere. It had been rain- ing; the air was full of the scent of flowers. Only to be alive was a joy! At the Casino they were playing the waltz from " Romeo and Juliet." Great Heaven, it's all as fresh as though it had happened yesterday ! Suddenly over the graveled walk there came towards us in a wheel-chair a pitiful, doomed creature with acute senses and de- formed limbs — the semblance of a man! Guarded lest he might get his chance to make a decent exit. We stood looking at him. My hus- band exclaimed: "Why do they keep him alive? Look at his eyes! He wants to go!" The plan's eyes — they haunted him. " If he be- 64 THE SPARK OF LIFE longed to me, he'd have a chance to get out! '* he said, " Poor wretch; condemned to die, to suffer without hope, while specialists consult, while friends pity and compare notes. May the Lord deliver me from such a fate ! Promise me, Kate, that you'll give me my chance. It may be upon me before I suspect, and it's hard for a dying man to get enough of the right stuff." On that day we solemnly swore that if such a fate ever overtook one of us the other would provide the means to get out. Thank God I've had the cour- age to keep my word. Nurse (After a pause, gently) But now — now — how do you know your husband doesn't want to Hve ? Mrs. Barstable How do I know? My husband? Live like that? To become a thing? The thing they said he was bound to be? Nurse (Desperately) What you're doing is a crime! It's murder! Mrs. Barstable It's a gentleman's death. THE SPARK OF LIFE 65 Nurse (Under stress of great excitement) You — you — What have you given him ? How did you get it? Mrs. Barstable (Almost with cunning) Ever since I heard Jack was wounded I've been collecting it. A few drops here, a few drops there; for my suffering dog; for an aching tooth; for neuralgia ; half a bottle in all I Nurse (Seeing a ray of hope) It's an overdose! Thank God! Mrs. Barstable Oh, no ; I know the dose ! I poured it out and placed it within easy reach of his hand. Nurse (Still clutching at a straw) Oh, then there's hope ! Mrs. Barstable Hope of what? Nurse You didn't give it to him? 66 THE SPARK OF LIFE Mrs. Barstable No, it wasn't necessary. I left it for him right at his hand. Nurse He may not take it. Mrs. Barstable Not take it? If ever a man knew what he wanted it was Jack Barstable! Nurse (Wildly) Yes, before — before ! But not now. Since he's been over there and seen — Mrs. Barstable He knew exactly what I meant when I leaned over him. I could see it in his eyes! I placed the bottle beside him, with a glass of water, in case he — (Breaking of with a shudder.) It's bit- ter stuff, I know. Nurse (In agony) How could you ? Mrs. Barstable (Now quivering and barely able to control herself) His hand clasped mine for a minute. Then I THE SPARK OF LIFE 67 could stand it no longer ! I fled — here — to you — so that he might be free — free — Nurse Let me go to him ! Mrs. Barstable Not quite yet; I know my Jack; he must have time. One last look around our room — a few minutes to think — to pray. My picture is be- side him on the little table, the one he likes best. He'll touch it softly. Then — he may not be able to overcome an involuntary shudder, brave as he is — Nurse Oh, how awful ! Mrs. Barstable He'll have a spasm of pain, perhaps — some nausea. Then deadly cold and moist. Then un- consciousness — blessed unconsciousness. Nurse Let me go ! Open the door ! Mrs. Barstable My Jack — my Jack — It's done ! It's done ! You may go to him now ! Go — go — It's over — (She throws the key at the Nurse who un- locks the door and dashes from the room. 68 THE SPARK OF LIFE Mrs. Barstable stands listening a mo- ment. Then she takes from her dress a small phial and swallows the contents at one gulp. Her hand instinctively goes out to Jack's picture lying on the table; clasping it to her she gropes her way of to the curtained recess. The front door is heard to open as she disappears. And now the Nurse is seen rushing back through the hall.) Nurse (Speaking outside in great excitement) Oh, Doctor Walker ! Thank God you've come! Such a scene! (Then the voices grow confused, as she explains, still outside, what hap- pened.) Mrs. Barstable . . . yes, a compact . . . poison . . . she left the bottle . . . within reach of his hand . . . told me he was going to kill himself! Oh, I can't stay here any longer. It's awful! I've never had an accident. (The Nurse begins to regain her equanimity as she ap- pears at the door with Dr. Walker. They enter the room together.) But he didn't — he didn't take it! Not a drop passed his lips! I'd never have forgiven myself if anything had happened! Doctor But nothing did happen, thank God ! THE SPARK OF LIFE 69 Nurse No, no; he actually joked with me; he says he's a famous patient; he wants to live. Doctor Bully for Jack! Bully! Nurse I don't think he had an Idea of what was in the bottle ! He's forgotten the compact and all the rest — but where Is she ? Mrs. Barstable ? Doctor Why, Isn't she with him ? Nurse No, she was here ! I thought you — Doctor No» I haven't seen her; I just came in. Nurse I left her here. Doctor Perhaps she — (The Nurse gives a quick look outside and comes hack shaking her head.) Perhaps the maids — or — Isn't she with him? Nurse I just came from there ! No — no — 70 THE SPARK OF LIFE (A groan or sigh comes from behind the curtains. The Doctor dashes over and flings them open as Mrs. Barstable rolls of the couch to the floor. He kneels be- side her; listens; looks up; shakes his head. She is dead.) Nurse And he — - he Is alive ! He wants to live ! He wants to see it through to the end ! Curtain. STRANGERS CHARACTERS A Writer A Caller A Woman STRANGERS M LUXURIOUS living room or den open- /l ingi into a hall which leads to the front jL X door. As the owner of it happens to be a successful writer it is equipped with a commodious writing desk and plenty of books, besides easy chairs, harmonious draperies and good looking rugs. A table set with sandwiches, bottles, glassts, etc., and an open fire add an air of ex- pectancy to the scene. Indeed as the curtain rises two men are enter- ing. One of them is the Writer himself, a quiet, receptive person, as any author in search of material may be, careful of his own wares while graciously attentive to the display of those in other mental store-houses. The other is a Caller, somewhat too rotund, perhaps, for distinction, but well dressed and completely at ease: a glib talker, not at all awed by the reticence of his companion. On the contrary. Caller If I may, I'll come in just for a moment. I remember you said you were going to be busy. 73 74 STRANGERS Writer Yes, presently, when I get at it. (He pushes a chair invitingly forward.) Caller (Looking around with interest, taking note of things) So this is your home ! Writer (Crosses to desk and appears to he rearranging everything on it) Well, it's a place where I can lose myself. Com- fortable, with all the conveniences, and no one to bother me. My servant goes off early, I sleep while she works and vice versa. She leaves me a bite here, serves my breakfast at any old hour, disarranges things and disappears. Caller (Still looking about) The scene of your experiences? Writer Yes, I never go around in search of material; I don't sit on park benches or ride about in sub- ways and buses. What I write is from my inner consciousness. Though tonight I'll confess I'm at my wits' end, (He crosses to table.) A glass STRANGERS 75 of cognac, before you go ! It may give me a new view point; I've felt all day as though I were look- ing at a blank wall. (Both drink.) In front of me a sheet of paper to be covered and nothing to cover it with. We get that way; sometimes it lasts hours, sometimes days. Caller What I envy you is this solitude. Writer But you, you're a married man? (He breaks of with a question. The other nods.) Home, and all that sort of thing! Children, perhaps? Caller (Who is now comfortably seated) Strange how we club acquaintances know noth- ing of one another. We meet daily, exhibit pic- tures that reveal nothing, tell stories, exchange views that are impersonal, drink together, eat to- gether, and there it ends. Suddenly we pick up a paper and read a scandal, a death, a wedding, and the identity of our club friend is revealed. (Pause.) What a shock, poor Egbert Kelly, eh? (Lighting a cigarette.) Writer He seemed a mild, pleasant fellow. 76 STRANGERS Caller He used to appear and disappear at the club like any of the rest of us, always gay, generous, companionable, and all the time this burden on his soul. Couldn't make both ends meet and none of us suspected. Strangers all of us, under one roof! (Pause.) You've no ties? Writer No. Caller Lucky man ! And yet I only want to be untied to tie up again. You may think it's indelicate my speaking frankly like this to one who five minutes ago was practically a stranger, but I feel tonight as though you had suddenly been revealed to me. These rooms of yours have an atmosphere, they're human. You have tastes. Why I didn't know you were a writer till the other day. I mean I didn't know you were the Drayton. You see, honestly, I've never read you. My wife attends to that end of things. I've seen your books about on the tables, together with the magazines. I'm not much of a reader. She sits up half the night with a book in her hand. I often find her when I go home, late — early. Till now I've always gone home. STRANGERS 77 Writer It's got to that stage, has It? Caller Yes, so far, and no distance at all. My wife is one of those domestic creatures, a woman of no Imagination, content In the present; living from day to day, secure in her happiness; never dream- ing — (He pauses as though words were in- adequate.) If she sees me restless she says af- fairs down town have been going badly with me; or she speaks of Indigestion, or late hours, or sleepless nights, or God knows what! Oh, I've heard her explain me over and over to the others of our set with imaginations as limited as hers. Writer (Dryly) It must be gratifying to know at least she's not suspicious. Caller As to that I'm not sure. Sometimes I wish she understood. Her calmness, her security exas- perate me. She knows me as little after all these years, knows as little of my life, of my desires and dreams as you do, you who until tonight have never seen me outside of the club. 78 STRANGERS Writer (Curiously) Is it possible that you never betray yourself? Caller Why, yes, I've thought I did; in fact there have been moments when I didn't care whether I did or not; even more, when I've wanted to, to have it over, to have her know me as I am. Imagine, I've come in at four, at five, in the morning. I've heard her voice saying, " Been to the club? Pleasant evening? " And when I've growle'd out, " Don't know, didn't go there," she's turned over and gone to sleep. (Pause.) Writer I don't want to make myself disagreeable, but perhaps she may have grown — er — become in- different. Caller Her feelings are as transparent as crystal. She darns my socks herself, keeps an eye on my clothes, orders for my meals the dishes she thinks I like on the chance I may come home, and all that sort of thing. No, my friend, she regards her posi- tion as impregnable. That's what I can't un- derstand. She's perfectly satisfied. Not a hint STRANGERS 79 of the mine under her very feet, the mine that some day is sure to explode. (Pause.) Writer I take it, she's — I mean you have nothing really against her? Caller Oh, Lord no; she's absolutely everything she should be. She hasn't even an extravagance. She's without courage, without temptations, with- out — well, I know where she is every hour; her life is an open page. If I were to go home now I'd find her In our perfectly commonplace sitting- room, dozing over a book. Forgive me for bor- ing you with the same old story. Writer It has a new turn, always. Caller (Explosively) The woman is an angel ! Writer (Rather amused) Not your wife this time ! Caller Some day you may hear about me, Eberle; that 8o STRANGERS he, that I — well that Mrs. Eberle wants a di- vorce. At all events you won't say — " Eberle, the man I used to meet at the club ! " At least I've revealed myself. I feel better. And you — well, I know where you live ! (Breaking off with a smile.) Writer Oh, I ! — I've no history. I'm given over to work. Perhaps some day, somewhere, out of heaven, perhaps — who knows ? Caller You're going to work all night? Writer I hope so, if I can. Caller I'm off. Thank you, and Good-night. (The Writer goes with him out into the hall,' re-enters, — leaving the door half open. He disappears into an adjoining room, changes his coat and then returns to his desk. Suddenly in the doorway there appears a Woman. At the first glance, she is rather insignificant. One would pass her in the street for instance and not no- tice her in her dark clothes and small hat. She has thrown back her veil but none the STRANGERS 8i less, even when she slips in and closes the door, she does it without a hint of bra- vado.) Writer (Sharply) What is it? Woman (Anxiously) I — please don't be cross. Let me tell you — Writer (Interrupting) Yes, yes, what is it? How did you get in here? Woman I just slipped in out of the street as the door was opened. It's cold out. (Shivering.) Writer Why, yes, but you musn't; I'm busy. I can^t be interrupted. Woman I won't interrupt. I'll be very quiet. Writer No, that won't do. You must go. You've no right to come into people's houses. You know that. 82 STRANGERS Woman I never did it before! But tonight it seemed to me I must. Writer Now look here, young woman — (He begins harshly ^ but she looks suddenly so pathetic that he breaks of and offers her money instead.) Woman No, no! That isn't what I came for! I'm not that — what you think. Writer (Curiously) No? Woman No I'm cold and hungry. Writer (Crosses over to the table where bottles are; stops just as he is going to offer her some cognac) You may go in there, in the kitchen, and make yourself a cup of tea. There are sandwiches on that table. You may have some. Then you must be off. \ (The Woman exits into the kitchen. The Writer ^wrw5 again to the table ^ and his papers. She returns presently^ with her STRANGERS 83 teacup, crosses to the window and stands stirring her tea, remarkably like a lady.) Writer I thought you said you were hungry. Woman I am. Writer Well then, why don't you eat ? I told you you might have a sandwich. Woman It doesn't always mean food, hunger doesn't. I'm hungry for something else. (She looks at him long and earnestly.) Writer Nonsense, you've never seen me before. You can't possibly have fallen in love with me. Woman I didn't say I had. Writer (Somewhat disconcerted) Oh! Woman Certainly not. Your reasoning is perfectly cor- rect. But I have seen you before. I've seen you 84 STRANGERS — well I've seen you, and IVe read you. So I know you a little. Writer Ah, Indeed! Woman Yes, that's one reason why I'm here tonight. Writer I don't understand. Woman I thought you might help me. Writer Then you're not — not — Woman A woman of the street? Of course not! You know better than that. That only happens In plays, or books. Arnold Bennett, Haddon Cham- bers — you — PInero even! Of course it's not true. Writer I don't see why It shouldn't be as true as this ! You out of the night — here — now — Woman (Smiling sweetly) Yes, I'm the heroine of a new plot. You might like It. Or are plots easy to find? STRANGERS 85 Writer No, they're damned difficult — I beg your par- don. Woman (Easily) Oh, In the circumstances — Writer (Suddenly conscious that he has remained seated) Sit down, won't you ? Woman You don't want me to go now ? Writer Why no ! Not if you'll stay. I'd like to hear your story, now that you're here. Woman (Suddenly) Do you mind if I open the window? What with the smoke and all that it's very close. (Be- fore he can answer she has opened it and is stand- ing so that an electric light shines full upon her.) Look! (He comes up behind her.) Writer What is it? 86 STRANGERS Woman Oh, nothing, I was mistaken. I thought — it looked like a fire. My nerves are a bit unstrung. I see things tonight. (She crosses hack into the room. He pulls down the shade.) Writer So you want help ? Woman Advice. You've seen so many heroines through, always to a happy end, no matter how dreadful their beginnings, no matter how sordid their rise. I thought perhaps — Writer Well, if I can be of service. You realize, of course, that anyone can begin a story or a play. Anyone can write a first act or a first chapter. But when it comes to development, to the work- ing out of a conclusion that will at the same time satisfy the publisher and the reader — (He pauses for the right word.) Woman (Sympathetically) And one's conscience ! It must be difficult. STRANGERS 87 Writer (Smiling! tolerantly) I'm glad you understand. Woman If I begin at the beginning I hope it won't bore you. Writer It won't, I'm sure. Woman (She is sitting now) Well, then, imagine me good looking, more so than I am now, better dressed, more careful as I look back at it, though making my own living. Oh, I wrote too, a little, so you see I'm sympa- thetic to your needs. I know how hard it is to grind out enough to live. Well, my evolution from a plain, everyday, very tired woman, writing to live, was simple, — gradual, of course. I didn't fall in love at first sight. Neither did he. We met accidentally. I went to interview him for an article for some magazine. He was most courteous, told me all I wanted to know, the details of his rise, which had been electric. No, you understand I'd sooner not describe him too ac- curately. You can fill in for yourself; make him a banker or railroad man or broker, it makes no difference. He was very much in the limelight at 88 STRANGERS that time. Now he's not. He has settled down. Well, that was the beginning. He was married and I became — (Slight pause.) the other woman. That didn't last very long. I mean my anomalous position. Writer (Quickly) You met someone else ? Woman Not at all. Writer You grew tired of each other? Woman No, on the contrary we kept on together. Writer In your anomalous position? Woman No, his wife died. I took her place. Writer He married you ? Woman Yes. STRANGERS 89 Writer (Frankly disappointed) Well, well. Woman Not so very unusual, rm sorry. (With a curl of the lips.) I appreciate that it's scarcely drama, but It Is a fact. She died, simply died, became 111 and died, the way people do every day. I never met her, there was no scandal, no gossip even. She died. I was Introduced to his people, his set. We were married. I tried to live up to his stand- ards; I say ''up '' for I was supposed to have risen with my marriage. We both settled down to the security of It. He, sure of me, dead sure. Well, he was right. I have a great deal of pride and a strong sense of duty. I settled down to be like every woman I saw, every woman In our set, his set more than mine, commonplace, deadly respect- able, prudent, serene, unimaginative, virtuous, never over-enthuslastic, never desperately dis- gusted. Oh, there was a time when I used to be both In the same minute! Honest! But I had outgrown my past, I actually liked that humdrum, middle class set and I thought he did. I should have known better — I who had once been the other woman ! Such an advantage for a wife ! And I neglected It. He found Paradise monoto- nous, missed his little serpent. And now I am 90 STRANGERS the wife, the stay at home, not so young as she once was, deceived wife. Only I'm not deceived. Writer What kind of a woman is she ? Woman She's younger than I am. She lives alone, she has no domestic worries, I mean servants, food, and things like that. She's on a higher plane. She's very careful of her background though. It's very lovely, made up of becoming colours ; open fire, pink lights and all that sort of thing. And she dotes on his stories, the very old- est of them isn't too old for her ! Then she's very dependent, appealing, very much In need of pro- tection. He loves her for the dangers she is pass- ing through ! And when you consider they're for him, all for him! Oh, they've been through a great deal together, confronted by the same men- ace — me ! Writer (Really interested) So you've met her, talked to her? Woman No, no. I haven't an Idea who she is. Writer But I thought you said — STRANGERS 91 Woman (Almost impatiently) Oh, they're all alike In essentials. I know she exists; the rest follows. (After a slight pause she resumes reflectively,) Of course I could find her somehow, entreat her to give him up, win her sympathy, and return home. You remember that scene of Leonard Merrick's in the " Bishop's Comedy " ? Adorable, isn't it ! But that isn't for all wives. It takes a certain kind of woman and a certain kind of man. Or I might die. But a husband doesn't have that kind of luck twice. Do you begin to see why I want your help ? Writer (Almost reproachfully) Well, it's not exactly a new plot, is it? It's always interesting, of course. Woman Give it time — it may take a new turn. (He looks at her doubtfully. Just then there is a knock at the door. His look changes to one of consternation.) Woman (Quickly; completely mistress of the situation) I'll go back and make some more tea. (She disappears into the kitchen. The 92 STRANGERS Writer opens the door and the Caller enters,) Caller I beg your pardon, but did I — er — drop my glove here? I hope I'm not interrupting — your work. Writer Why, I was just trying — your glove ? No, I haven't seen it. What colour was it? (The Caller dangles a tan-coloured glove in his face.) Oh, I see — no — Caller I — your servant couldn't have carried it out ? Writer I have no servant ; no one here at night. Caller Yes, to be sure. I remember you said so. Per- haps in the other room — you might have carried it in there. Writer No. I haven't been out of this room. Caller I must have been mistaken. STRANGERS 93 Writer Yes. I fear so. If it should turn up — but I'm sure it isn't here. (There is a loud clash from the kitchen. An awkward pause follows.) The partitions are so thin, one can hear every sound. A maid may have come in. Caller I should think it would disturb you, — I mean the thin partitions, the noise. Writer (He doesn't actually say, '' Must you go? '' But he looks it) One gets accustomed to anything. Sorry about the glove. Hope you'll find it Caller Oh, it doesn't matter — just thought perhaps — Pardon the intrusion. Good-night I (He exits. The Writer quickly closes the door. The Woman re-enters.) Writer What in thunder did you do that for? Woman What? Writer That clatter out there I 94 STRANGERS Woman I didn't break anything. Writer Oh, that's not it ! Here I am, wasting my time, getting out of the writing mood, disturbed — annoyed — (The Woman crosses to the win- dow and raises the blind.) What the devil! Come away from that window 1 Woman Why? Writer Because — come away I say ! (He goes toward her, intent upon getting between her and the window. Suddenly , without warning and without provocation, she puts her hand on his arm.) Writer (Indignantly) What are you doing? Why — you mustn't! (She comes away from the window, smiling as though completely satisfied.) Woman That's all ! He has seen ! Writer Who? What? STRANGERS 95 Woman My husband. I promised you something new. That man, your visitor, was my husband. I'm just a wife trying a new stunt. You see I fol- lowed you both Into the house. I waited, hidden in the hall, for him to go out. He saw me, I made sure of that. I had on a heavy veil, but my figure was familiar. He couldn't believe his eyes. I tried to appear as at home in the house as I could, I walked quickly as though I knew where I was going. Luckily this door was open. I came in as though I had been here before. He waited out- side in — oh, I hope it was what one might call an agony of Impatience ! Then he came back. You and I did the rest. He thinks — he thinks — Writer Good God ! Woman I'm very grateful to you. But after all you've something to thank me for. I've given you a plot ; you know you hadn't a story in your head ! Writer (Succumbing for the moment to the interest of the occasion) But what's the end? How does it end? 96 STRANGERS Woman That's your business. That's what I came here to get from you. Writer ( Uncomfortably) But I shall have to tell him — Woman Never! You wouldn't do that! Oh, you wouldn't ! Writer But he'll think — why, that I — Woman What's the dilference what he thinks? He wouldn't believe you anyway. You see you did deny my being here, you did help me to hide. Writer (Sullenly) You hid yourself. Woman Why, he knows me so well that he would never in the world believe that I would come here in spite of you. I want him back, not because I'm madly in love with him, but because I should be such a miserable failure if I couldn't keep him, and with my advantages too — the halo of having once been that woman, the other one ! You see STRANGERS 97 this will show him, that I still have undiscovered depths not dreamed of by him, though we live in the same house. As for you, it isn't your life. You're only an acquaintance. He'll shun you perhaps. What of it? I'm the one that counts. He'll find he owns something someone else covets. I'll be worth guarding. Either that or — you're thinking he may divorce me. Well, that's better than the other, than failure to keep him, just dull humdrum, middle class failure. Only it's going to be tiresome keeping it up, for you I mean. I'll have to come here occasionally for a time. Writer I shall move away! Woman (With genuine enthusiasm) Oh, If you would! If you'd go away, break it off, because I — I — leave the rest to me ! Good-night! My husband is waiting outside. Writer I wonder if he Is! (The Woman disappears quickly. He goes to the window and stands straining to see.) By Jove ! (He starts forward eagerly and we leave him looking out into the darkness as the curtain falls,) MAKING A MAN CHARACTERS Guy Parker Dr. Felder Mrs. Guy Parker Maggie MAKING A MAN M ROOM in the home of GuY Parker, an /I artist with pictures to sell. He is over -Z \. eighteen and under forty-five. He can^t conscientiously swear that he is the sole support of his little family, a wife and hoy, because he isn^t. They could not live even on the wrong side of Washington Square, if Mrs. Parker's father hadn*t happened to he rich enough to leave her an income. In normal times no husband would com- plain of such forethought, but when this play opens it happens to he October of the year igi8, when examining and exemption boards were working overtime. The room, a sort of literary den, is comfortable enough, but the owner of it, Guy Parker, is vis- ibly disturbed, uncomfortable, shivery, pale or yellow as the case may be. He comes in furtively, glad to find the place empty, and yet irritated that no one is there to welcome him. It is plain that things are all wrong with him. Alone, he doesn't hesitate to confess it. He crosses over to the mirror, looks at himself in disgust and is even heard to mutter a contemptuous '' bah/' One lOI I02 MAKING A MAN feels as though he would like to obliterate his re- flection^ yet he is not had-looking. On the con- trary if he didn^t look ill — but he is ill and no mis- take. He sinks into a chair but he can^t rest. Scarcely is he down, when he is up again. He crosses to a side table and pours himself out a glass of brandy, swallows it at a gulp, buries his face in his hands, and then looks up startled, as some one enters. It is only the maid of all work, Maggie, who has come in to look for Willie^s flag. Maggie Willie wants his flag, sir. Parker Flag — flag — (The word annoys Parker beyond understanding. He jumps to his feet.) What the devil is the flag doing in here? (It is the Stars and Stripes, and he finds he has been sitting on it. He drops it as though it burnt his fingers. Then, rather ashamed of himself, he quiets down muttering.) This isn't the place for it. The nursery is the place; toys everywhere! Where in thunder is everybody anyway? The place is like a tomb. (He shivers, throws open the window and lets in the sound of an organ grinding out '' The Star Spangled Banner/^ He hangs the window down, cursing the noise under his breath.) Where is Mrs. Parker? MAKING A MAN 103 Maggie The ladies do be playing cards in the parlour. My, but you look sick, sir. Anything I can do ? Parker Sick? I should say so. (Grunts almost as though she were responsible.) I've sent for the doctor, Doctor Felder. When he comes show him right in here. Maggie (Hesitating) Shall I tell Mrs. Parker? Parker No ; no ; I don't want to see anyone. (Irritably after a pause.) How many are there in there? Maggie Oh, only four. There's Mrs. Beale and — Parker (Cutting her of short) I know — I know — I don't want them in here. Don't let them know I'm home. Where's Willie ? Maggie He took sick sir; he's in there, in bed. (In- dicating a room beyond.) And please, sir, he keeps asking if you're a soldier. I04 MAKING A MAN Parker (Sharply) What? Maggie A dozen times this day he has said: " My father's going to be a soldier!" If you'd see him, sir, and tell him — Parker (With growing irritability) No; no: I'm sick; I can't see him. Maggie Well, I won't tell him you're in yet; he doesn't know. Parker (Trying to pull himself together) What's the matter with him? Maggie It's his stomick, sir. Parker Something he's eaten! He's always eating something! Can't anyone look after that child? Maggie He's better now, sir; much quieter. (Parker grunts. All through this there has been a noise upstairs as of children MAKING A MAN 105 running y growing louder and louder. The apartment is a humble one and the sounds from everywhere trickle through as surely as the doors creak and the windows stick. Suddenly there is a scream, the noise of an opening door, and a rush through the hall) Parker (Losing control again) What's that? Maggie The children upstairs! (The sound of '^ Yankee Doodle '^ and the children marching to it floats through the room, and then a hand is heard in the street.) It's the army! If Willie hears them he'll be out of bed in a minute ! (With that, Maggie, much excited, dashes out as she came in, flag in hand. Parker closes the door and even draws a curtain, trying to shut out the noise. Then he sinks into a chair, grabs up a couple of cushions and covers his ears with them. Upon this scene. Dr. Feeder is shown. He is German, of course, a German-Amer- ican. He is pompous and important, but the German part of him is only faintly indicated or Parker might have had noth- ing to do with him.) io6 MAKING A MAN Felder Well, I got your message. You feel not so good, eh? Well, that was to be expected. (He takes of his coat and lays down his hat.) Such a difficulty to get here ! Twenty soldiers passed by; twenty! And the streets are blocked; everyone stands to cheer them! Disgusting! The city should see to it that the comfort of its people is not interfered with. I have been pushed and mauled. Is the soldier such an extraordinary sight ? Twenty soldiers and twenty raw recruits, and everyone stops to look! You should see them — poor devils, each with a bundle; cannon food for Germany, bah ! (Throughout this Parker shrinks nerv- ously^ completely broken down, ashamed, sullen.) Parker Don't be so sure — America is going to win this war! Felder Well, we can't tell; perhaps! I live in Amer- ica. I practise here. I get my living here. Naturally, T hope — but I only say we can't tell. (He says this with unction while every word cuts like a lash.) Meanwhile I help you to stay home, out of it all; out of all that wretchedness and filth. MAKING A MAN 107 Parker Well you needn't rub it in. Felder Why not? Why not? You got a wife and child ; not so ? Why should you go ? No, it's not fair, I say, to ask a man to give up his work to go out and get shot because — just because a few Americans want war. Parker (Utterly wretched) A few ? All — all ! Banners — flags — khaki everywhere. Felder No ; not so ! I can give you names of doctors working like me to save men from the draft; men willing to be saved. There is Dr. Bayer, Dr. Schultz ; oh, there are many ! Parker Really? Ready to help wretches like me? Felder Now, now, now. A man has as much duty to stay home as to go. That's what I tell them all. Out there — what? Not one in fifty comes back. Oh, the German knows how to shoot I io8 MAKING A MAN Parker (Ugly) So does the American ! He's proving it. Felder Well I didn't say he wasn't. I said the German was a good shot; that's all. When he has fin- ished with Europe — Parker (Interrupting with temper) There you go again ! Felder Well, when Europe has finished with him. It's all the same. My, but you pick me up ! When does your examination begin? Parker (Disconsolately) I've been today. Feeder So! They reject you, hein? What did I promise, hein? (The doctor walks up and down the room chuckling.) You see, American doctors haven't had our education; over here they don't know everything. If only I could spread the knowledge of what that little drug I gave you will accomplish, you would see some very startling MAKING A MAN 109 things. By it the heart is affected, quickly, ma- terially. Oh, do not be afraid. I shall have you all right in a couple of days. What did they ask you — the doctors? Eh? Parker It was very simple. I filled out my papers some time ago. They examined my heart the first thing; asked me how long I had been aware I had heart trouble ; asked me if I had taken any- thing — Felder (Quickly) Of course you said not. Parker (Bitterly) Of course. There was a big American flag hanging in front of my eyes. I looked at it, and lied. They asked about my family, my life. I told them I had always had heart trouble. I said what you told me to — God, how I despised myself! They told me to report again Friday. A fellow came out as I went in. He said they had rejected him on account of his teeth; five miss- ing— Felder (Calmly) Yes, yes. The dentist can accomplish a great no MAKING A MAN deal but so few dentists are doing it. Some sur- geons have done well, but that takes courage. A finger must be sacrificed; or the hearing, or the eyes tampered with. My way is best. Parker (With unutterable loathing) For cowards like me ! Cowards all of us — cowards ! Felder (With a judicial air) I deny that these men are cowards. They have conscientious scruples and rightly. There are not so many as one would expect. We have been surprised how few, but if men like you who have been successful would go out and tell the others. If you would whisper to this one or that what can be done for such a trifling cost; without of course mentioning my name; and you can assure them that it is safe, perfectly safe. What I want is to build up, to spread this knowledge. It is a kind- ness. The more men you keep from the army, the sooner this war ends. Parker (Fiercely) Ends ? But what way — ends ? MAKING A MAN in Felder (Soothingly) Well, well, It ends. What Is the difference how? We have prosperity again; and life. You sell your works. Your stocks are up again. And what I propose Is absolutely safe. American doc- tors, I mean, you know, doctors who haven't had the advantage of education at some German clinic — (Breaking of suddenly in his enthusi- asm.) I ask you are there any greater doctors In the world than those of Germany? No, no. American doctors have doubtless never even heard of those little drops In that bottle I gave you to make you safe, to keep you out of the draft. Now I want you to take something to set you up again where you were before America became war mad. Parker (Sullenly) They gave me something over there. Felder (Disturbed) So? Parker They told me to take It and come back. Felder Let mc sec it. (Parker hands him a small 112 MAKING A MAN phial. The doctor holds it to the light, smells it, tastes it and mutters uneasily.) The antidote! (Anxiously.) When are you to go back? Parker Tomorrow. Felder They suspect something! Strange how Amer- icans are always suspicious ! (At this moment Maggie appears at the door in great excitement.) Maggie Excuse me, sir, but WiUie looks awful bad! He doesn't answer me when I speak to him. Parker Willie? Maggie I wish you'd come in; he's never been this way. Parker (Calmly, thinking of course the maid exaggerates) Excuse me a minute, doctor. (He follows Maggie out of the room. In his absence, which lasts just a second. Feeder puts on his coat and picks up his hat. Parker returns, frightened, holding the door open behind him.) I can't rouse him ! For God's sake have a look at him ! He's all we have ! This way, Doctor. MAKING A MAN 113 (Felder rips of his coat and disappears with Parker who now hovers between what appears to be the bedroom and the den, Mrs. Parker, whom Maggie has summoned^ enters hurriedly, leaving the lower door open, so that sounds of jollity are heard from the card players behind it.) Mrs. Parker What is it? Parker Billy! He doesn't answer me. I can't make It out ! Mrs. Parker He's been complaining all day. Something disagreed with him. Parker The doctor happened to be here, Dr. Felder. He's gone in. Mrs. Parker What did he say? Parker He hasn't come out yet; I don't know. Mrs. Parker (Afraid now to go in) Do you hear anything? H MAKING A MAN Parker No. Mrs. Parker Where's Maggie ? Parker In there; in there with the doctor. (There is a burst of merriment from the bridge party ^ at its height when Maggie comes back into the room crying.) Mrs. Parker (In terror) What is it? For God's sake ! (Mrs. Parker rushes out past her as Felder returns. He looks at Parker; shrugs his shoulders and moves towards his coat as though he'd like to be of.) Parker (Apparently dazed) Doctor ? Felder Nothing. I can do ; nothing. Too late — the heart. Perhaps if I had been called in earlier — Parker You don't mean? MAKING A MAN 115 (Mrs. Parker is heard sohhing outside before she enters.) Mrs. Parker Doctor — doctor — can't you do anything? What does it mean? Parker The doctor says his heart — Mrs. Parker (Trying to control her voice) He complained of his stomach — I gave him something for indigestion. Oh, where is that stuff? Maggie — the bottle — (Appealing to doctor.) Oh, can't you do anything? Maggie (Between her sobs) Here's the medicine ! It was out of this bottle. (Felder takes it.) Mrs. Parker My husband's, medicine for indigestion. Billy — Billy — (With a prolonged wail Mrs. Parker dashes out of the room followed by Maggie. Dr. Felder and Parker are left facing each other. The card play- ers are heard again laughing loudly. ii6 MAKING A MAN Dr. Felder hangs the door sharply upon them. Then it is seen that he is beside himself with terror. Holding up the bot- tle in one trembling hand he turns upon Parker.) Felder Man — man — you verdamter idiot you ! You leave this about ! You — you've killed your child! Parker (Also beside himself, but now as much with rage as with grief.) I? I? You damned old German scoundrel I You dare ! You — you — Feeder Calm now, calm — Parker You accuse me? You? Feeder (In great agitation) We must get rid of this bottle. Parker Oh, that's your game, is it? MAKING A MAN 117 Felder Well, isn't it yours? Don't be a fool! (Grabs up his coat again.) Parker You think you're going to get away? (Stands in front of door.) Feeder If I don't get away, what's going to become of you, eh? Come to your senses, man! Let me out ! Are you mad? It's easy enough to fool the coroner. Let me out. Parker (With hitter scorn) So that you can help other cowards like me. Feeder (Beginning to cringe) I tell you I'll put you back in shape if only you give me time. Parker (With sudden fierce resolution) Time? Time! That's what you're going to get! You've killed my boy! Feeder Good God, you'll have the neighbours in here in a minute. ii8 MAKING A MAN Parker (Quietly) Yes and the police. It's the finger of God, Felder ! Felder Tomorrow you'll curse yourself! Parker Today we're going to face the music, Felder. (The desperate calm of Parker frightens the doctor more and more.) Felder (In a hoarse whisper) Look, if you keep your mouth shut, I'll save you. Germany is back of this. For every man I keep out of the draft I get money, big money. I'll divide with you. I'll give you half. You won't have to do anything but sit still and wait. I'll send your name to Wilhelmstrasse and when the war is over you'll be rich — rich — rich! You'll be decorated. You've only got to keep your mouth shut. Parker Good God! You offer me Germany's blood money in exchange for my boy ! MAKING A MAN 119 Felder Be a man ! I'll give you three quarters — all — all ! Be a man I Parker With God's help I mean to be. (He grabs up the telephone and calls at the top of his lungs.) Help ! Help ! Police ! Help ! A German has killed my child! A German! A German! Send a policeman! Be quick! (At this Mrs. Parker and Maggie rush in. Doors are flung open and frightened faces appear. Parker has forced Feeder into a chair where he crouches writhing. Parker towers above him.) Listen, all of you. I wanted to cheat my country at this time, in its need, in its peril. God forgive me. I fell into the hands of this cur; this carrion in the pay of Germany. His poison, made in Germany, was for cowards like me. It was to create an army of slackers. By a turn of fate it has killed my boy, my boy lying dead in there. I know now what we are fighting for ! I know now what free- dom means ! I know now that there is something dearer to me than my body, my wretched body. (Through the room there are murmurs of '' Oh, the pity of it:' '' His child! '' '' Horrible! '' ) Listen. For months I could see myself in the trenches, maimed, smashed, writhing in agony. I lost sight of the great thing, the great cause, my I20 MAKING A MAN country's need, my country's peril; the murdered women and children, the devastated cities. I saw only the infinitesimal me. It took that, my boy in there, killed by a German, to bring before me the mothers and children of Belgium. (Suddenly there is a commotion outside ^ and voices are heard crying, '' It's the police! Let them in! Open the doors J' The groans of the doctor and the sobs of the women are almost drowned in the con- fusion as the curtain falls.) THE END Wis %<^^ c'"^. -tuo^ :\/ '^ ,<^ V .tr.^ ^S». x^ .o-«. -^^ o, ♦'T.T* /\ *« . . 1 ^^ -t'.. '^^ ^.'z:^* *i. '♦ '/ ^^ ^1°. •SK. -..o' ,.?,' *. >e^ ^f- »>V/):- '^♦^ ^^'j?' .*^g(Bi'. t^ ^* ■ .: V 'I *^- 0> , • • 'j^'b' '• ♦^ %♦ ^0 • ^^-^^ Ov , • • « A^^ - ^ -^^ % o; ^^. cT **^Si^^ «^ A^ /. ;o ^^^c^^ : J?^* fr /\ ' '^0 #' ^^ ^: -^^ ^<» - t • o J I w ' , 1 ,^ I , II ''111 1 1 " i,ii I, <;!•,;■ 4f(;i^;s;IB