FHE OLD FIRESIDE 
 
 and 
 
 LITTLE ERNIE 
 
 By W. if. STIGLER 
 
 Author of 
 
 SON JOHN 
 
 Etc. 
 
 Property of 
 
 SPECIAL NOTICE 
 
 Theie are ROYALTY PLAYS, protected according to law 
 by U. S. Copyright with all Rights Reserved to NA TIONAL 
 DRAMA COMPANY, Memphis, Tennessee, from 
 whom a Copyright Privilege License must be se- 
 cured for each and every presentation. 
 
 g|gf^^g^l^^rg^^^^^ [^g^^ r!i[^^^i 
 
 RAWLINGS fHINTER MEMPHIS 
 
OLD FIRESIDE 
 
 By W. A. STIGLER 
 
 Author of 
 
 SON JOHN 
 
 - Etc, 
 
 Copyrighted 1922 by 
 The National Drama Co. 
 
 All Rights Reserved to 
 
 THE NATIONAL DRAMA CO. 
 
 MEMPHIS, TENN. 
 
-^^ 
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 
 We are very glad indeed to be able to offer our 
 customers and friends two more pla^s by W . A. 
 Stigler flie aufKor of 4ie delightful comedy 
 SON JOHN. OKese plays, THE OLD 
 FIRESIDE and LITTLE ERNIE, are far better 
 {Kan 4\e average offerings for amateurs. Please 
 read {Kem carefully) before making your selections. 
 
 Oliese plaj^s are protected by copyright and must 
 not be performed without a license from THE 
 NATIONAL DRAMA CO. for each and 
 every performance given. 
 
 Our rates on mese t-?Jo plays are as follows: 
 
 THE OLD FIRESIDE .$5.00 
 LITTLE ERNIE 2.50 
 
 Wifli each license v^e supply a set of rehearsal 
 parts and Coach copy FREE. 
 
 m^e NATIONAL DRAMA COMPANY, 
 
 P. O. Box yqy '•'• Memphis, Tennessee 
 
 (See order blank on Page 27. ) 
 ©CI.0 6(1475 
 
 ^Vt^ 
 
 u ^ \922 
 
 'H^ 
 
THE OLD FIRESIDE 
 
 Copyright 1922. All Rights Reserved. 
 
 PERSONS IN THE PLAY 
 DAVID COLLINS 
 LISH McCOY 
 BENNY RANSOM 
 GRAY COLLINS ' 
 GEORGE CARVER 
 MRS. COLLINS 
 FLORENCE COLLINS 
 UNA AND BUNA COLLINS (Twins) 
 MRS. McCOY 
 JENNY BUPP 
 MRS. WYNER 
 ROSE CARVER 
 MRS. OATS 
 MRS. BOUNCE 
 MRS. DUNLAP 
 
 Place: Ranch home of Mr. Collins. 
 Time: Yesterday, today, or tomorrow. 
 
 (The. curtain rises exposing a view on the bank of a small stream. In 
 the center is spread a large table cloth on which are spread articles of 
 food, plates, spoons, etc. A few camp chairs are standing around. Near 
 the right front is a rough stump about two feet high. A rather large 
 log lies near the right and over it lie some small branches and driftwood. 
 A few broken limbs and stumps are in the rear, and in the distance may 
 be. seen trees and shrubbery. The corner of an old rail fence shows at 
 the left front, and, on the topmost rail, sits Lish McCoy, quietly chew- 
 ing his cud with about the same expression a cow has in performing the 
 same act. HoweA^er, no one will mistake him for a cow for he shows his 
 superior state by occasionally spitting. 
 
 Presently David enters from the right and takes his place on the fence 
 beside Lish, neither man seeming to notice the existence of the other. 
 David is also spitting but with more expression than Lish, and, when he 
 spits, all of the juice goes away from him; Vv'hile Lish always allows a 
 few drops to run down his chin as if he needed a siphon to start the next 
 flow. The silence is broken by a loud yawn from David. Lish starts 
 to yawn also, but decides that it is not worth while and settles down 
 again, his back in rainbow shape. 
 
 SUGGESTIONS FOR SIMPLIFYING THE SETTING IN ACT I. 
 
 The setting in Act I may be greatly simplified by observing the fol- 
 lowing suggestions. The ordinary landscape drop will suffice, for the 
 general view. The log at right may be altogether dispensed with. In 
 which case, Mrs. McCoy, instead of holdmg Lish behind it, will try to 
 shield him from view of others with her own person as she mends his 
 clothes. The stump in the center may be replaced by a small stone on 
 which the two men deposit their "cuds." The rail fence may not ap- 
 pear at all on thestage. Instead, two drygoods boxes may be used. These 
 boxes should show evidence of having been used to transport food for 
 the picnic. Finally, instead of the overhanging limb may be swung a 
 strong rope or chain. Benny goes off the strg->, catches to this ropo 
 
(which is tied so high that it remains hidden from the audience) and 
 swings into view at extremeleft. Or this part may be cut so that Benny 
 goes off the. stage, is heard sruggling to climb the ti'ee, then sprawls on 
 the stage as though he had fallen from the limb 
 
 DAVE — Fatnin' yer hawgs yet? 
 
 LISH— Hunkuh. (Pause.) 
 
 DAVE — Vv'^ot yer feedin' 'em? (Pause. Lish chews on.) Corn? 
 
 LISH— Hunkuh. 
 
 DAVE— Sorghum? 
 
 LISH— Hunkuh. 
 
 DAVE — Yv'ell, wot then? (Pause. Lish chews on. David can make it 
 easier for him yet.) Jist slop? 
 
 LISH — Uhuh. (Long pause, chewing and spitting.) 
 
 DAVE — Vl'ot yer doin', Lish? Restin? 
 
 LISH— Hunkuh. 
 
 DAVE— Workin'? 
 
 LISH— Uhuh. 
 
 DAVE — Wot at, mindin' the grub? 
 
 LISH— Uhuh. 
 
 DAVE — Guess I'll help you. (He removes his right shoe and shakes 
 several small stones from it. Then he rubs his hand over his sock and 
 utters a v/histle of pain as a grass burr sticks him.) Has Uncle Bill 
 startr.d his sorghum mill yet? 
 
 LISH— Uhuh. 
 
 DAVID — If I'd a knov/ed this was all you had to do, you could a gons 
 with me to run the cows out of the sorghum, 't 'bout tuckered me out. 
 That sorghum's about ripe. 
 
 (Pause.) Tasted any of this year's lasses yet? (Lish nods one time 
 only.) Good? 
 
 LISH— Uhuh. 
 
 DAVE — Started cuttin yer sorghum yet? 
 
 LISH- Hunkuh. 
 
 DAVE — When 're you goin to commence? (Pause — to answer this que.s- 
 tion in its present form would force Lish to use two whole words!) Next 
 week? 
 
 LISH Uhuh. 
 
 (Dave 1 brows his cud away and reaches in his pocket for his plug. 
 Lish has not turned his head, but he must have s'^en with the corner of 
 his eye, for he allows his own cud to roll out of his mouth, down his 
 chest, thence along his le.gs until it falls from his knees to the ground. 
 By this time David has bitten off a new che wand he instinctively holds 
 his plug to Ii^sh's mouth, whereupon Lish bites an enormous piece.) 
 
 DAVE — Lish, there's a drop o' ambeer on yer chin. 
 
 LTSH — (Preferring to talk rather than raise his hand.) 'T'U drop off. 
 
 DAVE — No 'twont. Taint quite b^g enough, 'n it's too dry. 
 
 LISH— 'T'll dry up, I guess. 
 
 DAVE— Well by gum, Lish, wipe it off! 
 
 (lish slowly turns his head, allowing his chin to rub against a post 
 which is near his head.) 
 
 DAVE — That reminr^s me. 'S what I say, Lish, see^'n that there cater- 
 pillar a crawlin on yer neck reminds me of the law about the boll worm. 
 (Lish does not stir.) Now he's around on yer face. Guess he wants a 
 part of ye,'- terbacker. Look out, Lish, or you'll bite his head off! (But 
 he is interrupted here by the voice of Benny Ransom off left.) 
 
 BENNY — Saw now, Pide, doggone you, saw like a good girl. Saw 
 now. (But Pide evidently kicks, for Benny comes sprawling in, the milk 
 bucket thrown far across the stage. His breath is knocked from him and 
 
he struggles to regain it. Then suddenly he hurls a stone off towards old 
 Pide.) Doggone yer old hide, I'll bust yer old head open, you old huzzy! 
 You think you're mighty smart! 
 
 DAVE — 'S what I say, Benny, you mustn't hurt old Pide. 
 
 BENNY — Doggone 'r. I'd like to kill the old huzzy. (Dave laughs.) 
 Yeah, if she'd a kicked you like she did me, you'd be a laughing at the 
 other side of j'our mouth. Say, Meester Collins, you and Meester McCoy 
 will have to come and help me catch her and hold her, or we won't git 
 no milk to make ice cream with. 
 
 DAV^E— Wot yer say, Lish? 
 
 LISH— (Alarmed) Too tired. 
 
 DAVE — Me and Lish have got to mind the grub. 'S what I say, me and 
 Lish have got to mind the grub. You go and git that rope out of the 
 wagon and rope her with it. 
 
 BENNY — (As he goes out at right) Doggone her old hide, I'll give her 
 a good bcntin as soon as I'm through milkin her. I'll learn the old huzzy 
 hov/ to kick me! 
 
 (The twins come running in from the left. They are fourteen years of 
 age. Each has on a calico dress and apron, the end of which she is hold- 
 ing up to keep wild flowers and fruits from spilling. They are laughing 
 and talking gayly.) 
 
 BUNA (Looking up center) Just look up there, will you, at the grapes. 
 And we hadn't seen 'em before! 
 
 UNA — And our table spread right here under them! 
 
 BUNA — If they'd been a snake, they'd a bitten us! 
 
 UNA — Or a wasp they'd a stung us! 
 
 BUNA — (Jumping up and trying to reach them) Here, Una, hold me 
 up so's I can pull the limb down. 
 
 UNA— (Trying) Can't. It's too high. 
 
 Just at this moment Dave and Lish, who have been spitting alternate- 
 ly, now spit at the same time; and the combined sound attracts the at- 
 tention of the girls. They go to Dave.) 
 
 BOTH — Papy, we want you to — 
 
 BUNA — You go ahead and tell him. 
 
 UNA — No, you. 
 
 BUNA — No, now you do it. 
 
 BOTH — Papy, you come and — 
 
 UNA — Now you go ahead and tell him. I'll not take my hand away 
 from my mouth until you're through. 
 
 BUNA — Papy, you come and climb this tree and pull the limb down, 
 so 
 
 UNA — So we can get the grapes. 
 
 BUNA — They're the nicest things! 
 
 DAVE — Now, girls, you run along. Me and Lish have got to mind the 
 grub. Yonder comes Benny; he'll help you. 
 
 (Th«^y meet Benny as he enters from right without the rope. He 
 looks bevond them.) 
 
 BENNY — Meester Collins, I can't find no rope, doggone the luck! 
 
 DAVE — You couldn't find yer head if 'twasn't screwed on. 
 
 TWINS — Oh, Benny, we want you to 
 
 BUNA — Now, you tell him. 
 
 UNA — No, you. 
 
 BOTH — Come over here 
 
 BUNA — Now you tell him; I told papy. 
 
 LTNA — Here are some of the finest grapes. You come over and pull 
 the limb doAvn so we can get them. 
 
 BENNY — I've got to milk old Pide so we can have some milk to make 
 
ice cream with, and the old critter won't stand still, and she kicked the 
 bucket out of my hand and hurt my sore back and toe and made my head 
 ache and my nose bleed, and I caint git them men to help me pen her up 
 and I caint find no rope to tie her with, and — — 
 
 BOTH — Well, do this for us and we'll help you. 
 
 BENNY^What do you want me to do? 
 
 UNA — Climb the tree and pull the limb down. 
 
 BENNY — She's a trade. (The limb is so high that it cannot be seen 
 from the audience.) Now don't you 'look, cause I've got to pull off my 
 shoes so's I can climb her. (He goes off left and pretty soon all of him 
 but his arms comes into view as he swings down from the limb. But 
 his weight is not enough to bend it sufficiently, and his feet swing three 
 feet from the ground.) 
 
 BUNA — You're not heavy enough. 
 
 UNA — You'll just have to hang there awhile and I guess it will finally 
 bend enough. 
 
 BENNY — Gee, I caint hang here all day. I'll give out some time, and 
 besides, I've got to milk old Pide. 
 
 BUNA — Papy, you come and climb up too. Maybe both of you will 
 weight it down. 
 
 DAVE — I tell you, girls, me and Lish have got to mind this grub. You 
 all catch hold of his feet and pull him down. 
 
 (But they each catch to a trousers' leg instead, and the strain is ob- 
 viously too much for the already weak suspenders, one of which breaks. 
 Benny yells and kicks in terror.) 
 
 BENNY — Say, leggo my britches: you're bustin my gallouses! 
 
 DAVE — Hey, Benny, turn loose and come down with your britches! 
 
 (Benny turns loose, and sits very hard on the ground. 'The twins finally 
 understand and run off right, tittering) Say, Benny, there's that rope, 
 out yonder where them girls have been using it for a swing. 
 
 BENNY — (As he goes out left) Doggone it, I knowed something like 
 that was a goin to happen, cause I had a skeery dream last night. 
 
 (Enter Mrs. McCoy, Florence, Mrs. Collins and Jenny, single file from 
 right. They have on their bonnets and are very warm. Each carries 
 some additional food which she deposits on the table cloth.) 
 
 MRS. McCOY— (Looking off rear and calling) E-lish-a! Ohhh 
 E-LISH-A! (The verv woods ring.) 
 
 LISH— Hey? 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Well, if that don't beat a hen-a-pe.ckin! Here I am a 
 yellin fit to kill and you right there under my nose! Why did you go and 
 let me do that? 
 
 DAVE — How did we know you_was a goin to yell fer fool head off? 
 
 MRS. McCOY— How did you know it? 
 
 DAVE — Yes, 'S what I say, how did we know it? 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Aint you got no eyes to see that I was a drawin my 
 breath in and a throwin my head away back to holler? Now you two 
 go and put the things in the wagon, and 
 
 DAVE — How about waitin till after dinner? 
 
 MRS. McCOY— It'll be a long time till dinner yet. And you all hitch 
 up the horses, too, cause we must git fer home right after dinner. 
 
 LISH— Wot fer? 
 
 MRS. McCOY — You all go on and don't ask so many fool questions. 
 (Neither man has moved.) 'Cause Mrs. Collins is havin' rheumatiz, and 
 that's a sure sign of rain, and we caint afford to git caught out in no 
 rain like we did the last time we was a fishin'. (They get down very 
 slowly and ooze out at right, Lish behind. Neither gets the bow out of his 
 tack before he leaves the stage.) Oh, these men! These m€^.n! Whatever 
 
 6 
 
you do, Florence, don't you ever be so foolish as to marry a MAN! 
 They're the most aggravatin' ci'eatures in the world. The Lord only 
 knows how hard I try to be a good wife for my old man, and there you 
 see a sample of the way he treats me. (Preparation of the lunch occu- 
 pies all but Jenny, who looks off left.) Jenny, for goodness' sake, why 
 aint you a helpin' here? I do believe, Miss Collins, she's as crazy as can 
 be ovfcT that new hard hand of yourn and him over her. Now you go 
 down to the wagon and mash up the ice to make ice cream with. (Exit 
 Jenny right) 
 
 FLORENCE — Mother, you and Mrs. McCoy go and sit in the shade 
 while I do the rest of this. Aren't you tired? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — No, honey, we'd rather be a workin than not, and 
 besides, this isn't hard work. 
 
 MRS. MC. — Well, you all go ahead and finish slicin the meat and peei- 
 in the pertaters and I'll go and make up the corn bread and put it on to 
 cook. You know it takes that a long time to git done. 
 
 FLORENCE— I can go make the bread. 
 
 MRS. MC. — No, I'll do it. Lish likes his'n jist so, and if 'faint jist so, 
 
 he well, you know men is jist like dogs — always got to have their 
 
 grub jist right or they want touch it. Oh, Lordy mercy! (Exits right) 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Don't you think Gray has had time to get back from 
 town? 
 
 FLORENCE— Yes, if he hasn't had trouble in finding Mr. Carver. But 
 you know he won't come until he finds some way of raising the money. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — You don't suppose the horse could have run away 
 with him? 
 
 FLORENCE — Why no, mother. You're so nervous! He said that he 
 was going to get Mr. Carver to come out here to see the place, and may 
 be he will have to wait quite awhile. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— Oh, when will it all end! Your father blames me 
 with the whole thing: you and Gray a goin' away to college, and now 
 him a wantin' to run for office — everything. 
 
 FLORENCE — And you are the cause of it. But you are to be praised, 
 not blamed. You have done your best to get us away from this unevent- 
 ful life. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — But it has only brought us trouble! As soon as you 
 had been away to school, you got dissatisfied with the life on the farm 
 and wanted to leave. And while you was away your pa and Benny 
 couldn't run the place and it wouldn't rain, and we had to mortgage the 
 farm to borrow money. And now Gray wants to 
 
 FLORENCE — Now, mother, please don't go to worrying over all that 
 again. He'll get the money and the campaign will be a success. Then 
 we'll have a good crop this year and everything will be all right. 
 
 MRS. C. — Maybe you're right. I know we've tried to do our duty, and 
 the Lord will not forsake them as trust in Him. (All exit right) Pres- 
 ently Gray Collins, George Carver, Rose Carver and Mrs. Wyner enter 
 from left. They are dressed for traveling. George has a kodak swing- 
 ing at his side) 
 
 ROSE — Oh, camping! Do you camp out often? 
 
 GRAY — You see we've come to the right place. Here's the lunch all 
 spread. 
 
 ROSE — Yes, and I have a sharp appetite after those two hours of driv- 
 ing. 
 
 MRS. WYNER— (Cuttingly) I'm sure you had sufficient breakfast. Rose. 
 
 ROSE — Quite. But I'm as hungry as a wolf now, just the same! 
 
 GRAY — Now this is the corner of the land. You can see it extends to 
 the right for two miles. It takes in about three miles of this stream. 
 
Then it goes this way for one mile. We'll look it over later. But you 
 can see it's pretty good land; some of it is very good. It is so pretty 
 at this place that we invite some neighboring family to camp and fish 
 with us each year. 
 
 GEORGE — Yes, I can see that the land is very fine, indeed. I should 
 have known it was as valuable as you said without looking at it, but it's 
 a matter of business 
 
 GRAY — Certainly, and I shouldn't have felt like accepting the addi- 
 tional loan if you hadn't come. 
 
 ROSE — (Who has been looking about) Oh, isn't it pretty here! I'm just 
 crazy about this open air! 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Rose!! 
 
 GRAY^ — Mrs. Wyner, you and Miss Carver use these chairs and rest 
 while I go to our mail box over here. I'm very anxious to get that let- 
 ter from Hopkins about my campaign. Mr. Carver, here's a bucket; 
 you'll find some water in the stream for your radiator. (George takes 
 bucket and goes out at right rear toward the stream) You just sit here 
 in the shade and we'll have lunch pretty soon. (Exits right front en- 
 trance) 
 
 ROSE— Oh, isn't he fine! 
 
 MRS. Vv'YNER— Who, your brother, George? 
 
 ROSE— Indeed, no; Mr. Collins! 
 
 MRS. WYNER — Why, Rose! But I'm not surprised at your being at- 
 tracted by people of that type. Your mother could never distinguish 
 between people of the higher class and the lowest sort of being. 
 
 ROSE— Yes, and I can finish for you — I'm just like my mother. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — I don't think your brother would approve, of your ad- 
 miring such a person, and I know he wouldn't like to hear you speak to 
 me in that tone. 
 
 ROSE— No, because 
 
 MRS. WYNER — Now, he is just the image of his father. 
 
 ROSE — I am sorry to hear you make such a remark about father. 
 
 GEORGE — (Rushing in excitedly from right) By jove, auntie, do you 
 know this place is worth millions! 
 
 MRS. WYNER— (Rising) What's that? In what way? 
 
 GEORGE — Look at that. That's coal! A large vein outcrops in the 
 stream bed. The wealth of a Rockefeller is under this land! 
 
 ROSE — Oh fine! I should say you can lend him the money now! 
 
 MRS. WYNER — Shh! not so loud. Are you sure you know what you 
 are talking about? 
 
 GEORGE— I'd stake my life on it, 
 
 ROSE — But why haA^en't they discovered it before? 
 
 GEORGE — It has just been exposed by the last rise in the stream. 
 
 MRS. WYNER^Ah, let's see. Didn't you say they were thinking of 
 selling this place? 
 
 GEORGE — By jove, I do remember that they wanted to turn the whole 
 thing loose and go to town! 
 
 MRS. WYNER— We might buy it. 
 
 ROSE — Why you couldn't now. You wouldn't have the money now. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — Why you don't suppose we'd be fools enough to let 
 them know before we bought it, do you? 
 
 GEORGE — You mean buy it without 
 
 ROSE— Why, that would be stealing! 
 
 MRS. WYNER — I can't see how you make that out. Your brother dis- 
 covrd this just as Columbus discovered America. These ignorant people 
 could keep this farm a hundred years and never make more than a farm 
 of it. 
 
GEORGE— There's something in that. 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Besides youll pay them all they ask, and more too. 
 
 GEORGE— If they only haven't changed their minds about selling. 
 (Enter Gray and Florence right.) 
 
 ALL — Good morning. 
 
 GEORGE — You know, Mr. Collins, while you were away we've been 
 admiring the beauty ot this place and we have just about decided to buy 
 it, if you still wish to sell. I believe you ask $22,000. 
 
 GRAY — Yes, we did hold it at that when we thought of selling. 
 
 GEORGE — Well, auntie is in love with the place ana I think she'd like 
 to come here to live. So, if we can get possession right away, I'll pay 
 you 125,000 cash for it. 
 
 FLORENCE — Oh Gray, that's too good to be true! We will sell, won't 
 we? 
 
 GEORGE — I hardly know what to say. I hadn't expected this. 
 
 GEORGE— And more than that, I'll see that you get the election, if my 
 influence will get it for you; so that vou will have nohing to lose. 
 
 ROSE— Oh fine, George. 
 
 FLORENCE— Do you hear. Gray? Isn't that fine! 
 
 GEORGE — Of course father and mother will be the ones to decide. 
 Tht.y've lived here so long, they won't want to give the old place up. 
 
 FLORENCE — Oh, they'll want to when they see how good it is for all 
 of us. 
 
 GEORGE — By jove, auntie, I can't do this; it's too much; I 
 
 MRS. WYNER— George! Don't you dare! 
 
 FLORENCE — Oh, you aren't thinking of backing out, are you? 
 
 GEORGE — Oh, no, ah, I suppose we can afford it. Yes, of course.. 
 
 I LORENCE — Come, let's go and see father and mother about it. (All 
 exit center.) 
 
 BENNY — (Enters from left and sets the bucket of milk by the table 
 and draws the corner of the cloth over it. Then he reaches for a piece 
 of pic and is just going to eat it, when he heai's a footstep off right. He 
 does not get it hidden before Jenny enters with he freezer. This she sets 
 down and then joins Benny) My, you shore did skear. me, girlie, I 
 thought you was some of the women folks. Come on and have some pie. 
 
 JENNY — Aintcha afraid they'll ketcha? 
 
 BENNY — (Holding pie for her to bite) Nah, we can hide her too quick. 
 Say, girlie, you're a lookin' as sweet as apple dumpiins today. 
 
 JENNY — Now, quit your flirt in, Benny. 
 
 BENNY — Say, here's a good un. What kind of a vegetable would the 
 father of an old maid want? 
 
 JENNY^ — Give it up, what? 
 
 BENNY— Why, he'd want to-mat-er. 
 
 JENNY — You shorely are smart! (They both laugh uproarously, slap- 
 ping their knees with their hands. Jenny puts one foot into the pail of 
 milk. However, not much of it is spilled.) 
 
 BENNY — Now you've gone and done it, gillie! What'U thev say about 
 it? 
 
 JENNY— My, I'll shorely ketch it! 
 
 BENNY — (Heroically) Nah, I won't let 'em hurt you. 
 
 JENNY — How'll you keep 'em from it? 
 
 BENNY — Tell 'em twas me that stepped in it. 
 
 JENNY — (Laughing) The'y aint green enough to be fooled that easy. 
 Don't you know they'd see you couldn't git your big toe in that bucket. 
 
 BENNY — I guess you're about right, girlie. I know, we jist wont tel) 
 'em 'tall. 
 
 JENNY— You mean ? 
 
BENNY — Shore I do. Where's that mixture? (With one accord they 
 pour the milk and ingredients into the freezer and begin to turn. Jejiny 
 wipes the milk from her stocking and shoe with her apron) 
 
 JENNY — What kind of flavorin do you like best? Ot, I clean forgot 
 to put any flavorin in at all! 
 
 I5ENNY — (Looking significantly at her foot) She wont need no flav- 
 orin' now, girlie. She'll be so sweet she want even need no sugar. 
 
 JENNY — Oh, Benny, you're such a flatterer. You almost plague me 
 to death! 
 
 BENNY — Say, girlie, what's that you got wrapped up in that towel? 
 
 JENNY — Oh, I was about to fergit! It's a hot roasted pertater that 1 
 wanted us to eat while we fi'oze the cream. (Handing it to him) Look 
 out, it is awful hot. 
 
 BENNY — (Takes potato, but mush shift it from one hand to other as 
 he blows it) I'll soon peel 'er. 
 
 JENNY — Hide it, quick. Here comes somebody! (Benny starts to put 
 it into his pocket, but, in his hurry, he slips it down his trousers. The 
 twins enter from right running.) 
 
 BOTH— Oh, Benny, have 
 
 BENNY — (By this time the potato has begun to burn. He tries to get 
 it out, but only succeeds in mashing it on his leg. He screams and 
 jumps up and down. Finally the mashed potato comes out around his 
 foot.) 
 
 JENNY — Jist a wastin' tater. (Benny howls, nursing his leg) 
 
 BUNA — Benny, have you got it back on 'em for laughing at you? 
 
 BENNY — (Aroused from his misery) No, I aint, but I'm a-goin' to. Ir 
 I could jist study up somethin to do. Oh, say, Jenny, give me that there 
 hammer. Now, you run the freezer a minute; I'll show 'em how to laugh 
 at me. (He goes to the fence on which Lish and Dave have been sitting 
 and drives several nails in the top rail, leaving the head of each nail ex- 
 posed) 
 
 UNA— Oh, that'll tear their clothes! 
 
 BENNY — Yes, and it'll tear them, too. And it'll be good enough fer 
 'em, too, doggone 'em. And I'll fix 'em another way, too. You see this 
 here green persimmon. (They do, for he produces it from his pocket) 
 You jist watch! 
 
 JENNY — Look out! Here comes them wimmen folks, sure. 
 
 (Enter Mrs. McCoy, Mrs. Collins, Dave and Lish from right. The 
 women have food which they place on the table. Lish and Dave hunker 
 down on the log, chewing and spitting. The twins and Benny are dis- 
 appointed that they did not sit on the fence) 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Benny, is the ice cream ready? 
 
 BENNY — Yes'm, I think so; we caint hardly turn 'er. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Well, I guess everything is about ready. Where's Flor- 
 ence? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— She went on up the creek a piece. She'll be back 
 soon, I guess. We'll jist not wait on her. She can eat when she comes. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Yeah, with your rheumatiz a gittin worse every min- 
 nit, I feel like gittin home before it comes up a rain. Must be all of six 
 miles the way we have to go. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Well, you all come up and help yourselves. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — It's dinner, everybody. Come on up and dish in. Lish, 
 Dave. (But the call to a meal never has to be repeated to them. They 
 go to the stump and deposit their cuds. After they have taken their 
 places, Benny cautiously opens each cud and inserts pieces of the per- 
 simmon which he cuts with his knife. Then he takes his place at the 
 table, shaking his head and frowning at the twins who cannot keep from 
 
 10 
 
giggling. All of them sit on the ground and eat rapidly and noisily. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Lish, won't you have some of these peas? (Lish 
 shakes his head, but this is not necessary, for his wife answers for him) 
 
 MRS. McCOY — No, he don't like. 'em. I don't never cook none of 'em 
 at home. Me and Jenny is the only ones that like 'em, and I jist don't 
 cook "em. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Well, here's some turnips, have some of them. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Lawsy, no! They don't set well on my storamick. I 
 aint et none of them since that time when the.y made me so sick over at 
 the camp meetin. Why it even makes me sick to smell 'em. Have some 
 corn bread. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — No, I caint eat much of that. At home I always cook 
 three kinds of bread. Dave always eats corn bread, and the twins want 
 biscuit, and the rest of us eat light bread. Here's some more of these 
 apple dumplings left. (She passes them and Lish reaches, but his wife 
 takes them instead) 
 
 MRS. McCOY — No, P mafraid for Lish to eat any more of 'em. They 
 don't agree with him — make him bilious, and our medicine's about all 
 gone. (Smelling the apple dumplings) Besides, they aint good, I believe 
 Wheh! sourer'n blue John! Mv goodness. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— Well, I declare! That's too bad. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — My goodness, Dave, don't that make seven pieces ot 
 pie fer you? 
 
 DAVE — I hadn't kept ercount, but I thought it was eight. But I'm 
 a-quittin you now, or I'll bust all the buttons off my shirt. (He and Lish 
 replace their cuds. Lish looks at the log and then at the fence. Deciding 
 in favor of the lattex, he goes to it and perches upon one of the nails 
 Dave follows, but merely leans against the fence. The twins giggle; 
 Benny frowns. The women busy themselves tidying up the table.) 
 
 DAVE — (Spitting with difficulty) By gum, Lish, I believe we got our 
 terbacker mixed. 
 
 LISH— Why? (Same difficulty) 
 
 DAVE — Cause, my mouth feels like I'd been a eating court plaster. '7' 
 wants to stay shut like yourn does all the time. 
 
 LISH — Mine's a puckerin up, too. 
 
 DAVE — Mine aint only a puckerin, she's agoin tighter'n a foldin bed 
 (Thej- try to remove cuds but cannot open their mouths wide enough) 
 
 DAVE — By gum, I'm glad this happened after dinner. 
 
 (He inserts a small stick into his mouth removing the tobacco bit by 
 bit. Finishing, he passes the stick to Lish, who repeats tlie process 
 Enter Mrs. Wyner, Rose, Florence, Gray and George right) 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Here you folks are jist in time to be too late. 
 
 FLORENCE— I see there's plenty left. 
 
 GRAY — Mrs. Wyner, this is my mother. (They bow and exchange the 
 usual gre.etings) And this is Mrs. McCoy; my sisters, Una and Buna 
 This is Miss Carver and this is Mr. Carver. (They go to left from) 
 Father, meet Mrs. Wyner, and Miss Carver, also Mr. Carver. 
 
 DAVE — (Enibarassed and "closed up") Howd'ye do — howdy do — howdy 
 
 (^Lish moves uneasily and his trousers are heard to tear. He seems 
 to hear the tear and understand its significance, for he quickly becomes 
 quiet with greater unease.) 
 
 GRAY — And this is our neighbor, Mr. McCov. 
 
 LISH— Evenin'. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Interrupting) Now yon folks come on and eat your 
 dinner. (They go to the table and eat. Benny, the twins and Jenny go 
 to right and stare at them) 
 
 BENNY — Did you hear that rip a minute rgo? Now you watch me fix 
 
 11 
 
'em in another way. I'll learn 'em how to laugh at me. (Going to table) 
 Mrs. McCoy, say, one of your horses is loose. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Well, if that don't beat a hen a peckin'. Lish, one of 
 the horses is loose. Hurry up and catch it. (He does not budge) For 
 goodness' sake, huiTy up. Do you want us to have to walk home? (As 
 he is still sitting, she goes to him, pulls him off the fence and starts 
 him off right. She notices the tear in his trousers) Well, how in the 
 world did you tear your pants so bad! Here wrap this apron around you 
 till you git back and I'll sew you up. (He exits right. Benny and the girls 
 .are overcome) 
 
 GRAY — FathF.r, I have some good news for you and mother. Mr. Car- 
 ver has decided that instead of lending more money on the place he'll 
 just buy it, if we still care to sell. What do you say? 
 
 DAVE — We'd about given up the. idea, son. You know we've kinder 
 grown to this old farm. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Well, if that don't beat a hen a peckin! That's jist the 
 way with young folks now-a-days, always a tollin the old folks off on 
 some wild goose chase. Now I'd a knowed better'n to have ever tried 
 to do my pa and ma that-a-way. 
 
 GRAY — Then you and mother would be through with worry and work, 
 and could take your much-earned rest, which you'll never get here. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Yes, that's jist the way it goes — always a wantin to git 
 av/ay from work. That's the trouble with everybody today — the young 
 folks are all a wantin to git big payin jobs without any work. In my 
 young days we never thought of setch a thing; it was jist work, work 
 work in them days, and everybody was happy, too. 
 
 THE TWINS — Oh, and w e could go to a town school! 
 
 FLORENCE — Yes, to high school and then to college. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Why, I've lived all my life on the farm. I don'i 
 know Avhat I'd do with myself in a city. 
 
 FLORENCE— You wouldn't do a thing but rest — and enjoy youraelt 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — (Strangely) I v.'onder if enjoyment ahvays comes 
 with rest. 
 
 (Lish re-enters right, but is seized by his wife who pushes him down 
 behind the log. He li=>s c oncealed while she sews his trousers. When 
 the conversation becomes interesting he raises up only to be thrust down 
 again) 
 
 MRS. McCOY — Now, you lay right there till I git you s^wed up. 
 
 DAVE — How much is he a offe.rin for the place? 
 
 GEORGS — (Coming forward) |25,000, providing I can get possession 
 right at once. I'll pay all cash, except what your son owes me. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — I tell you, Miz Collins, I smell a mouse. What on earth 
 would fine city folks like them want with a farm way out here? And 
 to think of you all a leavin us and a goin to the city. Pretty soon you'd 
 be so cityfied you wouldn't notice us. 
 
 DAVE — What do you say, old woman? I guess these folks want to be 
 a gittin back to town. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — I'll do whatever you say. It's the chance of a lifetime 
 for the children, I suppose, and we shouldn't stand in their way. 
 
 DAVE — It's pretty sudden, Mr. Carver, I guess we'd better think it 
 over a dav or too. 
 
 GEORGE — Very well. I shall be out this way tomorrow, and I should 
 like to have your answer by that time. I really think that unl'^ss you 
 decide to sell, I cannot let you have more money on tlTe place. You s'^.o 
 I have about decided to buy a ranch somewhere now, and I shall need 
 all the money I can get together in order to handle it. Therefore, I hope 
 
 12 
 
that you will decide to sell; for I should like to accommodate you if pos- 
 sible. Come, sister, auntie; good day. 
 
 MRS. McCOY — (Arising and allowing Lish to do so) Wait a minnit, 
 Mister. Would you mind taking our picture? I see you've got a kodak, 
 and I believe they will take you up, and this'U be our last trip of this 
 kind to go on. 
 
 GEORGE— Certainly, I'll be glad to take it, 
 
 (The.y all take places and pose. All except Gray and Florence have 
 
 difriculty in holding mouth, eyes, etc., steady. While they pose ■ — 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 The living room of the ranch home of Mr. Collins. Chairs, rugs, ta- 
 bles, etc., are arranged for display to prospective buyers. At the right 
 is a door leading into a bed room. The door at the left leads into the 
 front yard. In the center is the. door opening into the dining room. In 
 front of the door at the left is an old-fashioned fireplace. Two chairs 
 are before it, and a screen separate.s them from the rest of the room. 
 Dave and his wife are seated at the right, Dave reading and his wife 
 knitting. Flortjice is standing at a dresser at center. 
 
 FLORENCE — Mother, did anyone buy that leather rocking chair? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — No, it hasn't been in the room. 
 
 FLORENCE— Where is it, I wonder. Do you know? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Yes, honey, it's in the bed room. (Florence, exits 
 right) I can't bear to see the things I've kept house with for thirty 
 years sold before my very eyes! 
 
 DAVE — Whose fault is it? You're the one who started this whole 
 shebang, you agreed to selling out same as I did? 
 
 DAVE — Yes, but who got the whole thing a goin'? Who was it got 
 the children a thinkin about town schools? Who started the idea of bor- 
 rowin money on the place? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— Yes, I guess it's all my fault. But I done what I 
 thought was the best for them. And we. both thought it would be fine 
 just to throw everyhing aside and rest, didn't we? 
 
 DAVE — I guess you're about right, old girl. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — But when they said we'd have to sell everything be- 
 cause all we had was old-fashioned and wouldn't do to keep house with 
 in the city — and that we'd have to throw away our clothes and 
 
 DAVE — And give up the horses and cows 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— It's just like losin a member of the family. 
 
 DAVE — It's Vv^orse, by gum! 'S what I say, it's worse! 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— Shhhh! Here comes Florence. We mustn't spoil 
 their happiness by lettin the.m see how bad it's hurtin us. 
 
 FLORENCE — (Bringing rocker in from right) That's odd; it was be- 
 hind that curtain in there all covered up with old comforts and things. 
 I should never have found it if you hadn't said it was in the room. (She 
 goes to the. left and admits Mrs. Dunlap, a slender "old maidish" look- 
 ing woman, and fluffy Mrs. Bounce) Why come in, Mrs. Dunlap and 
 Mrs. Bounce and have seats! 
 
 MRS. DUNLxVP— Howdy, Florence. Howdy do Mrs. Collins. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Good evenin. Have seats and make yourselves at 
 homr-.. Wc'i-e kinder tern up here 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE — (Fanning briskly with her bonnet held in her right 
 hand and v^-iping pci spiral ion with her left) We've jist got a minnit to 
 stay. I come over to see if you've got something to sell that I need. 
 
 FLORENCE — I'm sorry you didn't come sooner. Some of the things 
 arc sold. 
 
 18 
 
MRS. DUNLAP— Oh. that's all right. I'm not in the habit of buyin 
 other people's old leavins! 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE— (Knowingly) No, you know that aint MRS. DUN- 
 LAP'S way. She jist come to be a comin with me. (Puffing) Oh, mercy, 
 it's enough to run the fat off of a jack rabbit to climb that hill up here 
 these hot clays. I was a passin Mrs. Dunlap's house and she was a set- 
 tin out on her front porch all dressed up in her shoes and clean apron 
 and bonnet, and she says, "Did you know the Collins's was a sellin out 
 their things to move?"' x\nd I says, "Ye.s, that's jist where I'm started 
 now. Won't you come along?'' And she says, "Well, I aint got no busi- 
 ness at these sales, private nor public, cause I don't want nobody's old 
 leavins, but I'll go along." (Puffing and fanning) So she jist ups and 
 comes along. 
 
 FLORENCE — Well, see if there's anything in here you want. 
 
 MRS. DUNLAP — Florence, have you sold that old clock? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— No, I don't think so 1 haven't. 
 
 FLORENCE — Neither have I. I wonder where it is. You haven't put 
 it aAvay as you did the chair, have you, mother? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — We you see, I lowed as how we wouldn't sell 
 
 it we've had it in the family so long 
 
 FLORENCE — Nonsense, mother. Why of course we'll sell it. If I'd 
 let you and father, you'd keep a house full of things, none of which 
 wotild match the things in our new home. Where is it? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— I put it in the closet, in there on the top shelf. 
 
 FLORENCE — (Laughing) All covered up so no one could find it, I 
 suppose, I'll get it. 
 
 MRS. DUNLAP — That aint necessary; I know what it is. I aint no 
 hand for the other people's leavins, but I believe I'll buy it, providin j'ou 
 don't want too much fer it. How much do you want for it? 
 
 FLORENCE— How much is it worth, father? 
 
 DAVE — (Hoarsely) That clock? My old granddaddy bought it when he 
 was a young man and paid $12.00 fcr it. She's as good today as she was 
 the day shp was bought. I reckon itought to be. worth half price. 
 
 MRS. DUNLAP — My, you don't mind askin a plenty! Why the var- 
 nish is rubbed off on one side and there's a sink in the door at the ketch. 
 
 DAVE — Yes, the varnish is gone because she's set there aginst that 
 plank on the shelf for thirty-five years and the sink was made 
 in the door by our fingers as me and my daddy and granddaddy opened 
 it to wind it for eighty years. Yes, she's considerably wore, Mrs. Dun- 
 lap, but 'twas done IN SERVICE. 
 
 MRS. DUNLAP — Uhuh, and I suppose its days of service are about 
 over with. I'll give you five dollars for it. 
 
 FLORENCE— I suppose that will be all right. 
 
 Mrs. Dunlap goes about the room examining things critically. Mrs. 
 Bounce still fans) 
 
 FLORENCE — Do you see anything you want, Mrs. Bounce? 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE— I caint tell till I've cooled off a little bit. Oh good- 
 ness, I'm all covered over with the heat. (Scratches) My old man was 
 a arguin with me about it t'other day. He told me, he says, "Why the 
 aint a thing in the world the matter wih yo ubut jist chiggers." He says, 
 "You're jist covered with chiggers." But I told him, I says, "You don't 
 know what you're a talkin about. It's heat, I tell you. Don't I know, 
 cause it's worse wheji I git to sweatin." 
 
 MRS. DUNLAP — This table aint worth much, it's so scratched up. 
 My, you ask $12.00 for it! Caint you take ten, cash? 
 
 FLORENCE— I guess so. 
 
 14 
 
MRS. BOUNCE — (Giggling) Mrs. Dunlap caint bear otlier people's 
 leavins! 
 
 FLORENCE— (Admits Mrs. Oats left) How do you do, Mrs. Oats! 
 Come light in and have a seat. 
 
 ALL — Good evenin, Mrs. Oats. 
 
 MRS. OATS — (A Church fanatic, gone to seed. She speaks in a high 
 nasal tone, almost a whine) Howdy, everybody. (Sits right) Oh, it's 
 too pitiful to hear you say you're a goin to leave us! To think, here your 
 family's been a livin in this place all these years, and now we may not 
 ever git to see you agin! 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— (Forgetting herself) And it's just about all we can 
 do to stand to leave. David and me caint stand this much longer! 
 
 FLORENCE — Why, mother, v/hat are you saying? Why I thought you 
 and father v-t re both delighted with the idea of moving. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— Yes-s, of course— I don't know why I said that! 
 
 MRS. OATS — Don't let me hinder you all from buyin, Mrs. Bounce. 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE — I aint a very active buyer jist now; I'm tryin to git 
 cooled off. You go ahead. 
 
 MRS. OATS — I didn't come to buy nothin. I jist couldn't bear the 
 thought of givin Sister Collins up, and (Crying) of seeing the pore thing 
 a grievin about goin away, and I jist had to come over and cheer her up. 
 Brother Smith says to me yesterday at Church, he says, "Sister Oats, I 
 hear that Sister Collins is a goin to move away." He says, "You must 
 go over and cheer her up, for she'll be a grievin terrible at leavin this 
 community." He says, "You aint missed bein at a funeral for thirty 
 years and che.erin the bereaved ones up,'' he says, "And you mustn't fail 
 in your duty no-ow." So I come right over. I don't want to buy nothin 
 (Her crying has ceased) but I thought if you had a lot of old things you 
 wasn't agoin to take along and was a goin to throw away, I might as 
 well have 'em. 
 
 MRS. DUNLAP — (Impatiently) My. you have this old rocker marked 
 $7.00 and the machine $27.00, and this dresser $18.00! That's awfully 
 high. Why you've had 'em ever so long, and they're a lookin pretty 
 rough, arid here's a hole in the leather of the rocker, and a corner chipped 
 from the machine and the dresser is scratched. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — (To Dave) It's like he.arin someone pick out faults 
 with your family right to your face. I caint stand it much longer! 
 
 FLORENCE — Well, you know if they were new. we'd be asking double 
 that amount for them. However, we'll lake $50.00 for all of them. 
 
 MRS. D.— Well, I guess I'll take 'em. 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE — You know Mrs. Dunlap caint bear the thought of 
 usin other people's leavins! 
 
 MRS. OATS — Florence, are you a goin to take that old washin ma- 
 chine along? You know it's got one leg off and the crank's broke. 
 
 FLORENCE — No, we're leaving it in the smokehouse. 
 
 MRS. O. — Well, if it's all the same to you, I'll take it over with me. 
 I guess Jonas can fix it so's it'll do a little bit bettern a rub board. I 
 tell you when you wash for a old man and twelve kids once a week, you 
 want some easy way of doin it. . 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE— An the. whole outfit gifting their clothes dirty as pots! 
 
 MRS. O. — Yes. law! It's a Vr^onder I live over it. It's a mighty hard 
 life I live, but Bi'other Smith says that them that endure to the end 
 will find a bigger reward awaitin them in he nex world. (Significantly) 
 But I don't know about them as go away and take up a easier life, a- 
 seekin their reward on this earth. 
 
 MRS. COT-LINS— Oh, don't say that, Sister Oats. I've endured for 
 
 15 
 
forty yearK u waitin for what will be In store for me in the next world, 
 and it's too much to think I might lose it now. 
 
 MRS. O. — (Sighing) I aint a sayin what'll come of it, but as for me 
 and mine, we'll hold out faithful to the end. (Mrs. Collins weeps) 
 
 MRS. DUNLAP— Why, Florence, askin $16.00 for this bookcase? 
 
 FLORENCE— Yes, but if YOU want it, you may have it for $15.00. 
 
 MRS. D.— Well, I'll take it. 
 
 MRS. BOGNCE — We'd better git busy, Mrs. Oats, or Mrs. Dunlap will 
 have evry thing bought without giving us a chance. 
 
 MRS. D. — Not much, I aint in the habit of us'in other people's leavins! 
 
 MRS. B.— Yeah, so Ave see! Say, Florence, that old coffee pot? You 
 sold it? 
 
 FLORENCE — Why, no. I never thought anyone would want it. 
 
 MRS. OATS — If you don't aim to sell it or take it with you, why I'll 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE— Interrupting quickly) Well, I guess I'll BUY it. How 
 much? 
 
 FLORENCE — It really isn't worth selling, say fifty cents. 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE — Here's your money. Now I believe I've bought about 
 all I can afford to, so I'd better go. Are you ready, Mrs. Dunlap? 
 
 MRS. D.— In a minnit. Will you take $5.00 for all four of these lamps? 
 
 FLORENCE— I suppose so. 
 
 MRS. D. — All right. Well, goodbye, Florence. I hope you can sell 
 the things out. I'd buy something only I caint bear the thought of usin 
 other peoples' old leavins! 
 
 MRS. BOUNCE — Hope you all like the city. Come back and see us. 
 Now, Florence, we'll go through the kitchen and git my coffee pot. (Exit 
 Mrs. Bounce, Mrs. D. and Florence, center) 
 
 MRS. OATS — Brother Collins, are you a goin to take that coat witb 
 you that you've beeji a wearin to Church the last few years? 
 
 DAVE — No, they say it aint stylish enough for the city. 
 
 MRS. O. — Well, I'll jist take it then. It'll do Jonas a long time yet by 
 lettin out the sleeves and takin up the Vt^aist a little. And how about 
 them old shoes I noticed in that sack as I come up? 
 
 DAVE — I guess we're a leavin them too. 
 
 MRS. O. — They'll come in mighty handy for the kids to wear to school 
 and to half sole with. I'll take 'em aolng. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — David, do you suppose we could git the children, to 
 — — do you think we could persuade 'e mto ? 
 
 DAVE — Back out sellin the place and goin to the city? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— Yes do ? 
 
 DAVE — (Gloomily) Not much; it's too late now. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Somehow I've never realized how impossible it is 
 till now. 
 
 DAVE — (His head in his hands) Cheer up, old woman, cheer up. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— (Wiping her eyes) Yes, 'twont ever do to let them 
 know; they mustn't know if it kills us. 
 
 MRS. OATS— Come to think of it, Sister Collins, what have you done 
 with that can of soap grease you had under the shed? Ai'e you takin it? 
 
 MRS. C. — No, I guess you can have it. Sister Oats. 
 
 MRS. OATS— And all of them fruit jars without leds, and that old 
 heatin stove you had in the barn, and the coffee mill, and the barrel for 
 scaldin hogs, and that clothes line and the churn, I guess you wont have 
 no use for them in the city. And the broom an dthat five gallon oil can, 
 and them gray wool stockings — are you ago in to take any of them along? 
 
 MRS. C. — No, most of them are in the smokehouse. You can have 
 them. 
 
 MRS. OATS— (Having named all she can think of, she weeps bitterly) 
 
 16 
 
Oh, I don't know what we're a goin to do without you in our choir! And 
 our mission meetings! Brother Smitli says to me last Sunday, he says, 
 "Sister Oats, we're a losin a faithful soul from our midst,'' he says, "when 
 we lose Sister Collins!'' 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— We'll miss you, too. We'll miss the old Church 
 
 (Crying) 
 
 MRS. OATS — (Crying and talking) But you mustn't take on so hard,. 
 Sister Collins, it aint brave. But I must be a goin. I hated to come be 
 cause I caint bear to say goodbye, but I knowed it was my duty to come 
 and cheer you up. Goodbye, Sister Collins, (Kissing) Goodbye Brother 
 Collins. Have a strong heart. Never let it be said of you, "Oh ye of 
 little faith." (Exit le.ft) 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— David, let's sit for the last time at our old places 
 in front of the fireplace. (They go and sit in chairs) Yes, this will be 
 our last time to be here together. (Pause — soft music) We'll miss thif:^ 
 old fireplace. Crying softly. All lights die out, and a strong, concealed 
 light comes on in the fireplace, lighting up their faces) 
 
 DAVE — Ye.s, old woman, I guess the heart of a home is the family 
 fireplace. (Music) 
 
 We've set here many a night, old girl. 
 
 At the end of a busy day. 
 And felt oiir tired and aching limbs 
 Grow comfy, drowsin away. 
 
 MRS. C— 
 
 DAVE- 
 
 MRS. C— 
 
 DAVE- 
 
 MRS. C— 
 
 DAVE- 
 
 MRS. C. 
 
 'Tis here we've spent our happiest hours, 
 And known our deepest cares; 
 
 For whosoever harvests grain 
 Must also gather tares. 
 
 We've watched this circle widening, 
 For children as they've come, 
 
 And added to this cozy ring 
 Their places one by one. 
 
 And gazing at the glowing coals. 
 
 And feeling Heaven near. 
 We've let the guiding hand of God 
 
 Help plan each one's career. 
 
 Around this hearth we've entertained 
 
 The angel unaware. 
 And here we've set with closest friends. 
 
 Our very souls laid bare. 
 
 Each night for over thirty years. 
 As Heaven's way we've trod. 
 
 We've read our family Bible here, 
 And knelt in prayer to God. 
 
 It's hard to leave it naw, old girl; 
 
 Our old hearts seem to break — 
 But they are young, their life's ahead, 
 
 We'll do it for their sake. 
 
 Then after we have gone beyond. 
 Some day we'll leave the place 
 
 Of singing ange.ls for one night 
 Beside this old fireplace. 
 
 17 
 
(Pause. Music ceases. Florence enters right back and liglits up tn« 
 room. George enters left) 
 
 GEORGE — Sole auctioneer, are you? 
 
 FLORENCE — Yes, but I have about finished my task. Where are tiie 
 others? 
 
 GEORGE — Oh, Gray had to take Rose and Auntie over the garden ? 
 minute. 
 
 FLORENCE — I really believe that he's in love with Rose. 
 
 GEORGE — And she with him. And Auntie more furious every minute. 
 
 FLORENCE — Furious because Rose cares for Gray? 
 
 GEORGE — Yes. You see, you do not understand — not that she doesn't 
 consider him good enough. But you see in our life every girl like Rose 
 is expected to marry a man of position. 
 
 FLORENCE — Well, with Gray's election practically assured 
 
 GEORGE — But that's not the thing. By position I mean a long-stand 
 ing name and influence. Rathe.r odd, I'm sure you think, but you find a 
 class of people who still hold to that idea. Those people who trace then- 
 ancestry to the Pilgrim Fatheis value tradition and hate to see its wall3 
 broken down. 
 
 FLORENCE — And I suppose that those who are very wealthy shud- 
 der at the thought of wealth's losing its influence. They would hate to 
 know that in the near future all would be wealthy and therefore on the 
 same footing. For without their money many whom we now honor would 
 be mere pigmies. You share your aunt's opinion, I stippose? 
 
 GEORGE — Well, yes, that is, T did. But lately — ever since I have come 
 
 to know Oh well, you know w e are all only too glad to go againsi 
 
 convention when, by doing so, we are able to gratify our wishes. 
 
 FLORENCE— I hardly understand. 
 
 GEORGE — I was just going to say that 1 had held that opinion until 
 yoti convinced me that I was wrong. 
 
 FLORENCE— Why, I am sure that I have never tried to cause you to 
 change your opinion. 
 
 GEORGE — No, by heavens! And that's just it; yoti are the only girl 
 I have known for some time who hasn't done so. Miss Collins — Florence 
 can't you see, I 1 want you 
 
 FLORENCE— (Interrupting excitedly) Why, Mr. Carver, this is ab- 
 surd! I have only known you a few weeks. 
 
 GEORGE — But in that time I have learned to love 
 
 FLORENCE — Stop please — you have no right — on so short an acquaint- 
 ance- 
 
 GEORGE — Florence, do not snatch from me the purest thing that has 
 ever come into my life — my love for you. Have you no affection for ? 
 
 FLORENCE — On the contrary, Mr. Carver, I must tell you that some- 
 times there is something about you that causes me to distrust you, to 
 loathe and fear you. (Enter Gray, Rose and Mrs. Wyner left). 
 
 GRAY — Have seats. Bout sold out, eh sis? 
 
 MRS. WYNER— (Haughtily) George, hurry and get through with those 
 papers so we can get back to the hotel. I'm very tired. 
 
 GEORGE— Certainly. If you'll excuse me, I'll use this table (at right). 
 Now, Mr. Collins, if you'll have your mother and father sign the con- 
 tract. 
 
 DAVE — (Going center) Come on, old woman. I guess it's got to be 
 did. Well, here we are. You go ahead and write, old woman. (She 
 signs with a shaky hand and gives him the pen. He takes it nad stands 
 hesitating) 
 
 FLORENCE — (Going to her mother) It's good to know that you have 
 
 18 
 
just signed away your worry, and from this time on you can rest and be 
 happy. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— (Trying to smile) Yes, dear. 
 
 DAVE — (He is trying to write his name but is too nervous. He tries 
 to conceal his emotion and even tries to smile) That's odd, I can't hold 
 the ptn steady enough to write. It's the first time I ever 
 
 FLORENCE— Why, father! What's the matter? 
 
 DAVE— Nothin, girl, nothin— I'm all O. K. 'Swhat I say, I'm (He 
 
 sinks back in his chair unconscious.) 
 
 GRAY- What's the matter? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— (The.y try to restore Dave) It was too much. We 
 tried to keep from tellin you. We didn't want you to know how it hurt 
 us to give up the old place, but as the time approcahed we saw what it 
 would mean — how impossible it would be for us to live, away from the 
 old farm. 
 
 GRAY — And you had been feeling this way without letting us know! 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — We knew we hadn't much longer to live anyway, 
 and it meant so much to you. 
 
 GRAY — Did you think we would want you to do this for us? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — Not, not if you knew, but we thought you wouldn't 
 know. 
 
 GRAY — I must call Dr. Branch. (Goes just outside right, but is heard 
 talking) Please connect me with — What's that, Hopkins calling? No, 
 I won't be in tomorrow about my campaign. I WONT BE IN ABOUT 
 IT. Yes, connect me with Dr. Branch. Dr. Branch, this is Gray Collins. 
 Father is ill — nervous strain — please come at once. (He returns to stage. 
 Mrs. Wyner and George have been growing quite impatient. George now 
 comes forward) 
 
 GEORGE — Pardon me., but you didn't mean that you are going to give 
 up the race? 
 
 GRAY — I certainly am. 
 
 GEORGE— But what will you do? 
 
 GRAY — Stay right here and run the ranch. But, excuse me, my father 
 needs my attention. (George and Mrs. Wyner stand awe-struck while 
 Gray joins the others. Rose looks on sympathetically.) 
 
 FLORENCE — I believe he is recovering. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— Are. you better, David? 
 
 DAVID — (Weakly) Yes, I'm all right now, I guess, just a 1 Oh 
 
 yes, I guess I can write now. (He tries to rise but falls back.) 
 
 GRAY— No, father, you NEVER WILL SIGN THAT DEED. 
 
 DAVID — Why, what you mean, son? I can write now. 
 
 GRAY — It means that we now see what it means to you and mother 
 to give up the place, and we'll not let you make the sacrifice. 
 
 GEORGE — Pardon me, but I'm afraid you'll have to reconsider that 
 statement. You see since we were out here circumstances hr.ve made it 
 impossible for me to advance more money on the place. 
 
 GRAY — Well, now that I am ou t of the race, I shall not need it. 
 
 GEORGE — But the money already loaned is past due, and 
 
 GRAY — Do you mean to say that unless it is paid you will foreclose? 
 
 GEORGE — You see, Mr. Collins, I realize that your parents are grow- 
 ing old and that the place is very dear to them; but I have my aunt to 
 look out for, and she too is becoming anxious to find a place of peace 
 where she can spend her reclining days. Now she has her heart set on 
 this place. So you see I have just as strong a reason for wanting to get 
 it as you have to keep it. Besides, I have a legal right to it. 
 
 GRAY — Why, you cur and I thought you my friend! 
 
 GEORGE — Now, let's not call names! Am I not showing my friend- 
 
 19 
 
ship? You know law well enough to understand that I could close you 
 out and that under the hammer you'd get a mere pittance above enough 
 to pay what you owe me. Instead, I offer you more than you ever asked 
 for the place. 
 
 ROSE — Oh, you surely aren't going to hold him to that are you! 
 
 GEORGE — Auntie, take her out to the car at once, please, or she'll 
 create a scene. (They exit left) 
 
 GRAY — Let's get father out of this! (He and Florence assist David 
 out right followed by Mrs. Collins. Gray returns.) Now, I'm sure you 
 can't be serious about this. You know what it means to me to give up 
 my career — what it is to any man to give up his life's ambition — but 
 THAT means nothing compared to the humiliation of having to ask you 
 to break this contract. I had sooner die a thousand deaths than ask this 
 of anyone, but the grey hairs of my stricken father cry out to me to save 
 him; and I ask you to drop this trade and extend the notes one year 
 longer. 
 
 BENNY — (Enters right greatly excited. In his right hand he carries a 
 knife and a piece of coal.) Say, Gray, looky here what I found! Some- 
 body's knife and a piece of soft rock. Just look at it — you can cut it. 
 (George tries to secure the knife an d coal, but Benny gives them to 
 Gray) 
 
 GRAY — Why, by George! That's coal, and a very fine grade of it, too. 
 Where did you find it? 
 
 BENNY — Up in the fur pasture, clost to where we camped tother day. 
 You know that old brown lookin rock there in the bank — well, that's 
 every bit jist like it. 
 
 GRAY— What's that? \\niat's that you say! 
 
 BENNY — The feller that found that must have got excited and left 
 his knife. But say, aint it yourn? It's got your initials on it. 
 
 GRAY — You may go ahead and attend to the chores, Benny. (Benny 
 exits right. Gray examines knife closely) "G. C." So NOW I see your 
 scheme. You had never thought of buying this place until that day. Then 
 you found a vein of coal which makes it worth millions and you deter- 
 mine to get it for a trifle! 
 
 GEORGE — Now, hold on — you have said enough! Since your man 
 comes in and exposes you, you take advantage of the fact that our ini- 
 tials are the same, and use it to make me out as dealing in an under- 
 hand way. 
 
 GRAY — That's a lie! Why, you confounded wretch, I'll (Snatching 
 the Winchester from the wall) I'll — now, I'll give you just one minute to 
 take back what you've said — (Raising the gun) 
 
 GEORGE — (Calmly lights cigar) On the contrary I shall take the one 
 minute in telling you something more. (Gray lowers the gun) It will 
 only get you into more trouble if you kill riie with this contract half 
 finished. With the evidence that you have just discovered 
 
 GRAY — But I tell you I never had a hint there was coal on this land 
 until a minute ago. You know that's your knife and that you wanted to 
 swindle us out of this place in order to make a fortune of it. A home for 
 your aunt, bah! 
 
 GEORGE— Your stricken father, bah! 
 
 GRAY — (Raising the gun) By heavens, that's your last speech! 
 
 GEORGE — (Smoking calmly) Oh, I am sure that you would not hesi- 
 tate to shoot an unarmed man. Go ahead — why don't you pull the trig- 
 ger? (Gray again lowers the gun) You don't like the way it would look 
 in court, do you? You find that you cannot appeal to my sense of pity; 
 that I see through your little scheme about your father; that you are 
 
 20 
 
going to have to stay with your contract, and you murder me as the 
 only way out of it. 
 
 GRAY — This is unbelievable! Why — why — you know that I've dealt 
 squarely with you all along; that my career has meant more to me than 
 wealth; that I never had a thought of asking you to let us keep the place 
 until father — Why, George, what's the use talking? You know this. 
 
 GEORGE — But how would it look in court? You'll admTl you wouldn't 
 have much chance of proving what you say. (Enter Florence unobserved 
 right.) 
 
 GRAY — You devil! Isn't there some way we can compromise this thing? 
 Even with the wealth which this place holds I should not think of asking 
 you to let us keep it were it not for my father. Isn't there some way to 
 arrange it? I'll see that you get your money a hundred fold! 
 
 GEORGE — Why, yes, I have a wonderful assurance of that fact, haven't 
 I? Here you have just tried to repudiate a perfectly regular sale, and 
 then you expect me to take your word that I'll be paid! Now, listen. 
 There is one way in which it might be arranged. Until a few days ago 
 I thought that there was nothing under the sun for which I cared except 
 money. It was bred into me to live for the accumulation of gold. My 
 father taught me to do it and gave me an example, spending his entire 
 time in the effort to get ana to keep. Since his death my aunt has ever 
 kept fresh in my mind his teaching. And I have followed in his foot- 
 steps. When I lent you the money first on the place, I did so in order to 
 get the interest, and not to accommodae you. Bu I have found that there 
 is a girl who has dethroned my god of gold, and her I worship with even 
 more zeal 
 
 GRAY — I see, and the compromise will be ? 
 
 GEORGE — That you see that I get her and I'll destroy this contract. 
 
 GRAY — But why do you think my influence will help? Who is she? 
 
 GEORGE -Your sister. 
 
 GRAY — (Controlling himseJf) Have you spoken to her, and does she 
 refuse? 
 
 GEORGE— (Smiling) Naturally; if she hadn't, I should not heed to 
 take this method of forcing her. 
 
 GRAY — (Throws down gun and springs upon him) You'll never finish 
 that! 
 
 FLORENCE — (Coming forward quickly) Gray! The doctor wants you 
 to help 
 
 GRAY — Florence, this cur 
 
 FLORTINCE — Go, he needs you — this noise has made father worse. 
 (Gray exits right. George is embarassed. He looks away) 
 
 GEORGE— How is he— your father? 
 
 FLORENCE — I'm sure you are not interested in that. 
 
 GEORGE — Why, Florence, Miss Collins, why do you say that? 
 
 FLORENCE — I have just heard — (Pause) So those are your terms? 
 If I marry jou, you agree to destroy the contract? (Gray re-enters right) 
 
 GRAY — Sister, why did you tell me they wanted me. Leave this room. 
 
 FLORENCE— Before I go I want to tell you that Mr. George Carver 
 and I are going to be married. 
 
 GRAY— Sister!! 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 ACT III. Scene same as in Act II. 
 
 (It is now almost dark and a light is burning on the table at the right. 
 The screen has been removed from the fireplace, otherwise the furniture 
 remains as in the previous scene. George is standing alone at the left. 
 He seems in deep thought. He goes to the fireplace and arranges wood 
 and kindling in it, then strikes a match and holds it in the grate. Soon 
 
 21 
 
a light is turned on in the fireplace, giving the appearance of a fire. 
 George goes to the table, and extinguishes the light then slowly returns 
 to the fireplace and stands for a short time gazing into the flames. He 
 takes the family Bible from the mantle and opens it, then sits in a chair 
 and reads by the light of the flames. He is, however, too pre-occupied 
 to read long and soon leaves the book open in his hand while he gazes 
 meditatively into the fire. Finally, he rises, places the Bible on a chair 
 and sits on the floor his head resting on the chair. At this point Mrs. 
 Wyne.r enters from left. She stands fo r a moment looking at George, 
 then goes to him. He rises, returns the Bible to the mantle and stands 
 looking into the fire as they talk. Mrs. Wyner soon seats herself at 
 the fireplace) 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Where's Rose? 
 
 GEORGE — In the bedroom (pointing to the right) with ttie others. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — The idea! She told me she only wanted to run in 
 and get a wrap, and she's been in fifteen minutes. Well, have you every- 
 thing ready? 
 
 GEORGE — Not yet. Old man still shaky. Just have to wait patiently. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — Isn't there any way of hurrying the thing? 
 
 GEORGE— Not that I can see. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — Goodness! I don't believe I can stand another night 
 at that country hotel! 
 
 GEORGE — May be we can get things attended to in timelo get back to 
 town tonight. Bu hadn't you and Rose better drive back to the hotel 
 for some supper now? 
 
 MRS. WYNER — Not likely Rose'U leave here for anything. She seems 
 to think the old man actually is sick. Well, I'm glad you've started a 
 fire; I'm chilly. 
 
 GEORGE— Is it getting cold? 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Humph! You made the fire, didn't you? 
 
 GEORGE — I believe I did— but I hadn't noticed that it was getting 
 chilly. 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Then why on earth did you start the fire? But I 
 suppose that's the only way they have of getting a light here. 
 
 GEORGE— No, I blew out the light (Points to the table) I've been 
 having some strange feelings tonight, auntie. (He. sits facing the fire) 
 This old fireplace is haunting me. There seemed to be some charm 
 about it as I came in here awhile ago. It cast a spell over me which 
 I can't shake off! 
 
 MRS. WYNER — You're letting this little family scene make you sen- 
 timental! 
 
 GEORGE— (Not heeding) I started this fire and blew out the light. 
 Then I came and sat here by the fire just as we used to do. And it 
 seemed that I was carried back fifteen years to scenes in my old home 
 when mother gathered us around an old hearthstone just like this and 
 held family prayers. It seemed that I could see her sitting in this chair, 
 the fire lighting up her sad kind face. There was the family Bible on 
 the mantle just as it used to be at home. I seemed to see her reach for 
 it as if to caress its worn covers. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — So that is the reason I found you sitting in the floor 
 just now when I came in! 
 
 GEORGE — Yes, I had taken my place in the old circle just as I did 
 when a little boy, and I was listening to that subdued voice as my mother 
 read : 
 
 "And as ye would that men should do unto you, do ye 
 also unto them likewise '' 
 
 22 
 
MRS. WYNER — (Unsympathetic) Well, it seems as though I came 
 in just in time to save you from tears! 
 
 GEORGE — (Ignoring the thiust) Do you know, auntie, I can almost 
 believe they are serious abouf this thing. After all they did want me 
 to cancel the sale before they knew of the coal. 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Just a ruse. The idea of a man breaking down just 
 because he was moving from a home like" this into a place where he 
 could have all the comforts of modern life! 
 
 GEORGE — But the feeling which attaches to this old place — to this 
 old fireside. It's like taking a sixty-year-old oak tree from his native 
 soil. Why, here it has been fifteen years since I have sat by a hearth 
 like this, yet I feel an almost overpowering desire to go back to that 
 old home, away from all the hurry and worry and sham of our busy 
 life. Then no wonder it breaks them up to leave the place where they've 
 spent over thirty years of their life — and where tTiey've seen their chil- 
 dreji grow up and become strong men and women. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — You ai e forgetting that these people have no depth 
 of feeling. Those scenes which you remember never happen around this 
 fireside. 
 
 GEORGE — I hope you are right. But I feel as if I were invading a 
 sanctuary. (Jumping up and pacing the floor) I can't shake off this 
 feeling! This is the first time I have ever felt this way about it. It has 
 been fifteen years since I left that old home. The fifteen years since 
 that time have led me pretty far away! 
 
 MRS. WYNER — You'd hardly expect modern life to be like that, would 
 you? 
 
 GEORGE — (Not heeding) Fifteen years of protection, advice, and 
 guidance. Fifteen years in the struggle for existence! Money, money, 
 money! Get it any way you can and get by the law! What a difference! 
 And hovv it has changed me, too! I had a feeling then for the other fel- 
 low. \^^hy I remember one morning after a night around our old fire- 
 side in family prayer I started out with a dollar to buy a pair of skates 
 with, and I spent it every cent for food for a stray dog that took up with 
 me. And here I am about to turn his old man and woman out of a house 
 they've lived in for thirty years! 
 
 MRS. WYNER — You'll pay them for it. I can't understand why so 
 much fuss is being made over this deal. Why question the justice of a 
 deal just so you get the big end of it? 
 
 GEORGE — I've fallen pietty well in with that kind of philosophy too! 
 Fifteen years of that sort of thing where you hold a man up with your 
 shrewdness and politely rob him of all he's got! 
 
 MRS. WYNER — What has got into you, George? What are you talking 
 about? Who ever heard tell of your holding anyone up? Your business 
 is perfectly honorable. It's the same your father had, and everybody 
 says you have done well — even better than he did himeslf. 
 
 GEORGE — I've been a closer schemer. He shaved close; I take the 
 skin! Fifteen years! I feel the forces fighting for mastery over me. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — I've half-way been expecting this. I suppose the next 
 thing you'll be telling them how valuable, the place is and giving up thi; 
 whole thing! 
 
 GEORGE— They know it already. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — What! You have broken your promise? You have told 
 them? 
 
 GEORGE — No, their hired man found my knife and a piece, of the coal. 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Oh, if we'd only had the thing over with last week 
 as I wanted to before this all happened. They'll try their best to hold 
 the place now, of course. 
 
 23 
 
GEORGE — They offered to share the profit with me if I'd let them 
 keep the place. 
 
 MRS. WYNER— The fools! Didn't you agre e to do it? 
 
 GRAY — No. I had another prize in view and played for it. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — I hope you won't get weak-kneed and will win. What 
 is it? 
 
 GRAY — Florence. Yes, I won. She's going to marry me if I release 
 ray claim to the home. 
 
 MRS. WYNER — Well, you're paying quite a price for a farmer's daugh- 
 ter! 
 
 GEORGE — Not half what she's worth! (To himself) I wonder what 
 the home would mean to them if they knew she was the price! 
 
 MRS. WYNER — And do you think I'll agree to such silly stuff as this? 
 
 GEORGE— YOU? 
 
 MRS. WYNER — I! You haven't forgotten that we are to share equally 
 m this thing? 
 
 GEORGE — But if the deal is not made, there'll not be anything to 
 share. 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Well, THE DEAL WILL BE MADE! Only a week 
 ago ycu told me that since cattle had gone off so much you'd have to have 
 my money on deposit in your Bank or you'd have to close your doors. 
 (Taking a check from her purse) I suppose this check will start a rusn 
 tomorrow, won't it? Fifteen years of this hold-up life, as you call it, 
 nas brought you a small fortune. Now, do you intend in one night to go 
 back wlierc you started from fifteen years ago? 
 
 GEORGE — (Strangely) I wonder if I ever could go back to WHAT 
 I was then! 
 
 ROSE — (Enters from right talking off stage) I'm sure auntie is wait- 
 ing to go to supper. (To Mrs. Wyner) I'm sorry to have kept you wait- 
 ing so long, auntie. But they were so worried about Mr. Collins. 
 
 MRS. WYNER— (Shortly, standing at left) We'll go to the hotel at 
 once. (To George) Think it over— FIFTEEN YEARS!! (Exit Mrs. Wyner 
 and Rose left) 
 
 (Gr.orge stands for some time gazing into the fire in deep thought, 
 then slowly he resumes his seat op the floor by the fire) 
 
 ROSE — (Enters left) George, we can't get the car started. Do you 
 stand it. 
 suppose we are out of gasoline? 
 
 GEORGE —(Rising) I'll go see about it. (They go to left door and are 
 r.bouT to exit when Rose detains George) 
 
 ROSE — George, don't can't won't you try to find some way to 
 
 arrange it so they can so they shan't need to move? They can't 
 
 GEORGE— It isn't likely so bad as that, is it? 
 
 ROSE — Why, you don't think they are putting on — just shamming, do 
 you? 
 
 GEORGE— Going to table for his hat) People will do strange things 
 for noney, Rose. They know about the coal now, you know. 
 
 ROSE — (Following to center of stage.) That's not it, George! You 
 know it's not! Listen, if you had proof that they were in earnest, would 
 you try to let them stay? 
 
 GEORGE — (Going o left followed by Rose) Rose, we are ruined un- 
 less we get this place. 
 
 ROSE — I don't see how that's possible, but I don't care much. I had 
 rather not have a cent than to get this place at such a cost to them and 
 to our fair dealing. Promise, you will, won't you if you get the proof? 
 
 GEORGE — (A3 they exit left) Yes — when I know they are in earnest. 
 
 24 
 
UNA — (Noise, heard off centei' as Una /;ollides with furniture) My 
 goodness, I wish I could find a match! I nearly broke my leg. 
 
 BUNA — Still off stage) And I bumped my knee on the old table. Why 
 don't they have a light? 
 
 UNA — Hei-e, let me. have your hand — here's the door. (They enter at 
 center) 
 
 BUNA — Oh, goody! They've got a fire; I'm about to freeze to death! 
 
 UNA — S'm I. (They stand holding out hands to fire) 
 
 BUNA — Wonder where they're all gone to. 
 
 UNA — Surely not to bed yet (Feeling in Buna's apron pockets) Did 
 you lose any of your nuts? 
 
 BUNA — Don't think so. 'Tis a wonder though. 
 
 UNA — My, I was scared! 
 
 BUNA — So's I, but I wouldn't say anything, 'fraid I'd scare you. 
 
 UNA — Betcha we don't ever go that way again! 
 
 BUNA — Course, not; we won't be here TO do it. 
 
 UNA — You go back in the kitchen and get a match so we can light 
 the lamp. 
 
 BUNA— No, you. 
 
 UNA — Hunkuh, you. 
 
 BUNA — No, you do it, I climbed that tall tree after nuts. 
 
 UNA — No, now I done claimed first for you to go. 
 
 BUNA— I'm afraid to. 
 
 UNA— So'm I. 
 
 BUNA— I'll tell you, 'es both go. 
 
 UNA — Well. (They start off together. Reaching the door they peep 
 out in a scared way. Just as they are about to take the faal step, Flor- 
 ence enters right) 
 
 FLORENCE— Girls, come back. 
 
 BOTH — (Running to her) Oh goody! We thought e.verybody'd gone 
 
 FLORENCE — Father's sick. Be very quiet. (Mr. and Mrs. Collins and 
 Gray enter from right. David looks haggard but is able to walk with- 
 out aid. He and Mrs. Collins sit at the fireplace. The twins follow but 
 drift back, half-frightene.d, to the center door. Florence and Gray re- 
 main at extreme right) 
 
 FLORENCE— (To Gray) I AM going to do it. You mustn't object. 
 Dcn't you see how they look! It would kill them to leave their old place 
 over there. 
 
 GRAY — It would go worse v.'ith them when they found that you had 
 sacrificed yourself in order to keep them from it. 
 
 FLORENCE — They must never know. They must think I married him 
 because I loved him. 
 
 GRAY — Th»re is only one condition on which I will agree to this. 
 
 FLORENCE— What is that? 
 
 GRAY — That you actually did love him, and of course that is impos- 
 sible. 
 
 FLORENCE— Why impossible? 
 
 GRAY— Why, Florence ! 
 
 FLORENCE— (Half to herself) If only he'd show that nobility of soul 
 which I believe he really does possess! Just look at them, Gray; they 
 must not be made to go. Look! They stand for a moment watching) 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — For over thirty years we've not missed a night. We 
 mustn't fail this time. 
 
 DAVID — (In a broken voice) It's like mockerv. What'll we offer thanks 
 for? 
 
 MRS. COLLINS— For what we've already had. What'd they think? 
 
 DAVID — You're right, old girl. Come around, all of you. (Gray and 
 
 25 
 
Florence take chairs at the tii'eplace; the twins sit on either side of Mrs. 
 Collins on the floor) I guess you'll have to read. I'm not seein' well yet. 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — (Secures Bible from mantle and reads:) "Although 
 the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the 
 labor of the olive tree, shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the 
 flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the 
 stalls: Yet will I rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salva- 
 tion." H'dbakuk, 3:17-18. 
 
 (While they all bow in silent prayer, the light of the fire in their faces 
 "My Faith Looks Up to Thee" is sung softly off stage) 
 
 ROSE — (Calls off left) I'll see if I can get a lantern. (She appears in 
 doorway at left and stands for a second, then disappears only to return 
 in a moment with George. They stand in respectful silence. As the 
 singing ceases, George and Rose enter quietly at left and Mrs. Wyner 
 appears impatiently in the doorway. Those at the fireside start to rise) 
 
 GEORGE— Ahem ! 
 
 DAVID — Come around to the fire you al' (Florence and Rose go to 
 center. Gray to right) I guess we're about ready to finish with the pa- 
 pers, been purty strainin' on the old woman and me the past few days 
 and — — 
 
 MRS. COLLINS — You see he aint been well lately and the thought of 
 havin' to leave the old place 
 
 GEORGE — (Coming forward, the papers in his hand) Yes, I realize i1 
 has been very hard on you both; so the sooner we get it over with the 
 better. (Then, as all eyes are turned upon him, he looks at the papers 
 for a moment, then throws them into the fire) 
 
 MRS. WYNER— Why George! 
 
 GEORGE — (Unheeding) And there goes the mortgage, too. (He 
 watches it burn, then turns to Gray) If I ever have money, you can gel 
 it on your personal note from now on, Gray. 
 
 ROSE — (Running to him) Oh, George! You are really your true self, 
 now! 
 
 DAVID — Let me git a hold of your hand, Mr. Carver! You'll git baci 
 every cent with interest, and you'll never be sorry. Do you hear, old 
 woman, we aint a goin to leave the old home! (Mrs. Collins cries softly 
 on his shoulder. They go slowly to right. Florence joins George as he 
 goes slowly to left. Gray and Rose are at center) 
 
 BUNA — Oh, let's go out to the barn and tell Beamy we're not goin' to 
 leave. (They exit center) 
 
 GEORGE — Florence, you saw what I just did with the papers? 
 
 FLORENCE — Yes, I saw and heard. I'm ready. I'll keep my word, 
 only don't let them know. 
 
 GEORGE— But (Holding out his hand) I don't ask you to. Goodbye. 
 Only one favor, forget what has transpired. Just let — Goodbye. I didn't 
 expect vou'd fell like telling me. 
 
 FLORENCE— (Softly) George! 
 
 GEORGE — (Turning quickly, then recovering himself) Don't you un- 
 derstand? I release you from your promise.. 
 
 FLORENCE — But, I don't want to be released. I don't want to forget 
 I want to remember 
 
 GEORGE — What — what do you wish to remember? 
 
 FLORENCE— Takes his hand, leading him) Come with me and I will 
 tell you. (Exit left.) 
 
 GRAY — (Taking Rose v/ith him to center) Now, my own Rose, I am 
 free to speak to you as I (They exit center) 
 
 DAVID — We'd bette.^ git to bed, old woman, and leave the children 
 to enjoy theirselves. They exit right) 
 
 26 
 
(Mrs. Wyner is now left alone. She stands before the fire, seemingly 
 undecided as to he.r course. Her gaze wanders to right. From the bed- 
 room she hears David's voice, saying: "It's mighty good to know that 
 this aint our last night in the old home.'' She looks off center and hears 
 Rose say: "I've always wanted to live on just such a place as this!" 
 Finally she looks towai'd the left. From outside she hears Florence say- 
 ing: "Even if you never do make it back I don't care, for now I lino'W 
 
 you as you really are ''. Her gaze returns to the fire. She take.s the 
 
 check from her purse, allows her gaze to go hurriedly in the direction 
 of the various couples, then throws the paper into the fire) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 (END) 
 
 ORDER FORM FOR "THE OLD FIRESIDE." 
 
 NATIONAL DRAMA CO., 
 
 P. O. Box 797. Your P. 
 
 Memphis, Tenn. 
 
 192.... 
 
 Gentlemen: — Inclosed find MONEY ORDER for .$5.00 for which send 
 me Copyright Privilege License for one presentation of 
 
 "THE OLD FIRESIDE"— By W. A. Stigler. 
 Play to be presented about the date of 192.... 
 
 In the town of State 
 
 It is understood and agreed that you are to furnish free with this 
 License a complete set of parts for rehearsal, and to refund the pur- 
 chase price if I produce the play and find it unsatisfactory. 
 
 Signed .- 
 
 (Supt. or Prin.) 
 
 ORDER FORM FOR "LITTLE ERNIE." 
 
 NATIONAL DRAMA CO., 
 
 P. O. Box 797. Your P. 
 
 Memphis, Tenn. 
 
 192.... 
 
 Gentlemen: — Inclosed find MONEY ORDER for $2.50 for which send 
 me Copyright Privilege License for one presentation of 
 
 "LITTLE ERNIE"— By W. A. Stigler. 
 Play to be presented about the date of 192.... 
 
 In the town of State 
 
 It is understood and agreed that you are to furnish free with this 
 License a complete set of parts for rehearsal, and to refund the pur- 
 chase price if I produce the play and find it unsatisfactory. 
 
 Signed 
 
 (Supt. or Prin.) 
 27 
 
LITTLE ERNIE 
 
 By W. A. STIGLER 
 
 Author of 
 
 SON JOHN 
 
 Etc. 
 
 Copyrighted 1922 by 
 The National Drama Co. 
 
 All Rights Reserved to 
 
 THE NATIONAL DRAMA CO. 
 
 MEMPHIS, TENN. 
 
SEE ORDER FORMS 
 ON PAGE 27 
 
LITTLE ERNIE 
 
 By W. A. STIGLER 
 
 (Copyright, 1922— All Rights Reserved.) 
 
 CHARACTERS: 
 ERNIE 
 COBB 
 SALTY 
 SPUDS 
 TABBY 
 
 SCOUTMASTER 
 SCOUT BARNES 
 SCOUT ALLEN 
 
 f OTHER SCOUTS 
 
 (The scene is a portion of a back alley in the poor section of New 
 York City. The background is the wall of a large store. Near this are 
 several old cans, a few boards, and other rubbish which the city cleaners 
 have ignored. At the left is a large dry goods box. The side of this box 
 next the audience is open but an old quilt is tacked to the top and serves 
 as a door. Just now this quilt is laid back over the top exposing the in- 
 terior. This box is the "home" of Cobb and Ernie. A partition passes 
 across it dividing it into two compartments of equal size. Old quilts and 
 rags are on each "floor" serving as beds for the boys. 
 
 Ernie, an invalid, is seen lyingin the lower bunk, his pale face and 
 light curly hair showing in the twilight. He raises upon his elbow as he 
 hears his brother approaching from the left) 
 
 COBB — (Enters from left with their supper wrapped in a newspaper. 
 He wears an old, but clean, blue, shirt, old gray knickerbockers which 
 are frayed at the knees, and is barefooted. He looks worn and tired, but 
 as he sees that Ernie is looking at him, he brightens up and hurries to 
 him) 'Lo, Ernie! Kinder anxious for yer supper? 
 
 ERNIE— Uhuh, wot yer got? 
 
 COBB — Sump'n good — fer you — some bread and 'taters, and cheese. 
 (He. opens his package and spreads the articles named before Ernie. 
 Then he begins eating ravenously a piece of bread. He is so intent upon 
 satisfying his own hunger that he fails to observe that his brother is not 
 eating) How you feelin' now? 
 
 ERNIE— Better, I guess. 
 
 COBB — Leg hurt you any today? 
 
 ERNIE — Uhuh; it jumps and itches 'way inside. 
 
 COBB — Been tryin' ter set up any? 
 
 ERNIE — Hunkuh. It hurted too much when I moved. 
 
 COBB — (Pause) You lonesome? 
 
 ERNIE — Not so very, C'n you stay now? 
 
 COBB — Uhuh — I will — ter keep you comp'ny. 
 
 ERNIE — (Pause) 'd you make enough to pay for the crutches? 
 
 COBB — Not quite. Will soon. Then you'll be a goin' all around with 
 me and can stand by the. corner and help me sell papers — a little. 
 
 ERNIE — (Pause. Finally Ernie pushes his untouched food toward- 
 Cobb) Cobb, you eat this. 
 
 3 
 
COBB — (Stops eating and looks at Ei^nie in alarm) Why, Ernie, what's 
 the matter? Aint yer hungry? Not eatin' a thing? Don't you like it? 
 
 ERNIE — Jist aint hungry. 
 
 COBB — (Taking an apple from his pocket) Here's sump'n to sprise 
 yer — a big red apple — aint that fine! (Enie does not take it) You don't 
 want it! Yer feelin' worse, aint yer? 
 
 ERNIE — Not so very — (Pause) I'm hot. 
 
 COBB — Yer lookin' peart like — yer eyes is bright. 
 
 ERNIE — (Quickly) 1 aint been a cryin' though. 
 
 COBB — I guescs you better say yer lessons oefore it gits too dark. 
 (He feels in the upper "berth" and produces a somewhat worn primer) 
 'es see,' what it's about this time? 
 
 ERNiE — 'Bout the horse — Ned's horse, and things. 
 
 COBB — (Pointing to the words. The reading is done very slowly and 
 laboriously) What does this spell? 
 
 ERN IE — T-h-i-s, this-is-Ned's-horse. 
 
 COBB— Good! That's jist right exactly. 
 
 ERNIE — Can-you-f-ee-d, see 
 
 COBB — No, f-ee-d spells feed, not see. 
 
 ERNIE — Can-you-feed-Ned's-horse? (He points to each word) 
 
 COBB — That's right. Yer'U be a readin' the newspapers soon! 
 
 ERNIE — Can-you-see-no f eed-the-kitty ? 
 
 COBB— Uhuh, good! 
 
 ERNIE — Can-you-r-u-n, run-to- the-horse ? 
 Can-you-run-to-the-kitty? 
 I-h-a-v-e, had 
 
 COBB — No, h-a-v-e spells have, not had. 
 
 ERNIE — I-have-a-kitty. (I aint got a kitty, though) 
 
 COBB — It aint c'rect to say "I aint got'', say "I haven't got a kitty." 
 
 ERNIE — I'm tired, Cobb. Don't want to read any more. 
 
 COBB — Guess yer sleepy. 'Es say yer prayers and go to sleep. It's too 
 dark to read any more, anyway. 
 
 ERNIE — (Puts his hands together over his chest and looks upward. It 
 will add greatly to the effect if a concealed light is turned on in the 
 faces of the boys) 
 
 Now I lay me down ter sleep, 
 
 I pray Thee., Lord, my soul to keep; 
 
 And if I die before I wake, 
 
 I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take. 
 
 COBB — Now go ter sleep, ole feller. 
 
 ERNIE — Cobb, sing me a song tonight. 
 
 COBB — Why, Ernie, you aint a gifting ter be a baby, are you? Y' 
 know jist babies have ter be sung to sleep. 
 
 ERNIE — I aint sleepy. (Fretfully. He is evidently feverish) I jist 
 want somp'n I aint got. Do sing somp'n Cobb. 
 
 COBB — Why, I caint sing, y' know, ole feller. Wont whistlin' do? I 
 can whistle yer a tune or somp'n. 
 
 ERNIE — Hunkuh, sing. Sing the one mama used to sing before we 
 went to bed. 
 
 COBB — That un bout home sweet home? 
 
 ERNIE — Hunkuh, the one 'bout "Swanee Ribber.'' 
 
 COBB— (Wtih a sickly attempt at levity) Well, I'll sing right low like 
 so's a cop wont come and 'rest me fe.r disturbin' the peace. (He singa 
 one stanza) Now aint that a 'nough? Y' had better go ter sleep, now, ole 
 feller. 
 
 ERNIE— I ain't sleepy. 
 
 COBB — Y' been a sleepin in the daytime, I guess. 
 
ERNIE — Uhuh, I been dreamin', Cobb. I drenip 'bout when we lived 
 in the little house with mama. Y'know 'fore I fell and hurted my hip; 
 'fore the. old man made us move. Y'know one day you went way out in 
 the — the — the 
 
 COBB— (^ountry. 
 
 ERNIE — Uhuh, country, and got a whole lot of flowers. 
 
 COBP- — Uhuh, roses and things. 
 
 PJRNIE — 'N wo inv: 'em in a can with some water, and they jist smelt 
 so good and everthing. 
 
 COBB — Dreamin's what made yer lonesome. 
 
 ERNIE — 1 aint very lonesome — jist tired, brother. I 1 jist caint 
 
 keep from wantin' some flowers! They smelt so good! (Almost crying) 
 
 COBB — (Controlling himself with difficulty) 'Es not think 'bout 'em, 
 now, Ernie, ole feller. Eat yer supper; I don't want it. 'N then maybe 
 you'll feel like sleepin'. I'll stay home with yer and tell stories. 
 
 ERNIE — I don't want ter eat. I jist want some purty flowers to put 
 here by me. (Turns his face away) 
 
 COBB — (Growing desperate he rises quickly, pulling his worn cap over 
 his eyes) Ernie, ole feller, I've got to be gone a few minutes, jist t' 
 run around lie corner. 
 
 ERNIIJ — Y' said you'd stay. 
 
 COBB — Don'l cry, ole, feller. I'll be back in a little while, an' — an' 
 
 then maybe I can make yer happy er sump'n. (He exits hurriedly left) 
 
 ERNIE —Uon't go tonight, Cobb. I'm so hot! (Pause. Ernie turns 
 and discovers that he. is alone) Come back, Cobb! Stay with me! 
 
 (Saity and Spuds enter from right carrying a box similar to that in 
 which Ernie is lying excepting the fact that their box is without a door. 
 Instead of the comfortable bedding in Ernie's box theirs contains only 
 tv/'o pieces of black cloth. They set their box down at right. Salty is 
 14, rather tall and slender. Spuds is 13, lower, but heavy. Their clothes 
 are shabby. Salty wears long trousers and old shoes; Spuds has on knee 
 pants and is barefooted) 
 
 SALTY — (His voice is changing. Sometimes he speaks in a high tone, 
 at others a deep, harsh drawl, and occasionally his voice breaks on a 
 word) Guess this is a good 'nough place fer our house. 
 
 SPUDS — 'T 's purty good and warm here, aint it? 
 
 SALTY — Yeah, but 'taint 'z light as 'twas up yonder. 
 
 SPUDS — Hope the cops don't bother us agin. (Pause) Who told yer 
 hfw to make this kind of a house? 
 
 Sx\LTY— Aw a kid named Buck. 
 
 SPUDS— 'T beats that coal shed fer a home. (Salty looks off right) 
 Wot yer lookin at? 
 
 SALTY — Sal, aint that guy a comin' yonder (Pointing right) the feller 
 that's a sellin' papers on our street the last few weeks? 
 
 SPUDS— Yeah, that's Tabby. 'Es beat him up. 
 
 (Ernie listens to the rest of the conversation) 
 
 SALTY — He's too stout. He's crossin' the street this way. Es call 
 'im down here and hide and throw rocks at 'im. 
 
 SPUDS — Awright. (Looking around) But the aint no rocks? 
 
 SALTY — I'll tell you. He's skeary as everthing after night. Say, look! 
 Hr.'s comin' down here. Here, quick — se be ghosts. (They get the white 
 cloths from their box, throw them over their heads, and crouch behind 
 the box) 
 
 (Tabby enters from the right, carrying a few papers. He is 15, tall 
 and strong. Although taller eveji than Salty, he is still in knee pants. 
 He seems afraid of the dark and looks nervously fro mside to side, quick- 
 ening his pace at each glance. Just after he passes the box, Salty and 
 
Spuds spring out uttering weird yells. Tabby utters a terrified "Ulihh!" 
 and starts to run but falls against Ernie's box. He remains leaning 
 against it, his hands over his face) 
 
 SALTY — So-o-o! Now we've got you at last, Tabby! 
 
 TABBY — Ohhh! I aint done nothin.' Don't. ~ Let me go! 
 
 SALTY — Oo-oo-oo! We won't do it. Yer a bad boy. Oo-oo-oo! 
 
 TABBY — No — no — I'm — I aint neither. What have I been doing? 
 
 SALTY — Zoor — zoor — zoor! You've been walkin' over our graves sell, 
 in' papers. Zoor-zoor-zoor! 
 
 TABBY — Hunkuh, I aint been off'n that street. 
 
 SALTY — We was buried under that street and we'll hant yer ever 
 night till yer move off'n that street! 
 
 TABBY — Ohhh! please go 'way. I won't never go on that street agin 
 fer anything. 
 
 ERNIE — (Finally is able to attract Tabby's attention by pulling on hi.'^ 
 leg) Tabby, listen, them aint ghosts. That's jist two boys a tryin' ter 
 skear yer. 
 
 SALTY— He's a tippin' him off. We'd better beat it. (They throw 
 away their sheets and start to run) 
 
 TABBY — (Runs afer them and catches them at extreme right. They 
 scuffle off sage. Noise of fighting is heard for a few moments) You 
 thought you'd fool me, didn't yer? Thought you'd skear me away so I 
 wouldn't skin yer a sellin papers, didn't yer? " Now, I guess you'll leave 
 alone! 
 
 (After a brief pause Spuds and Salty enter, right, greatly the worse 
 for their fight. They stop at their box) 
 
 SALTY — We'll git it back on him yet. (Pause. Both boys are sulking) 
 If 't hadn't a been fer my sore finger 
 
 SPUDS — 'n my sore knee 
 
 SALTY — He wouldn't a caught on 'tall if 't hadn't a been fer (Look- 
 ing towards Ernie) Say, he's ove.r there; come on. (They go to Ernie's 
 box. Ernie is greatly frightened and tries to hide his face; 
 
 SPUDS— Why, it's a little bitty guy! 
 
 SALTY — Uhuh. Wot yer mean, little un, a ippin us off, eh.? 
 
 SPUDS — You didn't know who we wuz, did yer? 
 
 SALTY — (Reaching his hand in the box to Ernie's head) Hey, Spuds, 
 feel here — curly! 
 
 SPUDS— Ho, ho. sissy! Say, wots this. Salty? 
 
 SALTY — And this? Sump'n ter eat — cheese — bread! 
 
 SPUDS— Hey, Salty, look here— a pertater! (They eat) 
 
 SALTY — Listen here, kid, you'll have ter clear out o' here and give 
 us this warm bed, er we'll skin yer alive! 
 
 SPUDS — Yeah, fer squealin on us. 
 
 ERNIE — I caint git out — I'm crippled — caint walk. 
 
 SPUDS— Ho, ho! Listen at the girl's voice, Salty! 
 
 SALTY — Well, yer wasn't so crippled yer couldn't squeal on us jist now. 
 NoAv. blame yer skin, clear out o' here! 
 
 ERNIE— I caint, I tell you, I'm crippled! (Calling) Cobb! Cobb! Come 
 and help! 
 
 SALTY— Who's Cobb, eh. Spuds? Know him? 
 
 SPUDS — Aw, he's a guy that stays down there (pointing to left) He 
 couldn't help nuthin'. Aint even big as me. 
 
 SALTY — Well, if yer wont git out, we'll have ter put her out! (He 
 catche5i Ernie by the arms and slings him out on the street. Ernie 
 screams in pain and calls for Cobb. Salty and Spuds take the bedding 
 from both bunks, put it in their own box, and prepare to lie down with- 
 out removing their clothes) 
 
 6 
 
SPUDS— Purty lucky! (Feeling b^d) Aint she soft and warm! 
 
 SAl.TV — (Stanc's watching. Ernie) Good enough fer the little devil, 
 'I'll learn him to tip somebody off! 
 
 (Ernie has ceased crying and is now trying i)ainfully to get back intc 
 his now bare bed. As he succeeds in doing so, he utters a loud cry and 
 sinks exhausted on the. floor of his box) 
 
 SALTY— I'll take the lop 'un, Spuds, I'm the tallest. 
 
 SPUDS— Awright. 
 
 SALTY — Es hit it. Let the little devil freeze, er hunt him a warmei 
 hole one. (They get into their b3ds and are soon sound asleep) 
 
 COBB — (Enters from left carrying flowers behind him) Say, Ernie, ol^. 
 feller, you caint guess what I brought yer! Jist th'^ thing you've been a 
 wantin' — wot yer been a dreamin' about — FLOWERS! Look at 'em! Aint 
 them fine, Ernie! (He lays bouquet beside Ernie) I knowed where they's 
 a whole lot of 'e.m a growin in a swell winder, so I went straight down 
 there. And I went right in to where they's a fine lady and a little girl, 
 and I says, "Ma'am, please, ma'am, could I ask you fer some flowers fer 
 my little, brother; he's all alone by himself and is crippled an' 's a cryin' 
 fer some." Then I told 'em all about how you'd had to bc^ raised with- 
 out no women folks an' how peart an' sassy you wuz till you fell and 
 twisted yer laig, an' how you seemed ter git wf.aker 'slid o' stronger 
 all the time, and, Ernie, thev both went o pullin' flowers and 'fore 1 
 knowed i they'd cut off all thr.se. 
 
 Say, wot yer so still fer, Ernie? Told yer maybe I'd make yer happy 
 er sumpin', didn't I? Jist wait till yer git yer crutch and then we'll go 
 to the country where they's all kinds of flowers. (Pause) Why don't yer 
 say somethin', Ernie'? Hey, yer aint a holding yei- flowers! Raise up an' 
 look at 'em, Ernie. (Starting to raise Ernie's head, he discovers that he 
 is unconscious) Ernie! Ernie! Wot's the matter, old feller? Why his 
 bed's gone! Both gone.! (Holds Ernie's head to him) Wake up, Ernie! 
 Who done it, old feller? Who swiped yer bed? (Looks at his hand) 
 Why yer head's a bleedin'! Ernie! Ernie., old feller, it's Cobb! Cobb's 
 come back, j-er big brother! Who hurt yer. Pernio. (Lowering Ernie's 
 head and rising) I'll kill 'em all! 
 
 (Cobb starts to right and sees the other box. He stops for a moment, 
 then cautiously creeps up to it and examines the bedding. Going noise- 
 lessly to the rubbish pile at the left rear he hunts throught it and finds 
 an old piece of iron pipe about three feet long. He carries this to the 
 box and is about to strike Salty on the head with it when Scout Allen 
 enters from right. Scout Allen is 14 and wears he regulation Scout uni- 
 form.) 
 
 SCOUT ALLP^N— Hello there, Cobb, what are you doing with that piece 
 of iron? (Spuds and Salty awake and raise on their elbows) You surely 
 weren't going to hit those fellows, were you? 
 
 COBB — (Turns to .Allen, not noticing that Salty and Spuds are hearing) 
 Yes, I was. 
 
 SCOUT ALLEN. Why you'd kill them at one lick with that thing! 
 
 COBB— That's just what I wanted to do. 
 
 SCOIFT ALLEN — But you are gcing to join the Boy Scouts, and a 
 scout is BRAVE. That's one of the Scout laws. A Scout will not hit a 
 person when he is not looking. 
 
 COBB — (Letting the iron fall) They're cowards! 
 
 ALLEN— What's the matter? What have they done? 
 COBB— Come 'ere! (They go to Einie) They hurted my little crippled 
 brother! Hurt his head and stole our beds! They've killed him! 
 
 ALI^EN — Examin'ng Ernie) No, he's not dead. Get me some water. 
 (While Cobb secures some water from a can at the rear of the stage. 
 
Allen massages Ernie's arms, lowers his head, and loosens his clothing, 
 'men he baUics his face wiin ihe water which Cobb brings) He's be- 
 ginning to come to now. He was justexcited and scared. (During this 
 scene Spuds and Salty look on speechless.) 
 
 ERNIIJ — (Opening his eyes) Cobb! Cobb! Come and help! 
 
 COBB — (Holding his hand) Here., Ernie, old teller, here's Cobb. 
 
 ERNIE — Keep them away, Cobb! 
 
 CUBB-What's the matter, Ernie? How did they hurt yer? 
 
 EiiNlE— Two old mean boys was a skearin' Tabby — makin' out like 
 tlxy was ghosts, and I told him they wasn't ghosts, and he fought 'eoii, 
 and then they come back and throwed me out and sold our beds. 
 ' V'OICE— (Off right at street calling) Scout Allen! Come on, you two! 
 
 ALLEN— (Calling) Hey, send some help. Come here, Mr. Scoutmas- 
 ter! (To Cobb) He'll be all right now. You know when you helped me get 
 my bicycle from the boys that stole it that time I told you I'd get you 
 a place in our scout troop. We were coming by to get you and I ran on 
 ahead to tell you. 
 
 (Enter Scoutmaster and Scouts Barnes, Willis and Humphrey right) 
 
 SCOUTMASTER— What has happened'.' 
 
 SCOUT ALLEN — Oh, some boys hurt Cobb's little crippled brother and 
 stole his bed. Mr. Scoutmaster, this is Cobb, the boy I've been wanting 
 m our troop. 
 
 SCOUTMASTER— (Shaking hands with Cobb) I'm very glad to know 
 you, Cobb. 
 
 -4LLEN — (Who has been examining Einie) Why his hip is out of joint! 
 How long has it been done? 
 
 COBB — Several weeks. He. fell and twisted it. 
 
 SCOUTMASTER— (Helping) Let's see; can't we get it back in place? 
 (They pull Ernie's leg. He screams.) Now it's all right. He will 
 
 COBB — Oh, Mr. will he git so's he can walk — won't be crippled? 
 
 ERNIE — And won't have to use crutches? 
 
 SCOUTMASTER— Certainly he ought to. But let's get him to a doc- 
 tor to se.e if that's all that is wrong. Here boys, fix a stretcher. Scouts 
 Vvillis and Humphrey catch opposite ends of iheir staffs. While they 
 still hold the staffs Barnes and Allen pull their shirts over their (Willis' 
 and Humphreys') heads and inside out over the staffs until the tails meet, 
 making a sti'efcher. (See Scout Hand-book) Barnes and Allen carefully 
 lay Eiuie on this improvised stretcher) Now lake him to Dr. Sharpe.'s 
 of rice across the street from headquarters. (They exit carrying Ernie) 
 
 ALLEN — Now he'll be all right, Cobb. So you come with us and take 
 the Scout oath and then we'll go on up to the club. (They all start off 
 light) Say, Cobb, I talked with papa about the job in the store for you, 
 ana he said he'd try you out tomorrow. (They exit right) 
 
 (As soon as tuey have disappeared. Salty and Spuds get out of bed 
 and quietly and solemnly return the bedding to the other box smoothing 
 it out carefully. As they finish, the Scoutmaster's' voice is heard quite 
 a distance off right at street) 
 
 SCOUTMASTER — Scouts, attention! We will all say the Scout oath 
 together with our new Scout Cobb. 
 
 ALL — Upon my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my 
 country and obey the Scout laws; to help other people at all times and 
 to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally si'aight. 
 (They cheer. While they are repeating the Scout oath Salty and Spuds 
 stand at attention) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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