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PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BY 
 
 STUART WALKER 
 
 Edited, and with an Introduction by 
 
 EDWARD HALE BIERSTADT 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 Second Edition, Revised 
 
 CINCINNATI 
 STEWART fe? KIDD COMPANY 
 
 1917 
 

 p 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY 
 
 STEWART & KIDD COMPANY 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 COPYRIGHT IN ENGLAND 
 
 All dramatic rights 
 reserved by Stuart Walker 
 
 First Edition May, 1917 
 Second Edition September, 1917 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION iii 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE THEATER 3 
 
 THE TRIMPLET 5 
 
 NEVERTHELESS 41 
 
 THE MEDICINE SHOW 69 
 
 THE Six WHO PASS WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL . 85 
 
 APPENDIX 133 
 
 3G796S 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 THE PORTMANTEAU THEATER . . (Frontispiece) 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 THE TRIM P LET 
 
 Caratina and her mother, Bobolara . . . . 13 
 
 NEVERTHELESS 
 
 The Girl and Boy Encounter a Strange Word . 53 
 
 THE MEDICINE-SHOW 
 
 The Doctor swaps a chew of tobacco for a 
 pill from Giz 79 
 
 Six WHO PASS WHILE TH& LENTILS BOIL 
 
 The Boy and the Ballad Singer 118 
 
 Six WHO PASS WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 The Queen, the defeated Headman, and the Boy 129 
 
 TAILPIECE 
 
 The Portmanteau Theater Boxed to Leave . .131 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 THE MAN 
 
 Especially during the last two decades in Amer 
 ica various movements have been generated for 
 the establishment of a more or less permanent 
 repertory theater. In most cases these move 
 ments have proved abortive ; indeed, they have al 
 ways proved abortive whenever actual permanency 
 was implied. The failure of the New Theater, 
 now the Century Theater, in New York, marks 
 the highest point in a long series of failures. 
 Next in line for consideration comes Stuart Walk 
 er s Portmanteau Theater. So far it has been 
 entirely successful, and at the present moment 
 there is no reason for prophesying anything but 
 unqualified triumph for the venture. But in any 
 case, whatever time may do to controvert the pres 
 ent situation, the Portmanteau Theater has taught 
 us not one, but many lessons, and it seems entirely 
 fitting that an effort should now be made to sum 
 up in detail the history of the theater, in order 
 that a proper basis for future deduction may be 
 furnished. To do this effectively it will be well 
 to begin with the presiding genius of the Portman 
 teau, Stuart Walker himself. 
 
 Stuart Walker was born in Augusta, Kentucky, 
 in the oldest house in that part of the State. The 
 exact date of his birth is problematical, as Mr. 
 Walker has so far persisted in maintaining a strict 
 
 iii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 secrecy on the point. Whether he thinks that he 
 is too old or too young, I do not know; very 
 evidently he believes there is a " too " somewhere 
 in that connection. It seems to me a safe con 
 jecture, however, that he is about thirty-three 
 years old. His father was a lumberman, and 
 with this exception all Mr. Walker s forbears 
 on both sides of the house were either lawyers 
 or preachers. There is not a trace of the artis 
 tic, much less theatric, talent discernible in his 
 geneology, and this is surely worthy of note con 
 sidering his later career. The Walker family 
 originates in North Carolina, not Kentucky, one 
 of the chief reasons for the emigration being that 
 one of Stuart Walker s ancestors had a family 
 of twenty-two children. Naturally North Caro 
 lina felt the strain of so large a body of Walkers, 
 and Stuart s forbear moved south near the blue 
 grass country. 
 
 Mr. Walker s early childhood was uneventful. 
 He was a strongly imaginative youngster. The 
 chief point of interest during this period came as 
 a more or less direct result of an attack of 
 measles. It was at this time that his father gave 
 him a toy theater in the endeavor to keep the 
 boy indoors and quiet during his convalescence. 
 He was just six years old. The theater was of 
 German manufacture, and it had a green baize 
 curtain, two sets of scenery, and real, though min 
 iature, traps. There came with it also a play 
 to be performed, but the play was written in 
 German, and there was no one at hand who could 
 translate German readily. So it was that Stuart s 
 father made him an adaptation, a very free adap- 
 
 iv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 tation, of the " Bohemian Girl." This version 
 was especially notable because it had two morals : 
 the reward of virtue, and the condemnation of 
 vice. Thus every one was satisfied. For six 
 years the small boy gave regular performances 
 of his one piece in the little theater, and then the 
 audience rose in a body and demanded a change 
 of bill. Here was a problem indeed for the 
 Manager! Stuart rose to the occasion. He 
 repainted the theater, changed the name of the 
 play and gave it over again. There was 
 almost a riot. The question now was how to 
 hold his audience, and the answer could be only 
 one repertory. The " star system " fortu 
 nately could not apply in this instance. And so 
 Stuart wrote a play a week thereafter, and gave 
 it on Monday afternoon just as he is doing today. 
 The influence of this toy theater on Mr. Walker s 
 future work can hardly be over emphasized. It 
 taught him how to hold an audience, it suggested 
 the importance of the repertory idea, and from 
 a standpoint of stage mechanics it gave him ma 
 terial which he is using today. That will be 
 taken up in detail a little further on. The plays 
 he wrote for his fellows were designed to please 
 they had to please, and the experience gained 
 through their manufacture and presentation has 
 been an ever-present help up to now. 
 
 In 1890 the Walker family moved to Cincin 
 nati. Here Stuart entered the elementary school, 
 going from there to the High School, and to the 
 University of Cincinnati, where he graduated in 
 due course. While he was an undergraduate at 
 the University he became one of the founders of 
 
 v 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 the Comedy Club, and this served to intensify his 
 interests along the lines of the theater. It was at 
 this time, too, that he came under the influence of 
 Prof. George Miller of the English Department. 
 It was through Professor Miller that Walker be 
 came first interested and then fascinated by the 
 old English and Scottish ballads. Their dramatic 
 power, their skill of narration, and their ability to 
 make the auditor actually see and feel the events 
 they recounted, made a deep and lasting impres 
 sion. It was an early and primitive form of the 
 dramatic art, this minstrelsy, and it suggested the 
 fundamental principles of that art as perhaps little 
 else could have done. 
 
 After his graduation from the University Mr. 
 Walker was an invalid for several years. He 
 had nothing to do but to think, and this forma 
 tive period permitted the crystallization of ideas 
 which had been germinating since boyhood. 
 When he was strong enough, in an effort to re 
 cover his lost health, Mr. Walker went back 
 south and worked some months in a great lumber 
 camp. Here he came into contact with the South 
 ern negro, and through him found again the bal 
 lad of his university days. At night, by the camp- 
 fire, the darkies would chant their songs, each 
 one taking up the theme in turn and acting out 
 the story. Sometimes these assumed almost the 
 proportion of impromptu plays the Commedia 
 dell* Arte over again! Mr. Walker listened, 
 and learned. He has always been peculiar in 
 his ability to reduce anything to its common de 
 nominator, and to put it into practical applica 
 tion. After his lumbering experience Mr. 
 
 vi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Walker headed straight north to New York, and 
 entered at the American Academy of Dramatic 
 Arts. Now was the time for dreams to be 
 realized. 
 
 After graduating from the Academy Mr. 
 Walker played a summer in pantomime with 
 Madame Alberti, and the following Autumn he 
 applied for work at the Belasco offices. There 
 he was taken on at once at $12.50 a week 
 and William J. Dean, the general director for 
 Mr. Belasco, told him he would have five lines 
 to speak in a forthcoming production. The 
 young Thespian banished thoughts of Hamlet 
 oh, yes, he had remembered that Booth was 
 a Southerner and took the part. The five 
 lines were in " Is Matrimony a Failure?" and 
 on the first night Walker was made assistant 
 stage manager. After two weeks he was made 
 stage manager of " The Lily " at $20 a week, 
 and then on he went. He understudied all the 
 important male parts in " The Lily " and in 
 time played most of them, one night taking the 
 place of Leo Ditrichstein who was ill. The next 
 Autumn he went back to " Is Matrimony a Fail 
 ure?" and played the part of the old man, 
 but after two weeks he accepted the position of 
 play-reader for Belasco. Next he was made 
 stage manager of " The Concert," and manager 
 of the Belasco Play Bureau. Again Mr. Walker 
 took a step up, being made general stage man 
 ager; and all the time he was acting in what 
 ever production of Mr. Belasco s he was needed. 
 Shortly after this last move Mr. Dean became 
 ill, and Mr. Walker took over his work contin- 
 
 vii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 uing with it as general director for Belasco dur 
 ing the next year when he resigned to play for 
 a summer in stock with Jessie Bonstelle. The 
 following Autumn the Portmanteau Theater came 
 into being. This was in 1914 after Mr. Walker 
 had been with Belasco for six years. During 
 all this time there were people who, to use Mr. 
 Walker s own phrase, were " kind to me, and 
 told me things." Among these were first of all 
 William J. Dean whose friendly interest never 
 lessened, then W. J. Ferguson, James Bradbury, 
 Jane Cowl, and others in the cast of " Is Matri 
 mony a Failure?"; in "The Lily," Nance 
 O Neil, and Julia Dean, with Leo Ditrichstein, 
 William Morris, Bruce McRae, and Charles 
 Cartwright. But Mr. Dean was always the 
 greatest friend of all. 
 
 The average man after six years with Belasco 
 would have succumbed to the Belascian style of 
 production, but with Mr. Walker it taught him 
 largely what to avoid. He had his own stand 
 ards on his entrance to the work, and he adhered 
 to them persistently, discarding whatever failed 
 to meet the test. Perhaps the most vital thing he 
 learned was how to train and handle actors, for 
 in this Belasco is a past-master. Also as director, 
 Mr. Walker came in close touch with a great part 
 of the " profession," and when his time came he 
 was able to draw upon his accumulated experience 
 to provide himself with a company. He saw how 
 the younger actors and actresses were passed over, 
 unless by some chance they were able to show their 
 talent, and he resolved that when his own day 
 dawned he would make his knowledge react to 
 
 viii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 their advantage and to his own. This made pos 
 sible the incident that took place^just after the first 
 performance of the Portmanteau when a very 
 well-known New York manager rushed up to Mr. 
 Walker and exclaimed, " Walker, where did you 
 get that cast? I never heard of one of em be 
 fore but they re wonders ! " Looking at him 
 rather sadly Mr. Walker replied, " I got six of 
 them out of your companies." 
 
 Chesterton remarks that the poet is the only 
 really practical man, and this is certainly true of 
 Stuart Walker. He has to a remarkable degree 
 the power of materializing his own visions. His 
 practical experience with the stage has not been 
 wastecl; he has dreamed, and he has made his 
 drWms come true. Perhaps this is in part be 
 cause of his great faith in them, but the concrete 
 knowledge necessary to achieve their embodiment 
 is there too. His taste, his judgment, are inher 
 ent, but the ability to make definite use of them 
 has been arduously acquired. 
 
 THE THEATER 
 
 It was in the Autumn of 1914 that the idea 
 for the Portmanteau Theater first came to Mr. 
 Walker. He himself says that it came to him 
 while he was taking a bath. This is so frivo 
 lous a statement that it is undoubtedly true. 
 After all, stranger things have happened. Mr. 
 Walker says, too, that the idea came to him as 
 a complete vision, with every salient feature in 
 its place just as it is now. This sounds like the 
 poet talking, but even so that is no reason for 
 doubting. At least he believes it. As a matter 
 
 ix 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 of fact, like most visions, the idea came to birth 
 after a long period of almost unconcious incu 
 bation, beginning no doubt with the toy theater 
 of childhood. Certain it is at any rate that when 
 Mr. Walker first came to New York he wanted 
 to do three things to write, to act, and to pro 
 duce plays, and it is equally certain that all these 
 three wishes were finally realized in the Port 
 manteau Theater. 
 
 Shortly after the idea had begun to take shape 
 in Mr. Walker s mind he went to a convention 
 of the Drama League where he met Mrs. Coon- 
 ley Ward with whom he discussed his new-born 
 project. Mrs. Ward took fire at once, so much 
 so in fact that she sent Mr. Walker on a tour 
 through the Middle West so that he might talk 
 publicly about the Portmanteau and gain some 
 idea of how such a .theater would be received. 
 On this tour Mr. Walker met with instant re 
 sponse. He felt now that he was committed to 
 venture, and so without more delay he returned 
 to New York, built the theater and organized his 
 company. This was in the Spring of 1915. 
 
 According to Mr. Walker one of the first to 
 catch the spirit of the thing was William J. 
 Sheafe, Jr., and it was he who built the first model 
 for the theater. The first scene was made for 
 "Six Who Pass While the Lentils Boil," and 
 it was about this time that Frank J. Zimmerer and 
 Wilmot Heitland put in an appearance. Both 
 of these men did, and indeed are doing, splendid 
 work for the Portmanteau. It was Mr. Zim 
 merer who found the color for the theater itself, 
 and his stage settings for the plays of Lord Dun- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 sany, as well as those for the plays of Mr. Walker, 
 have since set New York by the ears. In every 
 instance Mr. Walker has displayed an almost un 
 canny knack for getting just the right people to 
 execute his ideas. This is indeed borne out in 
 every phase of the work, artistic and mechanical. 
 And again in almost every instance the people he 
 has found have been hitherto quite unknown to 
 the general public. 
 
 The proportions of the theater are based, ac 
 cording to the inventor s own statement, on the 
 west wall of the apartment Mr. Walker occupied 
 at that time, and this simply means that the pro 
 portions are, to a certain extent, arbitrary. Later 
 they were worked out in greater detail as slight 
 changes became necessary. The theater as it was 
 finally built, however, was, and is, strictly accord 
 ing to Mr. Walker s primary conception. 
 
 The Portmanteau Theater is in direct descent 
 from the toy theater about which so much has 
 already been said. The structural outlines of the 
 theater are largely the same, the same three color 
 lighting system is employed, the stand-lights are 
 used in exactly the same manner, and the im 
 proved reflectors are almost replicas. It was in 
 the toy theater that Mr. Walker first learned 
 that footlights cast unpleasant shadows, and he 
 discarded them then. Later he relearned that 
 lesson as well as others under Belasco, but they 
 had first come to him years before. The great 
 est point of interest here, however, is that the 
 lighting system for the Portmanteau Theater is 
 unique. Mr. Walker can get effects with it that 
 cannot be duplicated in any theater in the country. 
 
 xi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 .Yet this lighting system which has been hailed as 
 so notable an achievement, as indeed it is, is based 
 directly upon the system used in the little toy the 
 ater with the green baize curtain. 
 
 In 1915 Hiram Kelly Moderwell, author of 
 " The Theater of Today " and at that time on 
 the staff of the Boston Evening Transcript 
 wrote an account of the Portmanteau Theater 
 from which I shall quote at some length, for 
 I cannot hope to better Mr. Moderwell s nar 
 rative. 
 
 " The Portmanteau Theater is a complete 
 theatrical stage, somewhat smaller than usual, 
 but ample for any play that does not make a 
 special demand for bigness. It can be set up 
 in any room sixteen and a half feet high, twenty- 
 five feet wide, and forty feet Iqng (this length 
 allowing for an audience of a hundred or more). 
 Its walls support themselves by a resourceful sys 
 tem of interlocking, and ground bracing. They 
 can be * struck, like scenery, by a few men, and 
 boxed in an hour and a half. When boxed for 
 shipping, the theater, with switchboard and all 
 paraphernelia, weighs some 3,000 pounds, oc 
 cupies 735 cubic feet, and can be loaded on to an 
 ordinary hauling truck. The box of dimmers is 
 a little marvel. It is forty-four inches long, 
 thirty-two inches high, twenty-three inches deep, 
 and weighs 350 pounds boxed. It can plug in on 
 the ordinary no direct current system, which fact 
 enables the theater to dispense with clumsy cal 
 cium devices. Mr. Walker dispenses altogether 
 with footlights, not from necessity, but from 
 choice. His lighting is obtained from movable 
 
 xii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 spot lamps, and transparencies provide all needed 
 coloring. 
 
 " The stage proper is sixteen feet high, eight 
 een feet deep, and twenty-two feet wide. The 
 gridiron, from which scenery is hung, is a remark 
 able contrivance, light and flexible, but to all ap 
 pearances quite free from all danger of break 
 ing. A cloth cyclorama is hung on a semi-circu 
 lar iron shaft, and is used for the background in 
 out-of-door scenes, as in the best European thea 
 ters. There is an oblong fore-stage or apron in 
 front of the proscenium and between two side 
 entrance doorways, and here, in chummy near 
 ness to his audience, Mr. Walker has large por 
 tions of his plays acted. The wings are ample 
 for the storing of properties between scenes, and 
 for the sojourn of actors awaiting their cues. 
 Some of the framework of the stage is constructed 
 of the actual boxes in which the rest is stored and 
 shipped. 
 
 " Mr. Walker uses this stage with a keen sense 
 of the beautiful. If he chose he could mount an 
 ordinary realistic play in the realistic manner 
 the equipment will lend itself to that. But in 
 the performances thus far given the producer has 
 set himself to the exposition of his ideals of 
 stagecraft. These are perhaps summarized in 
 the formula : * Imagination instead of informa 
 tion. But Mr. Walker s personal taste narrows 
 down still more toward the delicate and fanciful. 
 And in this field at least, the Portmanteau should 
 be able to equal any theater in America, provided 
 only that the physical demands of the play be not 
 exorbitant. The scenery in the Portmanteau is 
 
 xiii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the simplest description back drops, ordi 
 nary sets, and a few properties. It is the light 
 ing (which must in all imaginative work be a full 
 half of the setting) that raises these prosaic things 
 into the domain of magic. Mr. Walker s light 
 ing is a simple affair of movable spots, nothing 
 more. (We have Mr. Belasco to thank for 
 showing us the marvels of the spot-light.) But 
 by his extensive understanding of color in light, 
 and especially^of light against pigment, he pro 
 duces effects of great beauty and distinction." 
 
 There are several points in Mr. Moderwell s 
 account which may in the light of later events 
 be clarified to advantage. It is interesting to re 
 mark that when the Portmanteau was set up in 
 the Century Theater of New York Mr. Walker 
 discarded the famous " million dollar switch 
 board " of the Century, finding that he could get 
 better effects with his own switch-board, and little 
 dimmer-box. The Century, that gigantic mauso 
 leum of incompetency, is a monument to the con 
 ception that money can supply anything except 
 brains. It should be noticed too that the fore- 
 stage of the Portmanteau is unlike the conventional 
 apron in that it is one step lower than the main or 
 inner stage. When Mr. Moderwell speaks of the 
 scenery as being " of the simplest description," he 
 is speaking from a mechanical rather than from an 
 artistic standpoint. Also it must be remembered 
 that his account was written in the very early days 
 of the Portmanteau before Zimmerer s gorgeous 
 sets for the Dunsany plays, or for " The Birthday 
 of the Infanta." 
 
 The fore-stage, and the inner stage of the 
 xiv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Portmanteau are lighted by four stand-lights 
 two for each stage. These stands carry one lamp 
 each of 250 watts, behind which is an exceed 
 ingly powerful mirror reflector. The two lights 
 for the fore-stage are placed down stage right 
 and left, and are masked from the audience by 
 screens. The two lights for the inner stage are 
 placed just inside the proscenium. It is evident 
 at once that there can be no question of un 
 pleasant shadow effects with this ^method. As 
 Mr. Moderwell says, movable spots are used also, 
 but this is true only on occasion. Mr. Walker 
 relies on reflections, and color combinations to 
 bring most of his results. Heretofore to obtain 
 the diffuse light necessary for a full stage, bal 
 cony spots have been used (Granville Barker re 
 lies on these to a great extent), but with the 
 single lamp used in combination with the reflectors 
 the Portmanteau manages to obtain a diffuse 
 light from nearby, a thing new in staging. I 
 have called these lights " stand-lights " because 
 they do not come under the head of any other 
 lights used on the stage prior to their creation by 
 Mr. Walker. They differ from the bunch-light 
 largely in that only one bulb is used, and that the 
 reflector is an unusually powerful one con 
 structed by Mr. Walker particularly for this pur 
 pose. 
 
 Mr. Walker s general theory of staging is very 
 simple. If you have a story to tell tell it. 
 Do not bury it in a mass of detail which is unes 
 sential. Go for the broad effects, the big out 
 lines; the rest will be added as it becomes neces 
 sary. That is one of the things Belasco did not 
 
 xv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 teach the producer. You must remember also 
 that the audience is an integral part of the whole. 
 It must be willing to enter in and do its share. 
 The part of an audience which will do this is 
 worth working for, and the other part will come 
 anyhow they will follow the rest. 
 
 Simplicity is the keynote, and the knowledge 
 when it will be more effective not to do a thing 
 than to do it. " Nevertheless " is a masterpiece 
 of omission, and it has been remarked that the 
 characters of Mother and Father who never come 
 on the stage at all are as real to the audience as 
 the Boy or Girl. It is in connection with this 
 play that some misguided people have tried to 
 trace a tendency on Mr. Walker s part to return 
 to the Elizabethan stage as the Device Bearer 
 brings out the table, the lamp, and the chairs 
 which go to make the set against the closed cur 
 tains of the inner stage. It is simply a question 
 of practicability. The fore-stage cannot be cur 
 tained off, and as it must be set for this " Inter 
 lude before the Curtains " it is simply a matter of 
 setting it in the most artistic way. Better the 
 Device Bearer than the Props of the " Yellow 
 Jacket " with his limp cigarette. 
 
 The point should be stressed again that Mr. 
 Walker considers the audience and the stage as 
 a unit. The fore-stage is significant of this atti 
 tude in the degree of intimacy it permits; indeed 
 it may be considered as the connecting link be 
 tween the stage proper and the auditorium. In 
 some of Mr. Walker s plays the characters 
 descend into the audience in the effort to weld 
 the real and the make-believe into an indivisible 
 
 xvi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 whole. Memory as she walks down the center 
 aisle to the stage, and the Prologue as he an 
 swers questions, both tend to carry out this theory. 
 You, or the person in the audience, is of course a 
 definite character in several of the plays, but some 
 times a youngster in the house will pipe up and 
 ask the Prologue questions on his own account. 
 This never fails to fill Mr. Walker with joy, and 
 the Prologue^ himself with perturbation, but so 
 far the illusion has never been lost, no matter 
 how severe a strain was put upon the ingenuity of 
 the players. 
 
 Some persons, equally misguided with those be 
 fore mentioned, have exclaimed that Mr. Walker 
 in his attitude toward the audience has attempted 
 to reinstitute some of the conventions of the Greek 
 stage, and one critic has remarked that the 
 " trick " was borrowed straight from vaudeville. 
 The absurdity of both these statements is mani 
 fest. The consideration of the stage and the 
 audience as a unit, and the effort to emphasize 
 that point in every possible manner is as old as 
 the stage itself. It is one of the early fundamen 
 tals of stagecraft, and the list would be endless 
 of the times when it has been attempted. " The 
 Knight of the Burning Pestle " is perhaps the most 
 obvious example, but like instances can be found 
 in the drama of almost every country, and every 
 age as ^ far back as the ancient Hindu theater. 
 There is not space here to elucidate this theory, 
 but that it is of the highest importance is un 
 questionable. 
 
 In his directing, Mr. Walker makes certain 
 demands, and adopts certain methods which are 
 
 xvii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 interesting, less in themselves, than in the results 
 to which they give rise. He insists that every 
 member of a cast shall know what the play is 
 about. He reads the play with them together and 
 separately; he discusses it with them until all the 
 individual conceptions become unified in the whole. 
 One of his chief personal exactions is that actors 
 shall be treated not as actors but as human beings, 
 and the result is that every member of his com 
 pany is a friend upon whom he can depend for 
 the fullest support, and the heartiest cooperation. 
 
 In rehearsing a new play Mr. Walker permits 
 every one to work out his own ideas so far as it is 
 possible (herein is a trace of the Belasco train 
 ing), and a little later in the work the process 
 of unifying the individual interpretations, and 
 correcting them in so far as they need correction, 
 is taken in hand. As a whole the Portmanteau 
 company may be said to read excellently, that 
 is, better than most American companies, and 
 not so well as most English. Seldom a word 
 is lost, and their reading of verse is quite re 
 markable considering what we are usually obliged 
 to put up with. Both in diction and in enunci 
 ation the company will bear comparison with the 
 best this country has to offer. Their acting is 
 finished, and may be compared to the Irish Play 
 ers in that the greatest effect is secured with the 
 least effort. Every one of the young and un 
 known actors who have come into Mr. Walker s 
 charge has since received offers from Broadway 
 managers, but only one or two have succumbed to 
 the temptation. 
 
 Mr. Walker s effort is always to create through 
 xviii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 the audience rather than through the actors. He 
 provides all the outline of illusion with all the 
 necessary suggestion, leaving the audience to fill 
 in the details for themselves. This places upon 
 them a direct necessity for coming into the picture, 
 to create for themselves, besides responding to 
 the creation of others. And as I have said be 
 fore, the part of an audience which will do this 
 is worth working for and it is no small part. 
 
 In " Six Who Pass While the Lentils Boil " 
 a great copper pot is placed on the fore-stage. 
 The audience is told that the pot is on a fire 
 and that it is full of boiling water. All through 
 the performance the audience may be heard to 
 gasp audibly whenever any one comes near enough 
 to the pot to be in danger of being scalded. 
 In " The Lady of the Weeping Willow Tree " a 
 young girl kneels by the bank of a river crooning 
 a quiet little song, as she sorrows over her trou 
 bles. There is no river, and there is no action, 
 but, nine times out of ten, the audience have en 
 tered so fully into the spirit of the scene that they 
 have been moved to tears. Can the realistic stage 
 setting better this? It may be quite truly said 
 that Mr. Walker has shown what can be done 
 with the new stage art quite as effectively as any 
 other producer in America. In conception and in 
 execution he has proved to the utmost that an 
 ounce of artistic suggestion, sympathetically ap 
 plied, is worth a pound of realistic reproduction. 
 The first of these stimulates the imagination; the 
 second stultifies it. 
 
 It must not be thought, however, that Mr. 
 Walker is omnipotent or that the Portmanteau 
 
 xix 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Theater is a cure-all for the woes of the stage. 
 One becomes so surfeited with mediocrity that the 
 advent of the new and beautiful is apt to be hailed 
 as the very criterion of excellence, and conse 
 quently over-rated. Nothing could be more de 
 structive to the well being of any movement than 
 this attitude, for there inevitably follows in its 
 wake a reaction which often undoes all the good 
 that has been accomplished. The Portmanteau 
 has very definite limitations. It cannot attempt 
 to compete with the ordinary theater in many of 
 its phases. Such competition is not necessary. 
 The Portmanteau Theater has its place, and 
 within the confines of its limitations it must exer 
 cise what influence it can bring to bear. It cannot 
 be otherwise considered, and in my praise of its 
 activities it must always be borne in mind that 
 such statements are relative, not absolute. The 
 Portmanteau stage is small, and is naturally not 
 to be compared with a full-sized stage which is 
 equipped with every device of contemporary 
 stage-craft. It is in the acceptance of its self-im 
 posed limitations, and in the turning of them to 
 advantage that the Portmanteau derives no small 
 part of its importance. It should be considered 
 not in any sense as a Messiah, but simply as a 
 Prophet. 
 
 THE PLAYS 
 
 The first play in his present repertory which 
 Mr. Walker wrote was " The Moon Lady," a 
 pantomime written in 1908, six years before the 
 theater itself came into being. The list of the 
 other plays, all of them written especially for the 
 
 xx 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Portmanteau, follows with the time of writing. 
 
 "Six Who Pass While the Lentils Boil," 
 March 29th -April ist, 1915. 
 
 " The Trimplet," June 26th- 29th, 1915. 
 
 " The Seven Gifts," a pantomime, December 
 yth, 1915. 
 
 "Nevertheless," December 3ist, 1915. 
 
 "The Lady of the Weeping Willow Tree," 
 February 6th -i 6th, 1916. 
 
 "The Birthday of the Infanta," July I9th- 
 2Oth, 1916. 
 
 " The Very Naked Boy," September 3rd, 1916. 
 
 "The Medicine Show," September 5th, 1916. 
 
 It may fairly be said that although the ideas 
 for some of these plays had been in Mr. Walker s 
 mind for some time, they might never have 
 reached the dignity of paper had it not been for 
 the building of the Portmanteau. From the very 
 first Mr. Walker was strongly disinclined to use 
 plays without paying royalty, but his circumstances 
 at that time did not permit such payment. Obvi 
 ously the only thing to do was to write his own 
 plays, and this he did. 
 
 The point of view from which the plays are 
 written is easy of explanation. Tell_the^ story 
 that is the sole secret; no, there is one other 
 first have a story to tell. Mr. Walker denies 
 the charge of symbolism energetically, and herein 
 he is at one with Lord Dunsany who has suffered 
 under a like burden. For the most part we can 
 concur with Mr. Walker in his contention that 
 his plays are without ulterior motive : it is only 
 when such a frankly symbolic piece as u The 
 
 xxi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Trimplet " is brought into the discussion that we 
 waver. But " The Trimplet " stands alone after 
 all in its symbolism, if symbolism it be. The 
 story is the important part to Mr. Walker, and 
 it is the important part to most of his audiences. 
 If the others are able to get something more from 
 the play so much the better, but the vital fact is 
 that they get the story first. The symbolism is 
 secondary when it is present at all. 
 
 At least half of the plays are satires of a mild 
 form. " Six Who Pass While the Lentils Boil " 
 is the best example of this phase, as " The Trim 
 plet " (unquestionably Mr. Walker s finest play) 
 is the best example of his more purely poetic 
 vein. " The Trimplet " deals with a certain 
 magic thing which can cure all the ills of whoever 
 finds it. The search and the finding constitute the 
 action of the piece. 
 
 " Six Who Pass While the Lentils Boil " is per 
 haps the most popular play in the Portmanteau 
 repertory. The story is of a Queen who, having 
 stepped on the ring-toe of the King s great-aunt, 
 is condemned to die before the King s four clocks 
 strike twelve. The Six who pass the pot, in which 
 boil the lentils, are on their way to the behead 
 ing. 
 
 " Nevertheless," an interlude played before the 
 curtains on the fore-stage, tells of a burglar who 
 reaches regeneration through two children and a 
 dictionary. This play is a point of contention. 
 It is liked and disliked in turn by critics and audi 
 ences. The key to the problem, however, is in the 
 point of view which is brought to bear on the play. 
 If one looks at it in the cold gray light of middle- 
 
 xxii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 aged inexperience it is doubtless a rather tedious 
 trifle, but if one s eyes are those of childhood 
 where " every one lives happy ever after " and 
 an all-abiding faith in the ultimate fitness of things 
 is the chief tenet of one s convictions one will 
 like the play. And this commentary is true in 
 a greater or less degree of all Mr. Walker s 
 work. 
 
 " The Medicine Show " is a character study 
 from the banks of the Ohio River. One does not 
 see either the show or the river, but that does not 
 matter. This play is a relic of the days in 
 Augusta, Kentucky. Every word spoken by the 
 three characters was heard at some time by the 
 author as he lay, a small boy, on the banks of the 
 great river. Its local color is exact to a degree, 
 and its characterization is equally authentic, but 
 that does not prevent it from being amusing. 
 That it is true to life is well borne out by the fact 
 that the play was received with the utmost en 
 thusiasm in that part of the world where the char 
 acters were known and appreciated. New Eng 
 land took the piece coldly: Giz and Lut er were 
 too dirty for New England. 
 
 The Seven Gifts," a pantomime, was played 
 for the first time in Madison Square, New York 
 City, on Christmas night, 1915. The Theater 
 was set up in the Square and a crowd of more 
 than 5000 stood in the snow to see the perform 
 ance. The players were warmed by heaters 
 placed underneath the stage, and the heat gen 
 erated became at times so intense that they were 
 in danger in being parboiled, though the tempera 
 ture was near the freezing mark outside. Never- 
 
 xxiii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 theless the audience of 5000 stood patiently in 
 the cold dark to which they were seemingly ob 
 livious as they watched in fascinated wonder. 
 
 " The Lady of the Weeping Willow Tree " is 
 a play of old Japan, and many of the lines are 
 taken from old Japanese songs, and legends with 
 which the western world is not familiar. The 
 play is a sad little tale; so sad, indeed, that I have 
 known a hardened press-agent to weep over it as 
 he read the manuscript. And a greater tribute 
 than this would be impossible in my opinion! 
 But though it is sad it is beautiful, and it is the 
 only play Mr. Walker has written in more than 
 one act. 
 
 " The Very Naked Boy " is another interlude 
 of rapid action. The play is not as fine as the 
 others, however, either in conception or in the 
 working out of the little episode on which it is 
 based. 
 
 The Birthday of the Infanta " in an adapta 
 tion from a story of Oscar Wilde s. The original 
 is full of dramatic incident and lends itself pe 
 culiarly to the treatment accorded it. The play 
 has been successful from the very start. It is 
 notable that Alfred Noyes used the same story 
 for his poem " The Dwarf s Tragedy," one of 
 his most poignantly beautiful creations. Mr. 
 Walker s conception does the original full justice, 
 and more than that no one can say. The staging 
 of this piece is particularly fine with costumes by 
 Mrs. John W. Alexander from original Velasquez 
 portraits, and the set by Frank J. Zimmerer. 
 
 Mr. Walker has several plays in preparation 
 notably " A Leaf in the Wind," a peace play in 
 
 xxiv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 which there is no mention of war, and " The Win 
 dow Garden," the story of a little cripple in the 
 slums of a great city. As will be seen by the list 
 of plays with the dates of writing Mr. Walker is 
 a rapid workman, but that is not always true. 
 " The Window Garden " has been rewritten six 
 times so far, but when it is done it will be as it 
 was always intended. 
 
 Mr. Walker s attitude toward the writing of his 
 plays, his emphasis on the importance of telling 
 the story, may be traced in some part to the old 
 English and Scottish ballads which influenced him 
 so greatly in his earlier youth. The same funda 
 mentals are apparent in each; the narrative, the 
 color and clarity of outline, and the same tendency 
 to bring the audience into active cooperation all 
 proceed from the same source. But it is never 
 plot for plot s sake with Mr. Walker. The plot 
 grows out of the characters inevitably as it should 
 grow, but the plot never controls the characters. 
 The length of the plays is entirely unconventional 
 from a theatric standpoint. Some of them play 
 twenty minutes, and some play fifty. It depends 
 solely on the story that is to be told. There is 
 neither cutting to make it shorter nor padding to 
 make it longer. The play dictates its own length 
 by its own requirements. It has been asked 
 whether the plays have been influenced by the 
 theater. Physically they have not. That is to 
 say that the plays are in no sense unconven 
 tional because the theater itself is unconventional. 
 Realistic plays could be staged in the Portmanteau 
 just as effectively as the poetic and more fanciful 
 drama. But it is quite probable that in writing 
 
 XXV 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 his plays Mr. Walker has always thought of them 
 in terms of the Portmanteau, though this does not 
 mean that any very pronounced limitation has been 
 imposed upon them. Rather otherwise, in so far 
 as theatrical effects are concerned. 
 
 Mr. Walker, like Mr. Chesterton, does and 
 says the extraordinary thing because it is the log 
 ical thing. Herein he is at one with the child 
 mind, and herein lies no small measure of his im 
 portance. The creation of the Prologue, the De 
 vice Bearer, and the You, in the audience, bear 
 witness to this very clearly. The Prologue, who 
 answers questions from the audience, and You 
 who asks them, have both a very definite reason. 
 There are usually people in the theater who talk 
 during a performance, thus making themselves a 
 nuisance to all around them. One dislikes them 
 because they distract one s attention from the 
 stage, and too because one involuntarily tries un 
 successfully to hear what they are saying. Now 
 we have questions asked and answered so that the 
 whole theater can hear. The performance is un 
 disturbed, and so is the audience. (There is dis 
 cernible, however, a touch of satire in the concep 
 tion.) And the Prologue to the Theater chanted 
 by Memory, as well as the prologues to the sepa 
 rate plays spoken by the Prologue himself are for 
 the people who must know exactly what it is all 
 about. What better method could there be of 
 telling them? The Prologue to the Theater is in 
 teresting in itself as having originally no connec 
 tion with the Portmanteau. It was written in 
 1912 as the prologue to a book which was never 
 published, and when the theater was built it be- 
 
 xxvi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 came available. It is an exquisite bit of prose, 
 comparable to Dunsany in its poetry of thought 
 and of expression. 
 
 In his plays Mr. Walker has reached the same 
 conclusion that every really worthy, imaginative 
 writer has reached in the course of centuries, 
 namely that the child mind and the adult mind are 
 fundamentally the same, and are thus subject to 
 the same reaction and the same response. If the 
 adult perception can once be induced to cast loose 
 the bonds of custom, conventionality, and sophis 
 try which have been grafted on imperceptibly 
 through the course of years, and reach to the 
 horizon of the child mind, we have every possi 
 bility of a very high form of art. A child read 
 ing a fairy tale perceives nothing beyond the story 
 itself, and is consequently satisfied, providing the 
 tale be adequate, but the more mature intelligence 
 immediately translates the characters and inci 
 dents into symbols of abstract qualities, acquiring 
 thereby an emotional stimulus not only on the 
 imaginative but also on the spiritual side. Some 
 times this is carried to extremes, and we have a 
 frantic search for symbolism where none is in 
 tended, an inability to accept the story for the 
 story s sake, it is this among other things with 
 which^ Mr. Walker is contending. The child 
 mind is, relatively speaking, infinite, and the word 
 infinite brings us at once to universality, that qual 
 ity upon which all true art is founded as upon a 
 rocL Mr. Walker has cut through to fundamen 
 tals in his work, and it is that which makes him 
 worthy of especial attention. Only his terminol 
 ogy is strange, even while it possesses that deli- 
 xxvii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 cate charm which only an artist with his point of 
 view could give it. 
 
 I do not mean that Mr. Walker s type of play 
 will be all things to all men. It will not, and can 
 not be, nor is it even intended that it should. It 
 will always fall short on the purely intellectual 
 side, and those persons who derive their sole en 
 joyment from an intellectual stimulus will always 
 come away unsatisfied. Beyond question one of 
 the reasons for the marked success of this type of 
 play at present is simply that the inevitable reac 
 tion has set in against the play of pure observa 
 tion as opposed to that of pure imagination. One 
 side of our natures has been greatly neglected, and 
 that side is now coming into its own as a plant 
 blooms under watering. When the pendulum 
 has swung too far we shall again react. It is un 
 fortunate that not often in an age comes that 
 genius who can combine successfully the seen and 
 the unseen, the actual and the real. And al 
 though within their scope Mr. Walker s plays 
 are of especial significance, that scope is admit 
 tedly small. One cannot compare " Alice in 
 Wonderland " with the " Odyssey." And by the 
 way, here is an interesting point Mr. Walker 
 has never read a line of Lewis Carroll; he has not 
 even looked at the pictures! This absolves him 
 of the accusation of imitation at any rate. It 
 would be absurd to point out these pieces written 
 for the Portmanteau as masterpieces either of lit 
 erature or of the dramatic art, but within their 
 scope, admitting their obvious restrictions, they 
 are significant both in themselves and as an expo 
 sition of certain artistic theories of importance. 
 xxviii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 THE RESULT 
 
 The first performances in the Portmanteau 
 Theater were given at Christodora House, a set 
 tlement on Avenue B, New York City. The 
 reason for this was that Mr. Walker had been in 
 terested in the activities of Christodora House for 
 some time, and intended to establish there by 
 means of the Portmanteau a community theater 
 somewhat like the Neighborhood Playhouse in 
 Grand Street. At the last moment, however, this 
 idea proved impracticable, and several invitation 
 performances were given instead to which profes 
 sional people of importance were invited. The 
 success was instantaneous. Critics, managers, 
 and amateurs alike came, saw, and were con 
 quered. The bill for these initial performances 
 consisted of " The Trimplet," " The Six Who 
 Pass While the Lentils Boil," and " A Fan and 
 Two Candlesticks " by Mary MacMillan. The 
 casts were composed of young professionals whom 
 Mr. Walker had interested in the venture, and 
 who in their enthusiasm contributed their services 
 free of charge. It was worth their while to have 
 such an opportunity of showing their talent, in 
 stead of remaining buried at the bottom of a 
 Broadway company. Not one of them ever re 
 gretted the gamble, if such it could be deemed. 
 These performances were given on July I4th, 
 1 5th, and 2ist, 1915, and from then on until 
 Christmas Mr. Walker fought illness and pre 
 pared as best he could for the coming year. 
 He now had the theater, the company, and suffi 
 cient plays with which to open a repertory season. 
 
 xxix 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 On Christmas night the Portmanteau was set 
 up in Madison Square, and a performance of 
 " The Seven Gifts," a pantomime, was given, and 
 after this the Portmanteau took its place in the 
 ranks. The first professional or paid perform 
 ance was in Boston on February I4th, 1916, and 
 after that the company was taken on tour through 
 New England, as far west as Chicago, and as far 
 south as Washington. The tour was somewhat 
 in the nature of a triumphal march (in all my 
 life I have never seen such notices and so many 
 of them) and Mr. Walker brought his theater 
 back to New York reinvigorated, and ready to 
 try to crack the hardest nut of all New York 
 itself. By this time the Portmanteau had found 
 its feet. In the Christodora House it had been 
 tried on professionals, and had been eagerly ac 
 cepted; now during the tour it had played in great 
 cities, and in small towns, before audiences com 
 posed of the 400 and audiences composed of the 
 4,000,000, and it had gone equally well with rich 
 and poor, young and old. Children adored the 
 theater and the plays, and grown-ups had come 
 to patronise and remained to applaud. It was 
 now certain that a universal chord had been 
 struck, and that success of the theater was assured. 
 
 In the summer of 1916 the Portmanteau was 
 taken to Wyoming, New York, and here the new 
 plays were tried out and the repertory for the 
 coming season whipped into shape. The next Oc 
 tober another and shorter tour through New Eng 
 land was arranged which was carried out with a 
 repetition of the first success. It may be said here 
 that fully nine-tenths of the initial bookings for the 
 
 XXX 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Portmanteau have been renewed, and in nearly 
 every instance for a longer run than was first 
 given. On November 27th, 1916, the Portman 
 teau opened at the Thirty-ninth Street Theater, 
 New York, and after remaining there two weeks, 
 changed to the Princess Theater just across the 
 street, where it played until January 6th, 1917. 
 It could have played out the season there except 
 for the fact that bookings had been arranged 
 which made it imperative to close at the stated 
 time. After January 6th the theater started on 
 a western tour. 
 
 It had been considered highly undesirable to 
 place the Portmanteau in direct competition with 
 the Broadway theaters during the New York run, 
 and so at the Thirty-ninth Street Theater there 
 were no evening performances, and only four 
 matinees a week, with one morning performance 
 for children on Saturday. This last, however, 
 was not successful and was shortly discontinued. 
 On moving to the Princess Theater the demand 
 was so great that Mr. Walker was obliged to 
 play not only every afternoon, but also every 
 evening, a total of twelve performances a week. 
 And the houses to which the Portmanteau played 
 were usually full. No mere fad could have made 
 such a record. It is absolute proof of the in 
 trinsic worth of the Portmanteau productions 
 that the second largest and the most incredulous 
 city in the world should have given it the response 
 it did. The Portmanteau Theater was set on the 
 stage of the larger theater, and this occasionally- 
 puzzled the audience, but there seemed no feasi 
 ble method of obviating the difficulty though Mr. 
 
 xxxi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Walker labored long and earnestly at the prob 
 lem. 
 
 The New York run was rendered notable espe 
 cially because of the production of three plays by 
 Lord Dunsany two of which had not hitherto 
 been performed professionally in America. The 
 sets for these plays, as indeed the sets for the rest 
 of the repertory, are surpassed by little that had 
 been done in America so far. All but three of 
 the sets have been made by Mr. Zimmerer, who 
 also did some of the sets for the Neighborhood 
 Playhouse. Mr. Zimmerer has done all the sets 
 and costumes for the Portmanteau productions 
 with the following exceptions, the set for " Six 
 Who Pass While the Lentils Boil " was made by 
 William J. Sheafe, Jr., who also made the first 
 model of the theater itself, and the costumes for 
 the same play were designed by Wilmot Heitland 
 who also designed the scenery and costumes for 
 " Gammer Gurton s Nedle," and " The Lady of 
 the Weeping Willow Tree." The costumes for 
 " The Birthday of the Infanta " were designed 
 by Mrs. John W. Alexander. With these ex 
 ceptions Mr. Zimmerer has had the field to him 
 self, and splendid use he has made of it. I do 
 not intend in any sense to depreciate the work 
 done by others in favor of Mr. Zimmerer 
 their achievements are too distinguished to per 
 mit that but Mr. Zimmerer as a member of 
 the company, and as scenic director of the theater 
 is surely entitled to the major portion of the 
 credit. 
 
 It was early in 1916 when Mr. Walker placed 
 the business management of the Portmanteau in 
 xxxii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 the hands of Maximilian Elser, Jr., and Russell 
 Janney, both of them young, enthusiastic and en 
 tirely fitted to assume such control. And here 
 let me say that any rumors concerning the finan 
 cial backing of the Portmanteau by any one are 
 entirely without foundation. That is one of the 
 most remarkable and important features of its 
 progress. At the outset Mr. Walker borrowed 
 $3,000, and up to December, 1916, every penny 
 that was put into the Portmanteau came out of 
 Mr. Walker s pocket. He received offers of 
 backing time and again, but he refused them be 
 cause he felt that his salvation lay in perfect 
 freedom. With the exception of the $3,000 men 
 tioned the Portmanteau paid its own way. It 
 did more than that. In the Spring of 1916 it 
 showed a profit of twenty per cent, on the invest 
 ment to date. And yet it is an " uncommercial " 
 theater ! Surely it is uncommercial in that it 
 does not cater to " the tired business man," but 
 just as surely the theater is commercial from a 
 financial standpoint. It has not been able to pay 
 for the mass of publicity accorded other produc 
 tions, but no other production has been given the 
 enormous amount of publicity accorded the Port 
 manteau. And that is because it is important in 
 itself, able to stand on its own feet, and make its 
 own way in the world. 
 
 The response to most of the plays has been very 
 even no matter what the character or the situation 
 of the audience, but one or two of the plays 
 present rather amusing problems. " The Trimp- 
 let " is one of the favorite pieces with the public. 
 It has always gone well, yet it is the one piece the 
 xxxiii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 critics unite in damning ! And too " Gammer 
 Gurton s Nedle," the earliest example of English 
 comedy, included in every university course on 
 the history of the drama, has been a failure from 
 the start in the colleges, but has taken by storm 
 New York, where it was played nineteen times in 
 two weeks. Strange, is it not? 
 
 Particularly in view of what I have already said 
 about the stage settings for the Portmanteau pro 
 ductions, it is interesting to note what some of 
 them cost. One play cost nothing whatever to 
 stage, one play cost $52, one cost $300, and one 
 cost $1500. It is not necessary to go all through 
 the list, for these four are representative. It 
 should be observed, however, that the play with 
 practically no setting at all, which cost nothing, 
 has had a success equal to that of the play that 
 cost $1500 to produce (which sum is the largest 
 ever expended by Mr. Walker on a production). 
 
 I desire again to make here the point that the 
 appeal of the Portmanteau has not been confined 
 to any one class or to any one age of persons. It 
 is this peculiar universality of appeal which makes 
 the Portmanteau of importance both from a the 
 atric and dramatic standpoint. I should like also 
 to point out one thing that I have noticed about 
 Portmanteau audiences, men are quicker to get 
 into the spirit of the thing than women. The 
 women are usually a little hesitant, and self-con 
 scious, while the men lose all thought of self 
 in their enjoyment of what is before them. Per 
 haps this is because men always retain a large, 
 healthy strain of the " little-boy " spirit while 
 women have but little if any of the " little-girl." 
 xxxiv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ;And too a little boy is a known and loved factor 
 < in the scheme of things, but a little girl is there 
 such a thing? 
 
 The reason for the Portmanteau Theater itself 
 as differentiated from its productions may be eas 
 ily summed up in the statement that it permits its 
 director absolute freedom. He can in an almost 
 I literal sense take up his theater and walk. He is 
 : bound down by none of the inconveniences that 
 beset the ordinary play house. When he goes on 
 tour his scenery always fits the stage because it is 
 always the same stage. He can play where there 
 is no theater if there is a hall, or a barn or a ball 
 room in which he can set up his equipment. I 
 have been asked whether in the original conception 
 of the Portmanteau there was not an auditorium 
 included. No, never. And hence in a certain 
 sense the Portmanteau is not a theater at all. It 
 is simply a stage with all the appurtenances of one. 
 The Portmanteau Theater proves once for all 
 how easily and simply, and yet how artistically 
 and effectively, things can be done. It is not 
 " highbrow " any more than it is the opposite. 
 It is for everybody. The Portmanteau has 
 shown us that a very high form of art can be pro 
 duced at a very low cast. And it has shown that 
 whatever the cost the thing that is really worth 
 while will more than pay for itself. 
 
 The future of the Portmanteau is another ques 
 tion. It may be that in the due course of time 
 Mr. Walker will permit other theaters to be built 
 from his plans, and we shall have the travelling 
 theater as a fixture in our theatrical life. When 
 this becomes possible it will engender a spread and 
 
 xxxv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 growth of the new stage art which would other 
 wise have been impossible. One of the most vital 
 things the Portmanteau Theater has given us so 
 far, is probably the best repertory company in 
 America. And this is after all what Mr. Walker 
 is working for most. Books have been written 
 without end on the necessity of the repertory the 
 ater. The experiment has been tried and tried 
 again, and in most instances it has failed. But 
 from the Theatre Libre to the Abbey Theater all 
 these experiments have left their mark, have em 
 phasized again the necessity for such a move, and 
 have brought us one step nearer to the goal. And 
 too, the traveling repertory theater has twice the 
 chance of success that a stationary theater has, 
 for it is not dependent upon the favor of one 
 locality. This is of prime and far reaching im 
 portance. 
 
 It is not necessary that the repertory imply the 
 " little " theater, though that has its undeniable 
 place. The ideal seating capacity of a theater is 
 from 500 to 750, and the size of the ideal stage 
 is that of the Princess Theater, New York. The 
 proportions of the Punch and Judy Theater, New 
 York, are excellent in every way, but this is ex 
 clusive of the stage itself. The auditorium should 
 be deeper than it is wide, and no wider than the 
 stage. The whole stage picture should always be 
 in full view of every one, and every one should 
 see it from approximately the same angle. 
 
 Before leaving the Portmanteau Theater let 
 
 me call attention to another point of importance. 
 
 The full quota of sets for the theater along with 
 
 the theater itself can be transported at the cost, or 
 
 xxxvi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 less than the cost, of transporting the scenery 
 alone of an ordinary production. And, in addi 
 tion, there is no house rent to pay, the biggest 
 item of all, when the theater reaches its destina 
 tion. True, it must have its hall or auditorium of 
 some kind, but that is not a drop in the bucket 
 compared with what most managers have to pay 
 for the use of a completely equipped theater. 
 And the Portmanteau has its own lighting system 
 and everything else it needs. If only because of 
 this one factor of expense, the theater has more 
 than justified its existence. With such an equip 
 ment the young man whose principal assets are 
 taste and judgment can afford to embark on a man 
 agerial career unhampered by the thought that he 
 will have to invest a fortune before he sees the 
 first profits. If the Portmanteau eventually tends 
 to take the theater out of the hands of those en 
 tirely unfitted to control it, and helps to restore 
 the balance of power by bringing the younger and 
 more idealistic element into the field, it will have 
 performed an epoch-making task. 
 
 By all this it will be seen that the Portmanteau 
 Theater and its plays cannot be considered quite 
 together. The theater itself means much artis 
 tically and commercially. It is in itself an eman 
 cipation proclamation, for it means freedom of 
 movement, and vastly increased opportunities. 
 It is the modern version of the strolling players. 
 It has given us a lighting system unequaled in its 
 simplicity and unrivaled in the ordinary theater. 
 The settings for its plays have been masterpieces 
 of stage art. The theater itself and the effects 
 which it has engendered are thus of the utmost im- 
 xxxvii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 portance in the development and history of the 
 stage. 
 
 The plays contained in the repertory of the 
 theater, of which there is a list in the Appendix, 
 are of like importance in the scheme of things, 
 not in themselves, but in the trend which they 
 indicate. We are unquestionably upon the eve 
 of a great romantic renaissance. Woe to art if 
 this be not so! The stage craft of Craig, of 
 Reinhardt, and of Barker has marked the roman 
 tic renaissance of the theater; surely the drama 
 cannot do otherwise than follow. Naturalism is 
 to be considered as a necessary purgative rather 
 than as a healthy, normal condition of the artistic 
 structure. " The Gods of the Mountain " of 
 Lord Dunsany, and " The Trimplet " of Stuart 
 Walker are quite as " real " as " The Fugitive " 
 of Galsworthy. Their terminology is different, 
 that is all. That which is true of man in the 
 mythical city of Kongros is likewise true of him 
 in London. I do not mean to argue in favor of 
 the abandonment of the play written in terms of 
 every-day life, such as Galsworthy s, in favor of 
 the purely imaginative, and poetic drama. Such 
 an abandonment would be as futile as it would 
 unwise. But I do mean to point out that the ab 
 normal intellectualization of art is fully as de 
 structive to the vital spiritual quality as the ethe- 
 realization of art would be to the necessary intel 
 lectual quality. The Scriptures bid us to be as 
 little children. We are as little children, and the 
 virtue lies not in the fact itself, but in our realiza 
 tion and acknowledgment of it. It is only when 
 we endeavor to assume the raiment of deities that 
 xxxviii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 we are overtaken by the seven green gods of 
 Marma and punished for our temerity or that 
 Mr. Shaw, who also is a prophet in his own way, 
 is able to point the finger of scorn at us, wise in 
 our folly. 
 
 In all that I have written here it will be very 
 evident that I have dwelt on the excellencies of 
 the Portmanteau Theater and its plays rather 
 than on the weaknesses. Surely that is but nat 
 ural. It must not be thought, however, that 
 there are no weaknesses, that there is no room for 
 improvement, or that the last word has been said 
 on the subject. (Indeed it is one of the most vital 
 factors, that only the first word has been said.) 
 I have endeavored to sum up here what the 
 Portmanteau has done as well as what it is, but 
 by far the most important question is what it 
 may do, and what it may become. It may be that 
 the influence it will finally exert will be largely in 
 direct, that the others who come after Mr. Walker 
 will lay the surface on the road bed he has worked 
 over. Only Time will show that, and Time is 
 jealous of his secrets. But at least we have been 
 shown something new, something worth while, 
 and so it is well to pause and consider not only 
 what it does mean, but also what it may mean in 
 the final working out of the scheme of things. 
 What will the travelling theater, the portable 
 stage, mean to the repertory movement? Some 
 thing beyond question. What does the drama of 
 imagination as opposed to that of observation in 
 dicate, and where will it lead us? Surely it is 
 worthy of consideration. Hence it must again 
 be borne in mind that the importance of the Port- 
 xxxix 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 manteau, and it is important, is entirely relative, 
 not absolute, that while it is deeply suggestive it 
 is not in any sense conclusive, and that it is far 
 less what the Portmanteau is now than what we 
 shall make of it in the future which must concern 
 us. 
 
 And so when Memory draws slowly back the 
 deep blue curtains of the Portmanteau Theater, 
 and bids us come with her through the portals of 
 " once upon a time, but not so very long ago," 
 it is good to grasp our faith very firmly and to go 
 with her, for there we may find not the surface 
 things of every day life, but the deeper things. 
 We may even find Truth. And we may even find 
 that Truth is beautiful. 
 
 EDWARD HALE BIERSTADT. 
 New York City 
 January, 1917 
 
THE PROLOGUE TO THE 
 PORTMANTEAU THEATER 
 
THE PROLOGUE 
 
 As the lights in the theater are lowered the 
 voice of MEMORY is heard as she passes through 
 the audience to the stage. 
 
 MEMORY 
 
 Once upon a time, but not so very long ago, you 
 very grown-ups believed in all true things. -You 
 believed until you met the Fourteen Doubters 
 who were so positive in their unbelief that you 
 weakly cast aside the things that made you 
 happy for the hapless things that they were call 
 ing life. LYou were afraid or ashamed to per 
 sist in your old thoughts, and strong in your 
 folly you discouraged your little boy, and other 
 people^s little boys from the pastimes they had 
 loved, j Yet all through the early days you had 
 been surely building magnificent cities, and all 
 about you laying out magnificent gardens, and, 
 with an April pool you had made infinite seas 
 where pirates fought or mermaids played in 
 coral caves. Then came the Doubter* laugh 
 ing and jeering at you, and you let your cities, 
 and gardens, and seas go floating in the air 
 unseen, unsung wonderful cities, and gardens, 
 and seas, peopled with the realest of people. 
 ... So now you, and he, and I are met at the 
 portals. Pass through them with me. I have 
 something there that you think is lost. The 
 key is the tiny regret for the real things, the 
 little regret that sometimes seems to weight 
 3 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 your spirit at twilight, and compress all life into 
 a moment s longing. Come, pass through. 
 You cannot lose your way. Here are your 
 cities, your gardens, and your April pools. 
 Come through the portals of once upon a time, 
 but not so very long ago today now ! 
 
 She passes through the soft blue curtains, but 
 unless you are willing to follow her t turn back 
 now. There are only play-things here. 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
THE LADY BOBOLARA 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 THE LADY CAR ATI NA 
 
 THE BARON MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 You (in the audience) 
 
 The Scene is a lonely place. 
 
 The Time is partly then and partly nowadays, 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 [When Memory has disappeared and the blue 
 curtains are quite still and every one who is old 
 and irrevocably very grown-up has left the the 
 atre, the Prologue of the Plays and the De 
 vice-Bearer appear at either side of the fore- 
 stage. Then the Prologue speaks. 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 She was Memory . . I am the Prologue . . . 
 He is the Device-Bearer ... I am here to 
 elucidate 
 
 YOU 
 
 What is elucidate? 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 Elucidate means to make clear, to explain any 
 thing you do not understand. ... As I said, I 
 am here to elucidate everything you are not sure 
 about. I shall answer questions sometimes, but 
 not always. . . . Our first play is a dream play 
 and you know what you ought to think of a 
 dream. At first it all seems very strange, and 
 so many things happen that you think you can 
 not possibly remember all the events. Then 
 suddenly something snaps and everything 
 becomes as clear as the day which is coming over 
 the sea with your bath and your breakfast 
 Now, you won t spoil a dream by asking ques 
 tions, will you? 
 
 [He claps his hands twice for silence and with a 
 very polite bow he and the Device-Bearer 
 withdraw. 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 When the curtains open the stage is empty. 
 The lights which seemed indistinct and blurred 
 at first, gradually increase until trees form 
 against a luminous and misty, moonlit sky. 
 Presently a voice is heard calling far away 
 the voice of The Person Passing By. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 [Enter the Lady Caratina. 
 She is young and eager with a note of tragic fear 
 in her voice. 
 CARATINA 
 
 To-day I am one and twenty. To-day I come to 
 this lonely place to learn my future. I must 
 know how to live happily ever after. My 
 mother says if I call aloud a voice will answer 
 and tell me how I may live happily ever after. 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 A voice ! A voice ! The voice of The Person 
 Passing By. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo I Hoola ! 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 The voice of The Person Passing By ! ... 
 Speak to me. 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 My mother, the Lady Bobolara, bade me come 
 to you. 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! (The voice seems to come 
 from one afloat in the air) 
 CARATINA 
 
 Can you hear me? 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Then these magic words I say: 
 
 Mullion! Mizzen! 
 
 The moon has risen 
 
 And only one star is near; 
 
 The mist has spread 
 
 From its valley bed, 
 
 Oh, Passer, do you hear? 
 VOICE 
 
 Plucky! Plenty! 
 
 You re one and twenty 
 
 Is there something you would know? 
 
 This is your choice, 
 
 To hear my voice, 
 
 Speak truth or naught, or go. 
 CARATINA 
 
 Belith! Belath! 
 I ve followed the path 
 That leads to this lonely place. 
 For hours full nine 
 I ve climbed to the shrine 
 Where I hope to see your face. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 You can not see 
 The face of me 
 Until the wild bird sings. 
 Five tests I make 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 For pity s sake. 
 
 For dreams and finger rings. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Mullion! Mizzen! 
 The moon has risen 
 And only one .star is near 
 The mist has spread 
 From its valley bed, 
 Oh, Passer, I am here. 
 VOICE 
 
 Can you feel? 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I can feel. 
 VOICE 
 
 What do you feel? 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I feel the chill of the air and the damp of the 
 mist, and the magic of the moon and a great, 
 great love for Milton-Maurice. 
 VOICE 
 
 You can feel. . . . Can you taste? , 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I can taste. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 What can you taste? 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I passed a lovely tree upon the way, and I tasted 
 of the fruit that was delicate like the honey 
 from a forget-me-not. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 You can taste. . . . Can you hear? 
 CARATINA 
 
 I can hear 1 the tall trees whisper to the little 
 winds. 
 
 10 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 VOICE 
 
 You can hear. . . . Can you see? 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I can see yon tall, tall tree touch on the nearest 
 star. 
 VOICE 
 
 You can see. . . . Can you smell? 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I can smell the hideous mould of the dead leaves 
 that hide amongst the trees. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 You can not smell. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 1 can smell the death-like smell of mould. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 There is a surpassing fragrance of a thousand 
 trees that fills the air. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I can not smell. . . . Alas, I need your help. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 I can not help until you see my face. 
 CARATINA 
 
 I can not see your face until the wild bird sings. 
 VOICE 
 
 I have nothing more to say. Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 (The voice is lost in the distance) 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Alas, my mother comes and I have naught to 
 tell. My future lies in mystery. I am one and 
 twenty, and still I do not know how to live hap 
 pily ever after. (She sits and weeps) 
 [Enter the Lady Bobolara. 
 She is an alert, hard woman with an undertone 
 II 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 of resignation. She has come to the lonely 
 place because she has always come, but she feels 
 that her pilgrimage is futile. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Mullion ! Mizzen ! 
 The moon has risen 
 And never a star is near; 
 The mist has spread, 
 From its valley bed, 
 Oh, Passer, do you hear? 
 VOICE 
 
 Plucky! Plenty! 
 
 You re three times twenty, 
 
 The days will come from afar 
 
 Until you see 
 
 Yon tall, tall tree , 
 
 Touch on the nearest star. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 I can not see 
 Yon tall, tall tree 
 Touch on the nearest star. 
 VOICE 
 
 One test I ll make 
 
 For pity s sake 
 
 For dreams and a silver bar. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Mullion! Mizzen! 
 The moon has risen 
 And never a star is near; 
 The mist has spread 
 
 12 
 
& S3 
 
 -S 
 
 
 
 2 I 
 
 H 53 
 
 w -* 
 
 * 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 From its valley bed 
 Oh, Passer, I am here. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Can you see? 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 I can feel, and taste, and smell, and hear, but I 
 can not see yon tall, tall tree touch on the near 
 est star. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Mother, I can see yon tall, tall tree touch on the 
 nearest star. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 It does not touch. I see trees and hills and sky 
 trees like jagged teeth bite into the sky. 
 (She has seen this so, of ten she does not look) 
 VOICE 
 
 See, your daughter weeps. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Her eyes are in the shadow. I can not see 
 them. 
 VOICE 
 
 So parts of the whole, wide world are always in 
 shadow. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Mother, I am going to search for the wild bird 
 
 and beg him to sing. 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Since I was one and twenty I have waited for 
 
 the tall, tall tree to touch on the nearest star. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 The tall tree is touching on the star now, 
 Mother dear. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Silly girl! The tree and star are miles apart. 
 13 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Come here and you will see. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Why should I go there? They do not touch, 
 I say. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 But I see them touch. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Impudent girl! 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I know what I see. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 The still, tall trees do nothing but waft their 
 fragrance in the air. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I do not smell a fragrance. The air is filled 
 with the smell of mould that the sun has never 
 warmed. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 I say there is a fragrance from the trees. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I shall not say there is no fragrance, Mother 
 dear, but until I come face to face with The 
 Person Passing By I can not learn to smell the 
 fragrance. I shall find the wild bird, and beg 
 him to sing. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 The wild bird will never sing. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I shall find the wild bird, Mother, and when 
 he sees my tears he will sing. (Caratina goes 
 out) 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 He will never sing. 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 VOICE 
 
 You do not know, old woman. Let her go. 
 BOBOLARA (fiercely; facing the unseen) 
 
 Why have you kept me waiting all these years ? 
 VOICE 
 
 I have not kept you waiting. You have kept 
 
 yourself waiting. You will not see, and you 
 
 have grown bitter. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Is there naught else for me to do but wait? 
 VOICE 
 
 To-day your daughter is one and twenty. To 
 day Milton-Maurice is one and twenty. He 
 comes to me to learn his fate. What shall I 
 say? 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 He can not wed my daughter. 
 VOICE 
 Why? 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 His father and I have not spoken for nine and 
 thirty years. 
 VOICE 
 Why? 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 His father injured my father. 
 VOICE 
 
 Did he injure you? 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 No, but I hate him because he is his father s son. 
 VOICE 
 
 Hatred will not heal the hurt. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Oh, if I could see you face to face ! 
 15 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Your eyes are blind, 
 Your heart is blind, 
 Your life has been a life of ruth; 
 Your eyes can t see 
 The truths that be 
 Until your heart sees truth. 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Oh, if I could only see you face to face ! 
 
 VOICE 
 
 You can not see my face until you smell the 
 fragrance of the old, old flower. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 You can not help until I see your face and I can 
 
 not see your face until I smell the fragrance of 
 
 the old, old flower. 
 VOICE 
 
 I have nothing more to say. Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 BOBOLARA (mechanically) 
 
 I know the old, old flower will never bloom ; yet 
 
 I shall continue to search and to wait. (Bobo- 
 
 lara goes out) 
 VOICE " 
 
 High on the hills 
 
 By lakes and rills 
 
 She ll fly on shadowed wings : 
 
 She ll find the flower 
 
 Within the hour 
 
 Before the wild bird sings. 
 
 [Enter the Baron Milton-Maurice. 
 
 He is young, confident and confiding. 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 To-day I am one and twenty. To-day I come 
 16 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 to this lonely place to hear the story of my fu 
 ture. Halloo ! Hoola I 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Are you The Person Passing By? 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Mullion ! Mizzen ! 
 The moon is risen 
 And only one star is near : 
 The mist has spread 
 From its valley bed 
 Oh, Passer, do you hear? 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Plucky! Plenty! 
 
 You re one and twenty, 
 
 Is there something you would know? 
 
 This is your choice 
 
 To hear my voice 
 
 Speak truth or naught or go. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Belith! Belath! 
 I ve followed the path 
 That leads to this lonely place. 
 For hours full nine 
 I ve climbed to the shrine 
 Where I hope to see your face. 
 VOICE 
 
 You can not see 
 
 The face of me 
 
 Until a torch burns blue : 
 
 One test I make 
 
 17 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 For pity s sake, 
 
 For love, for hope, for you. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Mullion ! Mizzen ! 
 The moon is risen 
 And only one star is near: 
 The mist has spread 
 From its valley bed 
 Oh, Passer, I am here. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Can you taste ? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I can taste. 
 VOICE 
 
 What can you taste? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 On the way I passed a tree where a wondrous 
 fruit hung low. I ate of it and it had a flavor 
 like chaff. 
 VOICE 
 
 You can not taste. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 The taste was like chaff, I say. 
 VOICE 
 
 There was a delicious flavor like the honey from 
 a forget-me-not. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Alas ! I can not taste ... I need your help. 
 VOICE 
 
 I can not help until you see my face. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I can not see your face until a torch burns blue. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 I have nothing more to say. Halloo ! Hoola 1 
 18 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Oh, Caratina, Caratina, how can we wed? Un 
 til I taste we can not live happily ever afterward. 
 I can not learn to taste until I see his face. I 
 can not see his face until a torch burns blue. 
 [Enter the Marquess of Strenathco. 
 He is a little man with infinite vanity, and the 
 assurance that comes with great wealth. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 What is this foolishness? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I have come to this lonely place, my Father, to 
 learn how to be happy ever after. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Silly boy, come home and play a game of nine 
 pins with me. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 No, Father, no. I must first find the torch 
 that s burning blue. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Stuff and nonsense ! 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 And then I shall find the Lady Bobolara and ask 
 her for the hand of the lovely Caratina. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 What! Marry the grand-daughter of my 
 father s enemy? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 She is not my enemy. Why should I dislike her 
 because my grandfather disliked her grand 
 father? 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Milton-Maurice, my son, have you no family 
 pride? Give up this mad whim and come 
 
 19 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 home. You can not wed the Lady Caratina. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 My Father, I am going to live happily ever 
 after ! 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 See how happy I am ! I am the richest man in 
 all the world. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 But you are not happy. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Why? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 You are not happy because the Lady Bobolara is 
 richer than you are. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 For that I can not forgive her ! What right has 
 she to be richer than I am? 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Mildew! Moldew! 
 
 Let nothing hold you 
 
 From your way, oh, Milton-Maurice 
 
 Within the hour 
 
 An old, old flower 
 
 Will help bring lasting peace. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I think I hear a voice. Who speaks? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 It is The Person Passing By. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Where is he? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 No one knows; we seek, and seek to see his face. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 What nonsense is this ? 
 20 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO (as one who hears 
 through a mist) 
 Who speaks? 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 If you are here show me your face. 
 VOICE 
 
 Belith! Belath! 
 
 Old man of wrath 
 
 You ll never see my face 
 
 Until you hear 
 
 A bird song clear 
 
 In this moonlit, lonely place. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 What trick is this ? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Oh, perfect bliss 
 
 That my father must learn to hear. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 My ears are good 
 
 For any mood 
 
 Except a song of cheer. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Bingle ! Bungle ! 
 
 Life s a jungle 
 
 For a stern, old man like you. 
 
 There s just one thing: 
 
 Hear the wild bird sing 
 
 And learn to dance in the dew. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Dance in the dew! 
 
 21 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 A man like you ! 
 VOICE 
 
 While the wild bird sings the tune, 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 With bitter word 
 I ll stone the bird 
 By the light of the silver moon. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Ah, you can be 
 
 Like him and me 
 
 If you but use your eyes to see. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 My pride is based 
 On a perfect taste, 
 And none can smell like me. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 But he can t hear 
 
 The bird song clear 
 
 That floats from this lonely place 
 
 Like melodious light 
 
 On a moonlit night 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Then he can not see my face. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Now why should I 
 
 Wish to descry 
 
 The features of fairy folk? 
 
 You can t engage 
 
 To lessen my age ; 
 
 My wrinkles you can t revoke. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Forget your fears, 
 Forget the years, 
 
 22 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 Forget all else but this; 
 
 You ll have to hear 
 
 The bird-song clear 
 
 Or give up all hope of bliss. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I ve tried to hear 
 
 The bird-song clear, 
 
 But the song is harsh, I say - 
 
 I hate the notes 
 
 From feathered throats, 
 
 I hate the trill and roundelay. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 You ll have to thrill 
 
 To the bird-voice trill 
 
 You must learn to love the song; 
 
 Else with open eyes 
 
 You ll search the skies 
 
 But find that all life is wrong. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I can t, I say. 
 VOICE 
 
 Then have your way ! 
 
 I spake and you will not heed. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 The sound I hate. 
 VOICE 
 
 Accept your fate . . . 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO (after a terrible 
 
 struggle with his vanity and his assurance) 
 
 O, Passer, your help I need. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Father 1 You ask for help ! 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Kelee! Keloy! 
 
 23 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 He asks for joy 
 
 He s throttled his silly pride ! 
 
 When he tastes the fruit 
 
 With the succulent root 
 
 I ll reveal myself at his side. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Bezit! Bezoot! 
 Please seek the fruit 
 And learn the charm of laughter 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO (eagerly) 
 We ll heed the voice 
 And make the choice 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 To live happily ever after. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Where is the fruit 
 With the succulent root? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I passed it on the way here. 
 The land I ll search 
 Till I find the torch 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Oh, Passer, will you stay here? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I ll return to you 
 
 With the will to do 
 
 And I ll bring the flame that s burning blue. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Me-la! Me-lo! 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Let s go ! 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Let s go 1 
 
 24 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 VOICE 
 
 And the search you ll never rue. 
 [The Marquess of Strenathco and Milton- 
 Maurice rush out. 
 VOICE 
 
 O er hill and hollow 
 Good luck will follow 
 And everything s coming out right; 
 When they return 
 They ll be ready to learn 
 A way to see the light. 
 [Enter Caratina. 
 
 She carries a wondrous fruit in her hands. 
 CARATINA (calling) 
 
 Mother, Mother, I ve searched high and low 
 
 for the bird, but I found only this lovely fruit. 
 
 Mother ! 
 
 [Enter Bobolara. 
 
 Caratina hides the fruit behind her. 
 
 Bobolara carries a torch with a blue flame. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Woe is me ! I have hunted everywhere for the 
 old, old flower, and I found only this torch that 
 burns blue. 
 
 [Enter Milton-Maurice. 
 Bobolara hides the torch behind her back. 
 
 Milton-Maurice carries a large flower that is 
 closed. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I found no torch, but in my path there bloomed 
 a flower. Ah, Caratina (He hides the 
 flower behind him) 
 
 25 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 You can not wed my daughter 1 
 
 [All three, and later the Marquess of Stren- 
 
 athco t seem to be in a haze. Everyone is of, 
 
 and for himself alone. 
 
 Enter the Marquess of Strenathco. 
 
 He carries a marvelous bird on his hand. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I could not find the fruit but I have found a 
 
 bird: he is mute. 
 BOBOLARA (to Milton-Maurice) 
 
 You can not wed my daughter ! 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO (hiding the bird 
 
 behind him) 
 
 What? 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Caratina, tell Milton-Maurice that I did not 
 address his father. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 My son can not wed your daughter? Indeed 
 he can not wed your daughter 1 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Hush ! End this strife 
 
 As you love life 
 
 And try to live in peace : 
 
 Just look about 
 
 And you ll find out 
 
 That wonders never cease 1 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 What does he mean? 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 There is no meaning. For nine and thirty 
 years he has promised something, but I can not 
 see any hope. 
 
 26 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Look down ! look up ! 
 The bitter cup 
 
 Is almost drained to the leas; 
 Let each one try 
 To face the sky 
 
 And see what each one sees. (With strange 
 obedience all four face the sky) 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Yon tall, tall tree touches the nearest star 1 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Absurd ! 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Oh, clouds and rifts 
 
 You all bear gifts 
 
 That you hide behind your backs; 
 
 Put out your hands 
 
 To my commands 
 
 Or shiver and shake in your tracks. 
 
 [They put out their hands, each one disclosing 
 
 what another has sought. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 I smell the breath of an old, old flower Oh, 
 Passer, are you here? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I see the blue of a burning torch Oh, Passer, 
 are you here? 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I taste the fruit with the succulent root Oh, 
 Passer, are you here? 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I hear the song the wild bird sings Oh, 
 Passer, are you here? 
 27 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 [The light begins to fade from the world and 
 strange music fills the air. 
 VOICE 
 
 From North and South 
 
 From source and mouth 
 
 I come through the worlds to you 
 
 From East and West, 
 
 From vale and crest, 
 
 I m bringing a message true. 
 
 River and brook 
 
 Learn to look 
 
 At persons passing by 
 
 Oh, use your ears 
 
 And use your tears 
 
 For a person passing by. 
 
 [There is a long, still blackness and when the 
 
 light again appears The Person Passing By is 
 
 seen beside the four. 
 BOBOLARA (fearfully) 
 
 Caratina, is he there? I dare not look. 
 CARATINA (in wonder. To her he seems calm 
 
 and tender and strong) 
 
 He is there ! 
 
 [They all look. 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Why, he is like any other man. 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 You see that, and yet you can not see yon tall, 
 tall tree touch on the nearest star ! 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 This man has played a trick on us. (To the 
 Marquess of Strenathco, too, he is like any 
 other man) 
 
 28 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 When I could not be seen you listened to me and 
 feared me. Now that I am here you doubt me. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I doubt you, but I shall be fair to you. I shall 
 test you. 
 
 [A faint, golden light illumines the face of The 
 Person Passing By. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Father! Father! 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I shall test him! (Age has seen wonder so 
 long that even wonder is a commonplace) 
 CARATINA 
 
 What shall we do to live happily ever after? 
 [The Person Passing By smiles gently at Car a- 
 tina. The smile seems to awaken a strange 
 tenderness in Bobolara. 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 I have so little time to live. Tell me how to be 
 happy. 
 
 [The Person Passing By smiles gently at her 
 and at Milton-Maurice and pityingly at the 
 Marquess of Strenathco. 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 You do not understand. 
 (To Caratina) 
 
 You can not smell a pleasant fragrance; 
 (To Milton-Maurice) 
 You can not taste a delicate flavor ; 
 (To Bobolara) 
 
 You can not see a glorious sight; 
 ( To the Marquess of Strenathco) 
 You can not hear a lovely sound. 
 29 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 There is a shadow over your eyes. 
 
 And over your tongue, 
 
 And over your nose, 
 
 And over your ears. 
 
 Your defects are all different; and yet to live 
 
 happily ever after, you and all the world need 
 
 the same thing. 
 
 ALL 
 
 And what do we need? 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 You need a trimplet. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO (remembering 
 his importance) 
 Oh, yes, I never thought of that. 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 You know what a trimplet is then? 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Do you? 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 Do you know what a trimplet is ? 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I know if you know. 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 Perhaps you do then you ll tell the rest; I ll 
 stand your test. Remember in a trimplet lies 
 all happiness. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Are there enough trimplets for all of us? 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 One trimplet is enough for all of you. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Where is the trimplet? 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 It might be here, or there, or anywhere; but 
 30 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 sometimes you have to have patience and wait. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Patience and wait! I have waited nine and 
 thirty years ! 
 
 [The golden light on the face of The Person 
 Passing By has become stronger until it has 
 become an overpowering radiance. 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 You have been stubborn and impatient. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Stubborn and impatient! My life is almost at 
 an end. I must hurry. 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 Why hurry? Heaven is full of days and 
 they are all coming this way. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 They are nearly all gone for me. 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 There will always be more and more and more 
 
 to come. 
 
 [The Person Passing By moves, as if to go. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 The trimplet! I can t remember its color. 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY 
 
 Well, I ll tell you this : a trimplet can rest in 
 your hand but you can not hold it. It can lie 
 upon your fingers but it can not hold them. 
 Good-bye. I m passing on. Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 [The Person Passing By has disappeared in the 
 gathered gloom. . . . It brightens. 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 What is a trimplet? 
 
 31 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 She speaks to me for the first time in nine and 
 
 thirty years. 
 
 [A man of affairs does not always speak to the 
 
 point. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 What is a trimplet? 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Why it s a 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 What is it? Speak! 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I can not remember its color. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 What is it? 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Woman, I do not know ! 
 ALL 
 
 What! You do not know? 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I couldn t tell him I didn t know. He would 
 think me a fool. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Oh, and I can not live happily ever after. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Madman! 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Have patience, I shall ask. Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 VOICE 
 
 I have nothing more to say. Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I want to ask just one question. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 One question only. 
 
 3* 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 Please! Please! To-day I am one and 
 twenty ! 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 \The Marquess of Strenathco has been search 
 ing for something. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Come back ! Come back ! 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! (He laughs a laugh that 
 
 seems to roll through the skies) 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Now you ve done it! You with your pride 
 and your deafness ! 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Well, there s only one thing to do : hunt for the 
 
 trimplet. 
 CARATINA 
 
 I know it isn t this torch. 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 It isn t this wild bird song. 
 VOICE 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I wish I knew its color. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Stupid! That wouldn t help. Everything 
 
 here is gloom. 
 
 \The ray of golden light appears again. 
 
 33- 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 What is that golden light? 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Perhaps a sunbeam has slipped through the 
 moon. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 I have hunted everywhere. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Let s sit down and think. 
 
 [They all sit down and think. They are a 
 
 ludicrous lot. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 We might as well give up. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 No, I have been face to face with The Person 
 Passing By. I shall stay here to the end. 
 
 YOU (in the audience) 
 
 Why don t you look out here? 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Who are you, sir? 
 
 YOU 
 
 I live in nowadays; but I think I can help you 
 
 find the trimplet. 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Impertinent! 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 He might as well try, Mother dear. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 He can t do worse than fail. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 All right, we re coming. 
 34 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 YOU 
 
 It can t be this handkerchief no, for I can 
 hold that. 
 CARATINA (now in the audience) 
 
 It s not this flower. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO (now in the au 
 dience) 
 Perhaps it s the light of this little girl s eyes. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Look under the chair. 
 MILTON-MAURICE (far out in the audience) 
 It s not up here. 
 
 BOBOLARA (to Y ou) 
 
 See, you silly person, you have dragged us into 
 nowadays to no purpose. 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I m going back. 
 YOU 
 
 I ll go with you. 
 ALL 
 
 What? 
 
 YOU 
 
 Perhaps I can find it up there. 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 You could find where we had failed. Ha ! 
 Ha! 
 
 YOU 
 
 I m going anyway. 
 
 [You starts for the stage, but Milton-Maurice 
 
 intercepts him. 
 vlILTON-MAURICE 
 
 Well, promise if you come into the play you 
 won t wed the lovely Caratina. 
 
 35 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 YOU 
 
 I don t want to wed any one yet. I want to find 
 the trimplet. 
 
 [You runs on to the stage followed by the 
 others. The ray of golden light falls upon his 
 hand. He tests it. It rests in his hand but he 
 can not hold it. It lies upon his fingers but it 
 can not hold them. 
 YOU (triumphantly) 
 
 The trimplet ! I know what a trimplet is ! 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 What is it? 
 YOU 
 
 A trimplet is the hole a sunbeam makes in a 
 shadow. 
 VOICE 
 
 Halloo ! Hoola ! 
 
 A light a light 
 
 Shines in the night 
 
 And fills their souls with splendor ! 
 
 STRENATHCO 
 
 How can a trimplet cure my deafness? 
 
 VOICE 
 
 Move to the right, 
 Stand in the light, 
 And fill your souls with splendor. 
 [Caratina walks with mingled hope and fear to 
 the right of the golden ray and then steps into 
 the light. Bobolara follows, then Milton- 
 Maurice, then Strenathco. Each is affected to 
 the depths of his soul as The Person Passing By 
 speaks the word that restores his lost sense. 
 VOICE 
 
 Smell ... See ... Taste . . . Hear . . . 
 3.6 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 [As he commands the inanimate things obey. 
 The trees sigh, the torch glows, the flower opens 
 and the bird sings. 
 
 Blow . . . Glow . . . Burst . . . Sing . . . 
 [ Then with the triumph of all the world 
 Love is far love is near 
 Love is everything. 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I hear the wild bird s song. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 I smell the fragrance of a thousand trees. 
 
 MILTON-MAURICE 
 
 I taste the flavor of the honey of forget-me- 
 nots. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 I see yon tall, tall tree touch on the nearest 
 
 star I (then to the Marquess of Strenathco) 
 
 Neighbor, Heaven has sent a new day. 
 
 [There is a pause. 
 
 Then You, who has stepped aside and 
 
 watched the play with breathless interest, now 
 
 takes a hand. 
 YOU (to Caratina and Milton-Maurice) 
 
 Now, you two must wed and live happily ever 
 after ... If you don t I won t like the play 
 very much. I m not sure that I like it anyway, 
 because heaven knows how long it would have 
 kept up if I hadn t helped you find the trimplet. 
 VOICE 
 
 The play s near done 
 
 And every one 
 
 Has learned a simple lesson. 
 
 YOU 
 
 I don t think it fair to try to teach us a lesson 
 37 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 every time you tell us a story. I like a play 
 that is a play. If this had been a good play 
 I couldn t have got into it. 
 (To the audience) Could I? 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Well, we did our very best and I think it s a 
 pretty good play, and so does the author. 
 Now you go on out there. The play isn t 
 ended yet. 
 
 YOU 
 
 It must have a pretty ending, mind you. 
 [You returns to his seat. 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Caratina, here is the hand of my son, the Baron 
 
 Milton-Maurice. 
 
 \He turns to You for approval. 
 YOU (approving but adding a final touch) 
 
 You must give him a dowry. 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 I give him all my land that lies between the ends 
 
 of the rainbow. 
 
 [A rainbow forms in the sky. 
 
 VOICE 
 
 In the valley, you 
 
 Will dance in the dew 
 
 While the wild bird sings the tune. 
 
 For what is so rare 
 
 As a rainbow there 
 
 Afloat in the light of the moon? 
 
 To help the tale 
 
 He gives a vale 
 
 That to the rainbow bends, 
 
 And we are told 
 
 That pots of gold 
 
 38 
 
THE TRIMPLET 
 
 Lie at the rainbow ends. 
 YOU (after waiting a moment for the complete 
 
 conclusion of the story) 
 
 You ought to say something, Babalora. 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRENATHCO 
 
 Her name is not Babalora it s Bobolara. 
 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Well, we ve certainly worked hard enough for 
 you to know our names at least. 
 
 CARATINA 
 
 But he s quite right, Mother; you ought to say 
 something. 
 YOU 
 
 Yes, you ought to say something whether we 
 know your name or not. 
 BOBOLARA 
 
 Quite right, I ought. I shall give to Caratina 
 
 the castle of jade in the garden where the gold 
 
 flowers blow. (To Caratina) And you shall 
 
 live there happily ever after. 
 YOU (satisfied) 
 
 For Heaven is full of days and they re all com 
 ing this way. 
 VOICE 
 
 Warm sun, blue sky, 
 
 If you only try 
 
 You ll be a person passing by, 
 
 Who knows the why 
 
 Of the sibilant sigh 
 
 Oh, for a person passing bv! 
 
 Halloo! Hoola! 
 
 Halloo 1 Hoola ! 
 
 (The Curtains Close) 
 
 39 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
A GIRL 
 
 A BOY 
 
 A BURGLAR 
 
 The Scene is a room just upstairs. 
 
 The Time is last night or to-night, perhaps. 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 Our next play is an interlude before the cur 
 tains. You may sleep during an interlude, but 
 you mustn t snore or have the nightmare be 
 cause that would be very discourteous to the 
 author and very discouraging to us. We can 
 not live if you do not like us, and you can not 
 like us if you do not keep awake. 
 [After the Prologue has bowed the Device- 
 Bearer brings two chairs, a stool, a table, a lamp 
 and places them on the forestage. If you are 
 not a very grown-up you know immediately that 
 you are in a room that belongs to very young 
 people. 
 
 [ The Boy enters carrying a book. He is angry. 
 He looks around to see if any one is looking and 
 then goes to the table and tries to remove some 
 money from a small bank that has two locks; 
 but he can t find the keys. 
 [As he is shaking it violently in an attempt to 
 force it t the Girl enters. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie! 
 
 BOY 
 
 I will force it! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 You made a compact with me. 
 43 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY 
 
 Don t use words like that I hate words. 
 (He continues to try to force the bank) 
 GIRL 
 
 It s a miserable shame, Billie Cleves! 
 
 BOY 
 
 Now, Lou, don t use any more words on me. 
 I won t stand it. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Well, what shall I say? 
 BOY 
 
 Say dirty shame. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie ! 
 
 BOY 
 
 I don t care. I m tired of being corrected all 
 the time. When I m old enough to paddle my 
 own canoe, I m going to murder grammar all 
 the time. I m going to use short words and I 
 hope I ll say I seen and I would have went. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie Cleves! 
 
 BOY 
 
 And, if I can get this bank open, I ll go away 
 forever to-night and I ll talk just as I please. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 My, Billie ! You are angry ! 
 BOY 
 
 Angry! I m mad! I m awful mad! (He 
 
 shakes the bank terrifically) 
 GIRL 
 
 You ll break it. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I don t care. I m going to bust it 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie, Mother wouldn t like that word at all. 
 BOY 
 
 I don t care. I m going to bu break it open 
 
 and then I m going to leave home for 
 
 ever. 
 
 (He puts it on the floor and starts to trample 
 
 ^ 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie Cleves, don t you dare! That s half 
 
 mine. And you can t open it unless we both 
 
 agree. 
 BOY 
 
 Who said so? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Why, it was our compact. 
 BOY 
 
 If you were fourteen years old, Louise Cleves, 
 and your mother punished you for speaking bad 
 English you d forget all about compacts. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 No, I wouldn t. 
 BOY 
 
 Yes, you would. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 No, I wouldn t. 
 
 BOY 
 
 You don t know what you d do; you re not four 
 
 teen and you re not a boy. 
 GIRL 
 
 I wouldn t break a compact if I were a hundred 
 
 and fourteen. 
 BOY 
 
 Now, Lou, listen. 
 
 45 
 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I don t want to listen. 
 BOY 4 
 
 Just put yourself in my place. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie Cleves, we agreed never, never to open 
 that bank until we were in need of food and 
 clothing. 
 BOY 
 
 Well, I m in need, Lou. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 No, you re not; Father and Mother give you 
 all the food and clothes you want. 
 BOY 
 
 But I m going to run away forever and go to 
 Honolulu or Texas. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 No, you re not. 
 BOY 
 
 I am. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Well, Billie, you deserved to be corrected. 
 BOY 
 
 All I said was, " Jim s a rotten rider." And he 
 is. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Well, that wasn t nice. 
 BOY (exasperated at not being able to open the 
 
 bank) 
 
 Lou, where is my key? 
 GIRL 
 
 I put it away. 
 
 BOY 
 
 - Where? 
 
 46 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Our compact was for me to take the key to your 
 blue lock and hide it, and you were to take the 
 key to my pink lock and hide it so we couldn t 
 fall into temptation. 
 BOY 
 
 I ll pick the locks like a burglar. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 You can t. They re both pick-proof. And 
 there s only one key in all the whole wide world 
 for each lock. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I ll get your key and open your lock. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 My key won t open your lock. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I can t find yours where I hid it. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I found it and hid it again. 
 BOY 
 
 Where is it? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I don t think I ought to tell you, Billie, I m 
 afraid you ll fall into temptation. 
 
 BOY 
 
 How about you? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Boys are more easily tempted than women. 
 
 BOY 
 
 H-m! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Because they get out more. 
 BOY 
 
 I ll throw it and break it. 
 47i 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Now, Billie, don t be rash. 
 BOY 
 
 I don t care. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Father ll hear you. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Father won t hear me much longer about this 
 house. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Please, Billie, read your book. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I won t do it, I won t. I m sick of goody-goody 
 books. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 What did mother give you to read? 
 BOY (sullenly) 
 There it is. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 " The Narrow Path! " Why, she sent me up 
 here to read that, too. 
 
 BOY 
 
 What for? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I said " he don t " instead of " he doesn t." 
 
 BOY 
 
 Just after I said it? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Yes. 
 
 BOY 
 
 You are a goose. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 But I don t get angry like you do. 
 
 48 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 BOY 
 
 You re not as old as I am. Other boys of my 
 age do pretty much as they please. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Well, here we are. There s no use quarrelling, 
 because it s mother s plan to make us read a fine 
 book whenever we make mistakes in grammar. 
 And you know mother s plans ! (She opens the 
 book) Oh, dear, no pictures! . . . Let s 
 hurry up. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I won t do it. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Come on, Billie, and get it over with. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Give me the keys or I ll break I ll bust it 
 GIRL 
 
 I won t give you the keys and you won t break 
 it William Cleves, if you don t live up to our 
 compact, I ll not have anything more to do with 
 you. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I don t care. (He throws the bank violently) 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie ! (She pounces upon the bank and bursts 
 into tears) 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I never thought you d do it. 
 
 {The Boy moves about uneasily. 
 never thought you d do it. (She weeps tor- 
 rentially) 
 
 BOY 
 
 Now, Lou 
 
 49 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 GIRL 
 
 You broke our compact and tried to destroy our 
 bank. 
 BOY (defiantly) 
 
 I tried to bust it and I hope I did. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie Cleves ! Well, you didn t even nick 
 it. (She takes up the book after carefully plac 
 ing the bank so that the Boy carit get it) 
 
 BOY 
 
 Lou, won t you lend me the keys a moment? 
 GIRL (relentlessly) 
 You broke a compact. 
 
 *BOY 
 
 Please, Lou. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I have my reading to do. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I m going to go away forever Lou ! 
 
 (BOY (fiercely) 
 
 I want my money! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 It s our money. And I m the guardian. 
 
 BOY 
 
 All right. . . . Good-bye. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Good-bye. (Reading) The Narrow Path 
 is very steep and straight. It leads to a land 
 of gold and it is not easy to negotiate because 
 Heaven thinks it is best for people^ to climb for 
 what they want. Nevertheless " 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 BOY 
 
 Are you going to give me the money to run 
 away with ? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 No. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Good-bye. 
 GIRL 
 
 A compact is binding to both parties, father 
 says. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Good-bye. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Good-bye. (Reading] Nevertheless never 
 theless (She begins to giggle deliriously) 
 
 BOY 
 
 What s funny, Lou? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Come here and look, Billie. 
 
 [The Boy drags himself to the book. 
 
 BOY 
 What? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 This word. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Never the less. It s just like any other 
 word. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 No, it isn t. Steep and straight and the all look 
 
 like something. But this is just funny. 
 BOY 
 
 Nevertheless. 
 
 [The Girl goes off into gales of laughter. 
 
 5.1 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY. (Reading further and turning the page) 
 Here it is agarn. (He laughs) 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Where? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Here. (Turning back) 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Neverthe (turning the page and going into 
 another paroxysm of laughter as she finds the 
 rest of the word on the next page) less. 
 
 BOY 
 
 It is funny-looking ! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 What does it mean? 
 BOY 
 
 I ll look in the dictionary. 
 
 I know what it means in a way, but I can t ex 
 plain it 
 BOY 
 
 So do I. (He goes to the dictionary) 
 
 Never the less. (She looks up and sees 
 that the Boy is busy. She looks around cau 
 tiously, then takes up the bank and hides it. As 
 she hears the Boy coming back, she resumes her 
 seat and the book) 
 
 BOY 
 
 It means notwithstanding, yet, however. . . . 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Dictionaries never tell you the real, honest, true, 
 live meaning, do they, Billie? 
 BOY (fascinated) 
 Never the less. 
 
 5* 
 
NEVERTHELESS" 
 The Girl and Boy encounter a strange word 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 GIRL 
 
 It s three words all huddled together. (She 
 
 pictures it on her fingers) 
 BOY (counting the words on his fingers) 
 
 Never the less. 
 GIRL 
 
 How did they come together ? 
 BOY (losing himself in the puzzle) 
 
 I don t know. 
 GIRL 
 
 Let s ask mother. 
 BOY (remembering his anger) 
 
 No, I won t. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I will. 
 BOY 
 
 Let s be independent, Lou. I don t like to ask 
 
 favors when I m punished. 
 GIRL 
 
 Well, I m being punished, too; but I want to 
 
 know all about this funny word. 
 BOY 
 
 Let s try some other way. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I know ! 
 
 BOY 
 
 What? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 They say if you put out the lights and shut your 
 eyes very tight and wait very patiently that an 
 elf will come and tell you anything you want to 
 know. 
 BOY 
 
 I don t believe in elfs. 
 53 
 
 * 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie! 
 
 BOY 
 I don t. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 The plural of elf is elves. We had it to-day. 
 BOY (exasperated) 
 
 I knew it, but I get tired of having to think 
 
 about everything before I speak. Sometimes I 
 
 try not to think at all. 
 GIRL (going to the lamp) 
 
 I m going to turn out the light. 
 BOY (scornfully) 
 
 Nothing will happen. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Well, we can try. 
 BOY (hunting) 
 
 Lou, where s the bank? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I hid it, Billie. 
 BOY 
 
 You shan t hide my money ! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Keep quiet, Billie, and sit down. (She puts the 
 light out) 
 BOY (sheepishly) 
 I feel so silly. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Are your eyes shut? 
 
 BOY 
 
 No. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Billy, please shut your eyes. 
 54 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 BOY 
 
 I won t do it ... I m going to turn on the 
 light. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Now, Billie . . . 
 [He evidently starts for the lamp. 
 I ll give you the keys if you re good. 
 BOY 
 Now? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 No, afterward. 
 BOY (turning on the lamp) 
 Promise. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Yes. (Out goes the light as she pulls it) Are 
 you sitting down? 
 BOY 
 
 Uh-huh! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Are your eyes shut? 
 BOY 
 
 Uh-huh! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Tight? 
 BOY 
 
 Uh-huh! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 And when he comes don t talk. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Uh . 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Cause you don t believe and you might frighten 
 him away. 
 
 55 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY 
 
 Uh . 
 GIRL 
 
 Where are you, Billie? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Here I am. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Move over. 
 
 BOY 
 
 There isn t much room. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Now. (Silence) Do you hear anything? 
 
 BOY 
 
 No. 
 
 [Silence. 
 
 A pale light appears between the curtains, then 
 a dark form. 
 
 The light is shut off and presently reappears at 
 the table. 
 
 The Burglar opens the drawers and, taking out 
 some pretty things, puts them in his pocket. 
 The light goes out. 
 Silence. 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie, I just can t stand it a moment longer. 
 Don t you hear the elf? . . . (A sound) 
 There he is! 
 
 [The light comes on again and the Burglar takes 
 up the bank. Just as he is putting it in his 
 pocket, the Girl speaks. 
 GIRL 
 
 Do you know what nevertheless means? 
 
 [The bank goes clattering to the floor. 
 
 The light is turned upon the two children. The 
 
 56 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 Burglar takes a step forward and stumbles over 
 the bank. 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Don t holler. 
 
 [The Boy turns the light on. 
 
 BOY 
 
 A burglar! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 If you don t move, Billie, a burglar won t hurt 
 you. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Hold up your hands, Lou. 
 BOY and GIRL (holding their hands up) 
 We give up. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Put out the light. * 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Please don t put out the light . . . We ll be 
 
 good. 
 
 [A door is heard to close in the next room. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Put out the light. ( The light goes out) Who 
 was that? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Mary. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 What s she doing? 
 BOY 
 
 Don t you tell him, Lou. Make him let you 
 turn the light on. 
 GIRL (deciding to weep) 
 I m afraid of the dark. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Quit your bawling and put on the light. 
 57 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 [The Boy puts on the light. 
 What s she doing? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 She s setting the burglar alarm for the night. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 How do I get out of here? 
 GIRL 
 
 You can t get out because if you open anything 
 
 all the bells will ring and the police will come. 
 BOY (bravely stepping forward) 
 
 We ll put you in jail. (As the Burglar turns, 
 
 however, he wilts) 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie, let s let him go if he tells us what never 
 theless means. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Huh? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Do you know what nevertheless means? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 What s nevertheless? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 It s a word. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 What s the game? 
 BOY 
 
 If you know what nevertheless means we ll let 
 you go. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 It s a compact. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Promise you won t give me up. 
 GIRL 
 
 We won t give you up ... Sit down. 
 
 58 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 [The Burglar sits. 
 BOY 
 
 Where s your pistol? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 I ain t got none. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Oh, you mustn t say that. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Well, I ain t. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 It s very wrong to say " I ain t." My mother 
 would make us read all " The Narrow Path " if 
 we talked like that. 
 
 BURGLAR (puzzled) 
 
 What! 
 
 BOY 
 
 They carry pistols in Texas. ^ 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Well, I ain t never used none, and I ain t never 
 been in Texas, and what s more I ain t never 
 going to Texas ! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 He s a very pleasant burglar, Billie. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Well, I m in a pickle, but I can t hurt no kids. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 See, Billie, how bad grammar sounds. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 I don t care nothing about grammar. When 
 you have to paddle your own canoe, you can t 
 take no time for grammar. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Oh, dear Billie, don t ever paddle your own 
 canoe . . . Billie . . . (She goes to whisper to 
 
 59 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 the Boy) ( To the Burglar, as she passes him) 
 Excuse me. (To the Boy) I m going to try 
 Mother s plan on him. I m going to read to 
 him! 
 
 [The Burglar rises and looks around. 
 BOY (whispering) 
 
 I m going to call father. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Now, Billie, maybe we can make him good. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Well, he can t get away and he hasn t a pistol 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Hey, quit your jawing and give me up if you 
 want to. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 We re not going to give you up. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Huh? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 We re going to read to you. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Quit your kidding. 
 GIRL 
 
 How does it feel to be a burglar? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Not so good. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Aren t you afraid to be a burglar? 
 BOY 
 
 Course not. Look how big he is. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Aren t you ashamed to be a burglar? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Well ... I ain t never burgled before. 
 60 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Well, that s not so bad, but just the same we re 
 going to read to you. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 What for? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Because you use bad grammar. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 You re funny kids. Ain t you scared? 
 BOY (magnificently) 
 
 No! 
 BURGLAR (turning suddenly) 
 
 Huh? 
 
 [The Boy retreats ingloriously. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 You wouldn t hurt us, would you? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Why wouldn t I ? 
 GIRL 
 
 We didn t do anything to you. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 You trapped me. 
 GIRL 
 
 We didn t know you were coming. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 What was you hiding for? 
 GIRL 
 
 We expected someone else. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Go on! 
 
 [The Boy moves a chair cautiously toward the 
 Burglar and finally summons the courage to sit 
 down beside him. 
 
 61 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY (pleasantly) 
 
 Did you know Jessie James? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 I heard of him but I ain t never seen him. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 What made you begin? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Never mind ... I began and I got caught. 
 . . . Now what? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I m going to read to you. 
 BURGLAR (resignedly) 
 
 Go ahead. 
 GIRL 
 
 Do you want to read, Billie? 
 BOY (unselfishly) 
 
 No! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 This is all about the narrow path. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Uh-huh. 
 
 GIRL (reading) 
 
 " The Narrow Path is very steep and straight. 
 It leads to a land of gold and it is not easy to 
 negotiate because Heaven thinks it is best for 
 people to climb for what they want. Never 
 theless " 
 
 [The Boy and Girl burst out laughing so sud 
 denly that the Burglar is quite startled. 
 
 BURGLAR (uneasily) 
 
 What are you laughing at? 
 
 GIRL (pointing to "nevertheless") 
 It s such a funny word. 
 62 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Ain t it just like other words? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Don t it look funny? 
 BOY 
 
 Don t it look funny? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 I mean doesn t it look funny? 
 
 [The three huddle together over the book. 
 
 BURGLAR (muttering} 
 
 N-E-V-E-R-T-H-E-L-E-S-S. Huh! It does 
 look sort o funny . . . What s the rest of it? 
 
 GIRL (reading) 
 
 " Nevertheless the narrow path is not all hard 
 ship." 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Maybe not; but it was pretty hard for me. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Have you tried it? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Yep. But I slipped. . . . Go on. 
 GIRL (reading) 
 
 " On the other hand, the primrose path is broad 
 and it slopes gently downward, but it leads to 
 the land of thorns. Neverthe (She turns a 
 page) less " 
 [Again the children go into gales of laughter. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Huh? 
 
 3IRL 
 
 Look. 
 
 [Again they huddle over the book. 
 
 3URGLAR 
 
 N-E-V-E-R-T-H-E-L-E-S-S. ... It is funny. 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 (He joins heartily in the laughter) 
 
 GIRL 
 
 You see it s three words and they don t mean 
 anything unless they are all huddled together 
 just like we are now. 
 [They all laugh uproariously. 
 BOY (on the friendliest of terms now) 
 Do you walk the primrose path? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Go on! I m in the land of thorns. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Well, how did you get there if you didn t walk 
 the primrose path? 
 BURGLAR 
 
 I just naturally fell. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Don t you know the meaning of neverthe 
 less? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 I sort o know the meaning, but I can t put it 
 into words. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Can you act it out? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Huh? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Can you act it out? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 What do you mean act it out? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Sometimes when Billie and I can t put things into 
 words we act it out. Like this: If I want to 
 tell someone what revolves means, I just do this 
 . . . and then they know. 
 64 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Aw, yes, you pertend 1 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Oh ... Well Can t you p-p-pertend never 
 theless ? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 I hardly think so. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Did you get tired on the narrow path? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Ye-eh . . . But I wish I hadn t. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Can t you climb back? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Nope. It s too late. 
 
 GIRL x 
 
 Mother says it s \never too late to do right. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Sure it is. A man what s been in jail can t get 
 straight again. 
 BOY (admiringly) 
 
 Have you been in jail? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 No, but once is enough. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 When are you going to jail? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 To-night, I guess. 
 
 BOY 
 
 What for? 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 For breaking in here! 
 
 GIRL 
 
 We aren t going to send you to jail. 
 65 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Maybe not, but your paw and maw will. 
 
 (Whimsically) Sides I can t tell you what 
 
 nevertheless means and I can t act it out. And 
 
 a compact s a compact, ain t it? 
 GIRL 
 
 Mother won t put you in jail. She s too kind. 
 BOY (with sad memories) 
 
 But she s awful strict about grammar and ugly 
 
 words. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 She says it s easy to walk the narrow path. 
 BOY 
 
 Father isn t so sure, but he says it can be done. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Come on and we ll help you. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Come on where ? 
 BOY 
 
 Come on and walk the narrow path with us. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Where is it? 
 GIRL 
 Here. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 What s the game? 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Mother says if we can walk a straight line out 
 that door without wobbling, we can walk the 
 narrow path all our lives without any trouble. 
 
 BOY 
 
 To speak of. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 What s on the other side of that door? 
 66 
 
NEVERTHELESS 
 
 BOY and GIRL 
 
 Father and mother. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 You seem to be pretty straight kids, but it s too 
 late for me. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 No, it isn t. 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 Yes, it s too late. I ll take the back door and 
 
 try to make my get-away. 
 GIRL 
 
 Billie, you ask him. 
 BOY 
 
 I d like to have you come with us, sir. 
 Dad s a fine man and mother s a great 
 woman. 
 
 GIRL 
 
 All we have to do is to walk straight through 
 that door without wobbling 
 BOY 
 
 Come on 
 
 BURGLAR 
 
 I think it s too late for me nevertheless 
 
 (He takes their hands) 
 GIRL (ecstatically) 
 
 Oh, he s acted out nevertheless! Billie, don t 
 
 you see the real, honest, true, live meaning? 
 
 . . . Come on, let s start. 
 
 [ They start carefully for the door and, as they 
 
 come to the safe they stop. The Burglar looks 
 
 ruefully at it a moment. 
 GIRL 
 
 Don t wobble now. We ve almost made it 
 [They keep on for the door. 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 Isn t it easy? And mother says if you can do 
 this little bit, you can do it always. 
 \When they disappear through the door, the 
 play is over. 
 
 63 
 
THE MEDICINE SHOW 
 
LUT ER 
 
 Giz 
 
 DR. STEV N VANDEXTER 
 
 The scene is on the south bank of the Ohio 
 River. An old soap box, a log and a large stone 
 are visible. The river is supposed to flow between 
 the stage and the audience. In the background^ 
 at the top of the " grade " is the village of Rock 
 Springs. 
 
THE MEDICINE SHOW 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 This is only a quarter of a play. Its faults are 
 many. Come, glory in them with us. 
 You are a little boy once more lying on your 
 rounded belly on the cool, damp sands beside 
 the beautiful river. You are still young enough 
 to see the wonder that everywhere touches the 
 world; and men are in the world all sorts of 
 men. But you can still look upon them with 
 the shining eyes of brotherhood. You can still 
 feel the mystery that is true understanding. 
 Everywhere about you men and things are 
 reaching for the infinite, each in his own way, 
 be it big or little, be it the moon or a medicine 
 show; and you yourself are not yet decided 
 whether to reach for the stars or go a-fishing. 
 Brother ! 
 
 [Lufer enters or rather oozes in. 
 He is a tall, expressionless, uncoordinated per 
 son who might be called filthy were it not for 
 the fact that the dirt on his skin and on his 
 clothes seems an inherent part of him. He has 
 a wan smile that what there is of it is not 
 displeasing. Strangely enough, his face is al 
 ways smooth Shaven. He carries a fishing pole 
 made from a tree twig and equipped with a 
 thread knotted frequently and a bent pin for 
 hook. 
 Lufer looks about and his eyes light on the 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 stone. He attempts to move it with his bare 
 foot to the water s edge, but it is too heavy for 
 him. Next he looks at the log, raises his foot 
 to move it, then abandons the attempt because 
 his eyes rest on the lighter soap box. This he 
 puts in position never deigning to touch it with 
 his hands. Then he sits calmly and drawing a 
 fahing worm from the pocket of his shirt fastens 
 it on the pin-hook and casts his line into the 
 water. Thereafter he takes no apparent in 
 terest in fishing. 
 After a moment Giz enters. 
 Giz is somewhat dirtier than Lut er but the dirt 
 is less assimilated and consequently less to be 
 condoned. Besides he is fuzzy with a beard of 
 long standing. He may have been shaved some 
 Saturdays ago but quite ago. 
 Giz doesn t speak to Lut er and Lut er doesn t 
 speak to Giz, but Lut er suggests life by con 
 tinued chewing and he acknowledges the prox 
 imity of Giz by spitting and wiping his lips with 
 his hand. Giz having tried the log and the rock 
 finally chooses the rock and acknowledges 
 Lut er*s salivary greeting by spitting also; but 
 he wipes his mouth on his sleeve. 
 After a moment he reaches forward with his 
 bare foot and touches the water. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 T s warm as fresh milk. 
 
 [Lut er, not to be wholly unresponsive, spits. 
 A fresh silence falls upon them. 
 GIZ 
 
 *S Hattie Brown came in? 
 7 2 
 
THE MEDICINE SHOW 
 
 [Lut er spits and almost shakes his head nega 
 tively. 
 
 She s a mighty good little steam-boat. 
 LUT ER 
 
 She s water-logged. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 She ain t water-logged. 
 LUT ER 
 She is. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 She ain t. 
 LUT ER 
 She is. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 She ain t. ( The argument dies of malnu 
 trition. After a moment of silence Giz 
 speaks) 
 
 GIZ 
 
 S river raisin 1 ? 
 LUT ER 
 
 Nup! 
 
 [Silence. 
 GIZ 
 
 Fallin ? 
 LUT ER 
 
 Nup! 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Standin still? 
 LUT ER 
 
 Uh! 
 
 [ The conversation might continue if Giz did not 
 
 catch a mosquito on his leg. 
 GIZ 
 
 Gosh ! A galler-nipper at noon day ! 
 73 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 [Lut er scratches back of his ear warily. 
 GIZ 
 
 An* look at the whelp ! 
 
 [Giz scratches actively, examines the wound and 
 anoints it with tobacco juice. 
 The Play would be ended at this moment for 
 lack of varied action if Dr. Stev n Fandexter 
 did not enter. 
 
 He is an eager } healthy -looking man with a whit 
 ish beard that long washing in Ohio River water 
 has turned yellowish. He wears spectacles and 
 his clothes and general appearance are some 
 what an improvement upon Lut er and Giz. 
 Furthermore he wears what were shoes and 
 both supports of his suspenders are fairly in 
 tact. He is whittling a piece of white pine with 
 a large jack-knife. 
 
 Seeing Lut er and Giz he draws the log between 
 them and sits. 
 
 After a moment in which three cuds are audibly 
 chewed, Dr. Stev n speaks. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 What gits me is how they done it. 
 [For the first time Lut er turns his head as ad 
 mission that some one is there. 
 Giz looks up with a dawn of interest under his 
 beard. 
 Silence. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 I traded a two pound catfish for a box of that 
 salve : an I don t see how they done it. 
 [Lut er having turned his head keeps it turned. 
 Evidently Dr. Stev n always has something of 
 interest to say. 
 
 74 
 
THE MEDICINE SHOW 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Kickapoo ? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Ye . Kickapoo Indian Salve. I don t think no 
 Indian never seen it. (He looks at Giz for 
 acquiescence) 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Y ain t never sure about nothin these days. 
 [Dr. Stev n looks at Lut er for acquiescence 
 also, and Lut er approving turns his head for 
 ward and spits assent. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 I smelled it an it smelled like ker sene. I biled 
 it an it biled over an burnt up like ker sene. 
 ... I don t think it was nothin but ker sene an 
 lard. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Reckon t wuz common ker sene? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 I don t know whether t wuz common ker sene 
 but I know t wuz ker sene. . . . An I bet 
 ker sene ll cure heaps o troubles if yer use it 
 right. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 That air doctor said the salve ud cure most 
 anything. 
 
 LUT ER (#5 though a voice from the grave, long 
 forgotten) 
 Which doctor? 
 
 GIZ 
 
 The man doctor him with the p inted muss- 
 tash. 
 LUT ER 
 
 I seen him take a egg outer Jimmie Weldon s 
 75 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 ear an Jimmie swore he didn t have no hen 
 in his head. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 But the lady doctor said it warn t so good 
 effie-cacious she called it withouten you took 
 two bottles o the buildin up medicine, a box o 
 the liver pills an a bottle o the hair fluid. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 She knowed a lot. She told me just how I felt 
 an she said she hated to trouble me but I had 
 a internal ailment. An she said I needed all 
 their medicine jus like the Indians used it. But 
 I told her I didn t have no money so she said 
 maybe the box o liver pills would do if I d 
 bring em some corn for their supper. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Y got the liver pills ? 
 GIZ 
 
 Uh-huh. 
 LUT ER 
 
 Took any? 
 GIZ 
 
 Nup, I m savin em. 
 LUT ER 
 What fur? 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Till I m feelin sicker n I am now. 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Where are they? 
 GIZ 
 
 In m pocket. 
 
 [They chew in silence for a minute. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Yes, sir! It smelled like ker sene ter me 
 
THE MEDICINE SHOW 
 
 and ker sene t wuz. . . . Ker sene ll cure 
 heaps o things if you use it right. 
 [He punctuates his talk with covert glances at 
 Giz. His thoughts are on the pills. 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Which pocket yer pills in, Giz? 
 GIZ (discouragingly) 
 
 M hip pocket. 
 
 [Again they chew. 
 DOCTOR 
 
 The Family Medicine Book where I learned ter 
 be a doctor said camphor an* ker sene an lard 
 rubbed on flannel an put on the chest ud cure 
 tizic, maybe. (He looks at Giz) 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 An what ud cure tizic ought ter cure anything, 
 I think. ... I d a cured m second wife if the 
 winder hadn t blowed out an she got kivered 
 with snow. After that she jus wheezed until 
 she couldn t wheeze no longer. An so when I 
 went courtin m third wife, I took a stitch in 
 time an told her about the camphor an ker sen 
 an lard. (Ruefully) She s a tur ble healthy 
 woman. (His feelings and his curiosity having 
 overcome his tact f he blurts out) Giz, why n 
 th hell don t yer show us yer pills ! 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Well if yer wanner see em here they air. 
 [He takes the dirty, mashed box out of his hip 
 pocket and hands it to the Doctor. 
 The Doctor opens the box and smells the pills. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Ker sene. . . . Smell em Lut er. (He holds 
 the box close to Lut er s nose) 
 
 77 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 LUT ER (with the least possible expenditure of 
 energy) 
 Uh! 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Ker sene ! . . . Well, I guess it s good for the 
 liver, too. . . . Gimme one, Giz? 
 
 GIZ 
 
 I ain t got so many I can be givin em ter 
 everybody. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Jus* one, Giz. 
 
 Giz 
 
 She said I ought ter take em all fer a cure. 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 What yer got, Giz? (Calling a man by name 
 is a great effort for Lut er) 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Mostly a tired feelin an sometimes a crick in 
 th back. (Lut er displays a sympathy un 
 dreamed of) 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 Gimme one, Giz. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Gosh! You wjant th whole box, don t yer? 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 Keep yer pills. (He spits) 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 What s ailin you t Lut er? 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 Oh, a tired feelin (there is a long moment of 
 suspended animation, but the Doctor knows that 
 the mills of the gods grind slowly and he 
 waits for Lut er to continue) an a crick in m* 
 back. 
 
 7* 
 
THE MEDICINE SHOW 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 I ll cure yer, Lut er. (Lufer just looks) If 
 
 that Kickapoo doctor with the p inted muss-tash 
 
 kin cure yer, I guess I can. 
 Giz (who has been thinking pretty hard) Got any 
 
 terbaccer, Doc? 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Yep. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Well, here s a pill fer a chaw. (He and the 
 Doctor rise) 
 
 [Giz takes a pill out of the box and the Doctor 
 takes his tobacco from his pocket, reaches out 
 his hand for the pill and holds out the tobacco 
 placing his thumb definitely on the plug so that 
 Giz can bite of so much and no more. Giz bites 
 and the Doctor takes over the pill. 
 Lut er not to be outdone takes a battered plug of 
 tobacco from his pocket and bites off an un 
 limited " chaw." 
 
 The Doctor takes his knife from his pocket and 
 cuts the pill, smelling it. 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Ker sene! (He tastes it) Ker sene! Now 
 I been thinkin things over, Lut er and 
 Giz ... 
 
 [He tastes the pill again. 
 Ker sene, sure! 
 
 [He sits down on the log once more, spits care 
 fully and crosses his legs. 
 I got a business proposition to make. 
 [Silence. 
 
 Lut er spits and crosses his legs, and Giz just 
 spits. 
 
 79 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 There ain t enough home industry here in Rock 
 Springs. We got a canning fact ry and a 
 stea mill ; but here comes a medicine show from 
 loway a Kickapoo Indian Medicine Show 
 from loway! Now what we need in Rock 
 Springs is a medicine show ! (He waits for the 
 effect upon his audience) 
 LUT ER (after a pause) 
 How yer goin ter git it? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Well, here s my proposition. Ain t we got as 
 much horse sense as them loway Indians? 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 A damn sight more. (That is the evident an 
 swer to the Doctor, but Lut er develops a fur 
 ther idea) We got the country from the In 
 dians. 
 
 Giz (after a moment of accumulating admiration) 
 By golly, Lut er, yer right. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Now, I got some medicine science. I d a 1 cured 
 
 my second wife if it hadn t been for that busted 
 
 winder. 
 GIZ 
 
 Yeh, but what come o yer first wife? 
 DOCTOR 
 
 I could a cured her, too, only I hadn t found 
 
 the Family Medicine Book then. 
 LUT ER 
 
 Well, what I wanter know is what s yer 
 
 proposition . . . I m in a hurry. . . . Here 
 
 comes the Hattie Brown. 
 80 
 
THE MEDICINE SHOW 
 
 [The Hattie Brown and the whistle of the 
 
 stea mill indicate noon. 
 
 Lut*er takes in the line removes the fishing 
 
 worm and puts it in his pocket. 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Well, I ll make the salve an do the talkin ; 
 
 Giz ll sort o whoop things up a bit and Lut er ll 
 
 git cured. 
 LUT ER 
 
 What ll I git cured of? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Oh, lumbago an tired feelin . . . crick in the 
 back and tizic. 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 But who ll take a egg out o somebody s ear? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Giz ll learn that. 
 
 LUT ER (with a wan smile that memory illumi 
 nates) 
 An who ll play the pianny? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Besteena, my daughter. 
 LUT ER 
 
 Where we goin ? 
 DOCTOR 
 
 We ll go ter Lavanny first. 
 LUT ER 
 
 How ll we git there? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Walk unless somebody gives us a tote. 
 GIZ 
 
 We kin go in my John-boat. 
 81 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 Who ll row? ( There is fear in his voice) 
 
 GIZ 
 
 We ll take turns. (Lut er looks with terror 
 
 upon Giz) 
 LUT ER 
 
 How fur is it? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Three an a half mile. . . . Will yer go, 
 Lut er? 
 
 LUT ER (evidently thinking deeply), 
 How fur is it? 
 
 GIZ 
 
 Three an a half mile. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Will yer go, Lut er? 
 LUT ER 
 Uh-h. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Huh? 
 
 GIZ 
 
 He said, uh-huh. 
 [Lut er chews in silence. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 I thought he said uh-uh. 
 GIZ 
 
 He said uh-huh. 
 
 DOCTOR . ., 
 
 He didn t say nothin o the sort he said 
 
 uh-uh. . TT 
 
 [They turn to Lut er questiomngly. tie is 
 
 chewing intensely. 
 
 LUT ER (after a moment} 
 How fur did yer say it wuz? 
 82 
 
THE MEDICINE SHOW 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Three an a half mile. 
 [Silence. 
 
 GIZ 
 
 We ll each take a oar. 
 
 [Silence. 
 
 A stentorian voice is heard calling Stee vun. 
 
 The Doctor rises, hastily. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 What d yer say, Lut er ? 
 LUT ER 
 
 It s three an a half mile ter Lavanny an 
 three an a half mile back. . . . Pretty fur. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 We kin come back on the current. 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 Three an a half mile air three an a half mile 
 current or no current. 
 
 [Again the masterful female voice calls Stee - 
 vun. There is no mistaking its meaning. 
 The Doctor is torn between home and business. 
 Lut er takes up his rod, rebaits the hook with 
 the fishing-worm from his pocket and casts his 
 line into the river. 
 
 LUT ER 
 
 I ll think it over ... but I ain t givin yuh no 
 hope . . . Three an a half mile one way air 
 pretty fur . . . but two ways it s turruble ! 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Come on, Giz. We ll talk it over. 
 [ The Doctor and Giz leave Lut er to his prob 
 lem. 
 Lufcr is undecided. He is at a crisis in his life. 
 
 83 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 He spits thoughtfully and looks after the re 
 treating Doctor and Giz. 
 LUT ER 
 
 Three an a half mile . . . (He takes in his line 
 and removes the fishing-worm. He rises and 
 looks again after the Doctor and Giz. He hesi 
 tates) . . . two ways . . . (He starts in the 
 opposite direction, as he justifies himself to his 
 inner self) Rock Springs is fur enough fur 
 me! (When he disappears the play is over.) 
 
SIX WHO PASS WHILE THE LENTILS 
 BOIL 
 
THE BOY 
 
 THE QUEEN 
 
 THE MIME 
 
 THE MILKMAID 
 
 THE BLINDMAN 
 
 THE BALLAD-SINGER 
 
 THE DREADFUL HEADSMAN 
 
 You (in the audience) 
 
 The Scene is a kitchen. 
 
 The Period is when you will. 
 
SIX WHO PASS WHILE THE 
 LENTILS BOIL 
 
 [Before the opening of the curtains the Pro 
 logue enters upon the forestage and summons 
 the Device-Bearer who carries a large copper 
 
 pot. 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 This is a copper pot. (The Device-Bearer 
 shows it to the audience carefully) It is filled 
 with boiling water. ( The Device-Bearer makes 
 the sound of bubbling water) It is on the fire. 
 See the flames. "l&The Device-Bearer sets the 
 pot in the center fff the forestage an^blows un 
 der it with a pair of bellows y\ And see the 
 water boiling over. ( The Device-Bearer again 
 makes the sound of bubbling water and then 
 withdraws to where he can see the play from the 
 side of the forestage) We are looking into the 
 kitchen of the Boy whose mother left him alone. 
 I do not know where she has gone but I do know 
 that he is gathering lentils now. 
 
 YOU 
 
 What are lentils? 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 A lentil? Why a lentil, don t you see, is not 
 a bean nor yet a pea ; but it is kin to both . . . 
 You must imagine that the boy has built the fire 
 and set the water boiling. He is very indus 
 trious but you need not feel sorry for him. His 
 mother is very good to him and he is safe. Are 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 you ready now? . . . Very well. Be quiet. 
 [The Prologue claps his hands twice. 
 
 The curtains open and a kitchen is disclosed. 
 (There are a bench, a stool and a cupboard. A 
 great door at the back opens into a corridor. 
 There are also two windows one higher than 
 the other looking upon the corridor. At the 
 right a door opens into the bedroom of the Boy s 
 mother. A great pewter spoon lies upon the 
 shelf in the cupboard. 
 
 A large Butterfly comes in through the door 
 way, flits about\ind looks of stage: 
 The song of the Boy is heard from the garden. 
 The Butterfly goes to the door, poises a moment, 
 then alights on the cupboard. 
 The Boy enters with a great bowl filled with 
 lentils. 
 
 The Butterfly flies to the bowl and satisfied 
 returns to the cupboard. 
 
 The Boy smiles at the Butterfly but he does 
 not touch him. Then he empties the lentils into 
 the pot and water splashes on his careless hand. 
 A moan is heard in the distance. The Boy and 
 the Butterfly go to the door. 
 The Queen s voice is heard calling: 
 Butterfly, Butterfly, where shall I hide? 
 [Enter the Queen. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Boy, Boy oh, I am distraught ! 
 
 YOU 
 
 What is distraught? 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 Distraught means distracted, perplexed, beset 
 with doubt, worried by some fear.^ 
 88 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY (pityingly) 
 
 Why are you distraught? 
 . QUEEN 
 
 Oh Oh Oh They are going to behead 
 me! 
 BOY 
 When? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Before mid-day. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Why are they going to behead you? Js-ifc a 
 ,tary-2- Tell4t to me. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 I was guilty of a breach of etiquette. 
 
 BOY 
 
 What is that? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 I did something that was considered bad man 
 ners and the law says the punishment is decapi 
 tation. 
 
 YOU 
 
 What is decapitation? 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 f Decapitation is beheading; cutting off one s 
 head. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Why, only kings and queens can be decapi 
 tated. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Oh, I know I know 
 
 BOY (disappointed) 
 Are you a queen? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Yes. 
 
 89 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY 
 
 I thought all queens were big. My mother says 
 they are always regal. And my mother knows. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Oh, I am the queen. / am the queen; but I 
 am so unhappy. 
 
 BOY 
 
 My mother told me kings and queens knew no 
 fear? Why, you re afraid. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Oh, Boy, Boy, I am your queen and I am afraid 
 and unhappy. And queens are just like other 
 people when they are afraid and unhappy. 
 BOY (disappointed) 
 
 Aren t they always regal? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 No no. Oh, little boy, hide me, hide me 
 from the Dreadful Headsman ! 
 BOY 
 
 I haven t any place to hide you. You couldn t 
 get under the bench and you couldn t get into 
 the cupboard. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Little boy, can t you see that I shall lose my 
 head if I am found? ; 
 
 BOY 
 
 You might have hidden in the pot if I hadn t 
 \/ put it on the fire. 
 
 QUEEN / 
 
 Oh Oh Oh 
 
 BOY 
 
 I m sorry. 
 QUEEN 
 
 I am distraught; 
 
 9P 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 Well, I ll hide you, because you are distraught; 
 but I am not sure you are a queen . . . 
 Where s your crown? You can t be a queen 
 without a crown! 
 [She reaches up to her head. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Oh, I was running so fast that it must have 
 slipped from my head. (Sees the Butterfly) 
 Butterfly, tell him I am your Queen. 
 [ The Butterfly flies to her head and lights on 
 her disheveled locks like a diadem. 
 BOY 
 
 Oh v I have talked to the Queen 1 . -. , You can 
 hide in my mother s bed-room in there ; but first 
 please tell me a story. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 They will find me here. I ll tell you a story 
 afterward. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I want you to tell me now. 
 QUEEN 
 
 Well, you watch at the door and warn me when 
 you see someone coming. (The Butterfly 
 brushes her ear) But stay, the Butterfly says 
 he ll watch. 
 
 [The Butterfly goes to the door. 
 \ BOY 
 
 Will he know? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Oh, yes. He is a wonderful butterfly wise 
 beyond his years. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Sit down and tell me your story. (He places 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 a black pillow for the Queen on the step and an 
 orange pillow for himself) 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Last night we celebrated the second year of 
 peace with the neighboring kingdom. We were 
 dancing the minuet just after the banquet, when 
 I stepped on the ring-toe of my husband the 
 King s great aunt. 
 BOY 
 
 Didn t you say excuse me ? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 It was useless. The law says that if a queen 
 steps on the ring-toe of the King s great aunt or 
 any member of her family the Queen must be 
 beheaded while the King s four clocks are strik 
 ing twelve at mid-day. 
 (BOY 
 
 Oh, that means to-day? 
 QUEEN * 
 YesJ 
 
 BOY 
 
 Why, it s almost mid-day now. See, I ve just 
 set the lentils boiling. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 If you can hide me until after the King s four 
 clocks strike twelve I shall be safe, 
 f BOY 
 
 Why are there four clocks? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Because the law Allows only one clock for each 
 tower in the castle. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Then I hear all the King s clocks every day ! 
 92 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 There s a big clock, and two clocks not so big, 
 and a tiny little clock. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Yes, thdse are the four. 
 
 BOY 
 
 "Why will you be safe after the four clocks strike 
 twelve ? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Because that is the law. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Aren t laws funny? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Funny? This one is very sad, I think. 
 BOY 
 
 Mightn t it be twelve any mid-day? 
 QUEEN ; 
 
 No; tjhe Prime Minister of my grandfather who 
 
 passed the law decided that it meant only the 
 
 following mid-day. 
 BOY (rising and rushing to the door) 
 
 They ll find you here. 
 QUEEN (rising calmly) 
 
 Oh, no, this is the short cut to the beheading 
 
 block. Through that corridor. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Why didn t you run the other way? 
 QUEEN 
 
 Because they always search for escaped people 
 in that direction. So I ran through your gar 
 den and into this room. They ll never search 
 for me so close to the castle. 
 
 BOY 
 
 How did you escape? 
 93 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 QUEEN 
 l !~ 
 
 [The Butterfly seems agitated. 
 BOYf 
 Yijiu 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Someone is coming. Hide me I 
 
 BOY 
 
 In here in my mother s room. Sh 1 Sh I 
 
 [ The Queen goes out. 
 
 Enter the Mime. - < 
 
 He pokes his head in the lower window and 
 
 peeps around the door. 
 Tl 
 
 "he boy turns. 
 BOY (weakly) 
 
 Are you the Dreadful Headsman? 
 
 MIME 
 
 What? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Are you the Dreadful Headsman? 
 
 MIME 
 
 Do I look like a headsman ? 
 
 BOY 
 
 I don t know; I ve never seen one. 
 
 MIME 
 
 Well, suppose I am. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Are you? 
 
 MIME 
 
 Maybe I am. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Oh! 
 
 MIME 
 
 Booh I 
 
 94 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY 
 
 I m I m ! not afraid. 
 
 MIME 
 
 Bah! 
 
 BOY 
 
 And my mother isn t here. 
 
 MIME 
 
 Br r r r! 
 [ThffBoy reaches for his knife. 
 MIME 
 Bine! 
 
 BOY 
 
 I $jasn t going to hurt you ! 
 MIMJ 
 
 S$I . . . Sh! . . . Sh! . . . 
 
 BOY 
 
 I ll gn * you my knife if you ll go 
 
 MIME 
 
 Ah, ha ! 
 
 BOY 
 
 It s nearly mid-day v . 
 
 MIME 
 
 Well, give me the knife. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Promise me to go. 
 MIME (laughs, turning away) 
 
 Aren t you going to the beheading? 
 BOY 
 
 No. I have to boil the lentils for our mid-day 
 
 meal. 
 
 MIME v 
 
 May I come back and eat some?^ 
 
 BOY 
 
 You ll have to ask my mother. 
 95 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 MIME 
 
 Where is she? 
 BOY 
 
 She s over that way. She went to the market 
 to buy 4 bobbin. 
 
 YOU 
 
 What ijs a bobbin? 
 
 PROLOGUl 
 
 A bobbin is a spool upon which thread is wound, 
 and it js sharp at one end so that it can be easily 
 passed/ backward and forward, to and fro, 
 through the other threads in making lace. 
 
 MIME (starting off) 
 
 Well, I ll be back to eat some lentils. 
 
 BOY (too eagerly) 
 You d better hurry. 
 
 MIME 
 
 You seem to want to get ric 
 BOY (allaying sn** 
 
 Well, I think ] ^ you ll be late 
 
 an^ 1 wrong to be late. 
 
 ^ ihe door) 
 
 ^changing his mind) sit down. 
 .^appointed) 
 
 MIME 
 
 What would you say if I wasn t the Heads 
 man? 
 
 BOY 
 
 But you said you were. 
 
 MIME 
 
 I said maybe I was. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Aren t you? 
 
 96 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 MIME 
 
 Maybe I m not. 
 BOY 
 
 Honest? 
 
 MIME 
 
 Um, hum. 
 
 BOY (relieved) 
 
 Oh! ... 
 
 MIME 
 
 You were afraid, x 
 
 BOY 
 
 No ... I wasn t. 
 "MIME 
 
 Would you fight? 
 BOY 
 
 You bet I would. 
 
 MIME 
 
 It wouldn t take me a minute to lick you. 
 BOY 
 
 Maybe it wouldn t, but I wouldn t give up right 
 
 away. That would be cowardly.;/. . . Who 
 
 are you ? 
 MIME 
 
 I m a mime 
 BOY 
 
 What s a mime ? 
 
 MIME 
 
 A mime s a mime. 
 BOY 
 
 Go on and tell me. 
 
 MIME 
 
 A mime s a (mountebank. 
 BOY 
 
 What s a mountebank? 
 97 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 MIME yyJ^U^t 
 
 A mountebank s a strolling player. 
 BOY 
 
 Are you going to perform for me? 
 
 MIME 
 
 Not to-day I m on my way to the decapi 
 tation. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Do you want to see the decapitation ? 
 
 MIME 
 
 Well, yes. But most of all I want to pick up 
 a few coins. 
 BOY 
 How? 
 
 MIME 
 
 Why, I ll perform after the Queen has lost her 
 head. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Won t you be too sorry? 
 
 MIME 
 
 No. You see, I ll be thinking mostly about 
 what I m going to do. I have to do my best 
 because it is hard to be more interesting than a 
 decapitation. \And after it s all over the crowd 
 will begin to talk and to move aboutVand I ll 
 
 fo have to rush up to the front of them and cry 
 out at the top of my lungs,f u Stop Ho, for 
 Jack the Juggler! Would you miss him? In 
 London where the king of kings lives, all the 
 knights and ladies of the Court would leave a 
 crowning to watch Jack the Juggler toss three 
 golden balls with one hand or balance a weather- 
 vane upon his nose. ^\ Then a silence will com 
 upon the crowd ana they will all turn to me 
 98 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 Someone will say, " Where is this Jack the 
 
 Juggler?" And I shall answer, " Jack the 
 uggler, the greatest of the great, the pet of 
 kings, entertainer to the Pope and the joy of 
 Cathay stands before you." And I ll throw 
 back my cloak and stand revealed. So 1 Some 
 one will then shout, " Let us have it, Jack." So 
 I ll draw my three golden balls from my pouch 
 like this and then begin. 
 [ The Boy is watching breathlessly and the But 
 terfly is interested too. Their disappointment 
 is keen when Jack does nothing. 
 BOY 
 
 Aren t you going to show me ? 
 
 MIME 
 
 No, I must be off. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Aren t you ever coming back? 
 
 MIME 
 
 Maybe, yes; perhaps, no. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I ll give you some lentils if you ll juggle the 
 balls for me. 
 MIME (sniffs the pot) 
 They aren t cooked yet. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Let me hold your golden balls. 
 MIME ( Takes a gold ball from his pouch and 
 lets the Boy hold it) 
 Here s one. 
 
 BOY 
 
 And do they pay you well ? 
 MIME (taking the ball from the Boy) 
 
 Ay, that they do. If I am as interesting as the 
 
 99 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 beheading I ll get perhaps fifteen farthings in 
 money and other things that I can exchange for 
 food and raiment. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I m going to be a mime and buy a castle and a 
 sword. 
 
 MIME 
 
 Maybe so and maybe not. Who knows? . . . 
 Good-bye. (He goes out) 
 BOY (to the Butterfly) 
 
 If he had been the Dreadful Headsman I would 
 have slain him. So! ... " Ah, wicked heads 
 man, you shall not behead the Queen! . . . 
 Cross not that threshold or I ll run you 
 through." 
 
 [ Throughout this the Butterfly shows great In 
 terest and enters into the spirit of it, being 
 absorbed at times and frightened at others. 
 Enter the Milkmaid at door. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Pst! . . . Pst! 
 BOY (startled) 
 Oh! 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Are you going to the decapitation? 
 
 BOY 
 
 No. Are you? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 That I am. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Will your rriother let you go ? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 She doesn t 
 
 know. 
 
 100 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY / 
 
 Did you run away ? 
 
 MILKMAID / 
 
 , No. I /went out to milk the cow. 
 
 ! BOY 
 
 And diffl you do it? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 , Yes. I 
 
 BOY 
 
 Why flidn t you wait until you came back? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 My 
 
 lother was looking and I had to let her 
 
 see nie doing something. 
 BOY 
 How 
 pails 
 
 MILKM 
 
 did you get away when you took the milk 
 nto the house? 
 
 ID 
 
 I die n t take them in. As soon as my mother 
 turned her back I hid the pails and I ran through 
 . here ito take a short cut. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Where did you hide the milk? 
 MILKMAID 
 
 In thje hollow tree. 
 
 BOY I 
 
 Won t it sour? 
 
 MILKMAJID 
 
 Maybe. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Won t your mother scold you? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Yes, of course, but I couldn t miss the beheading. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Will you take the squr^milk home? 
 101 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Yes,. and after my mother scolds me I ll make 
 it into nice cfreese and sell it to the King s Cook 
 and then mother will forgive me. 
 . BOY (sniffing ihe pot) 
 
 You d better hurry. It s nearly mid-day. 
 Don t you smell the lentils? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 The headsman hasn t started yet 
 BOY (giggling) 
 
 He d better hurry. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 They can t find the Queen. 
 BOY (so innocently) 
 Did she escape ? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Yes. 
 &OY 
 
 Are they hunting for her? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Yes^x and they ve offered a big reward to the 
 person who finds her. 
 
 vBOY 
 
 How much? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 A pail of gold and a pair of finger rings. 
 
 BOY 
 
 That s a good deal . . . with a pail of gold I 
 could buy my mother a velvet dress and a silken 
 kerchief and a bonnet made of cloth of gold- 
 End I could buy myself a milk-white paffry* 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 \ And you d never have to work again. > 
 
 IO2 ) 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY 
 
 But she s such a gentle queen. Where are they 
 hunting her ? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Everywhere. 
 BOY 
 
 Everywhere!). . . Maybe she s waiting at the 
 "-4- beheading block. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Silly goose! She wouldn t try to escape this 
 way. She d go in the opposite direction. 
 
 , BOY 
 
 A^ Do people always run in the opposite direction? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Of course, everybody knows that 
 
 BOY 
 
 I wish I could go. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 / Come on. 
 X BOY 
 ^ Um uh. The lentils might burn. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Pour some cold water on therri^ 
 BOY 
 
 Um uh. I promised I wouldn t leave the 
 house. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Oh, it will be wonderful ! 
 
 BOY 
 
 The Mime will be there. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 The one with the long cloak and the golden 
 balls? 
 
 103 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY 
 
 Um uh. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Ooh! 
 
 BOY 
 
 How did you know?\ 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 I saw him on the way to the market one day 
 and when my mother wasn t looking at me I 
 gave him a farthing. 
 BOY 
 
 \ 
 Is he a good juggle^? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 \ He s magic ! Why, he can throw three golden 
 
 \ balls in the air and catch them with one hand 
 
 and then keep them floating in the air in a circle. 
 
 BOY 
 
 And can he balance a weathervane on his nose 
 while it s turning? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 \ Yes, and he can balance an egg on the end of a 
 long stick that is balanced on his chin ! 
 BOY 
 
 Oh I wish I could see him. (Looks at the 
 
 pot to see if the lentils are done) 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Come on! 
 
 BOY 
 
 Well (Begins to weaken and just as he is 
 about to start, the Butterfly flits past him into 
 the Queen s room) 
 
 , MILKMAID v 
 
 Oh whatVlovely butterfly I] 
 
 104 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY 
 
 No No I can t go. But you had better 
 hurry. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 V Well,^ll ti>o catch the-butferfly^first. 
 BOY 
 
 Oh, no, you mustn t touch that butterfly. 
 MTDCMAID 
 
 Why? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Because because he s my friend. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Silly! 
 
 BOY 
 
 He is a good friend and he s the wisest butterfly 
 in the world. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 What can he do? 
 BOY 
 
 He can almost talk. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Almost? . . . Oh, I know. I m a goose. You 
 want to play a trick on me so I ll miss the 
 beheading. 
 
 BOY . 
 
 You d better hurry/ 
 
 - ~ 
 
 -~ 
 
 I wish you d come. 
 BOY (sadly) 
 
 I can t. I ve a duty to perform. 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 Aren t duties always hard? (Both sigh) 
 [She takes up her milk pail. 
 105 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY 
 
 What are you going to do with that pail? 
 
 MILKMAID 
 
 I m going to stand on it. . . . Good-bye. (She 
 goes out) 
 
 BOY 
 
 Good-bye. (He watches for a moment^ then 
 goes to the pot and tries the lentils; then whis 
 pers through door to the Queen) The lentils 
 are getting soft. 
 
 [There is a fumbling in the passage and a voice 
 is heard, Help the blind. Help the blind. 
 The Butterfly returns to the top of the cupboard. 
 The Blindman appears at the door. 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 He s blind, but hell show you how the blind 
 can see." 
 
 BLINDMAN (sniffing) 
 Cooking lentils? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Yes. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Cook, which way to the beheading? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Keep straight ahead the way you are going, 
 old man. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Don t you want to take me with you? 
 BOY 
 i Fnrnot going. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Not going to the beheading? 
 BOY t \ 
 
 \ No, I have to cook the lentils.) 
 
 106 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Come on and go with me and mayfie I ll give 
 you a farthing. 
 BOY 
 I can t. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Yes, you can.^Who else is here? 
 BOY (swallowing: it s hard to fib) 
 No one. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Can t you run away ? Your mother won t know 
 you ve gone) 
 
 BOY 
 
 It s my duty to stay here. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 It s your duty to help a poor, blindman, little 
 boy. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Are you stone blind ? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Yes. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Then how did you know I was a little boy? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Because you sound like a little boy. 
 BOY 
 
 Well, if you re stone blind why do you want to 
 go to the beheading? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 I can see with my ears. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Aw 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Didn t I know you were a little boy? 
 107 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY 
 
 Yes, but you had to guess twice. First you 
 thought I was a cook. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Well, aren t you cooking lentils? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Yes; but you can smell them. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Well, I see with my nose, too. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Aw how can you see with your nose? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 If you give me some bread I ll show you. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I can t give you any bread, but I ll give you some 
 raw lentils. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 All right. Give me lentils. 
 BOY 
 
 . . . I ll put them by the pot Ready. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 All right. (Sniffs. Walks to the pot and gets 
 lentils and puts them in an old pouch) Isn t 
 that seeing with my nose? 
 
 BOY 
 
 H m! (In wonder) Now see with your ears 
 and I ll give you some more lentils. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 All right. Speak. 
 
 [ The Boy gets behind the stool and speaks. 
 The Blindman goes toward him. The Boy 
 moves around stealthily. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 You re cheating. YouVe moved. 
 108 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY (jumping up on the bench) 
 Well, where am I? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 You re standing on something. 
 
 BOY 
 
 How did you guess it? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 I didn t guess it. I know it. 
 
 ~ 
 
 Why can t I do that? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 You can if you try; but it takes practice. 
 
 Can you see the door now? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 No. I ve turned around too manv times. Be 
 sides there is more than one door, j 
 BOY 
 
 Oh m-m . . . You aren t really blind ! 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Blind people learn to use what they have. r" 
 Once I too could see with my eyes. 
 
 BOY 
 
 - Just like me? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Yes. J And then I didn t take the trouble to see 
 with my ears and my nose and my fingers 
 after I became blind I had to learn . . . Why, I 
 can tell whether a man who passes me at the 
 palace gate is a poor man or a noble or a 
 merchant^ 
 
 BOY 
 
 How can you do that ? 
 109 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 By the sound of the step. 
 BOY 
 
 Aw how can you do that? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Shut your eyes and try it. 
 BOY 
 
 Well, I know what you are. That would be 
 easy. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 I ll pretend I m somebody else. (Feels with his 
 stick; touches bench. Feels around again) 
 
 BOY 
 
 Why are you doing that ? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 To see how far I can walk without bumping into 
 ^ something. 
 
 BOY 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Ready. 
 
 (hides face in hands) 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Don t peep. ( The Boy tries hard not to) 
 BOY 
 
 I won t. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 All ready (shuffles like a commoner) . Who was 
 it? 
 
 BOY 
 
 A poor man. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 See how easy? 
 
 no 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY 
 
 I could see him as plain as if I had my eyes open 
 . . . Now try me again. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Ready. 
 BOY 
 
 All right. (The Blindman seems to grow in 
 height. His face is filled with a rare brightness. 
 He steadies himself a moment and then walks 
 magnificently down the room) 
 BOY (in beautiful wonder) 
 A noble ! I could see him. 
 
 BLINDMAN x 
 
 All you have to do is try! 
 
 BOY 
 
 I always thought it was terrible to be blind. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Sometimes it is. * 
 
 BOY \ 
 
 But I thought everything was blackj 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 It used to be until I taught myself how to sec. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Why is it terrible sometimes ? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Because I cannot help the poor who need help. 
 If I had money I could feed the hungry and 
 clothe the poor little beggar children in win 
 ter! 
 
 BOY 
 
 Would a pail of gold and a pair of finger rings 
 help you feed the hungry and clothe the poor, 
 little beggar children in winter? 
 in 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 A pail of gold! I have dreamed of what I 
 might do with so much wealth ! 
 BOY 
 
 I can get a pail of gold if I break a promise. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Would you break a promise? 
 BOY 
 
 . . . No but No! 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Of course you wouldn t. 
 BOY 
 
 I couldn t break a promise for two pails of gold. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Nor twenty-two, little boy. 
 BOY 
 
 When you walked like a noble I saw a beautiful 
 man behind my eyes with a crown of gold.- 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 If you broke a promise for a pail of gold and 
 two finger rings you would never see a beautiful 
 noble with a crown of gold when you closed your 
 eyes . . . 
 
 BOY 
 
 \ Can blind men see beautiful things even when it s 
 rainy? i 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Blindmen can always see beautiful things if they 
 try. Clouds and rain are beautiful to me and 
 when I get wet I think of the sunshine. I saw 
 sunshine with my eyes when I was a little boy. 
 Now I see it with my whole body when it warms 
 me. I saw rain with my eyes when I was a little 
 boy. Now I see it with my hands when it falls 
 112 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 on them drop drop drop dropity 
 dropity and I love it because it makes the 
 lentils grow. 
 
 BOY 
 
 V I never thought of that. Rain makes me stay 
 indoors and I never like it except in June. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 You don t have to stay in for long. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Can blind men see beautiful things in a be 
 heading? 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 No. But I must be there with the crowd. ^- 
 shall tell stories to the people and perhaps they ) 
 will give me food or money. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Can t you stay and tell me stories? >^ 
 
 BLINDMAN L^^ 
 
 No, I must be on my way . . . if I do not see 
 the beheading I cannot tell about it when I meet 
 someone who was not there. Oh, I shall make 
 a thrilling tale of it. 
 BOY 
 
 Tell it to me when you come back. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 If you give me some cooked lentils. 
 BOY 
 
 I ll save you some. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Are the lentils nearly done? 
 BOY x 
 Halfj 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 I must be on my way then . . Good-bye, 
 "3 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 (Starting to go in the wrong direction) 
 BOY 
 
 Here s the door. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Thank you, little boy . . . Don t forget to see 
 with your ears and nose and fingers. 
 [The Blindman goes out. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I won t. 
 
 BLINDMAN 
 
 Good-bye. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Good-bye. ( The Boy covers his eyes and tries 
 
 to see with his ears and his nose) It s easier 
 
 with the ears. 
 
 [Singing is heard. 
 
 Enter the Ballad-Singer. 
 
 Hello! 
 
 BOY 
 
 Hello ! 
 
 SINGER 
 
 How are you? 
 BOY 
 
 I m very well. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 That s good. 
 BOY 
 
 Thank you. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 Cooking? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Yes. 
 
 SINGER (coming into the room) 
 Something good ? 
 
 114 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY 
 
 Lentils. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 Give me some? 
 BOY 
 
 They aren t done. 
 SINGER 
 
 Nearly. I can smell them. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Do you like them ? 
 SINGER 
 
 When I m hungry. V 
 BOY 
 
 Are you hungry now ? 
 
 SINGER 
 
 I m always hungry. ( They laugh) 
 
 BOY 
 
 Were you singing? 
 SINGER 
 
 Yes. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Do you like to sing? 
 
 SINGER 
 
 When I get something for my ballads. 
 BOY 
 
 Are you a ballad-singer? 
 
 SINGER 
 
 Yes. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Sing one for me? 
 SINGER 
 
 Give me some lentils ? 
 BOY 
 
 I ll give you some raw lentils. 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 SINGER 
 
 I want some of the cooked ones. 
 BOY 
 
 They aren t done. 
 SINGER 
 
 Are they nearly done? 
 
 BOY 
 
 More than half. 
 SINGER 
 
 I like them that way. 
 BOY 
 
 All right. Sing me a ballad. 
 SINGER 
 
 Well, give me the lentils first. 
 BOY 
 
 Oh, no, sing the ballad first. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 No, sir, give me the lentils first. 
 
 BOY 
 
 That isn t fair. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 Why not ? After I sing to you maybe you won t 
 pay me. 
 BOY 
 
 Yes, I will. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 Then why not pay me first? 
 
 BOY 
 
 You might not sing. 
 SINGER (laughing) 
 
 Yes, I will. 
 BOY (laughing) 
 
 Well, I ll give you some lentils at the end of 
 
 each verse. 
 
 116 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 SINGER 
 
 That s a bargain. 
 BOY 
 
 Sing. 
 SINGER (sings one line) 
 
 Six stalwart sons the miller had 
 
 Give me the lentils. 
 BOY 
 
 Finish that verse. 
 SINGER 
 
 I did finish it. 
 BOY 
 
 Now that s not fair. You only sang a line. 
 SINGER 
 
 Well, a line s a verse. 
 BOY (with a gesture that indicates how long a verse 
 
 ought to be) 
 
 I meant a whole verse. 
 SINGER ( mimicking the gesture) 
 
 A line s a whole verse. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Oh, now, be fair, I mean a whole, whole 
 verse. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 You mean a stanza. 
 BOY 
 
 I always heard it called a verse. 
 SINGER 
 
 Well, keep the bargain. I sang a verse. Give 
 
 me some lentils. 
 BOY (rising and taking a very few lentils on his 
 
 spoon) 
 
 Next time I mean a stanza . . . Here are some 
 
 lentils. 
 
 117 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 [ The Ballad-Singer eyes the meager portion, 
 cools it and eats. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 Stingy. 
 BOY 
 
 Isn t that some lentils? 
 SINGER (laughs) 
 
 Well 
 BOY 
 
 Now begin again. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 At the end of every stanza a spoonful of lentils. 
 BOY 
 
 I didn t say a spoonful. 
 SINGER (starts to go) 
 
 Very well, I won t sing a ballad. 
 BOY 
 
 All right I ll give you a spoonful at the end 
 
 of each stanza. (He sits on the floor by the 
 
 pot of lentils) 
 SINGER (sings) 
 
 The Ballad of the Miller and His Six Sons 
 
 Six stalwart sons the miller had 
 
 All brave and fair to see 
 
 He taught them each a worthy trade 
 
 And they grew gallantly. 
 
 Tara da da da-da-da da-da-da 
 
 Tara da da da-de da-dee. 
 
 Give me some lentils. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Here . . . Hurry up. 
 
 SINGER (sings) 
 
 The first was John of the dimpled chin 
 118 
 
o 
 OQ 
 
 ri -S 
 
 

WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 And a fist of iron had he 
 
 He learned to wield the broadsword well 
 
 And turned to soldiery. 
 
 Tara da da, etc. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Please! Please don t stop. 
 SINGER 
 
 Keep to the bargain. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Here, taks two spoonfuls and finish wit-hoot 
 stopping. 
 
 SINGER (sings rest of ballad) 
 
 The second son was christened Hugh 
 
 And curly locks had he 
 
 He learned to use the tabor and lute 
 
 And turned to minstrelsy. 
 
 Tara da da, etc. 
 
 The third was James of the gentle ways 
 And speech of gold had he 
 He learned his psalms and learned his creed 
 And turned to simony. ; . , y 
 
 Tara da da, etc. 
 
 The fourth was Dick of the hazel eye, 
 
 And a steady hand had he 
 
 With a hammer and saw and a chest of tools 
 
 He turned to carpentry. 
 
 Tara da da, etc. 
 
 The fifth was Ned of the velvet tread 
 
 And feather fingers had he. 
 
 He used his gifts in a naughty way 
 
 And turned to burglary. 
 
 Tara da da, etc. 
 
 119 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 The sixth was Robin, surnamed the Rare, 
 
 For always young was he 
 
 He learned the joy of this sunny world 
 
 And turned to poetry. 
 
 Tara da da, etc. 
 
 The Miller approached three score and ten 
 
 A happy man was he 
 
 His five good sons and the one who was bad, 
 
 All turned to gallantry. 
 
 Tara da da, etc. 
 
 \-""^"r> n u, MUJ_^_ 
 
 bmg me anotheij. 
 SIHGER 
 
 A spoonful at the end of every stanza. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Don t stop after you begfn. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 Pay me in advance. 
 BOY 
 
 I suppose I ll have to. (He fueds the Baltnd- 
 
 SINGER (sings second ballad) 
 
 The Ballad of the Three Little Pigs 
 
 Two little pigs were pink pink pink 
 And one little pig was black black 
 The three little pigs were very good friends, 
 But one little pig was black black. 
 
 Three little pigs would play play play 
 But one little pig was black black 
 And three little pigs would have a jolly time 
 Though one little pig was black black. 
 
 I2O 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 Three little pigs soon grew grew grew 
 And one little pig was black black. 
 The three little pigs became fat hogs 
 And one fat hog was black black. 
 
 The two fat hogs were pink pink pink 
 And one fat hog was black black. 
 The three fat hogs all made good ham, / 
 Though one fat hog was black black./ 
 
 BOY 
 
 Sing me another. 
 SINGER 
 
 I can t. I m tired. 
 BOY 
 
 Are you going to sing those at the beheading? 
 SINGER 
 
 What beheading? 
 
 BOY 
 
 At the Queen s beheading. 
 SINGER 
 Where? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Over there. 
 SINGER 
 When? 
 
 BOY 
 
 To-day. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 I must be going. Certainly I ll sing there and 
 I ll take up a collection. 
 BOY 
 
 It s going to be before the King s four clocks 
 strike twelve. 
 
 121 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 SINGER 
 
 It s nearly time now. If I can collect a piece 
 
 of gold I can buy a vermillion robe and sing at 
 
 the King s court. 
 BOY 
 
 I could collect a pail of gold and two finger 
 
 rings and sit at the feet of the King if I d break 
 
 a promise. 
 ( SINGER 
 
 V Perhaps you willJ 
 BOY / 
 
 Would you? 
 
 SINGER 
 
 I d rather sing along the highway all my life. 
 It is better to dream of a vermillion robe than 
 , to have one that is not honestly got. 
 
 /BOY 
 
 \ The Blindman said something like Wat. 
 
 SINGER 
 
 Who said what?^ ( 
 
 BOY - " * i 
 
 The Blindman said if I broke a promise I d 
 never again see a beautiful noble with a golden 
 crown when I closed my eyes. 
 SINGER 
 
 He was right. 
 
 BOY 
 
 When you get your vermillion robe will you 
 let me see it? 
 SINGER 
 
 That I will . . . Good-bye. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Good-bye. (Singer goes out) 
 122 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 BOY (hums a snatch of the ballads) 
 
 [The Headsman steps into the door and plants 
 his axe beside him for an impressive picture. 
 The Boy turns and starts in terror. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Have you seen the Queen? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Sir? 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Have you seen the Queen? 
 
 BOY 
 
 How should I, sir ? I ve been cooking the len 
 tils. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 She is here! 
 
 BOY 
 
 How could she be here, sir ? 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Well, if she isn t here, where is she? 
 BOY (relieved) 
 
 I don t know where she is if she isn t here, sir. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 She has too much sense to hide so near the 
 castle and on the short cut to the headsman s 
 block . . . Do you know who I am? 
 
 BOY 
 
 I think so sir. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Think? Don t you know? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Yes, sir. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Who am I then? 
 
 123 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 fi 
 
 BOY 
 
 You re the Dreadful Headsman. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 I am the winder of the king s four clocks and 
 when I am needed I am the best headsman in 
 three kingdoms. And Ms is my axe. 
 BOY 
 
 Is it sharp? 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 It will split a hare in two. (Runs finger near 
 blade meaningly} 
 BOY 1 , 
 OM 
 
 HEAE^MAN 
 
 A hare in twoj 
 
 BOY H 
 
 Would you really cut off the Queen s head? 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 That s my business: to cut off heads and the 
 nobler the head the better my business. 
 
 BOY 
 
 She s such a nice queen. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Have you seen her? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Y es, sir. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 When? 
 
 BOY 
 
 One da,y when I was boiling some lentils. 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Did you see her neck? 
 BOY I 
 
 Yes, sir. 
 
 124 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Not much bigger than a hair. 
 
 BOY (desperately friendly) 
 Have you seen my knife? 
 
 HEADSMAK (sharply) 
 
 I m talking about the Queen and I m going to 
 talk about myself until I hear the King s trum 
 peter calling me to the beheading. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Yes, sjr. (Edging between the bench and door 
 of the\ room where the Queen is hidden) 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Sit down. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I rather stand, sir. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Sit down! And I ll tell you how I m going to 
 behead the Queen. 
 BOY 
 
 You can t behead her after the King s four 
 clocks have struck twelve. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 How did you know that? 
 BOY (realizing his blunder) 
 Well 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Nobody knows that except the royal family and 
 people of the court. 
 BOY 
 
 A little bird told me. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Where is the little bird that I may cut its head 
 off? 
 
 125 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 BOY 
 
 Don t hurt the little bird, but tell me how you 
 are going to behead the Queen. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Well (At the stool) This is the block. 
 There s the Queen behind the iron gate. We ll 
 say that door is the gate. 
 [The Boy starts. 
 
 And out there is the crowd. Now, I appear 
 like this and walk up the steps. The crowd 
 cheers, so I bow and show myself and my axe. 
 Then I walk over to the gate 
 
 BOY 
 
 Don t go in there. That s my mother s room 
 and you might frighten her. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Who s in your mother s room? 
 BOY 
 She is. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Well, if she s in there, maybe she d like to hear 
 my story. 
 BOY 
 
 She s in bed. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Sick? (The Boy nods vigorously) All right 
 . . . Well, I ve bowed to the crowd and I start 
 for the Queen. If you won t open the door, 
 you pretend you re the Queen. 
 
 BOY 
 
 I don t want to be the Queen. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Come on and pretend. I walk up to the gate 
 so, and open it and then I say " Your Majesty, 
 126 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 I m going to cut off your head " and she bows 
 bow (The Boy bows) And then I say 
 " Are you ready? " and she says, " I am ready." 
 Then I blindfold her 
 
 BOY 
 
 Now, don t blindfold me, sirl 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 I m showing you how it s done. 
 
 BOY 
 
 But if you blindfold me I can t see when you 
 do it. 
 HEADSMAN (admitting the point) 
 
 All right . . . Then I blindfold her and I lead 
 her to the block and I say, " Have you made 
 your peace with Heaven?" and she says, 
 u Yes." . . . 
 
 BOY 
 
 If you won t tell me any more I ll give you my 
 knife. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Aren t you interested? 
 
 BOY 
 
 Yes, but your axe is so sharp and it might slip. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Sharp? It will cut a hair in two, but I know 
 how to handle it ... Come on ... (The 
 Boy reluctantly falls into the picture again) 
 And then . . .(Raising his axe) And *hen 
 . . . (Headsman sees the Butterfly) And 
 then . . . How-d -ye-do ? Butterfly. 
 [The Boy runs to the pot unnoticed by the 
 Headsman. 
 BOY 
 
 Lentils, lentils, boil the time away 
 127 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 That my good queen may live to-day. 
 \ [The Headsman and the Butterfly are having 
 quite a game. 
 
 Suddenly the great clock begins to strike and 
 the two next larger follow slowly. 
 The Headsman rushes to the back door with 
 his axe. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Why doesn t the trumpeter blow his call! 
 [The Boy counts the strokes of the clock and 
 as the third clock strikes twelve he rushes to 
 the door of the bedroom. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Queen! Queen! It s mid-day. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Queen Queen (He strides to the bed 
 room and drags the Queen out) The little 
 clock hasn t struck yet! (He pulls the Queen 
 toward the rear door and shouts) Here! 
 Here! don t let the little clock strike! I ve 
 won the pail of gold ! 
 
 [The Boy has set the bench in the doorway so 
 that the Headsman stumbles. The Butterfly 
 keeps flying against the Headsman s nose, which 
 makes him sneeze. 
 
 BOY 
 
 No one heard you! 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Let me go ! Let me go ! 
 
 HEADSMAN (sneezing as only a headsman can) 
 The Queen! The Queen! 
 [The little clock begins to strike. 
 The Boy counts eagerly, one, two, three, etc. 
 128 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 Between strokes the Headsman sneezes and 
 
 shouts. 
 
 The Queen! The Queen! 
 
 [At the fifth stroke the Headsman falls on his 
 
 knees. The Queen becomes regal, her foot on 
 
 his neck. 
 
 The Boy kneels at her side. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Base villain ! According to the law I am saved ! 
 But you are doomed. As Winder of the King s 
 four clocks the law commands that you be de 
 capitated because the four clocks did not strike 
 together. Do you know that law? 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Oh, Lady, I do, but I did but do my duty. I 
 was sharpening my axe this morning and I 
 couldn t wind the clocks. Intercede for me. 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 It is useless. 
 
 BOY 
 
 Is there any other headsman? 
 QUEEN 
 
 The law says the Chief Headsman must behead 
 
 the chief winder of the King s four clocks. 
 BOY 
 
 Can the Dreadful Headsman behead himself? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 Aye, there s the difficulty. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Oh, your Majesty, pardon me! 
 
 BOY 
 
 Yes, pardon him. 
 
 129 
 
PORTMANTEAU PLAYS 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 On one condition : He is to give his axe to the 
 museum and devote all his old age to the care 
 of the King s four clocks. . . . For myself, I 
 shall pass a law requiring the ladies of the court 
 to wear no jewels. So, if the King s aunt can 
 wear no rings, she assuredly cannot have a 
 ring-toe, and hereafter I may step where I 
 please. ... Sir Headsman, lead the way. . . . 
 And now, my little boy, to you I grant every 
 Friday afternoon an hour s sport with the 
 Mime, a spotted cow for the little Milkmaid, a 
 cushion and a canopy at the palace gate for the 
 Blindman, a vermillion cloak for the Ballad- 
 Singer, a velvet gown, a silken kerchief and a 
 cloth-of-gold bonnet fojr. your mother, and for 
 yourself a milk-white palfry, two pails of gold, 
 two finger rings, a castle and a sword. . . . 
 Arise, Sir Little Boy. . . . Your arm. 
 
 BOY 
 
 May I take my knife, your Majesty? 
 
 QUEEN 
 
 That you may. (He gets the knife and returns 
 to her. She lays her hand on his arm) Sir 
 Headsman, announce our coming. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Make way make way for her Majesty 
 the Queen. 
 QUEEN (correcting) 
 And Sir Little Boy. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 What s his other name, your Majesty? 
 BOY (whispering with the wonder of it all) 
 Davie, 
 
 130 
 
 
WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 QUEEN (to the Headsman) 
 Davie. 
 
 HEADSMAN 
 
 Make way make way for her Majesty the 
 Queen and Sir Davie Little Boy. 
 [They go out. 
 
 Immediately the Boy returns and gets the pot 
 of lentils and runs after the Queen as 
 The Curtains Close. 
 
 The Portmanteau Theatre Boxed to Leave 
 
APPENDIX 
 
THE REPERTORY OF THE PORTMAN- 
 TEAU THEATER 
 
 IN THE ORDER OF PRODUCTION 
 
 THE TRIMPLET Stuart Walker 
 
 A FAN AND Two CANDLE 
 STICKS Mary MacMlllan 
 
 Six WHO PASS WHILE THE 
 
 LENTILS BOIL Stuart Walker 
 
 THE SEVEN GIFTS (A PAN 
 TOMIME) , Stuart Walker 
 
 THE MOON LADY (A PAN 
 TOMIME) Stuart Walker 
 
 NEVERTHELESS Stuart Walker 
 
 GAMMER GURTON S NEDLE . William Stevenson 
 
 THE LADY OF THE WEEP 
 ING WILLOW TREE Stuart Walker 
 
 THE GOLDEN DOOM Lord Dunsany 
 
 VOICES Hortense Flexner* 
 
 THE CRIER BY NIGHT Gordon Bottomley 
 
 THE GODS OF THE MOUN 
 TAIN Lord Dunsany 
 
 THE MEDICINE-SHOW .... Stuart Walker 
 
 THE VERY NAKED BOY . . . Stuart Walker 
 
 THE BIRTHDAY OF THE IN 
 FANTA (FROM OSCAR 
 WILDE S STORY) Stuart Walker 
 
 KING ARGIMENES AND THE 
 UNKNOWN WARRIOR . . . Lord Dunsany 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 CASTS 
 
 At the Thirty-ninth Street Theater, and the Prin 
 cess Theater, New York City, During Novem 
 ber and December of 1916. 
 
 PERSONS BEFORE THE PLAYS 
 
 MEMORY . .. Florence W oiler sen 
 
 THE PROLOGUE Lew Medbury 
 
 THE DEVICE-BEARER ..... Edmond Crenshaw 
 
 THE TRIMPLET 
 
 THE LADY CARATINA .... Gitruda Tristjanski 
 THE LADY BOBOLARA .... Judith Lowry 
 THE BARON MILTON-MAU 
 RICE , Willard Webster 
 
 THE MARQUESS OF STRE- 
 
 NATHCO . . . . Edgar Stehli 
 
 THE PERSON PASSING BY. . McKay Morris 
 You Gregory Kelly 
 
 NEVERTHELESS 
 
 A BOY Gregory Kelly 
 
 A GIRL ., Nancy Winston 
 
 A BURGLAR . ., McKay Morris 
 
 Six WHO PASS WHILE THE LENTILS BOIL 
 
 THE BOY . . . . Gregory Kelly 
 
 THE QUEEN . Judith Lowry 
 
 THE MIME Willard Webster 
 
 THE MILKMAID Nancy Winston 
 
 THE BLINDMAN ........ Edgar Stehli 
 
 THE BALLAD-SINGER Stuart Walker 
 
 THE HEADSMAN . .,. . McKay Morris 
 
 136 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 THE MEDICINE-SHOW 
 
 The Medicine-Show was not played in New York 
 City. 
 
 LUT ER Willard Webster 
 
 Giz Edgar Stehli 
 
 DR. STEV N VANDEXTER . . . Lew Medbury 
 
 137 
 
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