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University of Illinois Library L161—H41 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2021 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign https://archive.org/details/minickcomedyinthOOkauf ZTRT ne Be oF THE e a ua i Aen o we f GEORGE S| KAUPMAND F000 RR nd EDNA FERBER ts ie a eas THE RALE McCOY A mystery comedy in 3 acts. By M. J. J. MacKeswdl | 4 males, 3 females. 1 ‘interior scene. Modern colnet : The story of the play is that of Robbie John McCoy, 2 SORE Gs of | apparently no fixed occupation, who is married to Rose Ann McCoy, . a woman of property and of very fixed ideas as to handling a hus- i ’ band. He returns to his home after an absence of three days and has only dim ideas as to all he had done during the time, but he does recall that he had, with great difficulty, arranged a match between Billy McCandless. and Maggie Robinson. This tale and an unusual’ theory advanced by a stranger, concerning death and ghosts, fails to interest, much less mollify, Mrs. McCoy, who wants a better explanation of her spouse’s protracted absence. Left alone Robbie © John dozes in his chair and turns around after a moment to find . that a stranger has arrived. She is garbed in the dress of the ancient Egyptians. The strange thing about the story, so far, is that Robbie John is not asleep. He is not dreaming and the visitor \is real flesh and blood. What actually happened is too good to unfold here, but suffice it to say that the rapidly occurring situations, led up to by sparkling lines, hold your interest from start to finish. yy (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 75 CENTS. THE WASP’S NEST Mystery comedy in 3 acts. By Adelaide Matthews sud: Martha Stanley. Produced originally at Wallack’s Theatre, _ New York. 7 males, 5 females. 1 interior. Modern cos- tumes. ah | Roger McDowell comes to the deserted home of his dead grand- father at midnight to meet a prospective buyer. At the same time a train en route to New York is held up and robbed by two bandits, |. eh later seek refuge in the abandoned house. Henry Fifield, the executor and mortgage holder of the estate, also comes to the house | ~ this night to seek the original documents and bonds on which he | | has been embezzling funds. These bonds rightfully belong to the | - McDowells. The presence of these various persons, in addition to a colored maid; a young attractive girl, who has escaped from ‘the iy robber’ train; the prospective buyer and others, makes for an ex- | ceedingly funny situation, since each group believed themselves ‘oie: Se alone in the place. There are mysterious disappearances, knocki groans, weird rushing sounds, ringing bells, apparitions, everyth that a first class mystery pay should have. it ‘| bpisoutey: twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 eneegs MINICK A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS BY GEORGE S. KAUFMAN AND EDNA FERBER CoPyRIGHT, 1922, 1924, By DouBLEDAY, PacE & Company CoPpYRIGHT, 1922, By THE CROWELL PUBLISHING CoMPANY CoPYRIGHT, 1924, By GrorcE S. KAUFMAN AND EDNA FERBER (Under the title of “Old Man Minick’) CopyRIGHT, 1925, By SAMUEL FRENCH, INC. All Rights Reserved CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that “MINICK,” being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Canada, and the other countries of the Copyright Union, is subject to a royalty, and anyone presenting the play without the consent of the owners or their authorized agents will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications for the amateur acting rights must be made to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. New York | LonpDoN SAMUEL FRENCH | SAMUEL FRENCH, Lt. PUBLISHER | 26 SourHAMPTON STREET 25 West 45TH StrezT = | STRAND, W.C.2 MINICK All Rights Reserved Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book without a valid contract for production first hav- ing been obtained from the publisher, confers no right or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play publicly or in private for gain or charity. In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance, representation, production, recitation, or public reading or radio broadcasting may be given except by special arrangement with Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York. This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of Twenty-Five Dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, one week before the date when the play is given. Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play: “Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French of New York.” Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any infringement of the author’s rights as follows: “SECTION 4966:—Any person publicly performing or rep- resenting any dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and presentation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year.”—U. S. Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3. Printed in the United States of America by THE RICHMOND HILL RECORD, RICHMOND HILL, N. Y¥¢, The metropolitan premier of MINICK was given on Wednesday evening, September 24th, 1924, at the Boott Theatre, West 45th Street, New York City. THe ProcrRAM WaAs AS FOoLLows: WINTHROP AMES PRESENTS MINICK A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS BY George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber The People of the Play (As they appear) The Players DT o's 5 0. ee a x 8 asain bins n.9, 0) 90 Antoinette Perry Peer PETE Bg oS ole 52d wei hla id 9. 6a cox'ecbe vs 908 Phyllis Povah rR ee MTS as a's Ciavaleinte $\4 SW tiny woe 88 Beatrice Moreland AD TMRRIRTE PEIN ey ce sernckatenelccb css esse cas Sydney Booth UME T ENERO MTA iis a's solu ie «tbo eo hic s's Coie aisles Frederic Burt CREDO IVELETICH vs secu wihs eet weds so Ge Gs be O. P. Heggie PERI TIRUATRIITY) iy 64s RE OG co Lda wdielers wots Ralph Bunker DEMME IPTA BLOND)» oi).i5 cis oie oe ano tien’ la ein OW Myra Hampton PERT ERRIETOE ela cist i as sR Ua NT he o'ee Scie aide ble Sele Emma Wise DA RPE TEINIIOVER 55 Unidad tie aWinca's’ s waa Charles R. Burrows PREM RCE ye a Se td's tb ose so swe cecal Thomas Meegan DORM MALININGE. 6 cick cele visslccs seeds’ Lavinia Shannon DAtREN CRACKEEM WALD oo files de fos sess ccuidnale Mary Hubbard RA MEET RET LN Dia Gre sin Sk deeds Wen Jessie Graham es UES. s winiela eeateatee, o Ann Winslow THE ScENE Living-room of Fred and Nettie Minick’s Apartment, 5218 South Park Avenue, Chicago. ACT I: An Evening in Spring. ACT II: Six Months Later, a November Afternoon. ACT III: The Following Morning. 7 2 £.. * Si ~~ Bsn! Fe “eel CHARACTERS Lit Corry NetTTIE MINICK ANNIE Jim Corey Frep MINICK Outp Man MIniIck At DIAMOND Marce DIAMOND U\ \ Arvin a Mr. DIETENHOFER y) Mr. PRIcE Mrs. SMALLRIDGE Miss CRACKENWALD Mrs. LIpPINcoTtT Miss STack NotE—This play can be played by six men and seven women. Eliminate “Miss Stack” and dis- tribute her few lines to other women. Annie and Lula can be played by the same actress. THE SCENE Living-room of Fred and Nettie Minick’s Apart- ment, 5218 South Park Avenue, Chicago. Act I. An Evening in Spring. Act II. Six Months Later. A November A fter- noon. Act. III. The Following Morning. «AOINI,, 40 [J] ANV ‘[]-] SLOW YOd Lag ‘AYOX MAN ‘AULVAH], HLOOG AHL AO AOVIG AH] | LIBRARY OF THE JNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS ath MINICK ACT ONE ScENE: The lwing-room of Frep and NETTIE MINICK’s apartment in Chicago. There is no one on the stage as the Curtain rises. From the dining-room comes the sound of silverware being dumped into a drawer with increasing vengeance. Then the drawer ts slammed shut with decision. ANNIE is seen to go through passage into kitchen, and the sound of women’s vowces are heard from the passage left. The clock on the mantel strikes once. It is half past seven in the evening. Liw’s voice, growing clearer as she approaches the passage door, 1s heard before she enters. Liv. (Enters and calls back) ... Vl tell you what we'll do then. I'll read the names off if you want to check them and we can see how many we have on each of the—where did you say it was? (By sofa.) NettTieE. (Far off) What? Lit. (Crossing to desk) Where’s the committee list ? Nettie. (Far off) I don’t hear you, Lil. Lit. What? NETTIE. What did you say? Liz. Oh, never mind, I’ll find it. 5 6 MINICK [Goes to desk and searches about on tt. NETTIE enters from passage, carrying folded card table.| NetTicE. What did you say, Lil? Lit. The committee list. Where did you say it was ? NetticE. In the third pile under the school list. [Starts to set up card table in front of sofa.| Lit. Well I dont 4!) ) oh, yes: “Heremireis: You’re wonderful, Net—you ought to see my desk. Nettie. If I didn’t keep everything in its place in that desk I’d be swamped. It’s the one piece of furniture in the flat that I won’t let Fred use. Lit. I wish I could keep Jim away from mine. It’s always stuffed full of golf scores, decks of cards and pipe cleaners. (Carrying papers to card table.) Nettie. (By now she has set up table and sits on sofa) Train him. Come on. We can get some of this done. Lit. (A glance at the clock; getting desk char, placing it R. of table, sits) It’s half past seven already, Net. His train’s in. Nettie. Well, it takes twenty-five minutes to get up on the L. (There is a bang from the kitchen; NETTIE shakes her head.) Again? Lit. If I were you I’d speak to her. Nettie. She knows she’s got me. Lit. She’d never do that in my house. (She notices the card table for the first time.) Oh, you did get a new one after all. Nettic. What? Oh, card table. Yes, once they begin to go... (She is evidently thwmking of something else.) Let’s see, South Side. .. . (She is ranging papers in piles.) Here’s Mrs. Loper’s. Lit. We'll only have to stop in the middle of this. NettTIE. They won’t be here for another baie minutes. MINICK " Lit. Jim will. He said he’d be up right after dinner. 4 Nettigz. He was foolish not to come for dinner, il. Lit. Well, he wanted to see this man anyhow, ni he thought he might as well take dinner with im. Nettie. (All her attention on her work now) Now then. There are two hundred and sixty-four school houses in Chicago. We should be able to throw open at least twenty by, say, the middle of May. That gives us two months. Then we will . Lit, Well, now, you want to do what? Divide the work according to districts first? [Sounds of slamming and banging from off L. The two women look at each other.| Nettigz. She is in a vile temper. After all, Lil, I suppose it’s annoying to be made to get out of your room on such short notice. Lit. What time did he telegraph? NETTIE. I got it at five. I don’t know why he changed his mind and came today instead of Mon- day. Of course when I told Annie she’d have to clean out her room and pack her things right away— well! Lit. You don’t think she’ll leave, do you? Nettie. I did at first. Of course we’re paying her two dollars more a week—she’s going to sleep at her married sister’s. You know—that Emma who sometimes comes in to help serve. (A sigh.) Oh, well, I hope it’ll work out all right. Li. Net, I’m the last person in the world to want to discourage you, but it’s going to make an awful difference in your household. An old man is an old man. Nettiz. I know. But he’s really a dear. And after all, he’s Fred’s father. 8 MINICK Lit. Why couldn’t he stay down in Bloomington where he knows everybody? He could get a house- keeper. Nettic. Lil—he couldn’t. Lit. Why not? Nettie. Now, Lil, I’m telling this to you and nobody else. What Father Minick has left will bring him a few hundred a year, and that’s all. Lit. Really? Why, I thought he had NETTIE. Yes, so did we. But Mother Minick was sick for almost three years, and you know what that means, with operations. If Father Minick had only stayed in his own business! But no, he had to put every cent into that automobile thing and— gone. At his time of life! Lit, My dear! Then [She stops as the clatter of a clothes-horse is heard. There is an instant of silence and ANNIE ap- pears in the passage doorway, clothes-horse m hand. | Nettie. What is it, Annie? Annie. I always kept the clothes-horse in mv room back of the door. Where do you want it to go now? NETTIE. Can’t you keep it in the basement? Annie. I can’t be lugging it up all the time. I iron up here. NetTTiE. Keep it in the kitchen. Annie. I got the ironing board back of the door already. And the carpet sweeper. Lit. How about the back porch? Nettie. (Eagerly) Yes! Annie. With the smoke and the dirt from the alley? Lit, Leave it where it is. Nettiz. Oh, Lil, I can’t have a clothes-horse in Father Minick’s bedroom. MINICK 9 Lit, Well—there you are. [Short pause.] NETTIE. Put it—put it in the dining-room, Annie, just for tonight, and I'll find a place for it in the morning. ANNIE. (Grimly) The flat won’t be any bigger in the morning. [Exits into dining-room; the clothes-horse clatters into place; the two women look at each other, meaningly. ANNIE returns to the kitchen.| Lit. I give her a week. Nettie. Lil, don’t say that! . She’s such a won- derful cook and goes right ahead with her work. I don’t do a thing but the marketing. (Rsses and goes to desk, gets card catalogue and returns to sofa.) Where were we? (Reads.) Kenwood School. Lit. Did she make that what’s-its-name we had for supper? Nettie. It was good, wasn’t it? I never can have it when Fred’s home. You know the way men are. Meat and potatoes—that’s Fred. Lit, Jim’s the same way. Steak seven times a week, if I’d give it to him. NETTIE. Fred, too. I'll bet that downtown tonight he ordered exactly what he’d have at home. Lit. I’ve been married to Jim Corey four years. And every time we go out with the crowd on Satur- day night and I order lobster salad because it makes, me feel I’m out—ycu know—Jim says, “Why don’t you take something sensible? You know lobster means bicarb.” NetTTIE. (Busy with her cards) Englewood. Normal School, high school— Lit. Daisy was saying only yesterday that she and George always—— | ‘10 MINICK [The telephone rings.| Nettie. Lil, answer it, will you? It may be Jim for you. Lit. (Rises and goes to phone) Jim wouldn't be phoning. He’ll be here almost any-—— (R. to phone.) Hello! Datsy’s VotcE. Drexel 4269? Isis) Yes. Datsy’s Voice. Nettie? Lit. No, this isn’t Mrs. Minick. D’11—— Nettie.’ Who is: it, Lill Daisy’s Voice. Is she there? Lit. Yes, she’s here. I just answered for—— Datsy’s Voice. This is Daisy. Nettie. Who is it? Lit. Who? Datsy’s Voice. This is Daisy. Lit. (Laughs) Isn’t that weird! (Turns to NETTIE, repeats.) Isn’t that weird! It’s Daisy. (Into phone again.) Isn’t that weird! I had your name on my lips this very minute. Datsy’s Voice. Sounds like Lil. Lit. Yeh, Lil. I had dinner here at Nettie’s. Jim’s downtown. [Sits on stool.] NetTTIcE. What’s she want? Datsy’s Voice. Are you going 0} (Together meet him downtown? Lit. No, he’s going to call for me here. Datsy’s Voice. If Nettie’s busy I NettTiE. If it’s about the crowd, we can’t go. Lit. No, she Datsy’s Voice. I just wanted to be sure that she and Fred knew about tonight. Lit, Yes she MINICK tI Datsy’s Votce. She knows about Bloom’s, doesn’t she? Lit. Well, she Nettie. Tell her Fred and I can’t possibly go out tonight. I wouldn’t leave Father Minick, Datsy’s Voice. George has found a new place where you can get prac- tically anything you want and he says the food is delicious, too. They make a specialty of sea food and they say they ship it fresh from New York. Besides it’s our anniversary and I think it’s mean of Nettie—— NetTicE. Tell her Fred’s father’s coming to live with us and he'll feel strange here and I don’t think it would be right to leave him the very first night. He’s an old man and I know , Rem eee old Aebaboutit-and Seenee) Lit. Fred’s father’s coming to live with them, you know, and I suppose they feel it wouldn’t be right to leave him the very first night. It’s too bad, because it’s your anniversary and I know you counted on having the whole crowd together (Breaks off in des- peration.) Oh, my goodness, I can’t hear a thing! Wait a minute! (To NETTIE.) Wait a minute! [The voices stop for a moment, then start again. | Nettiz. (Rising) Here, let me talk to her. I'll talk to her. [Goes to phone.|] Lit. Wait a minute. She wants to talk to you. [Lit leaves the phone as NETTIE takes it. At the same time ANNIE enters from passage. LIL 12 MINICK goes up R. of sofa. ANNIE has @ gray woolen bed blanket in her arms. | Nettie. (Jn telephone) Hello, Daisy. I’m terribly sorry, but we can’t possibly ANNIE. What blankets do you want on his bed? NETTIE. —go out tonight. Fred’s father’s coming, and you know—— ANNIE. I say, what blankets do (Together) you want on his bed? NettTiz. If it was any other Annie. I say what . Nettie. What, Annie? Wait a minute, Daisy. What is it, Annie? Annie. I’m making up his bed. What blankets do you want on it? (Together) [NETTIE turns to ANNIE. As she does sa the audi- ence can hear Datsy’s voice m a flood of protest. | Daisy’s Voice. If you and Fred don’t come to- night, I’ll never forgive you. It’s George and my anniversary and you know it. Everybody else in the crowd is coming. NETTIE. (All the while talking to ANNIE) Take one of the spare ones packed away on the top shelf in the hall closet. You’d better take two. An old man. Fold up yours and we'll air them tomorrow on the line before we pack them away. (Jn phone.) I was just telling Annie about the blankets. (Stmultaneous ) ANNIE. Packed NETTIE. (Into phone) where? Blankets — never mind. Nothing. I was just-—— MINICK 13 Liz. (Talks across sofa to ANNIE) Mrs. Minick says to take one of the spare ones from the top shelf in the hall closet. Annie. I got to get up on a chair. Lit. And did you hear the rest of it? To fold up yours and they’ll be aired tomorrow. ANNIE, Tomorrow. What else all’s going to be done tomorrow and it’s Sunday! [Extts D.u.] NETTIE. Datsy’s Voice. Now, listen, Nettie, you and Fred simply must come tonight. Nertiz. Daisy, you know perfectly well I never miss one of the crowd’s Saturday nights unless it’s simply un- avoidable. Daltsy’s VOERGE* When’s he coming—the old man? I’m expecting him any minute now. Fred’s bringing him up from the station. [Jim rings the doorbell.| Lit. I'll go. [Goes into hallway. | Datisy’s Votce. Well, when Fred comes I want to talk to him. I think it’s an outrage. NETTIE. Jim. NETTIE. But, Daisy, you know I’m dying to go. (In hallway) Hello, there, kiddy! I’ve got to hang up now. Here’s Jim! Well, call Fred later, Daisy. I’ve got to go now. (She hangs up as Jim and Lit enter from the hall, hts arm around her shoulder. ) She’s awfully unreasonable about this, Lil. (Note: Daisy's Voice all through this conversation is heard indistinctly by the audience, through means of a Dicto- graph.) 14 MINICK Jim. ‘What’s the trouble? NetticE. (A few steps right) Oh, helio, Jim! It’s nothing. Daisy’s so unreasonable. She ought to know that with Father Minick coming Jim. Hasn’t got here yet, eh? NetTTIE. Fred’s meeting him. They’re due now. Jim. Say, look here. I was thinking, Lil and I oughtn’t to be here. You don’t want a lot of people around when he comes, Nettic. Nonsense! It'll be nice to have things lively. He and Fred will have had their talk on the way up from the station. Lit. Now, Net, don’t hesitate if you’d rather-—— [Gets desk chair from table and puts it at desk.] Nettie. No. Really. Marge and Al are coming in later anyway. They'll pick you up. Jim. (Takes off his coat and hat and tosses them on hall table) Well, all right. Lit. (Goes to card table) I suppose we might as well put these away, huh? [Net and Lit make trips from card table to desk, putting away cards and papers.] NETTIE. We didn’t get much done, did we? [In front of sofa.] Jim. (Crossing tL.) My gosh! What’s all that? [Picks up some papers off card table; Lit takes them from him.] Netticz. Don’t mix them, whatever you do. Jim. Club stuff again? [Sts on sofa.] Lit. (A trifle belligerently) Yes, it is, [Crossing to desk.]} MINICK 16 Jim. What are you trying to do, anyhow? Fix the world? Lit. (Back to table) Jim, even if you don’t understand it, you must admit that three thousand intelligent women banded together Nettie. As a matter of fact, the Woman’s Civic Aid numbers over three thousand. Jim. All right. I’m not saying anything against it. Only I don’t understand just what you’re driv- ing at. [Lit crosses to desk. |] Nettie. We're trying to do a real welfare work. Were going to bring parents and children—especially foreign-born ones—closer together—at least my committee is. | [Lin is at table.] Lit. We're giving a series of Saturday night get-togethers in the school houses. [Returns to desk.]| NETTIE. Here are all these school houses lying idle every week-end. Now, why can’t they be used for community gatherings? [Lit and NETTIE finish placing the last neat pile of papers on the desk.| Jim. All right. But I could run Sears-Roebuck with less paper. NETTIE. (Giving him a quick glance) Why’d you say Sears-Roebuck ? Jim. Huh? Why, I don’t know—I—— NETTIE. (Crossing to him) Now, Jim. If you and Fred are still thinking about that mail order scheme—— 16 MINICK Lit. After all Net and I’ve said! Jim. Good heavens, no! [Sliding to upper edge of sofa.] NETTIE. Because Fred and I have been all over it and he knows the way I feel about it. I don’t think either of you ought to give up good positions—— [Jim rises.] Lit. (Goes right up to him, taking him by sur- prise) Jim! You're not still thinking about it, are your Jim. (Crosses D.R. and looks at clock) No, I tell you! They’re late, aren’t they? Fred and—— Lit. (Touching him on the arm as he passes) Because if I thought you were ! Jim. (Turns desperately) Lil, for God’s sake! (Goes to desk.) Suppose I phone down and see if the train’s in. Maybe it’s late. [Sits at desk.] Nettic. I wish you would. They ought to be here. [At lower end of sofa.| Jum. What’s he coming on? What road, I mean? NetTTIE. Chicago and Alton. From Blooming- ton. Jim. (Turning leaves of phone book) Bloom- ington, huh? Lit. I suppose he’s had his dinner? [Kneeling on sofa, facing NETTIE who is back of table. | Nettie. Oh, he’ll eat on the train, of course, Alton Limited—there’s a diner, 61 28rg 229 « AOINI,, LIBRARY OF THE UVERSHTY OF ILLINOIS MINICK 17 Jim. (With phone book) Chicago—Chicago— Chicago Alton Railroad. (NETTIE goes mn dining- room, gets glass of water and pours tt on roses in bowl on table.) General and Executive offices— Division Accountant—Pullman Reservations—Lost Articles—Freight Traffic Department—Baggage Room—Inf—Here it is! Information! (Removes receiver.) Franklin 6700... . NettTic. (Jn a half whisper to Lit, indicates ANNIE) I’m going to see what she’s doing. [Tiptoes to passage doorway, Lit rises and goes to lower edge of sofa.| Jim. (To NETTIE) So the old gentleman’s com- ing to live with you, huh? Quite an undertaking. Quite an—Franklin 6700. (NETTIE, who has been peering and listening at the passage door, from which she can see into the kitchen, turns, and speaks to Lin in pantomime, moving her lips, “I don’t see her in the kitchen. I guess she’s in her room.” Liu re- plies, “Oh, I hope he lures Lit. Never mind, Jim. NETTIE. (Sotto voce to LiL) Oh, she’s in there half the time, probably sitting down. [Sneaks into the passage.| Jim. What’s going on? Lit. Oh, never mind! [NETTIE ts back again.] Jim. What’s all the fussing about? Lit. (Irritated) Oh, Jim! Jim. Well—— (Jn phone.) Hello! Hello! (Turns again to Nettie.) How old is he, anyway? NetTIE, What? 18 MINICK [Lit crosses to u.R. of sofa.| Jim. How old is the old gentleman? Nettic. Father Minick? He’s_ seventy-one. (Considers.) Yes, seventy-one. Bape My lyri Jim. Hello! Say, listen. They must answer; it’s the Chicago & Alton Railway Station. (Hum- ming to himself.) Seventy-one, huh? Well, you know what the Bible says. Three score and ten. NETTIE. (Arranging magazines on table) I hope Father Minick will live to be with us for many, many years. Jim. Sure. Sure. But we’ve all got to go some time—Hello! Lit. Well, Net, I hope it turns out all right. Of course, if it were an old lady it’d be different. Laura Taylor’s mother-in-law lives with them and putters around. (Jim hangs up phone book.) Hems curtains, takes a hand in the cooking and fusses around her bedroom. But an old man with nothing to do! Jim. Hello! Information! Hello! [The sound of the outer door slamming. FReEp’s familiar whistle that always announces his homecoming. | Nettie. Here they are! [Crosses to front of sofa.] Jim. Oh! [Hangs up receiver and rises, steps up Cc. FRED enters, carrying Minicx’s bag.] FreD. Hello! Here he is! MINICK 19 [Pops back into hall and draws on Mintcx by the latter's left arm. Otp Man MINIcK enters. He 1s smiling a little uncertainly, blinking a little what with the light and the strange faces that greet him, but he 1s jaunty enough.| NETTIE. (Crosses R. to just in front of him) Well, Father Minick! (Kisses him.) I’m awfully glad to see you! How are you? All right? Minick. You bet! (Pinches her cheek.) You're looking pretty fine, Nettie! Nettie. Here— (Crosses and gets Rr. of him.) give me your coat. Fred, you know where the bag goes. Minick. Now, don’t you wait on me. I can take care of myself fine. Frep. (Zo Jim and Lit) Well, this is nice! Hello! Hare you! [Puts down MINIcx’s bag on phone stool, goes into hall to leave his hat and coat.]| Jim and Lit. Hello! Nettrc. Father, this is Mr. and Mrs. Corey. Friends of ours. Lit. How do you do, Mr. Minick ? Jrm. Hi’are you! NETTIE. Well, father, take off your coat. You’re going to stay a while, you know. Minick. (Starts to take off his coat, shunning her aid. Encounters Jim, who in turn has stepped forward to assist him. To Nettiz) All right. (To Jim.) Never mind! I can do it! (He takes off his coat unaided, tosses it and his hat on desk chair. Bringing his hands together with a clap, he rubs them briskly. He's at home.) Well! Certainly got a nice place here. Frep. (Reéntering from hall) Like it? 20 MINICK NETTIE. Well, father, are you tired from your trip? Minick. Me? No—takes more’n a train trip to tire me. Yes sir! (Telephone rings; FRep answers it.) —more’n a train trip to tire me Frep. Hello!) What? Why, nol gebcoa. think—wait a minute. (To the others.) Does any- body want the Chicago & Alton? Jim. No! Nettie. Oh, that was long ago. Frep. (Jn phone) No! [Hangs up.] Lit. (Taking a step to Minick) I guess your train was a little late, wasn’t it? Minick. Ma’am? Lit. Wasn't your train a little late? Minick. Nope. Right on time. To the dot. (NETTIE takes Minicx’s coat and hat from the chair and goes into hall with them. FRED goes front of table off into the passage with MINIcK’s stray suit case.) About ten seconds late pulling into Pontiac, but made it up between there and Dwight. Pulled into Dwight at five forty-seven; pulled into Joliet at six forty-five; pulled into Halsted Street Station at seven-twenty sharp; pulled out of Halsted Street Station at Nettie. (Returning from hall, she touches Minticx lightly on the right shoulder, as she crosses him, and goes below sofa to door D.L.) Now, Father. You'll want to see your room. Minick. (Looking around room) All right, Nettie. A-a-a-all right! If it’s half as nice as this, it'll certainly be nice. Yessir! You’ve certainly got it fixed up nice out here. Ver-y tasty! Yessir! I like a little more light, myself, but these lamps are all the go now, seems. MINICK 21 [Lin sits upper arm of sofa.] NETTIE. Come, Father. Minick. All right. Yessir! All the go since I was here (To Liz.) I haven’t been to Chicago since before Ma took sick. Used to come pretty regular. Lit. Is that so? Quite a while, is it? Minick. Well, quite a while, yes. One—two— let’s see. (Preparing for along story, he turns desk chair to face them and sits there.) Ma took sick second week in August almost three years ago. (Jim sits table char.) August eleventh, it was. Com- plained of a pain right here. (NETTIE sits lower arm of sofa.) “Go to a doctor,’ I says. “Don’t tell me about it! Go see Matthews,” I said, “or have him come here!” Had to talk to her like that. Rather suffer than go to a doctor. Scared. Well, finally, I got her to go. Come home talking kind of gay, and said Matthews said it was nothing, but I smelled a rat right away. Yessir. Minute I heard X-Rays I said to Ma—*Ma,” I said—“you can’t fool me as Jim. Terrible thing, sickness. Minick. Anything but sickness, I always say. Any other kind of trouble, yes. But you take sick- ness Nettie. Now, Father Minick, come along. I want you to make yourself at home here. [Minick puts desk chair back and crosses slowly to R. of NETTIE.] Minick. All right. Got some things in my trunk for you, Nettie. Ma’s things. Tell you what else I got, too. You know that last picture she had taken, before she took sick? Well, I had an enlargement made—— (Indicates its sige.) That'll go right over 22 MINICK your bookcase there, slick as anything. (Exits into passage, NETTIE following.) It’s got a handsome gold frame on it, about four inches wide, made of gold mostly Frep. (Enters p.L. and crosses above table to u.R.) Isn’t Dad a wonder for his age? Lit. Certainly is. } Jim. Fine old boy. (Fagethen) Lit. Do you think there is anything I can do for Nettie? [Rises and crosses to desk.| Frep. No, she'll be right in. There’s nothing to do. [The clock strikes eight.] Lit. My! It’s eight o’clock. Marge and Al ought to be here. [Sits in desk chair.] Jim. (To Frep) I guess you and Nettie won't be able to get away, huh? Frep. Well, no. I’m afraid not tonight. Jim. Still, he might turn in early. Even if you came a little late, why Minick. (Enters from passage, followed by NETTIE) Yessir! Very nice! [Goes to FRED, c.] Frep. Well, Dad! [Puts his hand on Mintcx’s shoulder.] NETTIE. (Sits on sofa and invites MINICK fo sit beside her) Now, you sit down, Father, and have a nice visit with us. Lit. Are you all fixed up, Mr. Minick? [Her voice ts raised as though speaking to someone deaf. | MINICK 23 Minick. (Jn raised voice, imitating hers) Yes, Ma’am (Then whispers.) Iam. NETTIE. I was just saying to Father Minick I wish we had a big front bedroom for him, I’d gladly give him ours, and we’d move back there, only that room’s too small for twin beds and the dresser and Fred’s chiffo-robe and all. Minick. That room’s fine. Good enough for anybody. | Nettie. You wait till I get the cretonne slips made. And I'll have a little reading lamp for you and an easy chair. Minicx. That’s fine—fine! Just one thing I noticed, though. I wonder if you could spare me another pillow. You see, I sleep high, and if NETTIE. Why, of course. Now if there’s any- thing else you want Minick. No, no—everything’s fine. (Goes to armchair p.R.) Ill be out here most the time, anyway. (Feels the covering of the chair as he sits.) H’m! Silk! IM. Well, sir, how do you think you’re going to like little old Chicago ? Minick. Chicago? I like Chicago first-rate. Say, I knew Chicago before any of you young sprats were born. Why, you know where the Greenabaum Bank stands, LaSalle and Monroe Frep. LaSalle and Madison, Father. Minick. That’s what I said. (FRED crosses above sofa, gets cigarette box, offers cigarette to Jim who refuses, and comes down lower edge of sofa.) Why, LaSalle Street wasn’t anything, time I was your age. Wooden sidewalks and mud up to here. (Thrusts out one foot.) You could have bought that ground for a song. Frep. I always say if anybody had been a good singer in 1875, he’d own Chicago now. [Sits on sofa beside NETTIE. | 24 MINICK Minick. (Bewtldered) Singer? NetTTI£E. Don’t pay any attention to him, Father Minick. Fred’s just trying to be funny. Minick. Singer? Oh, singer—you mean—say, that’s a good one! Anybody’d been a good singer [Laughs. Jim lights cigar which he has taken from his pocket.] Jim. (Rtsing and crossing down to MINIcx, taking another cigar from his vest pocket) Have a cigar, Mr. Minick? Minick. (Takes it) Thanks. Jim. (Going back to former position) Light? Minick. After supper. I never smoke before I eat. [Consternation on NETTIE’s face. One of those looks between her and Liu and between her and FRED. | Nettiz. You didn’t eat on the train, father? Minick. Never eat train food if I can help it. Don’t like it, and anyway costs like all-get-out. Bread and butter extra. Piece of parsley on a platter, and where’s your dollar? [Puts cigar in his pocket.] Frep. Why, Father, if I’d known, we’d have stopped downtown. (NETTIE rises) Nettie NETTIE. (Goes vu.c.) Ill get you something right away. Lit. (Rising) Let us help. Nettie. Will you, Lil? I don’t want to ask Annie. Minick. (Rising and going up a few steps) Now don’t you girls fuss. Just anything you got in the house. Don’t you bother for me. [Lat goes into the dining-room and on into kitchen.] MINICK 28 Nettie. (Turning in dining-room door) I’m afraid there isn’t much, Father. We had a kind of pick-up dinner with Fred downtown. Minick. It’s all right. I’m a light eater my- self. Little soup. Cold meat and a couple of eggs. NetTTIE. (Rather feebly, as she exits) Ah— yes Minick. (Strolling down toward hall) Nettie certainly looks fine. Fine. J don’t know that I ever saw her look better. Handsome girl, Nettie. (Peers into hallway, and then turns—to Jim.) Your wife ain’t bad-looking. No, sir. [Drifts up to window.] Jim. (Smirks to FreD on MINIcK’s remark; rises and comes D.c.) Well, what do you know? Frep. Oh, nothing in particular. And you? Jim. About the same. [MINICK is peering out the window trying to see in the dark.| Minick. H’m! Trees out there? Frep. That’s the park, Father. Washington Park. Minick. Don’t say! Jim. I got some more figures today. Bradley [Comes R. of card table, takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to Frep.] Frep. Yeh? Jim. The kind of list we want would cost us close to five thousand. Frep. Phew! Steep! Minick. What floor’r we on? Frep. The second, Dad. 26 MINICK Minick. H’m! Well! Jim. Of course, I don’t suppose we can ever really go ahead, with both the girls fighting us on it. Frep. Nettie blows up every time I mention it. [Minick turns, and edges over to them.| Jim. So does Lil. They began it tonight. Jumped on me, both of them. [Crossing to upper edge of sofa and sitting. | Frep. You mean they brought it up? Jim. I forget how it came up, but Minick. What are you two boys talking about? Business ? Frep. Oh, nothing in particular, Dad. I tell you, Jim, this is the time to start. Two or three houses have got it all today. Minick. What you going to do? New busi- ness ° Frep. Five years ago I’d have said no, but things are getting back to where they were before the war. Minick. Now, Fred, I don’t want you risking a lot of money in any new business. You got a good job, let somebody else do the worrying. Frep. Please, Father. We're not Minick. That’s all right. But you know the way you are. What kind of business is it, any- way? Something new-fangled ? Frep. No, Father. It’s the mail order business. Nothing to get excited about. Minick. Well, sir, you go careful. That don’t strike me like anything for a couple of young fel- lows. Probably go to work and lose everything you got. And I'll tell you why. (Gets desk chair, puts it near them and sits.) What’s your mail order business depend on? MINICK 27 Frep. All right, Dad. Minick. Depends on your little towns. All right, sir. Take your little towns. Take Bloomington. There’s a town set right down in the middle of the richest farming country in Illinois. And what’s hap- pened to her! Your farmer today is strapped. What’s he getting for his wheat? What’s he getting for his corn? And whose fault is it? I tell you till Europe gets on her feet we might just as well all mark time over here, and lucky we’re not going backwards. A growing country like this has got to have outlets or where is she? You take any one of those countries over there today—you take Po- land, you take Roosha, you take Czecho—uh—take Roumania Frep. Oh, Father. We're only talking. Minick. Well, I’ve been through it and I know. If I’d waited a couple of years till things was more settled, I’d be a rich man today with that automobile tire. Frep. But this is quite another thing, Dad. You don’t understand. Minick. (As NETTIE enters from passage carry- ing tray, followed by Lit with lunch cloth) It’s a new business, ain’t it? And you’re talking about go- ing into it? NETTIE. (Stops still in her tracks) Oh, is he? Well, there isn’t going to be any new business, and don’t you forget it! [ MINICK rises. | Frep. All right! [Rises and goes to armchair p.R. JIM rises and goes up to a window seat. | Lit. (As she crosses to R. of card table and lays cloth) The minute you two get together ‘28 MINICK [FRED sits in armchatr D.R.] Minick. (Looking at food, hungrily) That looks good. Nettie. (Placing tray on card table) I brought it right in here, Father, so you can visit with us while you eat. Minick. Well, I didn’t want you to go to any bother. (Picks up dish.) What’s this? NetTi£. That’s a little Waldorf salad, Father. We had it for supper. Minick. Waldorf salad, h’m? What’s in it? [Stirs it a bit with knife, as he stands.| NETTIE. Well, you try it and see. There’s apples in it, and nuts, and mayonnaise, [Sets down the tray.] Lit. (Just r. of Minick) It’s delicious. I wish I was going to have some. [Otp Man Minicx’s face doubts this.] NetTIE. Now, you sit right down, Father, and eat while things are hot. Minick. (After an inclusive glance) What’s hot? NettTIE. (Moving things on tray a little) Well, your tea. And here’s some nice warmed-up spinach. [Very little enthusiasm from Minicx. He pomts again. | Minick. What’s that? NetTIE. That’s a coddled egg. [Picks it up and hands it to him.] MINICK 29 Minick. Coddled? Nettie. It’s good for you at this time of night. (Sits middle of sofa.) Gives you your calories and vitamines. [His look of bewilderment to NETTIE and then to Lit shows that the words are meaningless... Liu turns away and speaks to Jim at window.] FreD. (Goes over to tray, looks it over) Looks pretty good, all right. [Minick looks at Frep as if he doubted it.] Minick. (Tucks his napkinin) Yes, sir! Fine! Fella couldn’t ask for any better. (LIL goes to chair by table and sits. A pause. Begins to eat. He is a little noisy about it, especially with the more liquid portions of the meal. The coddled egg he brings up in its cup and sups it with a spoon.) Any- body else want a bite? NETTIE. We've all eaten, Father. Minick. (Over his shoulder) How about you, Corey? Jim. No, thanks. Minick. Some nice spinach here going to waste. NetTTIE. Here’s some cream for your cold rice pudding. [Handing it to him.]| Minick. I see it. I see it. (Returns it to table.) What do eggs bring in Chicago now? Nettie. It depends, Father. The best ones are very high. Minick. You give me a couple of days and I'll save you 20%. Where do you do your trading? NetTieE. (Visibly patient) On Fifty-first Street, Father. 30 MINICK Minick. That’s the reason. You watch me. I'll go down to South Water Street. NETTIE. Don’t you bother about that, Father Minick. (MINICK takes a too-hasty mouthful, spills a spoonful of egg on his coat lapel and vest, is dis- mayed, wipes it hastily with his napkin, scratches at it with a knife, takes a furtive look around to see if they have noticed. They pretend not to have-—all but Nettie. ) Use a little water. [Minick dips his napkin in water glass, rubs the spots futilely. | Minick. H’m—coddled, eh? Can’t get your teeth into it. Lit. It’s good for you. Minick. Ya—I suppose so. You young couples see a good deal of each other, do you? NETTIE. Yes, we’re very good friends, Father. [Lit pats her hand.| Minick. I see. I see. (He eats. A pause.) Come in to spend the evening, eh? (Eats.) Well, looks as if we could get up a pretty nice pinochle game some time—the three of us. What say? Frep. We don’t play that much in Chicago, Dad. _jJim. (Yo Minick) It’s a game I never learned, sir. Minick. Huh! What do you play? Lit. We play bridge. MINIcK. Bridge, eh? Well, I guess I can pick it up. NETTIE. (With apprehension) It’s a_ pretty difficult game, Father. Minick. M-m-m-m-, a fellow that can play pinochle can play pretty much anything. (To Liz.) You got any family? MINICK 31 Lit. (Rather helplessly) Family? Nettiez. Father Minick means children, Lil. Lit. No. No children. Minick. Married long? Lit. Four years. Minick. Four years, h’m? Fred and Nettie been married three. My day, when folks got married, they had babies. Nettic. Nowadays, Father Minick, people think about whether it’s fair to the child. Minick. Well, I guess Ma and I forgot that. (He now surveys the empty tray.) Well! Nettie. Have you had enough, Father? [He takes a sip of tea and grimaces.| Minick. Plenty, plenty. Besides, just as well to eat light this time of night. (Fishes in his vest pocket for his cigar.) Read just the other day where a fella died from eating too much. [Puts cigar in his mouth; Frep crosses to MINICK, taking a box of matches from his pocket.| Frep. (Sirikes a match) Here you are, Father. [Gives him the lighted match. FRep returns to his seat. | Minick. (Puffs with aloud putt-putting. Holds the cigar off contemplatively) Yessir! (Throws burnt match in tea cup.) Died! (A pause here, with the others sitting about almost helplessly silent. There seems nothing to say. NETTIE puts tea cup on tray.) Well, what time do you folks go to bed? Frep. This is a little early for us, Dad. Nettic. (Re-arranging the dishes on the tray) If you’re tired there’s no reason why you shouldn’t get your good night’s sleep. Now, why don’t you? 32 MINICK Minick. Who? Me? I’m as wide-awake as a whistle. Nettie. I just thought you might be. We have some friends coming in a little later. Minick. This time of night? Frep. They’re not going to stay. Minick. Then what they coming for? Lit. They’re stopping for us. We’re going as soon as they come. Minick. Oh! [Looks expectantly at his watch. NETTIE folds up napkin. | NetTTiE. (Rising. Picks up tray from table) Lil, will you just fold the cloth up? [Lit comes down to front of card table, starts to fold cloth. | Frep, Why are you doing that? Where’s Annie? Nettie. (Between card table and sofa, holding tray) Fred, she’s had enough to do today with- out Frep. Nonsense! (Rises and crosses to passage door—calls ; Lit drops cloth on table and goes U.L.) If I ran my office the way (Calls.) Annie! Nettie. Now, Fred, I wish you wouldn’t inter- fere when I’m [She stops as ANNIE, a rather sinister figure by now, looms up in the passage door. NETTIE turns D.R., leaving FRED in charge of the field. NETTIE turns up to window. | Frep. (Standing v.L. of table) Would you mind clearing away that tray, Annie. [Turns up around table to L. of it and stands watch- ing. ANNIE goes to tray m silence, going be- — foe) © a0 S a, vy NV) Y By ane al ake “MINICK” LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS — MINICK 33 tween card table and sofa, and grimly. This brings her face to face with MINIck, who looks up at her from his chair and smiles friendly. The others are far from smiling. ANNIE re- arranges the dishes preparatory to carrying the tray. This she does with unnecessary energy. | Nettie. (With an assumption of graciousness she «s far from feeling) Annie, this is Mr. Minick’s father, who is going to live with us. Father Minick, this is our Annie. Minick. H’are you, m’girl? ANNIE. (Surlily. FRED moves to back of table) H’are you? Nettic. We couldn’t get along without Annie, could we, Annie? She makes us all comfortable, don’t you, Annie? (ANNIE clatters a dish.) Oh, tomorrow, Annie—there’s no reason why you should come in early. You know, Mr. Minick and I always sleep late Sunday. (Remembers Minick.) Oh, Father, Fred and I are very lazy Sunday morning. Minick. Not me. I’m up and around six o’clock. [ANNIE gives him a hard look.| Nettie. Oh, but Annie won’t be here until Minick. That’s all right. Ill just stir around in the kitchen as quiet as a mouse. (ANNIE again looks at him menacingly.) Fix some coffee and toast and boil me an egg. (She puts up tray and starts L.) That’s all I take, as a general thing. (Rises and starts L. after her.) Maybe some cereal. [She grimaces again, turns and starts through door Lt. At Diamond rings the doorbell.| Lit. That’s Marge and Al. Nettie. It’s all right, Annie. I'll go. 34 MINICK Frep. (He jerks the desk chair back to its place by the desk and begins to fold up the card table) You’d think that girl was the last girl on earth. NETTIE. (As she crosses to hall) Well, a nice white girl doesn’t like sleeping out. Lit. And Nettie never used colored help. Once you begin you never can [Frep puts card table back of chaw at window. From the hall comes Aw’s votce—the voice of a professional back-slapper. MArcE’s too.| At. (Off) Everybody ready! The parade is starting! Marce. (Off) Hello there, Net! [ Enters. | Lit. (A glance at the clock) Only twenty min- utes late. Au. (Enters. Aw’s entrances always amount to an explosion. He bursts into the room) Well, citizens ! Marce. Hello, boys and girls. Au. And citizenesses! Would appreciate a little round of welcome, and the keys to the old buffet! [ MarcE goes into hall and arranges her hair before mirror. MINICK 1s standing apart, a trifle un- certainly, smiling a little, below sofa. Things look lively and he anticipates some fun.] Frep. (Leaning the folded card table against the L. end of the desk) Hello, Al. Lit. (Advancing toc.) Well, I must say—— [Jim waves a welcome. | AL. (Crosses to LiL) Oh, you kid! Remember —“Papa loves mamma, mamma loves papa.” Se ea MINICK 35 [He gives a playful jerk to a ribbon on Liv’s waist. MINIcK abserves all this; gives a cackle of ap- preciation. Aw has a trick of clapping his hands together and rubbing them briskly. It expresses, for him, geniality. This he now does. MARGE enters, followed by Nettiz. Marck 1s shrill, gay, “the life of the party.’ | Marce. (Reénters from hall) Listen, we’re not terribly late, are we? Lit. (Crossing to Marce) Not any later than usual. Marce. Well, listen, we got started on time, hon- est to God, but Al had a Av. (Back to audience) Lots of time. Shank of the evening, that’s what it is! (Starts to chuck NETTIE under the chin, but MarcE stops him. He turns to FRED.) Shank of the evening! and a BIG night ahead! Wait till those little corks get to popping! Frep. (To MArce and Ax) I don’t think you’ve ever met my father. Father, this is Mr. and Mrs. Diamond. [Marce’s greeting is too slight for utterance, so that one hears only “ do,’ as her glance slides past him. Aw goes to MINIck.] Marce. Lil, my God, what do you think! You know that crepe romaine I got at Vogue—Nettie, listen to this— (NETTIE turns to her.) —I paida hundred and seventy-five for it and what do I see this afternoon in Leschin’s but the same dress down to the embroidery on the slip. I went right in and asked the price. I pret’ nearly died when the girl told me. Ninety-eight fifty. Well, believe me, I marched right down to Vogue and gave them a piece of my mind they won’t forget ina hurry. “Listen,” I said—“‘What do you folks mean i 36 MINICK AL. (Speaks simultaneously with MarcE, to MINIcK, having just been tmtroduced; following dialogue ts simultaneous with MArGE’s speech down to where Au calls “Lit”) Well, I certainly am glad to meet Fred’s father. Anybody that’s got Fred Minick for a son must be all right! Ill tell the world! Minick. (Genial, if bewildered) ‘That’s right! That’s right ! Au. Yop! Fred’s a grand fella—when he’s sober. (A dig in Frep’s ribs. Men’s conversation quiets a bit.) Well! [The noisy clap of the hands. Starts back of table.]| Minick. Dinehart, d’you say the name was? Frep. Diamond, Father. AL. (Stamping away, thumbs in his vest. He prances, crossing MINICK, around table to upper end of it, where JIM meets him. Frep turns up and joins, making a group of three men, above table and sofa) Diamond is right! And eighteen karats! Well, James, m’boy! How’s the old universe been mistreating you? [FRED crosses up right to JiM.] Minick. (Crosses below table and attempts to join group U.R. More to himself than not, the others having turned away, leaving him aqain alone) Oh, Diamond. I thought you said Dinehart. Because I used to know a fella named Dinehart in the paint business in Springfield. Paints and oils. Marce. (Continuing)—by having the nerve to charge me one hundred and seventy-five dollars for a dress that I saw the exact same Jim. (Jn answer to Av’s last speech to him) Oh, can’t complain, MINICK 37 Au. Oh, say, who do you think I wrote for twen- ty-five thousand iron boys this afternoon? Remem- ber Sid Herman? Minick. (ln effort to get into conversation) Friend of yours? AL. (Goes on paying no attention to MINICK. Crosses and joins the women at R.c., followed by Frep and Jim. They make a compact group at R.c. Calls) Lil! Lit, What? Ax. Sid Herman—you knew him, too, Net. Ask Marge if she remembers him. Minick. (Following along to above sofa. Oblig- ingly) Do you? Marce. Oh, shut up, Al. Au. Ill say she remembers him. Came within an inch of hooking up with him, that’s merely all. [A clap of his hands and the brisk rubbing of palms. A shout of laughter goes up from crowd, who have gathered in a little group.| Jim and Lit. Oh-h-h, you Marge! [ Minick is vague as to what all the notse and banter means, but is determined to be gay, too. In imitation of Au he claps his hands loudly to- gether and rubs his palms briskly. He beams upon the group with his grin which by now has grown somewhat set. He expects some genial- ity on return, but no one is paying any attention to him. In the following scene the six young people form a close little group in which four, and frequently all six, are talking at the same time. MINICK is definitely outside the group.| At. Well, how about it? Let’s shake a leg! (Shaking his leg in illustration.) Hop on the old band-wagon, or forever after hold your peace! 38 MINICK Jim. What time is it? Au. Starting time if we’re going to where we're going to get to! Marce. Did Daisy and George phone? NETTIE. Yes, Daisy called up a little while ago, but she wasn’t sure where they were going. Lit. Well, if Daisy doesn’t know, who does? It’s their party. Av. Say, that’s a fine note. Why, I saw George this afternoon and he said Keystone Club. The li'l old Keystone Club. Jim. Oh, what d’you want to drive way out there for? River Forest. Takes upwards of an hour and a half. Time you get out there it’ll be time to turn around and come back. Marce. I heard of a wonderful new place the other day. Listen, I heard of a wonderful new place the other day. Bess Snyder told me about it. It’s called the—oh, I don’t know—it’s out on—anyway, she says you can get practically anything you want and a wonderful cabaret [Minick up to this time has maintained his com- pany grin. But now he decides to give up, Decides to shift for himself. Turns. Notices that one bulb of the table lamp is not lighted.| Lit. I used to like Ike Bloom’s place. I don’t see why we have to drive way out of town. Av. All right. We aim to please. That’s our 1i’l motto! Who’s for the House That Jack Built? Jim. Oh, say, that’s miles out on the Milwaukee Avenue Road. Eleven before we get there. Marce. Well, suppose it is? Lit. I thought we were going to some place in town. Jim. Got to do a lot a detouring on the Mil- waukee Avenue Road. Torn up. MINICK 30, Av. Well, let’s get together. All together for the big show. In this tent, ladies and gentlemen Marce. Pete’s sake, yes! Lit. Well, I’ll get my things. [Au helps her cross u. Exits into the passage. The clock strikes half-past eight.] Au. (Loud clap of the hands) All right, lads and lassies. Keystone Club it is. Peerade moves north on Cherry Street. Forward! March! [Starts towards door, prancing and singing. Aw goes through group into outer hall, followed by MarceE and JIM. JIM puts his coat on. They go out of sight. Jim goes to the opening and as they say “good-bye,” turns back into the room towards MINIck. FRED by desk chair. NETTIE by lower corner of desk. MINICK 1s by now up at front left end of table on which stands a lamp. He is idly pulling the lamp chain, hss head half turned towards the noisy group. He notices that something is wrong with one chain. It does not pull. Is stuck, apparently. He stoops slightly to peer at 1t.| Nettie. Well, good-bye. Frep. Good- bye, have a good time. AL. (Reappearing in the doorway and advanc- ing a step into the room. MArcE stands in the door- way; JIM is seen over her shoulder) Whaddeyou mean, good-bye! Nettie. Fred and I aren’t going, you know. Marce. Not going? At. Not going! You’re crazy! Loony like a loon, that’s what you are! Why aren’t you going? Frep. (Low voice) We can’t go tonight, Al. At. Why not, for Pete’s sake! (NETTIE gives 40 MINICK a significant glance at the old man. Very loud.) Well, for—! TIl soon fix that. Al W. Fixit— that’s who I am. NETTIE. No, no, Al. Frep. (Jn protest) Al! Aut. (Calling over their heads to Minick) Heh, Papa! You don’t care if they go out, do you? Minick. Huh? Au. (Going directly over to M1ntcK) You don’t care if Fred and Nettie breeze out awhile? Minicx. Breeze? Frep, (Taking a step near AL) Never mind, Dad. Av. Yeh. With us. The crowd. You can take care of yourself, can’t you, kid? Minick. Me? Why, sure I can. I’m no baby. I’m all right. AL. (Comes back to doorway) There! What did Uncle Allie tell you? Minick. (Peering around at Freep and NETTIE) You going somewhere? Pretty late, ain’t it? Frep. Nettie and I aren’t going, Dad. It’s only the others. NetTTIE. We’re going to stay home with you. Minick. Nobody has to stay home with me. (Nervously jerking the lamp chain.) I can take care of myself. Take care of myself fine. You go right along with your friends here and enjoy yourself. Yessir. Take care of myself fine. Nobody’s got to stay with me. Nobody’s got to—— (He 1s a little startled by the whole proceedings, and somewhat embarrassed by his own feelings. To conceal ths he concentrates on the faulty lamp as though that were his chief concern.) This light don’t work. [Minick quite suddenly turns and goes off into the passage just as Lit enters. She steps aside for him, sensing the situation. | MINICK 4I Lit. (She stands in passage door looking after Minick) What’s the matter? Frep. Where’s he Shouldn’t I see if [ Goes below sofa, looking after MINIck.]| NetTiE. It’s all right, dear. [ Pantomime. | At. (A step towards FreD) ’Course he’s all right. (More confidence.) No nurse needed for that old boy. Frep. Well—— [Turns back. | Av. Come on, people! Into your duds! This way for the big show! [He makes a megaphone of his hands. Curcling around NETTIE to door, singing “Papa loves mamma.” NetTi£. Al, we just can’t go yet. Why don’t you go ahead and we'll follow, if we possibly can? Frep. Yes, let’s leave it at that. Marce. Oh, don’t be silly. I never heard any- thing so old-fashioned in my life. Lit. (Coming down beside Frep, below him. Crossing R.) I think that’ll be best. We know you'll come if you can. Frep. (Crossing to AL) You four go ahead. We'll catch up to you. [Lit crosses and exits.] At. Now, you’re not going to backslide! Come one, come all—we want ’em all! 42 MINICK Frep. We have to wait till he goes to bed. Aut. All right! (A clap of his hands.) We're off! (Jim goes first, MARGE next, then AL and FRED together, then Nettie and Liu together. As the whole group moves toward hall.) Now, get this ear- ful! The bunch’ll be at the li’l old Congress. Lit. Well, how are you going to get down? Nettie. We'll take the L. It’s quicker, anyhow. ly Marce. We'll wait until half past nine. Half past nine. (Together) Au. And if there’s any new dope we'll give you a buzz. (The group ts out in hall, still talking. You hear Au saying:) Now I'll ring you. MarceE. Now, don’t be foolish! Lit. Come on, come on. We'll get out and leave them alone. Jim. Now look here, Daisy and George were go- ing to call up. If they do FreD. We'll get their call if you miss them. Nettie. Well, maybe you’d better ring us up. Jim. What was the name of the place, Marge? Marce. Keystone. Nettiz. Ike Bloom’s. Jim. House That Jack Built. Frep. Milwaukee Avenue Road. Lit. Chicken supper. Au. George got the drinks—— [The stage ts bare for an instant after they go, with the chatter continuing in the hall. Minick en- ters, as group goes mto hallway, with a ham- mer and screw-driver. His entrance 1s a little diffident. Goes above table. Flings hammer and screw-driver on the polished table. Stoops a little, stiffly, removes the lamp shade and puts : | | | : : | | MINICK 43 it on table. It rolls on sofa. Peers even more closely then before; unscrews a bulb; jerks the chain again. Picks up screw-driver, gives it a couple of light taps with the hammer. The farewells in the hall have died down, then ceased. FRED slams the outer door at first tap of Mrnicx’s hammer, NETTIE reénters fol- lowed by FRED. ] NETTIE. (Comes a little way into the room, sees MINICK, stops a second) Father Minick! What are you doing? [Crosses to L. side of table to see what MINIcK ts doing. | Minicx. I’m fixing your lamp. NetTic. But you mustn’t—Fred! [| Appeals to her husband. | Frep. (Comes to Rr. of Minick) Don’t bother, Dad. We'll have it fixed. Nettie. Father, where did you get put the shade back on, will you, please? Minick. (feaching for shade) Ill do it. Nettie. No, Father. You sit down. Whatever made you—lI’ve sent for the man to fix it. Fred, [Nettie takes screw-driver. | Minick. Man nothing! Glad to do it for you. Been fixing things all my life. (Crosses R. to D.R.) Say, I can do more with a hammer and a couple of nails than most these fellas can with a whole tool chest. NettTi£. Father, we have a man who does every- thing like that for us. A regular man. Now, I want you to promise me that you’re not going to—— Ad MINICK Minicx. No trouble. I like to putter around. A nail here, a nail there. [Frep is now putting shade and bulb on lamp.]| NETTIE. Oh (Crosses to MinicK and gets hammer. Turns desperately to her husband.) Frep! [Exits with hammer and screw-driver into passage. | Minick. What’s the matter with her? Frep. (At sofa, replacing shade) Nettie likes everything just so around the house. Minick. Wasn’t hurting anything. (A little pause. MINICK goes up to window and stands look- ing out—sulking a little. Yawns.) Whyn’t you and Nettie go along with the rest of ’em? Frep, Well—we'll see. [NETTIE reénters—to lower end above table.]| Minicx. No sense in your staying around here. I’m going to bed anyhow. Going right away. Nettig, (Alertly) Oh, are you? Frep. (Zakes MInIcKk’s arm and attempts to maneuver him into chair) No, he’s not. Now, we're going to sit down here, the three of us, and have a good talk. Minick. (Still at window, facing away from them) I’m not going to let you stay home with me. You got your evening planned out. Take care of m’self. I can take care of m’self fine. FreD. (Crosses and sits in armchair D.R.) Well, we may go after awhile. Sit down. Tell us. How’s everybody in Bloomington? Sit down, Nettie. (NETTIE stands lower end of sofa.) Father, sit down. | . MINICK 48 [Minick isn’t deceived. He gives a quick look, pulls out his watch.| Minick. I’m going to bed in two minutes. NETTIE. (Grasps at this) Ill hurry Annie up. (Goes to passage door.) Annie! (Aside.) The water’s running—Annie! Are you almost finished? ANNIE. (Off) N’yeh! [Or nearly that. It is really a combination of yes and a snarl.| Nettice. (Yo Minick) She’s nearly finished. Then you can go back. [Sits again, lower end of sofa.] Frep. Now, he’s not going to bed yet—are you, Dad ? Minick. Yes,I am. I want you to keep on just the same as if I wasn’t here. Frep. (With obvious effort at conversation) Tell me, whatever become of that Brettschneider boy I used to run around with? Remember—lI told you about him, Nettie. Whatever became of him, Dad? Minick. (Strolling to NETTIE’s desk and peers into picture over it) I was going to bed anyhow. You folks run along. FreD. Oh, now, Dad. Nettie. Well, now, maybe Father Minick does want to go to bed, Fred? Frep. (Relieved) Well, if you’re sure, Dad, that it’s all right Minick. ’Course it’s all right. You go right out and enjoy yourself. NettTic. (Rising) I'll get my things on. [Goes quickly to the passage door and exits. MIN- Ick turns to desk and jerks lamp cham ner- vously. | 46 MINICK Frep. (Going above Minick, and places his hands on Mintcx’s shoulders) Dad, you know how awfully glad we are to have you here, don’t you? [There comes a look in the old man’s face unseen by Frep, a look of something resembling terror. A piteous look. It says, “So this is what my old age has brought me!’ | Minick. It’s awfully nice of you and Nettie to do it. I guess I’m making a good deal of bother, coming in on you like this. Frep. Why, Dad! Not a bit. Minick. I know. But you and Nettie got your own way of doing things. And—I know. [ NETTIE, her coat and hat on, comes into the dining- room and puts out the light there.| Frep. (With a hearty slap on the back) You don’t know anything of the kind. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to like it and so are we. [ NETTIE enters the room. | Nettie. (Puts out light m standard lamp by easy chair) What? Frep. I was just telling Dad how happy we are to have him. NETTIE. (Goes to front of MINICK, sits on desk chair and pats his hand. FRrRep ts L. of MINIcK) Of course. We're awfully happy, Father Minick. And we want you to feel that this is your home, and that what we want to do is to make you happy and comfortable. Minick. I'll be all right. I'll be all right. Don’t you worry about me. (Crossing L.) You children go on, now. MINICK ee [He sits on sofa, takes “Vanity Fair” off table and pretends to read.| Nettie. Now is there anything you want, Father? Minick. I got everything I want. I’m fixed up. [FreD crosses to hall, gets his coat and hat.] Nettie. (Turns out desk lamp) Annie’s put- ting on her things now. She'll be out of your way in one minute. All right, Fred? Frep. (Comes back a few steps into the room) Yes, I guess so. Now, you are all right, Dad? You know, I’d just as soon not go... Minick. (With a wave of his hand) Shoo! O’ course you go! FreD. Well NettizE. Well, good-night then, Father. Minick. Good-night—have a good time. NETTIE. (Crosses to him and kisses him) See you in the morning. And you’ll turn out the other lights in here, won’t you? And just leave the hall light on. Don’t forget. [FRED crosses to doorway.| Frep. (Turns and almost bumps NETTIE at door- way) Good-bye, Father. How about a nice walk tomorrow morning, you and I? Minick. Sure—we’ll have big times. Nettie. Good-night. [ Exrits.] Frep. (Lingeringly) Good-night. [ Exits. ] Minick. Good-night. (The outer door slams; the old man rises and throws down his magazine; 48 MINICK he walks awmlessly toward the hall; then he turns toward the window, cups his eyes and peers into the darkness outside in the hope of seeing them depart. He comes c., mutters to himself, “Well, sir!” starts toward table lamp and turns tt out, then down to desk lamp which he lights; sees card cata- logue, sits in armchair and takes out a few cards, replacing them obviously in the wrong places; then takes off his boots; his feet are twed and he com- mences to stretch them, reminds him of Au, and he laughs, rises and tries to imitate Av’s dance, sing- ing “Popper loves mommer, mommer loves popper.” This being too much for him, he comes c. and hears a noise in the kitchen; crosses L. and sees ANNIE in passage.) Oh, hello! ANNIE. (Enters, carrying some bundles, a suit case, alarm clock, umbrella and wisp of palm; she is dressed for the street, and starts to cross R., never stopping for him) Im goin’ now. Minick. (He gets behind and trots along right after her) Forgot all about you bein’ here. Been packing up your things, I suppose? ANNIE. Yes. I’m goin’ now. Minick. (Sociably) Live far from here? ANNIE. Yeh. [She keeps right on to the outer door.]| Minick. (Following to hallway door) Take the L, do you? L’s quicker than the surface car. Yes- sir! (The outer door slams. ANNIE is gone.) Much—quicker. I came up on the L (Musing to himself.) Yessir! I came up on the L. [Gets his boots, turns out lamp D.R., ambles across, extis up passage, closing his door; the clock strikes nine. | CURTAIN ACT TWO ScENE: Same as Act I, about six months later. A November afternoon. The time is about two- thirty. LuLa, a colored maid, is between sofa and table wiping table legs, humming a spiritual tune. She 1s leaning over so that her face can- not be seen. Several pieces of furniture are out of place sn the room. There is a dust pail at L. edge of table; a broom and carpet sweeper lean against armchair v.R.; the sofa pillows are in the chair u.R. of desk; one window shade is out of alignment; telephone stool is upside down on desk chair. MINIcK enters from passage. He is dressed in the attire of a semi-invalid who is not going out again that day. He wears loose bedroom slippers. Around his neck 1s an article that might be a muffler and might be a large colored silk handkerchief. He has a heavy cold and has to snifie now and then. On these occasions he pulls a large handkerchief from his pocket. He crosses to L.C. Minick. Thought I heard Nettie. Was it Nettie? Lua. (Straightens up) No, sir. [Tugging at upper end of sofa to replace tt.] Minick. (Dissappointed) Oh! (Makes as though to help her, pushing up lower end of sofa to table.) Here! (She pushes sofa, catching him between tt 49 50 MINICK and table; in getting out he stumbles over dust pail; he comes below table to u.r. LULA crosses to desk and arranges articles on it.) She'll be coming back soon, won’t she? Lua. I s’pose so. Minick. What time’d she go? Luta. (Wipes and replaces telephone stool) I told you she went just before you come in. Minick. Then she ought to come back soon— (Snittles.)—1f she’s going to get here. (LuLA does not reply to this.) Yessir! Ought to come back soon. It’s half past— (Sneezes.) two. Lua. (Now gathers up pail after she has rrossed L. and goes into passage as she speaks) I told you you shouldn’t have gone downtown this weather. Look at you cold. [Leaves the pail, dust pan and whisk broom in passage. | Minick. (Sits chair just above desk) Stay nome for a little cold! Sick of staying home. Lua. (fReénters briskly and goes above table to where he is sitting) Going to keep you in the house another four days—that’s what it is. (She pulls cushions from under MINIck, who rises, and re- places them on sofa.) Mrs. Minick she was awful mad when she discovered you gone out. Blamed me for it. Minick. Guess I’m old enough to know if I can go out or not. Luia. (Still arranging pillows and sofa) Don’t know no more’n a child. Have to keep after you like you was a baby all the months I been here. ‘What you go out for anyway, feeling like you do? Minick. (Very high-toned; a few steps toward her) Il tell you something, m’girl, There may MINICK 51 be some pretty important developments out of my going downtown this morning. LuLa. (Unimpressed) Yah! ’Velopments! [Crosses R., sees pm on floor by armchair, picks it up. | Minick. (Following) Some pret-ty important de-velopments. Yessir! Yessir! May take a good deal of business acumen to handle it. There’s sev- eral angles and I’m not sure which angle to take. (LULA is crossing R. with broom and sweeper, plac- ing them against lower edge of table, going above table and pushing easy chair in proper place.) That’s why I want to see Nettie. Lua. (Crossing D.R. to smoking table) You better let her alone today. Minick. That’s all right. She’ll listen to this. We've got to put our heads together. Yessir! [LuLa has moved smoking table from its accus- tomed place to in front of armchair, removes articles on it to bookcase and takes from the latter an elaborate gavel with silver inset. | Lua. I tell you you better not go bothering her today with her meetin’ on. Minick. Yeh—meeting! What’s a_ meeting! If she’s got a meeting what’s she doing out so long for? [Is just L. of desk.] Lua. She had to go for sandwich stuff. I told you once. She didn’t know she was going to have this meeting— (Blows on silver inset of gavel and polishes it, placing it on smoking table.) —till an hour ago. It was going to be over at some other lady’s house. (Starts up for window to straighten shade.) ‘Wisht it’d stayed there. 52 MINICK Minick. (Wandering v.L. to smoking table) Well, don’t seem to me much sense in holding a lot of women’s meetings when— (Sees gavel on table; picks it up.) —when there’s things a million times— (Reads inscription on silver inset; LULA goes R. above table.) —more— (LULA 1s picking up her broom and carpet sweeper as DIETENHOFER rings the doorbell.) Ill let ’em in. [Puts down gavel with decision, and starts to door. | Lua. (Stopping dead in her tracks) You mean them friends of yours coming this house again today! Mrintcx. (Turning in hall door) Like to know why not! Luria. After me just cleanin’ up and Mrs, Min- ick expectin’ her meetin’? They been coming here three days hand-running. Minick. Entitled to have company, ain’t I? Too cold to sit in the park. [The doorbell rings again. Minick starts tuto hallway. | Luta. Yah, company. What you do—sit around, talk your fool heads off. [Starts to go and then decides to wait and see who it is.] Minick. (Off) Gentlemen, come in! DIETENHOFER. (Off) Well, Minick, how are you? Price. (Off) Afternoon. DIETENHOFER. (Off) The cold any better? Minick. (Off) I think it’s breaking up. I was downtown this morning. Price. (Off) Bad weather to be out in. MINICK 53 [DIETENHOFER, a man of about MINIcxK’s age, comes into the room to R.c. He wears rubbers and overcoat, and has a hat on. He is unwind- ing along muffler, The voices of Minick and PRICE continue in the hallway. | DIETENHOFER. (To the glaring Luta) Hello. Lua. (Pointing to his rubbers) I just clean this room and Mrs. Minick going to have a meeting. DIETENHOFER. (Looking down questioningly) Huh? Lua. I say, I wish you leave them rubbers in the hallway, day like this. Took me hour cleaning up after you yesterday. DIETENHOFER. Oh! [He turns to go, crossing PRicE who comes R.c., fol- lowed by Minicx.] Lua. (Potnting to Price’s feet) You got ’em on too. ! [Price is another old gentleman, wears overshoes, etc. He is struggling with Mis overcoat. DIETENHOFER goes into hall and removes his rubbers. | Minick. Yes, sir, I guess we won’t sit out in the park much more this year. (Notices that Lua is pointing at Price’s feet.) Now what’s the matter? Lua. I ask that other gentleman please leave his rubbers in the hallway. Minicx. (Jo Price) She’s just cleaned up— sort of fussy. [Price nods, walks on his heels u.L. corner and re- moves coat and hat. DIETENHOFER reénters, rubbers off, and seeing PRICE removing his coat, 84. MINICK starts to take his owm off; he looks for a place © to put his coat and selects the window seat, but he keeps his hat on.]| Luria. All I got say is you wait till Mrs. Minick comes back Minick. That’s all right. Luta. She going to be awful mad, find you here today. [Exits into passage.| Price. (Coming down to Minick) What did she say? . Minick. Nettie’s got some clubwomen coming or something, but we got lots of time. Price. Sure—lI got time. [Crossing D.R. to armchair, sits.] DIETENHOFER. (Taking out his pipe and cross- éng D.L.) Women are always doing something now- adays. My time they stayed home and tended to things. [Sits on sofa.] Price. Not today. It’s the Unrest. Minick. (Sits chair u.r. of desk, puts his feet up on desk chair) Yep. Fixing this and fixing that. (Sntfiles, takes out his handkerchief; Price takes off his rubbers and throws them in the hallway; DIETENHOFER fills his pipe, shaking the tobacco out of the pouch and spilling a good deal on the carpet. With the manner of one opening a meeting.) Well, sir! What’s the good word? DIETENHOFER. Oh-o-o-h, about the same, I guess. Everything’s about the same as yesterday. Yep! How’s it with you? [Strikes match and lights pipe.] MINICK Bs Minick. Oh-oh-oh, not much different. How about you, Price? Price. Oh-oh-oh, so so. Not much of one thing or the other. | [Takes out his pipe.] Minick. Anything new over to the Home today? DIETENHOFER. No—nothing special. Nothing special. (Throws his burnt match under sofa; PrIcE now knocks his pipe bowl against smoking table, spilling the heel on the carpet, then brings out large clasp-knife from pocket and opens it leisurely.) Not smoking, Minick? Minick. No. Don’t taste like anything when you got a cold. Price. How ts your cold? Minick. Well, if the weather’d let up—— DIETENHOFER. Weather’s pretty bad, all right. MINIck. Yes, sir—regular November. (Sniffles.) It’s November, all right. DIETENHOFER. Tha’s what. Minick. Yes, sir! It’s November. DIETENHOFER. Yep. Minick. Yessir! (A short pause. PRICE grinds in his pipe with the knife.) Cut over through the park, did you? [Price has succeeded in loosening his pipe ashes; he looks around for a place to put them, sees a fancy vase on the bookcase, rises and gets tt.] DIETENHOFER. Yah. Pretty wet, too. Minick. I was downtown this morning, though. DIETENHOFER. You don’t say? How was it? [Looking at window. | Minick. Bad. Yes, sir—bad. 56 MINICK [Price clinks his pipe against vase, and then places it on the floor by chair.| DIETENHOFER. (Rising) Blackening up in the West again. Means more rain. (Crosses to Price.) What did I tell you this morning, Price? Watch the West, I says—that’s where she comes from. [He takes Price up to the window. | MINIcK. (Rises, goes up) Turn to snow most likely. ‘That’s November for you. [DIETENHOFER snaps up window shade so that he may see more clearly; PRICE goes to center window and snaps up its shade, which rolls around furiously. | DIETENHOFER. Ya—I guess you were right, Minick. Going to turn to snow. No more sitting out in the park this year. [Turning away a bst.] Minick. Well, we set out pretty late at that. October. [Turning to him.] DIETENHOFER. October the 28th. Minick. Guess I set out too late. That’s where I caught my cold. DIETENHOFER. Well, a fellow can get a cold that way. Yep! Minick. I did, all right. Yessir! Price. (Who has been gazing out of window) Say—there’s a right pretty girl going along. [The others look.] DIETENHOFER. That’s right. Minick, ‘Trim figure, too, MINICK 57 Price. She’s stopping for something. (A pause.) No—she’s going ahead. DIETENHOFER. Stopping again. Price. No. She’s going. [Watches her a second; Min1cx goes below Price. ] Minick. There she goes! Down the street. Down the street. (His voice takes on distance; Price returns to his chair. Municx ts back of chair, and resumes his seat at end of speech.) Pretty busy street, all right. Lots of people go by. You know how many automobiles I counted in an hour yester- day! Two hundred and fifty-six! Sitting right there. DIETENHOFER. (Has been crossing to sofa; sits) Wa-a-a-l, won’t be so many from now on. Winter’s coming on now, all right. Be May before we can sit out again. Yep! Minick. Yessir! May! May’s a long time off. Pretty hard knowing what to do between now and then. DIETENHOFER. That’s right. Winter’s a bad time. Minick. Yessir! With the park gone it’s go- ing to be pretty hard to fill in the time. I was think- ing about it this morning. Price. You got a nice place here. [Sirskes match and lights cigar.] Minick. Winter’s a long time. Besides, gen- erally folks in this room—company—one thing an- other. I’ve got my own room—but you can’t do much of anything there. DiETENHOFER. Oh, I don’t know. There’s al- ways something to do. Minick. Well, of course you can take a walk, 58 MINICK but you got to walk pretty brisk, weather like this. Generally get a good nap after lunch, though. Then —one thing another comes up. First thing you know, it’s six o’clock. Fred comes home with the evening paper. Some news in that as a rule. Then, after supper, I’m generally pretty tired, anyhow. Once in a while, though, Fred and I have a little game of dominoes before they go out. DIETENHOFER. The big room over to the Home is pretty nice in winter. Price. Get your pinochle game there. DIETENHOFER. That’s what. Too bad they don’t let visitors play over there, Minick. We got some pretty smart pinochle heads. There’s Garvey— Henderson—Schultz Price. D’you know what Henderson held last night! A five hundred hand! Minick. Gosh! DIETENHOFER. Only bid four-fifty on it. Minick. Probably picked up something. Price. Just twenty. [Takes out paper and starts to read.| DIETENHOFER. Yep. We have great times. They look out for your comfort over there pretty nice, Minick. They’re paid to do it. Catch me going any place where I didn’t pay my way. Minick. Well, I like to pay my way myself. DIETENHOFER. They make you feel like some- body over to the Grant Home. A club, that’s what it’s like. A club, and may be a vacancy soon, too. Old Patterson’s talking about going out to Los Angeles with a nephew or something. Price. Expecting word any minute. Minick. No, sir! My son wouldn’t hear of it. an nor his wife, neither. Nettie wouldn’t hear of it. MINICK 59 DiIETENHOFER. I wouldn’t live any other way. You’re free. They got their rules, but outside of that you’re free. You’re never your own boss liv- ing the other way. Price here was through it. Weren’t you, Price? Price. What? DIETENHOFER. You were living with your da’ter before you come to the Home. (Turns to MINICK.) Four children, she had. Price. “Pa, don’t do this. Pa, don’t do that.” Nossir ! DIETENHOFER. I’ve seen it. Seen it often. Price. And running errands. “Spool of white No. 100.” “Half a pint of double whippin’ cream.” “Ten cent loaf of gluten bread.” And taking babies out wheelin’ all the time. DIETENHOFER. Hear all this talk nowadays about young folks. Old folks has some rights time I was a boy. Minick. Babies out wheelin’! Well, I guess that’s one thing I won’t ever have to do here. Blamed if I can understand what they’re aiming at, these young people. I’m going to talk to Nettie about it—some day. DIETENHOFER. Times are changing, that’s all. Price. It’s the Unrest. Minick. Club meetings. Worrying about other people’s children, instead of having some of their own. (Rises and goes down to smoking table.) Club meetings, like the one she’s got coming here today (Takes gavel, and hands it to DIETEN- HOFER who has risen.) Here it is—that’ll show you. DIETENHOFER. (Reading inscription on silver plate) ‘Presented to Nettie B. Minick by her fel- low members of the Home Relations Committee, Woman’s Civic Aid, June 14, 1922.” (Weighs the gavel in his hand. ) Nice piece of wood, all right. Regular mahogany. 60 MINICK Price. (Rises and goes to R. of Minick) Let me see it. (Gauges its weight in his hand.) More like teak. That’s what it is—teakwood. [Minick takes it, weighs it, hands it to DIETEN- HOFER, who also weighs it skeptically. PRICE returns to his seat. | DIETENHOFER. Well, maybe. (Taps pipe wunth gavel, returns to his seat and drops gavel on sofa.) Heigh-ho! [Minick returns to his chair; there ts a slight pause. | Price. (Resuming his reading) I see where the sun’s coming out tomorrow. [Knocks ashes off cigar into vase; some fall on floor. | Minick. That so? Price. (Reading) “Official Weather Forecast. Cloudy today; fresh northerly winds.” Minick. That’s what they are. Price. “Tomorrow fair. Temperature yester- day: Highest, 43, 3.45 P. M.; lowest, 34, 9 A. M.” Minick. (Pulling out watch) It’s five minutes to three now. DIETENHOFER. (Also takes out huge watch) Seven minutes. There’s a clock. Minick. (Not even looking at it) Ain’t going. I set mine this morning by the Wrigley Building. It’s now exactly—(Waits for a second.)—four and a half minutes to three. DIETENHOFER. No, sir—you’re fast. Minick. I ain’t had this watch in a repair shop in eight years. That’s what I think of it. DIETENHOFER. Well, you’re fast, just the same. MINICK 61 [ Falls to puffing again; Minicx sniffles ; PRICE turns a page of the newspaper. | Price. The world of finance. Minick. How’s it going? Price. “Rails stand firm as market sags.” Minick. Yeh? Well, I ain’t bullish on rails. DIETENHOFER. Market’s been pretty good lately. A fella coulda made a tidy sum just knowing what to go into and when to go into it. Minick. We-e-ell, I don’t fool around with stocks, much. Rather have a nice piece of property than all your stocks and new-fangled businesses. DIETENHOFER. N-n-n-yeh! Ties up your money. Minick. Well, better than putting it in some wildcat business and losing it. (Rises.) If I was so minded I could tell you two gentlemen a case in point that I just found out about this morning. And I think it’s a big mistake! DIETENHOFER. What case was that? Minick. M-m-m-m—it’s pretty confidential. But I don’t know but what your advice might not be valuable. You’re both business men of experi- ence. DIETENHOFER. I want you just to consider me at your service. [A large gesture. They shift a bit in their chairs, rather importantly. | Minick. Well, sir! It’s like this. (Takes desk chair and draws 1t over to DIETENHOFER.) What do you gentlemen think of the mail order business —as a business? [Price draws his chair over to them, dropping his paper on the floor. | DIETENHOFER. Do you mean from the aspect of an investment ?. 62 MINICK Minick. No, sir! I mean as a business to go into. DIETENHOFER. Well, yes and no, is what I say. Price. Somebody gone into it? Minick. Somebody! My son, Fred, that’s who! DIETENHOFER. You don’t say! Minick. Yessir! And I’ve got to stop him before it’s too late. Price. How far have things gone? Minick. Just started up, near’s I can find out. Fred’s never said boo about it around the house. Not even to Nettie, I don’t think. She wouldn’t a let him do it, either. DIETENHOFER. Tell us about it. Minick. Well, here I’d been cooped up in the house four days now. So this morning I got up, my cold was quite some better—Nettie was out doing something—so I says to myself, I says, “T’ll just jump on the L and go down and say hello to Fred. Freshen me up!” So I goes down there. Big place full of desks and one of them smart Alecks asking you who do you want to see and have you got an appointment. I made short work of him. ‘Listen,’ I said, “I’m Fred Minick’s father. Which one’s his office?” By that time he looked pretty scared. And I’d marched right in, too, only he says pretty wilty by now, “Mr. Minick ain’t in,” he says. “He’s over at his other place.” Well, at that I smelled a rat right away. “Oh,” I says, “he is, is he?’ And this young sprat says, “Yes, he’s always over there mornings.” I never let on. “That’s so!” I says. “Let’s see, now. That num- ber’s two sixty—uh ” (Turns to Price.) “It’s the Monadnock Building,” the kid says. “I don’t know the number.” Price. Good work! } Tienes DiIETENHOFER. Did you find it? (Together) Minick. (A gesture that means “Leave it to MINICK 63 me!) Marched right up to the elevator fella and says, “Party name of Minick got offices here?” “Eleven-seventeen,’ he says. (Jmitates the man’s tone.) And sure enough, there it was painted on the door: “Twentieth Century Mail Order Com- pany.” And down underneath, “Frederick Minick —James J. Corey!’ That’s a friend of his. Price. Two of them! DiETENHOFER. Did you goin? Minick. Had my hand on the door when I says to myself, “No! I want to see Nettie first about this.” Fred’s a funny boy. Got to handle him just so. Ever since he was a youngster. So! That’s the situation in a nutshell, gentlemen, and I would certainly appreciate having your advice. DIETENHOFER. Well, now that you’ve laid all the facts before me—I don’t know, but I will say this, here and now. If you take two young fellas inex- perienced [ Nettie’s key is heard in the outer door. | Minick. Here’s Nettie now. (Rises. NETTIE enters carrying two bundles, one a loaf of bread, the other a smaller bundle. Elaborately casual.) Hello, Nettie! [DIETENHOFER and PRicE rise. NETTIE stops short as she sees the old man. A quick look takes in the disorder of the rooms.]| Nettie. Oh, Father! What are you——! I told you not [Her look and gesture express more than her words. Picks up vase and puts it on bookcase.| Minick. (Explaining) Well, Mr. Dietenhofer and—— [Price is r. of MInicx.] 64 MINICK Nettie. It was all right yesterday, and—but—— [Picks up newspapers and exits to passage. | DIETENHOFER. We only came in to keep Mr. Minick here—— Nettic. Lula! Lula! Of course I was glad to have you sit with Father Minick this week, but today—(LuLa enters from the passage.)—Lula, take these. (Stuffs newspapers into her hands.) No, wait a minute! (Gives her the two bundles.) That’s for the sandwiches—and hurry. I’m ter- ribly late—I thought I’d never get (As LuLa goes.) And bring in the dust pan and whisk broom. (During the next few speeches NETTIE ts flying about the room in a desperate effort to set it to rights before her guests arrive; takes gavel from sofa, replaces it on smoking table.) Of course I know it’s been hard on you, Father, being in—but just today—(Pulls armchair in place.) —so incon- venient—my whole committee Come tomorrow —come Thursday—come any other day! I’d be only too glad (Takes desk chair and replaces it; goes around them to table; they turn completely around watching her; she hands DIiETENHOFER hits hat.) Father, I did tell you I had some women coming today, didn’t I! (As she hands the hat to DiETEN- HOFER.) Here! Minick. Well, well! Nothing to fuss about! Nettiz. Nothing to fuss about! Look at this room! Lula! [Goes L. to passage. | DIETENHOFER. ‘Well, ma’am, I assure you we’ve got our own place to go to [A step R.] Nettizc. Lula! Price. Maybe you want us to go? en wn © o0 S AY © v) Y LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS MINICK 6s [LuLA enters from passage, carrying dust pan and whisk broom.] Netric. Here! Give me those. You go ahead with the sand Why, you haven’t your uniform on! Lua. Hain’t had time yet. I been Nettie. Well, go ahead. Don’t talk! It’s after three now! (Lua goes. NETTIE calls.) And don’t forget to cut them very thin! [Kneels with dust pan and whisk broom in front of sofa. | Minick. I'll do that for you. Nettie. No, Father. You can help your friends on with their things. DIETENHOFER. It’s all right. Don’t trouble your- self. We can put them on. Minick. (Eagerness in his tone) Coming around again tomorrow? I'll be here. DIETENHOFER. Well, we'll be pretty busy to- morrow. [Goes up and gets his coat.]| Minick. Well— Nettie. (Crossing R. and whisking up ashes by armchair) And another thing. I was furious when I came home and found you were out. You weren't fit to go out. | Minick. Well, it’s a good stroke I went. And I want to talk to you. [ Snifiles. | Nettie. Well, you see what happened—your cold’s worse. (Brushing at Pricr’s feet.) Your coat’s up there, Mr.—uh Prick. Huh? Oh! 66 MINICK [Moves at last up to easy chair; he and DIETEN- HOFER struggle with their coats and mufilers.| Nettie. Lula! Lula! [Crosses L. and exits into passage with broom and pan. | DIETENHOFER. (Crossing D.L. to Minick) Pretty high strung, ain’t she? Minick. She don’t mean anything. DIETENHOFER. Well—they don’t ever mean any- thing, but—just the same [Starts R.] Price. (Coming pv.R. of MinicK and touching hss arm) I had it. DIETENHOFER. (Turning at door) You mull it over in your mind just in case that vacancy does happen to NETTIE. (Reéntering) Are you all ready? DIETENHOFER. Well, Ma’am, I wish you good- day. [Extends his hand. | Nettiz. Good-bye. [Is compelled to take his hand; otherwise he won't go.| Price. (Also extending his hand) Good-bye. [She takes his hand; D1ETENHOFER crosses to door.] NeTtic. Good-bye. Father, would you mind bringing in a few chairs from the dining-room? (Minick starts for the dining-room; NETTIE quickly adds:) After you’ve seen your friends out! ee ee MINICK 67 DIETENHOFER. (Stops, considers) Where did I put my rubbers? NetTTIE. (Now above v.L. end of table) They’re not in here. Perhaps you can put them on outside. DIETENHOFER. I know. They’re in the hall. Price. That’s so—they are. [They exit into hallway.] NETTIE. (Crossing above table to window, where she starts to straighten the shades) Father, you will get them out of here, won’t you? Minick. - What do you think I found out this morning ? NeEtTIE., I don’t know, Father. Tell me later. Minick. What do you think Fred’s done? [The noise of the old men stamping into ther rubbers is heard.| _ Nettie. Please, Father. The meeting’l! be start- ing. Minick. (Coming just above her) Fred’s gone into the business. Nettie. (Turns quickly) What! How do you know? Mail order! Minick. Yessir! And you and I got to stop him. [Crossing above table to D.L.]| NETTIE. But how do you know he’s gone into it? Who told you? [Comes below table to p.L.; R. of MINICK. ] Minick. Saw it on the door. Fred and Mr. Corey. Nettie. Where? What door? 68 MINICK Minick. 1117 Monadnock Building. What’ll we do! Nettig. Monadnock Building—Father, tell me something. Did you ? _ DIETENHOFER. (eéntering) Well, we're go- ing. Price. (Reéntering and crossing to c.) Where's my newspaper? NetTT1E. What? Price. I want my newspaper. Nettie. What newspaper ? Price. My newspaper. Left it right here some place. NetTIE. Oh, please! Can’t you get another news- per! P Price. Get another? Only had this one an hour! NettTicE. (Almost beside herself, going near pas- sage) Lulu! Lulu! Minick. I'll get it. Nettie. No, Father, keep out of the kitchen! [LuLa, who has changed to her black dress, appears in passage door.| Luta. Huh? Nettie. Lula, get that newspaper I just (The doorbell rings. Her arms go out in a gesture to the heavens. She turns to Minicx.) Now there you are! Lula, answer the door. It’s them. No— wait! Get your apron on. (LULA vanishes into passage; NETTIE turns and sees that PRICE is stand- ing immovable.) Oh, I'll get your paper. (To Minick.) You’ve got me just all unstrung. [Dashes off into passage. MINiIcK comes above table to U.R.; DIETENHOFER discovers something the matter with one of his rubbers, and finds that he must sit down on desk chair to fix tt. MINICK 69 PRICE sits on sofa. Luta, fastening her apron, enters D.L. and crosses. She discovers that the apron is wrong side out; reverses it; exits into the hall. Nettie follows on, bringing the newspaper, now merely a ball.] NetTicE. And now if you seated again.) Good heavens! (Sees they are [Price and DIETENHOFER rise, and she stuffs the paper into Price’s hands. | Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (Off) Good afternoon! NetticE. Now, Father, you see—here they are! (To the others.) Now you are going right out, aren't you? [ Mrs. SMALLRIDGE and Miss CRACKENWALD enter, followed by Luta.] Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Good afternoon! Well! Are we the first? Nettiz. How are you, Mrs. Smallridge! Miss Crackenwald! Miss CRACKENWALD. (Very crisp) Afternoon. Nettie. Lula, take the ladies’ things. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (Beaming) Well, Mr. Min- ick! And how are you these duil November days! Manage to keep happy? Minick. Oh, I manage. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. That’s good. [Luta has taken Miss CRACKENWALD’S coat.]* Miss CRACKENWALD. I’ll keep my hat on. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (Jn the tone of one address- ing a small boy) I suppose these are friends of yours come to while away a rainy afternoon. I re- member when Mr. Smallridge’s poor dear father was with us, how he loved to have his friends in. My! Bright and active right up to the last day. 70 MINICK Minick. (Expanding a little) Yes. Yessir! I’d like you to meet these gentlemen... Mr. Eugene Dietenhofer—Mrs.—uh Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Mrs. Smallridge. Minick. And Mr. J. W. Price. DIETENHOFER. Pleased to meet you. Price. Pleased to make your | ( Together) quaintance. [NETTIE #5 politely dying in the background.| Minick. (Not Re to tgnore the other guest) And this is Mrs. ... ? Miss CRACKENWALD. (Jcily) Miss Cracken- wald. Minick. Miss? Nettic. Oh! (To the others.) These gentle- men were just going. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Well, I hope we aren’t chas- ing you away. Bundle up good and warm, It’s very penetrating out. Price. (Crossing to her, throws back his coat and displays a maroon sweater, with initial “C” on it) Never fear. Got M’ grandson’s sweater on. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. That’s wise. You know Lake Michigan in November. DIETENHOFER. (Catches Miss CRACKENWALD’S eye) I always wear a good piece of old-fashioned flannel right inside my underwear. [Unbuttons part of his shirt to show this in tri- umph. Miss CRACKENWALD’S eyebrows go up slightly. | Nettic. I’m afraid I must ask you to go now. The meeting is going to get under way. DIETENHOFER. Well, good-bye. [Starts off.] MINICK 7 Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Good-bye. Price. (Starts to cross Rr.) Well, I hope—— [He never finishes; NETTIE propels him out; Dizt- ENHOFER and PRICE go into the hall; Minick takes them to the door. NeEtTTIE turns to Miss CRACKENWALD with a little semi-exclamatson of apology and relief.| Nettie. Well—won’t you sit down? Miss CRACKENWALD, (Glances at her wrist watch, crosses to sofa and sits on upper edge) After three. Do they all know the meeting’s been shifted here? NettiE. I notified them. [The doorbell rings.]| Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (Crossing and sitting L. of Miss CRACKENWALD) Clara Whitney took sick very suddenly, didn’t she? This flu. Do you know I remarked the last time I saw her Lit. (Looks in from hall) Hello, Net! Nettie. Hello, Lil! Lula! [Beckons Luta to take Lit’s wraps. Liu enters; NETTIE sits in chair above desk.] Lit. How do you do, ladies? (A meaning look toward hall and then to NETTIE.) I see you’ve been entertaining. [Lua enters and crosses U.R. through dining-room and off. Lit sits in desk chair.]| Nettigz. Yes. I—TI hope no one’s been incon- venienced by the change in plans. Minick. (Reénters from hall and starts to st chair v.R.) Well! Starting to gather, huh? 72 MINICK , NettTIE. (Checking him with her words) Father, you were going to bring in the chairs. Minick. All right. All right. (As he goes up to dining-room.) What’s the meeting about? Something important? [He exits into dining-room.| (Next three speeches spoken simultaneously) Miss CRACKENWALD. NETTIE. (Sotto voce I don’t see why people to Lit) Lil, I must talk can't be on time. I was_ to you. here on time and I’ve Lit. What’s the mat- had a very full calendar ter? today. And my head is simply splitting. Nettie. (ising) I’m so sorry. Why don’t you take your hat off and be comfortable? Go right back into my room. You'll find everything. (Cross- ing above table top.L.) Lula! Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. I’ll show her. (Riséng.) Don’t bother Lula. I know how it is. (Crossing D.L.) Why don’t you take an aspirin, Miss Crack- enwald? Miss CRACKENWALD. (Following her; stonily) I’ve had six. [They both exit into passage. MtINick enters from dining-room with two dining-room chairs and places them in front of sofa.]| NETTIE. (Crossing to Lit) Did you know the boys were in business? [Minick listens, chair in hand.] Lit. Business? Minicx. What you going to do about it? ae a Ti a ae Se MINICK rm NETTIE. (Silences him with a gesture) Did you know that Fred and Jim had gone ahead with that crazy mail order scheme? Lit. They haven't! Nettic. They have! Lit. I don’t believe it! How do you know? Minick. J found it out Nettie. Father Minick. Monadnock Building. Saw it on the door. Lit. What are you talking about? Netti£c. I’m telling you that Fred has probably taken every penny we’ye got in the world— (The doorbell rings.) —and dumped it into this—this idiotic Minick. Yessir! Lit. Then Jim has, too. Net, if he has [Mrs. SMALLRIDGE and Miss CRACKENWALD enter D.L., talking. Luta follows them on, crosses r. and exits into hallway. | Miss CRACKENWALD. (Comes in front of sofa) ... in view of the rather exhaustive survey Still nobody else here? NetTIE. (Following Lua into hall) Here is someone now. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (To Minick) Heljing to do your bit, I see. Minick. That’s two. Got two more. [Exits into dining-room above table, as Mrs. Lip- PINCOTT and Miss Stack enter from thr hall; LuLa takes and places their coats m hall.| Mrs. LippINcoTT is a general. Hers is the pxecu- tive mind. She thinks nationally. Herdream is an office in the General Federatin of Women’s Clubs. Miss Stack lobbies) Mrs. Lippincott. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE comes XC. and | sits on sofa D.L. end.| | 74 MINICK Mrs. Lippincotr. How do you do, ladies! Miss Stack. How-do! [The other women return the greeting. LULA crosses back of ladies into dmtng-room and off. | Miss CRACKENWALD. We've been holding the meeting for you. Mrs. Lippincott. (She is about c.) I think you know, Miss Crackenwald, that if there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s punctuality., Miss Stack and I had to go to Clara Whitney’s to learn that the meeting had been transferred here. Miss Stack. Mrs. Minick seems to have for- gotten to notify us. Nertic. But I did! I spent the morning tele- phoning. [Minick comes in above table with two more chairs and places them in front of sofa.]| Mrs. Lippincott. ‘That’s strange. My secre- tary is generally very reliable. Mis§ CRACKENWALD. I don’t think we should wait for the rest. Ms. SMALLRIDGE. Yes—let’s begin. Mis. Lippincott. I don’t know why we couldn’t havemet over at my house, as long as Clara Whitney was Sick. NéttTiE. Shall we start now? Mrs. Lipprncorr. How can we start without a quortm, Mrs. Minick? Nrrtic. That’s true. We haven’t, have we? Miss Stack. We have only six. Seven is a quorum. Lit.| Well, now I know Marge Diamond is com- ing. {an’t we sort of kind of start, meanwhile? | MINICK 75 Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. I don’t think it would hurt, this once. I move that we go ahead and start. Lit. I second the motion. Mrs. Lippincott. You can’t introduce a motion until the meeting’s called to order. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Then how are we going to start? [Minick is following all this with breathless inter- est, standing above table v.L. edge.| Nettic. What is your pleasure, ladies, in this matter? Mrs. Diamond is coming eventually. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Isn’t there some way we can start? Mrs. Lipprncott. We could, under Section Five, Article Eight, suspend the rules with the unanimous consent of the assemblage. [Miss CRACKENWALD sits. From two of three of those assembled: “All right,’ “Yes? “Well, why don’t we?” | Minick. What’s the meeting going to be about, anyway? [They all look at him. A look from NETTIE to Lit that says “Help me!” A little buze of conversation in the group.| Nettic. Thanks for bringing in the chairs, Father. Minick. That’s all right, Nettie my girl. Lit. (Goes to him above table) Now, Mr. Minick, you don’t want to stay and listen to a lot of dull business, do you? Why don’t you take a nap? Minick. Just got up. (Crosses above her to u.R.) Don’t want to sleep my life away. 76 MINICK Mrs. Lippincott. (Crosses and sits second chair from r.) I think we can begin now, Madam Chair- man! [Miss Stack sits L. of Mrs. Lippincott.] Nettiz. I shall call the meeting in a moment, Mrs. Lippincott. [Crosses to desk and gets note paper, then goes up to MINIcK.] Miss CRACKENWALD. It’s getting later and later. NettTicE. (To MInIck, in an undertone) Father, you don’t want to stay here, do you? Minick. [I like it here. Nettic. You'll have to be very quiet. Minick. I will. Quiet as a mouse. [Goes up to easy chair and sits.] Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (To Miss Stack) This is a pretty room, isn’t it? With the Park and all. [Liz sits chawr Rr. of table.] Miss Stack. Y-yes. NETTIE. (Sitting armchair D.R., taps three times with gavel) Ladies! (They are all attention.) The meeting will please come to order. The—uh—first business of the day is the reading of the minutes of the previous meeting. (Drops into sudden informal- ity.) Oh, Marge isn’t here. Miss CRACKENWALD. Why she was ever made secretary ! Nettic. We can defer the reading of the min- utes until Mrs. Diamond gets here. Is there any unfinished business ? MINICK we Mrs. Lippincott. (Leaps to her feet) Madam Chairman ! Nettie. Mrs. Lippincott? Mrs. Lippincott. I call for the orders of the day. I believe the chair is in error. NETTIE. Oh! Mrs. Lippincotr. Failing the reading of the minutes the next business is the Reports of Boards and Standing Committees, followed by Reports of Special Select Committees and Special Orders. Then, and not until then, comes Unfinished Business. Nettie, The Chair stands corrected. [Mrs. LipPIncoTT sits.] Minick. (Impressed) Gosh! NETTIE. (Consulting a paper) We'll have the sub-committee reports. The sub-committee on Play- grounds— (Her voice drops from its official note to an everyday tone.) Oh, that’s Clara Whitney, and of course she’s sick. . . . Well, then, the report of the sub-committee on Juvenile Delinquency— (Her voice drops again.) Now I talked to Emma Os- good over the phone this morning and she said she’d positively be here. Of course she lives way over north. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Tries to do too much. Miss Stack. (Searching among her papers) Oh. Mrs. Osgood asked me to say that she will sub- mit her Juvenile Delinquency report at the next meeting— (Rises.) She has had some difficulty in verifying her statistics on— (Referring to her pa- per.) Group C, boys of fifteen and sixteen. Nettie. Oh—well—thank you. [Miss Stack séts.] Minick. (Rises and takes a step down) Say, I’ll tell you a good one on Fred time he was fifteen. 8 MINICK Nettie. (Her finger to her lips, recalling his promise to be quiet) Father, remember you Minick. That’s right. That’s right. [ Sits. ] Nettie. ‘Well—‘‘sub-committee on Home Sur- vey ’—well, anyway, you’re here, Miss Crackenwald. Miss CRACKENWALD, I am. Nettiz. (A little buzz of talk has broken out) Ladies! We will now listen to Miss CRACKENWALD. (Rising) Madam Chair- man—lI was asked [The telephone rings. Miss CRACKENWALD pauses. | Nettiz. I’m awfully sorry. (Mrtnick half rises to answer; NETTIE waves him back. Into phone.) Hello !—Yes.—No, Mrs. Diamond’s not here. We’re waiting for her ourselves Mrs. Lippincott. (To Miss Stack) We're not getting anything done. NettTicE. (Junto phone) Her home? Don’t you know where she is? All right. Ill tell her to call you. (Hangs up and comes back to her chair.) I’m so sorry. For Marge, of course. (There is a little buzz of talk; NETTIE raps for order.) Ladies! The meeting will come to order. Miss CRACKENWALD. (Has a sheaf of papers in her hands) I was asked, on August the tenth, of the current year, to undertake a survey of some of the homes in the districts where conditions demand attention, with a veiw to evolving a new plan— (LuLA appears in the dining-room doorway. She is flying signals of distress. She beckons to NETTIE, pantomiming meanwhile. NETTIE shakes her head and with a glance tries to make LULA vanish. LULA persists and works to v.L. above table.) —for the es- MINICK 79 tablishing between parents and children that bond which is so necessary if we are to develop a real American citizenry in the generation now flowering into manhood and womanhood. Accordingly, on the morning of the sixteenth of August [Lit has joined Nettie in the pantomime én an ef- fort to shoo Luta off. LULA ts insisting. The interruption is now a definite one. LULA ts hissing “I got to see you about the sandwiches.” | Minick. (Kssing, to NETTIE) Lula wants to talk to you. Lua. I got to see you about the sandwiches [In a hissing whssper. | NETTIE. (Rises and crosses L. very irritated) I’m terribly sorry, everybody. I won’t be a second . . - Lula, what do you mean [Lua exits D.L. followed by NETTIE who slams door. An embarrassed silence. | Miss Stack. The meeting should have been at your house, Mrs. Lippincott. Lit. Well, you know Nettie has had a great deal to put up with today, Miss Stack. Miss CRACKENWALD. I might as well sit down. [Does so.| Minick. (Rises and comes down to R. of Mrs. Lippincott) Well! Kind of a recess, eh? Tm Fred’s father. I don’t think I caught your name. Mrs. Lippincott. Mrs. Thornton Lippincott. Minick. Well, anyway, about Fred. I was go- ing to tell you 80 MINICK NETTIE. (Reénters flustered, apologetic, almost tearful) I don’t know what I can say to you... Stupid maid. . . . It’s been a terrible day! [Motions Minick back to his seat; goes to chair, assumes again the role of chairman. Miss STACK takes a few folded sheets of paper from her bag and fans herself, looking about to see if a door or window can’t be opened.| Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. "Tis close, isn’t it? NETTIE. Come to order, ladies! We were—uh —we were just taking up—— Miss Stack. (Rises suddenly; at same instant Miss CRACKENWALD does likewise ; they speak simul- taneously) Madam Chairman! Miss CRACKENWALD. Madam Chairman! Nettie. Miss—uh Minick. (Points to Miss Stack) She was up first. The little one. Nettic. Father! Miss Stack? Miss Stack. I rise to a point of personal priv- ilege. I move [The doorbell rings.] Marce. (Off) May I come in? Nettie. Oh, it’s Mrs. Diamond now! Marce. (Enters) Hello, everybody! Not late, am I? NETTIE. Only an hour. Lit. Hello, Marge! Marce. Hello, Pr} (Teg ether) Mrs. Lippincott. Please, ladies! I have a most important engagement at five. Nettie. Marge, you knew we were meeting at three. Being secretary, it seems to me you might at least MINICK 81 Marce. I’m sorry—I was held up. And I can’t stay. I promised Natalie Gaige I’d look in at the Blake reception. NettTic. You've got to stay. Miss Stack. We haven’t a quorum without you. Marce. But Irma’s waiting downstairs in the electric. [MInIcK goes to window and looks out.| 3 Miss CRACKENWALD. Well, really ! Lit. (Rises and comes to MarceE) Now, Marge Diamond, listen to me! If the rest of us are willing to give our time, surely you ought to have some sense of responsibility. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. I have two utter strangers coming to dinner—business friends of Mr. Small- ridge—yet, here I am! Lit. You sit right down in that chair, Marge Diamond. [MarcE sits in desk chatr.| MarcE. (Consulting her wrist watch) I can stay just—five minutes and not a second Minick. (Pointing out of window) ‘There’s your friend! You can see her right from here. Marce. What! (Rises.) Just a minute Nettie (Goes to window and throws it open; ths wind sweeps through the room, scattering papers on the desk. Note: wind blows papers off desk by use of blacksmith’s rotary forge back of set. Calls, leaning out.) Yoo hoo! Irma! Yoo hoo! Listen ! Nettic. (Rising and clutching at the flying pa- pers) Oh, my goodness! Marge! Marge, put that window down! [Lit helps Minicx gather up the papers.] 82 MINICK Marce. (Still yelling out the window) I’ve got to stay five minutes. Will you wait for me! Wait for me! (Slams down the window and turns back to Nettie.) What did you say? NetTTicE. (Sits chair p.R. again) Marge, won't you please sit down now? Marce. (Outraged dignity; sits R. of Mrs. Lip- PINCOTT) Well—I am. (Lit returns to her seat.) Why don’t you go ahead? Nettizc. With Mrs. Diamond here now Minick. Say! (He ts speaking from the win- dow seat just above desk.) There was a party called you on the telephone. NetTTIc. Father! ! Minick. (To NETTIE) You forgot. Nettie. Father! It wasn’t important, Marge. Now Marce. (Rises) Who was it? NETTIE. It wasn’t anything. Minick. JI remember. It was her house. (MarcE goes to phone.) Your house called you up. Wants you to call them. Marce. Why didn’t you (Into phone.) Dor- chester 1653. (To the others.) Mamma’s taking care of Melville. It’s Miss Eaton’s day out. I hope (Into phone.) Yes, that’s right. [Short pause; she sits telephone stool.] NETTIE. Oh, dear! Well, the question is, shall we go back and have the minutes read now that Mrs. Diamond has come? Miss Stack. I move that the minutes be read. (Simultaneously) Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. I Marce. Hulda, this is second the motion. Mrs. Diamond. Listen, did Mother call me? MINICK 83 NETTIE. It’s been moved and seconded that we go back and have the Recording Secretary read the minutes. Are there any remarks? Who? [Nore: These voices are not heard by audience, but only done to facilitate Marce’s pauses. ] HUvuLDA. Mise) Crackenwarp. ,.!ARce. This is Mrs. : Diamond. Did Mother Well, it does seem to il me? me ! cail me! Nowe, Oh. Miss. UEDA... Watt a min- Crackenwald! All those U°: in favor say Aye. Corus. Aye. Nettiz. Opposed? Miss CRACKENWALD. No. Nettie. The motion is carried. Marce. Mother, what do you Nettigz. Oh, Marge Miaareaeli's, about Melville} CTagenier ) Marce. (To NETTIE) Just a minute, Net- tie. (Into the phone.) What's the matter with him? MorHer. He’s broken something—— Marce. Well, what? MortHer. Your best lamp. Marce. Not the big one in the hall! MorTHER. Yes. Marce. Oh! Well, where were you—you brought up children of your own MorHer. I was out in the kitchen—when he—— Marce. I don’t see why MoTHer. —hit it with his velocipede, Marce. With what? MorHeErR. His velocipede Marce. Every time you stay with him! Let me talk to him—oh—— NetTTI£. Oh, Marge, please—— Marce. (Rises) Just a minute, Nettie—— (Into 84 MINICK phone.) Melville. Melville, this is mamma. What were you doing in the hall in the first place? MELVILLE. Riding my velocipede. Marce. But you're not allowed to ride your velocipede out there—that was one of mamma’s best lamps (MELVILLE starts crying.) Now, don’t cry! (More crying.) Stop that crying, Melville Diamond, and tell me (He talks incoherently.) Talk plainly. (Same business.) Take your fingers out of your mouth. MELvILLE. I haven’t got my fingers in my mouth. Marce. Well, what have you got in your mouth? MELvILLeE. My watch. Marce. Good heavens! Take it out! Take it put of your mouth this minute, mamma says. And ‘listen to me. Mamma says you can’t have your velocipede again for a long time. You're a naughty, naughty boy! (Hangs up, turns to others.) My Chinese lamp that Al gave me for my anniversary. Nettiec. I’m sorry about your lamp, but really, Marge, we’ve got to get on. We've just voted to vo back and have you read the minutes. Marce. What minutes? Nettie. Marge! Your minutes. The minutes of the last meeting. Marce. Why, I didn’t think this was a regular meeting, Nettie. When Hulda gave me your message NettTic. Do you mean to say you didn’t bring them? Marce. I had no idea you’d want them today. I thought it was sort of a special meeting. Minick. Didn’t she bring it? Mrs. Lippincott. Can’t we get on, then? Miss Crackenwald ! | [Miss CRACKENWALD rises.] MINICK 8s Nettic. Yes, please. Miss CRACKENWALD. Well, if I may be assured of a few uninterrupted moments. (Looks at MARGE; MakcE sits in desk chair.) Following the collapse of the plan to bring parents and children together in closer accord through the medium of the school house—I was asked, on August tenth of the current year— (Here Marce rises, goes to phone stool; NET- TIE motions her to sit. Miss CRACKENWALD sees her and repeats.) —of the current year— (MArcE sits phone stool and smiles at Miss CRACKENWALD, ap- parently all attention now.) —to undertake a survey of some of the homes in the districts where condi- tions demand special attention, with a view to evolv- ing a new plan for establishing between parents and children that bond which is so necessary. This is indeed a most vital work. As our Federation presi- dent, Louisa Stout Breckenridge, said so concisely— (Punctuates the word with a gesture.) —in her key- note speech at the convention in Springfield, “The youth of today is the citizen of tomorrow.” (MarcE has been edging toward the door and now quietly tiptoes into hallway.) It is with the training of that youth that we concern ourselves here today. (Marc slams outer door.) And how can we better bring that about than by encouraging that youth to emulate the admirable qualities of that sturdy stock from which has—uh—sprung—the people who make up our population today—who make up our popula- tion today. (Shuffles three or four sheets of her paper but resumes reading from the top sheet again. Luta enters from the dining-room carrying a silver platter of fancy sandwiches and pitcher of orange juice with glasses. These she places on table. It is a quiet entrance, but the plates as they are set down clatter a little.) Now—uh— (Her platform voice and manner return.) —our problem then, spe- cifically, is to inculcate in the new generation a 86 MINICK greater love and affection for the traditions of the old. As the logical medium for the furtherance of this ideal condition we have hit upon the Home. Bring Parent and Child together in the Home. Keep the child in the home by making that home more at- tractive than the streets—more entertaining than the motion picture palace—more alluring than the dance hall. To this end let us adopt as our slogan, “Every Home a Club.” Let us launch the Every Home a Club Movement. The boy and girl will not wander from the fireside if it holds for him the same games and pastimes that he is offered in the billiard parlors and pool rooms, in the corner drug or cigar stores Minick. (Who has been growing more and more interested and restless during this speech, now reaches the point where he can no longer contain himself. He comes over facing her) Now right there is where you're all wrong! Nettie. Father! You must not interrupt. You must not [Miss CRACKENWALD Sits in disgust. | Minick. Now, now! You’re on the wrong track and I can prove it to you. NETTIE. Father, not now. You can’t! [Lit rises. ] Minick. I can so! [NETTIE ‘ts distressed and Yessir! Because now goes up by desk facing you're talking about up. | something I’ve seen with my own eyes. And this was it. There were six Hassauer boys that lived right across the street from us in Blooming- ton—— MINICK Nettie, you’ve heard Fred talk of ’em—as fine boys as ever you'd want to see But run, run, run every night. Eat their supper and out. Got so their pa and ma _ practically never saw em So they got the idea of buying a billiard table to keep ’em in—had one sent down from Chi- cago—— [Turns and finds he has suddenly lost his audi- ence, suddenly drses up.| Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (As she crosses R.) Are we going? Minick. What are you doing? Busting up? I hope I ain’t discouraged 87 [All women rise in in- dignation. | Mrs. Lippincott. This is really! Miss Strack. Yes, in- deed ! [Crosses R. and exits.] Miss CRACKENWALD. (Crossing L.) Mrs. Min- ick, I’m afraid I shall have to go. [Exits D.v.] Mrs. LIPPINCOTT. (Turning to NETTIE and Lit) I move that we adjourn until the twenty- second and meet at my house. Lit. I don’t think that’s in order, Mrs. Lip- pincott. Mrs. Lippincott. A motion to adjourn is al- ways in order, Mrs. Corey. ? [Indignanily sweeping toward door R. and exits. | [Follows the other out.| 88 MINICK you. Plenty other good [Mrs. CRACKENWALD re- work you girls can do. enters from L. and (Turns and sees her.) crosses. | You got a good head on you! [Ignoring him, she con-~ tinues to cross. | Mrs. Lippincott. (Reénters, her coat half on) Good day, Mrs. Minick. Miss Stack. (Following her leader as always) Good day, Mrs. Minick. Miss CRACKENWALD. Good afternoon. (FRED enters from the hall.| Frep. Well, well! I didn’t know this was going on. Hello there, ladies! Howdy-do, Miss Crack- enwald! [ Minick, crestfallen that he has broken up the meet- ing, crosses to D.L. end of table standing near sandwich platter. | Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (From hallway) Good eve- ning, Mr. Minick. My, it must be late! Frep. Oh, not going, are you? Mrs. Lippincott. I’m afraid we must. [Exits, followed by Miss Stack and Miss Crack- ENWALD. | Frep. (To them in hall) Well, ’msorry! Id ask you to stay to dinner, only I’ve been married long enough to know better. (To NETTIE.) Haven’t I, old lady! (Pats her shoulder. Looks at her. In undertone.) What’s the matter? Nettie, (Pushes him away and turns up stage) Please! Se ee ee ee se i Wi ae er Be ee ae ee MINICK 89 Miss CRACKENWALD. (Popping head in door- way) Good-day. Minick. (Standing ivestigating the sand- wiches) Here’s the sandwiches. Ladies forgot to eat the sandwiches. Frep. Anything wrong? Lit. Net’ll tell you. [Mrs. SMALLRIDGE reénters buttoning her coat.] Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Well, good-bye, Nettie. NETTIE. Good-bye. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Good-bye, Mr. Minick. Minick. You want to try one of those. Pretty good. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. No, I don’t want to spoil my dinner. Well, good-bye. Good-bye, Fred. Good- bye, Nettie. (From doorway and then exits.) Such a nice meeting. Lit. Can I do anything for you, Net? [NETTIE shakes her head.| Frep. What’s eating you girls, anyhow? Lit. Til ’phone you right after dinner, and I'll probably bring Jim over. (Crosses D.R.) Good- bye. Good-bye, Fred. [ Exits. ] Frep. For heaven’s sakes, Net, why the martyr stuff! What’s the matter! Nettic. Don’t speak to me! Frep. Don’t be so tragic. What’s happened? Minick. Fred, Nettie and I want to talk to you. Frep. Huh? [Still bewildered. go MINICK Nettie. (Jn desperation) Father Minick, won’t you please leave Fred and me alone, now! Frep. Perhaps you’d better, Dad. Minick. (Starts toward passage) Well, all right. But I want to talk to you. Yessir! NETTIE. Oh! Frep. For God’s sake, Nettie, what is this all about ? Nettic. (Regards him rather wildly a moment) About! (Her voice breaking.) Ill tell you what it’s about. It’s about you and him and me and everything else! That’s what it’s about! [Crosses D.R. and sits in armchair. Is half crying.] Frep. Well, what have I——? Has Father done something ?—What is it? Nettie. (Now deadly calm) It’s just this, Fred Minick. I was good enough for you to bring your father into this house and saddle him on me all day long, every day—good enough to have him humiliate me before all these women and probably lose me my chairmanship that it’s taken me months— and that Mrs. Lippincott—the audacity Frep. (Crosses to her and puts his arm around her to comfort her) Oh, Nettie—I’m terribly sorry. Now, you’re just tired. NETTIE. (Pushes him away, rises and crosses C.) Oh, yes! I was good enough for that! But when it came to confiding in your wife that you were risking God knows how much money in a business that you don’t'know any more about than a child— that’s different, I suppose! Oh, yes! Frep. (A sigh, to himself. He knows the storm is upon him) Oh God! Nettie. And I suppose everybody in town would have known it before me if your father hadn’t just stumbled on it MINICK gI Frep. (4 step toward her) Father! What does he know? He doesn’t Nettic. And this afternoon! Not only does that lovely news about you and Jim come just as I’m expecting them for a most important meeting be- cause that Clara Whitney—Sick! is she! (Throws a chair to one side and fitngs herself upon sofa.) Well, look at me! I’m sick—sick and tired of being the one to sacrifice, and suffer, and then not even be told what my own husband is doing! Frep. (Crossing) Now, Nettie, this thing is as safe as a bank! What’s the use of getting all worked up about nothing? [He sits L. of her.] Nettie. Nothing! Oh, it’s nothing, is it? Noth- ing for me to have been humiliated this afternoon as no woman was ever humiliated before in the world! I'll never be able to face any of those women again! Do you suppose they'll let me go to Springfield after what happened in this house this afternoon? Frep. For God’s sake, what did happen? NetTic. What happened? [Ill tell you what happened! Your father disgraced me in front of all those women ; he offended one of the biggest women in club work today! Well, I’ve stood a good deal in the six months he’s been here—yes, and from you, too—but I’ve reached the end— (Rises and goes R.c.) —do you understand me? I’ve reached the end! [Goes to desk and fusses among papers. | Frep. (Rises and crosses to her) Nettie, you’re making an awful fuss about nothing! You're Nettie. (Turning on him) Nothing? Oh, I 92 MINICK suppose everything is nothing to you! It was noth- ing to you when I had to sit on that hotel porch with him and those terrible old women for weeks last summer, while you went off on your fishing trips! And it was nothing to you that I had to entertain that miserable Phil What’s-His-Name in this house till 1 thought I’d go crazy [Fussing around desk again. | Frep. Now let me tell you something! Phil Lemming is one of the whitest men in Chicago, and he’s gone through for me a dozen times! NettTiE. He’s a good-for-nothing drunken loafer, that’s what he is, and so’s his wife! Frep. Oh! And how about your friend Bessie Cowan, or whatever her name was, that was running in here all summer’? I suppose she was a sweet young thing, wasn’t she? NetTTIE. (Has taken a paper from desk) She didn’t do anything to you! If I’d ever made you put up with one-tenth of the things that you’ve made me endure, I tell you I’d have heard about it long ago! Frep. Oh, I hear about it! Nettie. Well, all I can say is that your father and the way he’s behaved here this afternoon is the last straw! And I want to know what you’re going to do about it! Frep. Oh, Nettie, don’t talk silly! Just be- cause NETTIE. (Tearing paper into bits) I mean it! What is there in it for me anyhow? I was doing very well before I ever married you! I was earn- ing my own good living, and I can do it again! Where am I now! There isn’t a girl in the crowd but what has twice as many clothes as I have! I’ve gone out in that green chiffon until I’d think even MINICK 93 you'd feel ashamed! (Throws bits of paper into waste paper basket.) And now what thanks do I get? You take every cent we’ve got and throw it away Frep. I haven’t thrown it away! You're going to Nettie. And now, on top of it all, I have to put up with this! (Waves a hand that is meant to in- dicate MINICK, goes down and starts returning arti- cles from bookcase to smoking table.) I can’t even have my own home to myself any more! You know what pride I took in fixing it up—nobody enjoyed having friends in more than I did! And I was the one that made them want to come—you never made any effort. But they've been coming less and less, haven’t they? Even you must have noticed that. And pretty soon they won’t be com- ing at all. (Has taken gavel from smoking table and putting it on bookcase, when the full smport of her last words sinks in, she turns and goes to him and speaks very deliberately.) Well, before that happens I want to tell you something. I’m through. Either he goes out of this house or I do, and you can take your choice. [Starts to cross L.] Frep. (Stopping her at c.) Oh, now, you know you don’t mean that. You've got yourself all worked up. NetticE. Oh, don’t I, though? Well, this is all I’ve got to say, and I mean every word of it. Either your father goes out of this house or I do, Fred Minick— (Starts to cross L.) —and I don't care which it is! [Exits into passage, goes to her room and slams door shut. FRED walks upstage in desperation, 94 MINICK MInIck enters from passage. His entrance ts a pretty portentous one. That of the father who is going to remonstrate with his little boy.] Minick. Now, Fred! I want you to listen to me. Frep. (A gesture of a man who has all he can stand and will hear no more; comes down to his R.) Father ! Minick. (Comes c.) I don’t know what Net- tie’s had to say to you, but I want you to tell me about this nonsense of yours. Frep. (Crossing R.) Father, for God’s sake! Will you Minick. All right! But I’m going to take hold of things just the same. I remember when you were nine years old Frep. (Returning to him) But I’m not nine years old any longer. You don’t seem to realize that! Minick. I realize you got no right to jump into a thing like this without coming to me about it Frep. Father, for God’s sake! You’re an old man. What do you know about modern business ? (Crosses R., taking his hat from desk as he goes.) If you’d only stay out of my affairs [Exits and slams the outer door.| Minick. (Stands for a moment, dazed) An old man—that’s what he said—an old man. [LuLa enters with tray and pitcher of orangeade; looks at empty room, amagzed.| Lua. The juice of twelve oranges! CURTAIN ACT THREE ScENE: The Same Scene. Eight o'clock the following morning. [FRED enters from passage. He is in a bathrobe, his hasr _tousled. He glances about as though searching for something. Not finding it he goes out into the hall. The outside door 1s heard to open and close. He reénters the living-room, plainly annoyed now. Calls: Frep. Lula! Lula! (Crosses to passage door.) Lula! Lula, where’s the morning paper? (LULA enters from the passage. FRep starts to speak a second before LULA is seen.) Did you bring it in? Luta. What? | Frep. Did you bring in the morning paper? Lua. Yes, sir. I brought it in when I came. I put it right on your chair like always. Frep. Well, then, I suppose—— [Crossing to just above table pL. NETTIE enters from passage. | Nettie. Good morning, Lula. [Crossing L.c.] Luts. ’Morning. Guess it’s in Mr. Minick room again. Ill go see— You folks pret’ near ready for breakfast? Nettig. What’s in Mr. Minick’s room? 95 96 MINICK Frep. (Js above table lower end) The morning paper. Lua. You folks pret’ near ready for breakfast? How you want your eggs? Nettie. Nothing for me but a cup of black coffee. Luta. (Who has turned to go. Over her shoul- der) No toast? Nettigc. I don’t want anything but a cup of black coffee. (Luta exits.) I didn’t close an eye all night ! [Crosses to desk.] Frep. (Down lower end below table) I thought you slept pretty well. Asleep every time I looked at you. Nettie. I heard the clock strike one—I heard it strike two—three—four—five. I dropped off for a minute around six, and then I heard Lula come in. [Lua enters with newspaper, which is very much rumpled and awry. FRED gives an exclamation of vexation at its disarray. NETTIE, seeing this, gives a glance of mild triumph and says, “Well, it’s your father!’ Lua goes. FRED goes back of table to straighten the paper. NETTIE sighs gustily. | Nettic. He’s holding us all up; Lula’s waiting breakfast; you’re not even dressed. Frep. Oh, well—all right. NETTIE. (Crosses L. below table) He’s been in that bathroom exactly twenty minutes by the clock. I’m going to call him. [Goes off into passage. LULA goes into dining-room and starts to arrange dishes on table. | *“MINICK”’ LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS MINICK 97 Frep. (With a gesture intended to restrain her) Now !—— [Stands listening a bit apprehensively, paper in hand. | Nettie. (Knocking at bathroom door, off. Calls:) Father ! Minick. (Mufiled) Yep. ° Nettie. Are you all right? (Another muffled response that is vaguely “Sure. I’m all right.”) Well, we were just wondering. You’ve been in there so long. Minick. Just putting on my undershirt. Nettie. Well, all right. But Fred is waiting Minick. Coming right out. Nettie. All right. [FRED turns his attention to the newspaper. It is, in its present state, more than he can handle. He lays it on the table, straightens it out. One or two sections are upside down. The paper adjusted, he starts to read it casually as it és spread out before him, leaning on the table. Minick, in his undershirt, appears in passage doorway, outer shirt in hand. Hs feet in the passage, his upper body projecting into the liv- ing-room as he grasps the door jamb.] Minick. I’m out! Frep. Oh all right. [Goes on reading his newspaper. MINIcK pops back to his bedroom, slamming door. NETTIE comes out of her bedroom and slams door and reénters from the passage. | Nettie. Fred, will you go in and finish dressing! (Goes to desk.) I can’t have Lula getting three breakfasts every morning. 98 MINICK Frep. (A last look at the paper. Perhaps a step back for another look) Yep. [NETTIE gives him an impatient look. He goes off into passage, reluctantly. | Nettie. (Taking paper and pencil) Oh—Lula. Come here, will you? [LuLa comes in from dining-room to U.c.] jib) we ala NetTic. I’m going out to market right after breakfast (Sits in chair u.R of desk.) Now— what do we need? Luta. We don’t need anything. Nettigc. There’s enough lamb for stew, isn’t there? ? Luta. Don’t hardly think so. NetTIE. There ought to be. I didn’t eat a mouthful last night; and Mr. Min—we’ll make it do—Any carrot in the house? Luta. No, ma’am. Nettie. Noc Pll get a small bunch. (Writes “carrots.’) Open a can of peas. (Makes a circular gesture that wreathes the stew in carrots and peas.) You can bake a lemon pie. We ought to have a nice dessert with Luta. Lemon pie, when I got to do all that cleaning! Nettigz. All right. We'll just cut up some fruit (Half to herself.) Now what else do we need ? Potatoes—onions—see Holzman—electric light globes—Butter—no, we don’t need butter. LuLa, (Yas'm. Weneed butter. Nettie. Why, Lula! (Perfunctorily.) Well, we've got plenty of coffee. Luta. No’m. Used up the last of it for break- fast. MINICK | 99 Nettie. Lula, you couldn’t! I just got a pound Saturday. Luia. Ain’t none there. NettiecE. You’re drinking too much coffee, Lula. Very bad for you. Make you nervous. Luta. (Laughs) I ain’t nervous. Nettie. Now, is there anything else we need? Luta. Now—let mesee. No,ma’am. Wedon’t need anything. Wernie. Youre ‘sure,. Lula? - Think hard: I don’t want you to Lua. (Putting hand to face in attitude of deep thought) No’m. Can’t think of anything. [Goes into dining-room. Minick enters, fully dressed. NETTIE rises and puts her note book in desk.| Minick. Breakfast ready? NETTIE. Good morning, Father. [Putting her list away. ] Minick. (Coming above table to u.r.c.) Morn- ing. Where’s Fred? Getting dressed? Nettic. He'll be right out! Minick. I want to talk to Fred. Nettie. He’ll be here in a minute. Did you sleep well? Minick. Fair, fair! Nettie. I looked in before we went to bed, but you were sound asleep. Minick. I heard you. And I heard the four of you going on out here until it must have been mid- night—you and the Coreys. Nettic. Oh—we were just talking. Minicx. I know—I know. (To Luta, in the dining-room.) Look here, m’girl! I ain’t been 100 MINICK getting my other pillow lately. What you been doing with it? NettTiE. Father, please. If there’s anything you want, tell me and not Lula. Minick. Two nights now she ain’t been giving me my other pillow. NETTIE. Father, you know you only use one pillow. I told Lula to take the other one away. . Minick. (Firm about it) I sleep on two pillows. NETTIE. But you don’t. Morning after morn- ing, when we make up the bed, we find one on the floor. You sleep on one pillow. Minick. (Not yielding an inch) I sleep on two pillows. Ma always gave me two. Nettie. (With a sigh) All right, Father. You'll have two tonight. [Lua appears in dining-room door, apparently just from the kitchen, with percolator.| Luta. Everybody ready. {It ts an announcement rather than a query; she disappears immediately. | NETTIE. (Crosses below table to pD.R. door. Call- ing) Fred! Are you ready? Frep. All right! Ina minute! [His voice comes from far off.| Nettie. Well, hurry up! Frep. (Still far off) Go ahead—l’ll be right in! NETTIE. Come, Father. [Goes above table to dining-raom. | Minick. (Still on his pillows) Always hawe used two pillows. (Mu1nick goes into dining-room.) What you got for breakfast? Something good? MINICK 101 Nettie. About the same as usual, Father. (Luta hands her glass of orange juice.) Thanks, Lula. Minick. (Luta hands glass to Minick) Orange juice, eh? Left over from the party, huh? Where’s Fred—coming ? Nettie. He'll be here in a minute, Father. Minicx. Don’t know where that snow is they were predicting. Don’t look much like snow to me today. Just guess at it, that’s all they do. Guess at it. Hello, Fred. FreD. (Coming into the dining-room from the passage) Good morning, Father. Nettie. Drink your orange juice, Fred—we’re waiting for you. Frep. I don’t want any. Minick. Don’t want any orange juice? Whole pitcher of it in the kitchen. Nertic. You can take Mr. Minick’s glass, Lula. He doesn’t want any. [FRED has entered from the dining-room, gathered up the newspapers, goes back into dining-room. LuLa exits into kitchen.| Minick. Not much news in the paper (A pause.) Well, looks as if my cold just about left over night. Yes, sir. Did me good, going out yesterday. Frep. I wish we could have something besides eggs for breakfast. Nettie. We're lucky to have eggs. Minick. Understand over in England the Eng- lish eat a good deal of fish for breakfast. Got one fish they call a bloater, and another one they call the kipper or something. Somebody was telling me about it. Forget who it was. Fellow over at the Home, I guess. Ya, that’s who it was. Fellow 102 MINICK named of McIntyre. Scotty, they call him. (The doorbell rings.) Who’s that, I wonder? Some- body coming? [ Rises and. comes into living-room above table.| Frep. It’s probably just mail, Father. [Lua crosses from the passage to the hall.| Minick. Nope. Wasn’t his ring. Always rings twice. NETTIE. It may be Lil. She’s going downtown early. [Minick has a napkin tucked in his collar. On the napkin ss an egg spot.| DIETENHOFER. (Off) Old gentleman in? LuLa. (Jn tired voice) Yessir—he’s in. [When he hears DIETENHOFER’S voice MINICK evinces immediate interest. | Minick. (Half to himself and half to Frep and NETTIE) Gosh, it’s Dietenhofer. (DIETENHOFER and Price enter from the hall followed by Luta.) And Price, too. Hel-lo there! (Comes over to R.c.) You must have got up in the middle of the night! [LuLa gives Price a slight shove to pass him, crosses and extts into passage.]| DIETENHOFER. Good morning i | Price. Morning! CPogether) Minick. Well! Just in time for a bite of break- fast. DIETENHOFER. No. We come to tell you some- thing. MINICK 103 Nettie. (Enters from dining-room, is back of table. Rather stiffly) Good morning. DIETENHOFER. ’Morning, ma’am. We don’t aim to intrude. We just dropped in a minute to see— (Hesitates.) —Minick about something. NetricE,. (A bit coldly) That’s all right. Won’t you take off your things? Father? [Indicating that he might assist them.] DIETENHOFER. No, thank you, ma’am. Price. We just dropped in. Nettie. Well, I’m sureyyou’ll—just—— (Starts to go.) Make yourselves at home. [Exits into passage. | Minick. Sit down! Sit down! (Calls into din- ing-room.) Fred! Frep. What? Minick. I want you to meet couple of friends of mine—— DIETENHOFER. (Whsspers) No! No! Minick. Gentlemen, you’ve never met my son. DIETENHOFER. No. No. But we want to talk to you. It’s im [DIETENHOFER and PRIcE are noticeably uneasy.| Minick. Here he is! (FRep enters from dining- room, crossing above table to D.L. and then to L.c.) Fred, I want to make you acquainted with Mr. Dietenhofer and Mr. Price. [Takes off his napkin, flinging tt in chair v.R. of desk. Luta goes from kstchen into dining- room. | 104. MINICK Frep. How are you, gentlemen? DIETENHOFER. Howdy-do. Price. How are you! Frep. Sit down, gentlemen! My father’s often spoken of you. (LuLa enters from dining-room, snatches napkin off chair, glaring at Minick and exits into dining-room and on into kitchen, with per- colator.) Sit down. DIETENHOFER. Well [Sits on telephone stool. PRIcE sits m armchair D.R. Both eye FRED narrowly.| Frep. Well! You’re a couple of early birds, aren't you? [Sits on sofa. | DIETENHOFER. Why, we just dropped in to talk over a little matter Price. With Minick. Frep. (A little laugh) Well, I guess I’m not qualified to sit in on your debates. I understand you boys have some pretty lively sessions over in the park. Id certainly like to join you though, if I can get a day off from the office. DIETENHOFER. Sure! Sure! Frep. Yes, indeed! DIETENHOFER. I understand you’ve just gone into a new business, Mr. Minick. Frep. (His smile vanishing) What’s that? DIETENHOFER. Minick here was telling us you’ve gone into the mail order business. Frep. (None too pleased) Oh, was he! Minick. (Taking an embarrassed turn up to win- dow) Well—we were just talking—and I happened to bring up the Price. (Judicial) How’s it look? Trep. (Somewhat stiffly) All right, thank you. MINICK 108 DIETENHOFER. Minick here seemed pretty wor- ried about it yesterday: [Minick is shifting a little uncomfortably and gultily. | Frep. Indeed! DIETENHOFER. He was asking us what we thought about it. Of course Price and me—we didn’t know much about it, but—huh—we got taking it up with a few of the boys over at the Home last night—just a little crowd—ten, twelve—and they seemed to think you picked a pretty shaky time for it. Frep. Oh—really? Price. Tell him what Davison said. Frep. (Reses) Thank you. Some other time. (Moves toward the passage.) I have to go now. (A quick glance to MINIcK.) God! [Extts. Minick comes R.c.] DIETENHOFER. He went off pretty sudden. (Rises with PRIcE and comes R. of MINIcK.) But I’m glad he went. Ain’t we, Price? (Jn a confi- dential tone.) Wecome to tell you something you'll be mighty interested to learn. Minick. What’s that? DIETENHOFER. Remember what I told you yes- terday about Patterson? Los Angeles? Well, he’s going. Price. Los Angeles. Minick. Well? DIETENHOFER. Got a dispatch this morning and going right out this afternoon. There’s your chance. Can’t tell how long it'll be vacant. They grab ’em up mighty quick. You could get in if you went after it. Trimble likes you first rate, and so does she. 106 MINICK Price. We come right over. DIETENHOFER. Course I know you said yester- day you wouldn’t ever. But Price and me we no- ticed your son’s wife was pretty hitey-titey with you. We was sort of remarking about it on the way home. Minick. (Slowly, thoughtfully) Oh, Nettie, she don’t mean any harm. Kind of flares up and then DIETENHOFER. Well, harm or no harm, the min- ute I heard Patterson— (FRED comes down passage and stands outside door listening.) —was actually going I says to Price, I says: (Turns to PRicE and then back to Minicx.) Price, here’s the chance for Minick to come into the Home where he can pay his three hundred a year and free as a bird. [Sees Frep and takes a step back.] Price. That’s what you [Stops short on seeing FRED. ] Frep. (Enters) What’s that? [Takes a step in, his eyes on the old men, a dazed look on his face as though he has heard some- thing his ears could not credit. He 1s carrying his overcoat, limply, so that st drags slightly on the floor. He 1s unaware that he has it in his hand. As he speaks he lets the coat slide onto chair D.L. without knowing it ts gone. Bewild- erment, unbelief, pain are in his voice.]| Frep. Do you mean to tell me that you’re trying to persuade my father to go into the— (A vague gesture toward st.) —that Home? Minick. No harm meant. They just thought that if I was thinking of going over there, why— MINICK 107 [Pric—E and DIETENHOFER, thoroughly frightened, back to door R.| Frep. But you’re not, Dad. Tell them you're not! Minick. N-n-n-n—I wasn’t exactly thinking of it. Frep. I should hope not! Why, I never heard of such a thing. Home! Minick. Well, a body might do worse, at that. Frep. Dad, you don’t mean to tell me you actu- ally—are thinking about it! DIETENHOFER. Guess we'll be getting on our way. [Exit wth PRIce. | Frep. (His eyes searching the old man’s face) Father! (The outer door slams, actual terror in his votce.) Nettie! Minick. (Raises a pacifying hand, though his tone 1s not completely reassuring) Now—now! Don’t you get her all excited. [NETTIE reénters from passage. | Frep. Nettie! Did you ever suspect that Dad was thinking of leaving here i NetTIE£E. Leaving! Frep. That he was thinking of going to a Home?. Nettie. Why—no! Frep. Well—he is. Minick. Now I don’t want you to get stirred up about this—you and Nettie. I thought it all out last night, and I’ve got it straight in my mind. Nettig. Why, Father, what is it? Minick. (To FrepD) Well, you see when you flared up at me yesterday Frep. Now, Dad 108 MINICK [Crossing to him.] Minick, That’s all right. I was kind of taken aback at first, didn’t know just what to make of it, and then—I got to thinking. And I remember how Nettie’s club ladies—they busted up minute I started to talk to them. Nertie. That’s over now, let’s not talk about it. [Crossing to R. of him.] Minick. And then, putting two and two to- gether—all of a sudden it come to me. I says to myself—Fred and Nettie—they’re right. They don’t want to be told things by an old fellow like me. Frep. Why, Dad, you’re not old. Minick. I’m turned seventy-two. Yessir! I’m a pretty old codger. It’s funny how you don’t real- ize that till somebody tells you right out. Frep. Oh! Minick. You fool yourself. Everybody gets old, but not you. You see, I belong to one—time, and you belong to another. You go to work and try to mix up the two and you run right smack into trouble. Look at yesterday. I was telling that girl —you know—one that made the speech—that what she was saying wouldn’t work. Nettie. But, Father, Miss Crackenwald is an authority on Minick. Say, you can put nineteen billiard tables in your house, and your youngsters run around the corner to play billiards just the same. Frep. That’s all right, Dad. She didn’t Minick. Of course not. And that ain’t what I’m aiming at. I mean the whole thing. Not just you and me and Nettie. But you see, young people don’t think old people have got any sense; and old people don’t think young folks know anything. You take MINICK 109 out in the park all summer, there wasn’t a better in- formed man among ’em than I was. Problems of the day. You take whether Germany can meet her payments Frep. We know, Dad. But you and I understand each other. Minick. Why, mornings they used to wait till I got there before they’d start in. “Here he comes now,” they’d say. Yessir, we’d have it hot and heavy, and it’d take a pretty good man to down me. And that’s why—with winter coming and—no park —you see, a fellow has got to have people around that understands him. Nettic. But you can have your friends in here. It just happened that yesterday I had that meeting. Frep. Yes. Minick. Over there, they all got about the same way of doing things. That’s why I want to go. Get up early in the morning; you don’t have to worry for fear you're going to wake somebody else up. If you want company, all you have to do is open your door. If you don’t want company, shut it. You see,— (Sits in desk chasr.) —when a fel- low gets my age he’s kind of set in his ways. I guess maybe Ma used to spoil me. Frep. We're going to take care of you now. Minick. Sit and listen to me by the hour. “That’s so, Ben. You’re right, Ben.’ Used to make me think I was smarter than all get-out. Guess maybe she was the smart one. Frep. But, Dad—you are smart. Nettie. I should say so. [Sits on telephone stool.] Frep. Why, for your age you’re—— Minick. You see. Frep. Dad, you make me feel just terrible. Do you think we'd let you go away from here? Never! IIo MINICK Nettie. It'll work out. You'll see. Frep. Now come, Dad. Minick. But here’s the funny part of it. Once, after she took sick she said, ““Ben, Fred and Nettie are going to want you to come with them. Don’t you do it.” You see, Ma didn’t ever know how bad things got to be with the money. But she knew a lot of things I’m just finding out. She was pretty smart. Frep. But, Dad, you’re all wrong. Now we're going to keep you right here and look after you. Nettie. It’s going to be your home as much as ours, and you can do just whatever you like. Minick. No, I don’t want you to change for me. It ain’t natural. No call for you children to live an old man’s life, but you see with me Frep. But, Dad, we'll do anything to make you happy. Nettie. Of course. Minick. (Rising and crossing to c.) H’m, well I know. But I don’t want to feel that anybody’s waiting around for me You see, us Minicks we're long livers. I’m good for another ten, fifteen years. Frep. (Crossing to and going L. of him) Of course you are, Dad, and you're going to spend them here with us, every one of them. NETTIE. (Rising and going to R. of MIntIck) Indeed you are! Frep. Now, Dad, we want you here. I’m all broken up about this. We want you with us. Nettie NettTigz. Of course, Father. We wouldn’t hear of it any other way. You know that. Minick. Well, of course, if you feel that way I don’t want to make you children unhappy, but—— Frep. Then it’s settled. Now, I don’t want to oo ee ee ag Boe CO eg Pee one MINICK III hear of any more such foolishness out of you again, young man. NettTic. Now it’s settled, Father, and over. Frep. Yes, and from now on, things are going to be different. We'll start tonight. I’ll come home early from the office, and Minick. M-m-m-m. Frep. And we'll have a nice little dinner, just the three of us. Nettie. Everything you like. Chicken with dumplings—and spinach Frep. And after dinner, we'll spend the evening just with you. I'll tell you what! You can teach us pinochle. Will you do that, Dad? Minick. We'll see. We'll see. Nettic. And I'll tell you what else we’re going to do— (The doorbell rings.) —That’ll be Lil. At ten o'clock we’ll mix up some of those little fizzes that you like, and [NETTIE goes to hall and exits.] Frep. Now, then, it’s a date. And you’re not going to disappoint us? Why, you had me scared out of seven years’ growth, the idea of your thinking such a [Lit and Net are heard in hall exchanging greet- ings. MINICK goes up to window, followed parily by FRrRep, as Lit enters, followed by NETTIE. | Lit, Oh—hello, Fred. Thought you’d be gone. Frep. I’m just leaving. [Crossing to lower edge of sofa for coat.]| Lit. Good morning, Mr. Minick. | Crosses to upper edge of sofa.| II2 MINICK Minick. Good morning. Frep. (Preparatory to leaving) Well. [Slaps hts pockets to see 1f he has everything.] NetTTicE. Father Minick, don’t you want to go out for a while and take a walk? Frep. Yes, Dad. Bright day like this. Clear your cold right up. Minick. Well—maybe I might. NetTigE. Yes, that'll be—— .(LuLA enters from passage to answer the door.) It’s all right, Lula. I went. (As LuLa turns to go.) Oh, Lula. Father Minick’s going out for a walk. So you give his room a real cleaning. Do his first. And, oh, Lula! Did you clear away the breakfast things? Lua, ip ¥es'm. Nettiz. I’d hardly touched my coffee. I wonder if you’d mind getting me a fresh cup? Luta. (Sighs) No’m. [Exits] NETTIE. Just put it on the table. FRED. Want to take me as far as the L, Dad? Minick. I'll be awhile. You go ahead. Lit. (To Minick) It isn’t as warm as it looks. (Raising her voice.) You'd better bundle up. Minick. (Mimicking her raised voice) MTll bundle. [Lit ts u.R. of sofa.] Frep. Good-bye, Dad! [Reaches over and gives his father, as he passes, two reassuring slaps on the shoulders. | Minick. Good-bye. [Goes tnto passage.| ne = gl a ee MINICK 113 Frep. Don’t forget tonight. (NETTIE sits at desk and looks over her bills.) Going down on the L, Lil? Want to come with me? Lit. Why—not just yet, Fred. Thought I'd talk to Net a while. [Sits upper edge of sofa.] Frep, You’re up and out pretty early, all right —Well Lit. I’ve been up for hours. I didn’t close an eye all night. I heard the clock strike one—two— three. I dropped off for a minute around six. [Rises and crosses up to window. A look of recog- nition on FRED’S face. | Frep. That’s too bad Well, Nettie? (Crosses to NETTIE.) [His look and tone savor of conciliation. | NETTIE. (Without much life in her tone) Good- bye, Fred. Frep. (Js just back of her chair) You were a peach, old girl. (Js rather awkward and sheepish about this, yet he wants to say tt before he goes.) And I want you to know I appreciate it. NETTIE. What else was there to do, Fred? Frep. Just the same you were mighty fine about it and—don’t you forget it. As far as the business is concerned It’s going to be all right You'll see. You’re going to have lots of money some day. Nettie. I hope so, Fred. FreD. (Crossing R. to lower edge of desk) Not sore at your old man, are you? NetTTIE. No. 114 MINICK Frep. I didn’t mean to keep it from you. But every time I tried to tell you, I lost my nerve. So I thought [’d wait until it really got going. I’m sorry. NETTIE. (Rises) I’m sorry too—about every- thing I said. I said terrible things, I know. Frep. (They embrace) It’s all right. I under- stand. (They kiss.) Peach! (Goes ito the hall.) Good-bye, Lil. Lit. (Comes p.R.) Well! You NetTTIE. (Sighs) Lil, what could I do? Father Minick just threatened to pack up and go to an Old Man’s Home. Line iNet! NETTIE. Just now! Lit. (Sits sofap.Lt.) And coming on top of that terrible session last night! I can imagine. NETTIE. (Sits in desk chair) Lil, after you and Jim left last night I had a kind of nervous chill. I was just like this. [Clenching her hands and gesturing nervously.] Lit. Well, if I had a nervous chill every time Jim and I—well, you’ll learn. Why don’t you come downtown with me? Do you good. [LuLa goes into dining-room from kitchen with percolator. | NettiE. Lula’s cleaning and I’ve got my ordering to do. I don’t know—maybe I will. Luta. (From dwming-room) Your coffee’s ready. NettTigc. All right, Lula. (Rises and goes into dining-room.) Lil, maybe you might like this cup of hot coffee. I can get another. [Brings it back into room.| MINICK 118 Lit. I couldn’t swallow a mouthful. Black coffee was all I had for breakfast and I had to force myself to drink that. NETTIE. (Sits on sofa Rr. of Lit) Well, I thought maybe it’d buck me up a little. (A sigh.) Of course, Lil, I don’t have to tell you what this means,— (Minick starts down hallway dressed to go out, with overcoat and arctics on.) —this having Father Minick in the house. He’ll be here for God knows how long. (MINICK goes into dining-room from hall, and LuLa passes him in the doorway as she goes into kitchen. Minick goes up to buffet and gets an apple.) Of course IJ don’t mean I’d have it otherwise, but there’s no use fooling your- self. Here we are stuck in this five-room flat and no prospects for anything better for years to come. Everything tied up in that new business, and Father Minick (MINIcK is now at upper edge of table back of the girls, and stops on hearing his name.) As long as Father Minick’s with us, it means no children for Fred and me—that’s what it means. Lit. (Sympathetically) Well, Net, you’re tak- ing a pretty gloomy view of it, I think. (MINICK 4s returning through the dining-room to his room.) After all, I suppose other people have the same prob- lems and worked them out some way or other. Nettie. Maybe. But it doesn’t look so simple to me. Lit. Oh, did Daisy phone you? Nettic. Why no. What about? Lit. (Rises and goes to R. of desk.) Oh, my dear! You know Lou and Eddie are sailing Tues- day? NetTTicE. Yes! Lit. Well, Daisy and Marian are giving them a big send-off tonight. NetTic. Tonight! 116 MINICK Lit. Of course! She'll be phoning you any minute. NETTIE. (Shakes her head) Oh, Lil, tonight—— [Puts cup on desk. | Lit. (Sits on phone stool) It’s going to be wonderful! You know the way Daisy is. They’ve chartered a whole bus, and they’re going to pick everybody up Nettie. Oh, Lil, we just c What time? [ Rises. ] | Lit. She said six-thirty. Just before dinner. Because they’re driving out to—— NetTTIE. Lil, we can’t possibly go. [Crossing U. R. of sofa.] Lit. Why not? NETTIE. We promised Father Minick. We've got to stay at home. Lit. (Rises) But tonight, of all nights! NETTIE. (Sits on sofa) That’s just it. We've got to stay with him. I told you about the scene we had. Lit. (Crossing to her) But it sounds so silly. He’s not a stranger here. And just tonight he wouldn’t mind. NETTIE. But he would, because Lit. Now listen. It’s going to be a marvelous affair. First we’re driving out to Donahue’s for one of those wonderful chicken dinners. Then we're going on to the den. NETTIE. (Weakening) Oh, Lil! Lit. I tell you, it’s going to be marvelous. And from the den we’re going to the Early Hour Club, MINICK 117 and Lord knows when we’ll get home. Now don’t be silly! [Starts down passage. | Nettie. I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid Fred wouldn't Lit. Of course he would. [Minick enters from passage. He is wearmg hat and overcoat. At his entrance there 1s a con- fused and embarrassed stop on the part of the two women. | Minick. Well! Nettie. I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid Fred wouldn't Lit. Of course he would. And Father Minick wouldn’t mind. I never heard of anything so fool- ish in all my life. Here. I'll ask him. [Crosses to door L.] Nettiec. (Panicky) No, Lil! [Rises and backs c.] Lit. Father Minick! Nettie. Lil, I wish you wouldn’t. Minick. (Off) Somebody call me? [He comes slowly down the hall. He has taken off his coat and hat, but has forgotten his arctics.] Lit. Father Minick, we just want Nettie wants to ask you something. MInIck. (Entering and going to NETTIE) Ask me something? NettTi£. (Rather confused) Yes. Father Minick —uh—would you 118 MINICK Minick. Huh? NettTic. Well, you see, Fred and I forgot all about a party that we’re invited on tonight. It’s a great big farewell party for some friends of ours that are going to Europe. Minick. Tonight? Why sure—lI’ll probably be in bed long before you start out. Nettie. Well, you see, Father, it’s rather an early party. Minick. Oh, you mean you’re going right after dinner ? NetTic. Well—no—the point is—we’re supposed to go for dinner, if you wouldn’t mind. Minick. For dinner? Lit. Now, you wouldn’t mind, would you, Father Minick? This once? Minick. Me? Why no—I don’t mind. You run right along with your friends and have a good time. NetTtiz. It’s only that it’s such a special party, but it doesn’t mean a thing to me. You see, these people are such good friends of Fred’s Minick. That’s all right. Nettie. Well, if you’re sure Minick. Yes, sir. I’m sure as can be. (Pinches her cheek gently as he looks in her face.) The old must make way for the young. Nettie. What? Minick. It’s all right. [Turns toward hall.] NETTIE. Well, it’s sweet of you not to mind, Father. Aren’t you going out? Minick. Pretty soon! Pretty soon! [Exits up hallway.| MINICK T19 Lit. You see! I told you it would be all right. NETTIE. (Sitting on sofa) Yes—I hope so. Lit. My heavens, you can’t let him tie you down like that ! [Crosses D.R. after her bag.] NetTTIE. No, I suppose not, but Tell me, what are you going downtown for so early? Lit. Field’s advertised georgettes for $1.95— all colors—in the basement. I thought I’d get some flesh color and make myself a little negligee. Did you see that one Marge has? Of course she paid a million dollars for it, but I can copy it for prac- tically nothing. Nettie. Are they hard to make? Lit. (Js below desk) There’s nothing to them. Just two straight lengths, hanging right from the shoulder. Simple as a night gown. Nettie. I wonder if I could make one. Lit. Of course you could. Why don’t you get some, too? Look at it anyway. Nettic. Well, maybe I will. (LuLaA enters from the passage.) I wonder if they have—what is it, Lula? Lua. Soap. NETTIE. What? Lua. I haven’t got any soap for my cleaning. Nettie. (Wearily crossing to desk) A\ll right, Lula. Jl put it on my list. Lua. (Starts to go and turns) I got to have it right away. Ain’t got a speck. NetTic. (Impatiently) Wm going in a minute, Lula. I’Jl have it sent right over. Luta. Expect me to clean without cleanin’ soap! [Exits into passage.]| Nettie. Isn’t it incredible! You’d think I’d forgotten it. 120 MINICK~ Lit. They’re all alike. They never tell you till the last minute. ... Are you ready? Nettig. Yes, I guess so. (Goes sto hall for coat and hat, talking as she goes.) 1 wonder if they have any orchid—georgette, I mean? I think orchid would be good on me, don’t you? Lit. (Jn doorway, powdering her nose) Yes, orchid would be—or if they haven’t orchid, what do you think? NetTiE. Well—blue. But not that hard blue. You know that blue I wear. .. . (Has put on her hat, one arm now in coat sleeve.) If I’m going downtown, I’ll have to tell Lula (Comes into room.) Lula. (LuLA appears in passage door.) Lula, I won’t be home to lunch. And Mr. Minick and I won’t be home for dinner. There’ll just be Father Minick. You know what there is. And Lula, I wouldn’t bother to do much in this room. Go right ahead with the bedrooms. And do Father Minick’s room first so you'll be out of his way by the time he gets back. I'll be back about three. And Lula—don’t sing while he’s taking his nap—— Lit. Net, everything’ll be picked over if we don’t Nettie. All right, Lil. And, oh, Lula—if Mrs. Stewart telephones—here I'll write it [Starts to wrste at desk.| Lit. She may say Daisy Stewart. NetTIcE. Yes, Daisy Stewart. Tell her that Mr. Minick and I are ever so much obliged and we’d love to come. Now, do you understand that? [Crossing to table and putting note there.] Luta. (Who its back of table.) Miss who? NETTIE. (Crosses back to desk.) If Mrs. Stew- art... . If anybody phones I’ll be back at three. MINICK i2i Lit. Come on, Net. Nettie. All right, Lil. Listen, how wide is it? (Gets her purse from desk.) How much do you think I’ll need ? Lit. Let me see—two lengths straight from the shoulder— Oh, I should think about three yards would be—— Nettie. That isn’t bad, is it? (They are in the hall.) Three times a dollar ninety-five——- How much is that ? [The outer door slams. LULA starts singing spirit- ual and comes into dining-room, looking around for NETTIE’s coffee cup.] Lua. Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen, No- body but... (Sees cup on desk. To herself, as she gets cup.) There it is (Starts into dining- room again, singing.) Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen, Glory Alleluia! [Minick enters from passage. He has his coat on one arm. He is carrying his straw suit case on which are a few shirts. There 1s nothing hur- ried or furtive in his manner, he has come tnto the room seeking LuLaA.|] Minick. Lula! Luta. Yeh? Minick. Where’s my other shirts? [Comes R.c.] Lua. (Back of table) What you doin’ that suit case? Minick. (Puts suit case on sofa) Never mind. Where are they? [Crossing L. to desk.] 122 MINICK Lua. They in the wash. What you want with them? Minick. (Puts coat and hat on desk chair) When’ll you have ’em done? Lua. I irons Tuesday. What you up to, any- how? Minick. (Crosses to sofa and kneels and starts packing the remaining three shirts which he carried in on top of the case) ‘Tuesday, eh? And what’s the name of that fella comes and takes your trunk away? Palmer’r something. Lua. You mean Parmelee Transfer Company ? Minick. That’s him. Got an office right down the street. LuLa. What you want transfer company for? Minick. What do you think I want ’em for? I want ’em to come and take a trunk. Luisa. Mrs. Minick didn’t tell me ’bout no trunk. What you going do? Minick. I know what I’m going to do. Luta. If Mrs. Minick don’t know about it, she goin’ be awful mad when she come home. Minick. That’ll be all right. Mad or no mad, I’m going. Luta. What you mean—goin’? Mrs, Minick ain’t goin’ let you go no place. Minick. Let me? I’m not a child. I know what I want to do, and I’m going to do it. Think I was a plumb fool. Luia. I don’t know what you talkin’ about. Minick. No, course you don’t. ButIdo. It’s going to be better for everybody for me to go to the Home—better for Fred and Nettie, and better forme. There’s young and there’s old, and they got to be let go their own ways. I got my own life, same as they have. And I ain’t going to waste it teaching pinochle to anybody. Lua. But what I goin’ say to Mis’ Minick? MINICK 123 First thing she come home she say, “Where’s Father Minick?” What I goin’ tell her? Minick. I'll tell you what to tell her. Are you listening ? Luta. Sure. I’m listenin’. Minick. You tell her I said ‘‘Nettie—call me Grandpa.” CURTAIN 10. a1 12. rz 14. 15. $8200 St Oe SCENE PLOT Wall chair. Serving table: Top—3 glasses orange juice, percolator, dishes, knives, forks, napkins, toast and rack glass water. Buffet: Top—z2 candlesticks, dish fruit, knives, forks. Dining-room table: Top—Table cloth, bowl ferns. Dining-room chairs. Large easy chair. Floor lamp. Armchair. Desk : Top—(a) phone; (b) desk set; (c) lamp; (d) assorted papers; (e) school list; (f) card catalogue. Under—Chicago phone book, waste paper basket. Desk chair. Telephone stool. Armchair. Bridge lamp. Bookcase : Top—(a) and (e) amber vase with tulips; (b) framed picture; (c) clock; (d) 2 small ornaments (elephants); (e) 3 small orna- ments (tigers); (f) gavel. Smoking table: Top—Green metal cigarette box, ivory paper knife, ash tray, two books. 124 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. A i 22. MINICK 125 Hall chair. Library table: Top—(a) books; (0b) table lamp (one socket broken so chain does not pull); (c) bowl white roses; (d) cigarette box; (e) maga- zines (Vanity Fair on top); (f) ash trays and matches. Table chair. Sofa with two pillows. Hall table. Window seat: Top—Bowl Chinese lilies. In window—Trick shade, which rolls furiously when released. Steam radiators. HAND PROPS Rio) CAGE Off Left: Bucket for off stage noises, folding card table, clothes-horse, blankets, lunch cloth. Tray—Coddled egg, glass water, tea, sugar, cream, spinach, Waldorf salad, rice pudding, napkin, knives, etc. Hammer and screwdriver, suit case, clock, bundles, palm. Of Right: Straw suit case, 2 cigars, watch, specta- cles, card and wallet. SHOOND ACL Off Left: Dust pan and whisk broom, carpet sweeper, pail. Tray—Pitcher orange juice, 6 glasses, plate sandwiches. Right: Newspaper, cigar, pipe and tobacco, pipe, clasp knife, watch, loaf bread wrapped, meat wrapped, black brief case, tan Boston bag, wrist watch. On Stage: On desk are several papers arranged to be blown off by wind; room is in gen- eral disarray ; window shade is awry; all flowers are off; all lamps turned out. THIRD AGT Off Left: Newspaper, well crumpled; percolator of coffee. On Stage: Dining-room table half set; Nettie’s or- der list on desk by ink stand; cushion out of place on sofa. 126 PIGies: PLOF OVERHEAD FRONT 1,000 W. spots X-rays 1,000 W. spots S-P-P-S-B-P P-B-S-P-B-S S-B-P-S-B-P es B bP S S iE B—Blue P—Pink S—Straw Footlights—Alternate P, S, B BACK LIGHTING 1st Act: 2 Thousand watts blue (hanging) I 6 6¢ green 6é Miniature lamps on black canton drop (street light effect). 2nd Act: 3 Thousand watt white (hanging) I ‘6 ‘6 ‘6 ‘floor ) 3rd Act: Same as second, plus 2 Thousand watt white spots shooting through windows 1 Thousand watt white bunch (hanging) I 6é 6¢ 6é 6é (floor) 127 COSTUME COLOR SCHEME Lit CorEY ist Act: (Enter) Savannah brown silk crepe afternoon dress, trimmed with deep fringe of the same color—sand color slippers and silk stockings. (Evits) Puts on cape to match dress of same color and material, also trimmed with fringe. 2npD Act: (Enter) Black velvet wrap trimmed with stone marten fur—small black felt hat— black velvet slippers and silk stockings— dark blue twill dress, tunic effect, trimmed in dark red embroidery. 3rD Act: (Enter) Green cloth suit dress—green felt sport hat—sand colored slippers and silk stockings—carries velvet wrap worn in 2nd Act. Gloves and hand bag match color of slippers. NETTIE MINICK 1st Act: (Enter) Gray silk tailored afternoon dress—gray stockings and black patent leather pumps. (Exits) Faun colored coat wrap—stone marten trimmed with felt hat of same shade trimmed with . darker velvet. 2npD Act: (Enter) Light green silk crepe sport dress—gray stockings and black patent leather pumps—dark blue serge coat and black felt sport hat. 128 LL 280g 229 LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF \LLINOIS — 3rp AcT: Ist ACT: tsT AcT: Ist Act: 2ND ACT: 3rD ACT: ist ACT: MINICK 129 (Enter) Navy blue tailored silk crepe sport dress with white collar—dark gray stockings and same pumps as previous act. (EHwits) Navy blue tailored cloth coat—green felt hat trimmed with green feather on side. ANNIE (Enter) Light blue gingham house dress—brown and white checked apron —black shoes and stockings. (Evits) Old style black suit, small brim black hat trimmed with feather (comical), white waist, black shoes and stockings—old brown fur neck piece. Jim Corey (Enter) Gray top coat, dark brown suit, dark brown stockings and low tan shoes, white shirt, dark blue tie, soft tan hat. FRED MINICK (Enter) Tan top coat, gray soft hat, gray suit with white pencil stripes, black shoes and stockings, white shirt, black stripes; dark blue tie, with dark red stripes. (Enter) Same, except black bow tie and white shirt, dark brown suit. (Enter) Blue and white checked bath- robe. (Later) Black suit, white winged collar with black bow tie; gray overcoat and hat. MINICK (Enter) Old gray slouch hat, gray top coat, old black suit, black bow tie and 130 2ND ACT: 3RD ACT: 1st AcT: 1st AcT: 2ND ACT: 2ND ACT: 3rp AcT: 2npD AcT: MINICK white shirt; congress boots, white wool SOX. (Enter) Old gray suit, pink and black woolen muffler, black house slippers, old gray flannel shirt. (Enter) Undershirt and gray trousers, black bow tie, white shirt, black house slippers, and later boots; old gray suit, coat and hat, same as Ist Act. AL DIAMOND Blue suit, pearl gray vest, black bow tie, white shirt and winged collar, straw hat, fancy band, tan shoes. MarGE DIAMOND Black georgette crepe evening dress em- broidered in white beads over flesh colored satin slip, pale blue and pink sash, flesh colored stockings, black satin slippers, black satin evening cape. Gray cloth coat trimmed with gray fur collar, small gray felt hat, flesh colored stockings and gray slippers. LuLA Ball blue house dress, with large white dots, black stockings and old white can- vas slippers. (Later) Black maid’s uni- form, white collars and cuffs, small white tea apron. Same house dress as 2nd Act. Blue and white checked apron. Mr. PRICE Dark gray suit, maroon sweater with let- ter “C” in white; large black bow tie, 3RD AcT: 2NnD AcT: 3RD ACT: 2ND ACT: 2NnpD AcT: 2ND AcT: 2nD ACT: MINICK 131 black shoes and stockings, black over- coat with caracul collar, rubbers, slouch hat. Same as second. Mr. DIETENHOFER Black suit, light green tie, low collar, black slouch hat, black shoes, overshoes, black overcoat, gray muffler. Same, but no overshoes. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE Black velvet ribbed wrap, brown beaver collar ; brown silk dress with small white figures, with black georgette crepe over, small brown hat with tan flower trimming. Miss CRACKENWALD Dark navy blue tailored serge dress, with long blue cape; small black hat, severe lines, black shoes and stockings, tortoise shell glasses, white gloves. Mrs. LIpPpINcotTtT Black velvet cape, navy blue crepe dress, black three-cornered small hat trimmed with black and light blue tip plumes, black slippers and stockings. Miss StTAcK Brown cloth dress, fur trimmed, small brown hat, flesh stockings, browr. suede slippers, carries tan brief case. THE IMPATIENCE OF JOB A character comedy in 3 acts. By Pauline Phelps and Marion Short. 6 males, 5 females. 1 interior. Modern cos- tumes. This modern comedy deals with the advent of elderly Uncle Job into the home of the Benson family, already struggling to make both ends meet, and who therefore extend him a somewhat grudging welcome. Uncle Job, blithely unconscious of being considered an intruder, is possessed with the belief that he is about to make a fortune in some mysterious way which he declines to reveal. Cantankerous and irritating, he proceeds to antagonize the Bensons’ rich aunt, the only one able to befriend the family in case of need, and whose good will has been carefully cultivated. Just when Uncle Job’s actions become so erratic that the aunt insists he be sent to an asylum, the Benson boy gets into a serious scrape, and to the surprise of the entire family, it is Uncle Job who comes to the rescue, in a comical though highly practical way. Later, Uncle Job makes good on his apparently chimerical scheme for achieving wealth, and becomes the savior of the family. (Royalty, ten dollars.) Prick s0 CENTS. THE EDUCATION OF DORIS A comedy in 3 acts. By Marie Doran. 5 males, 8 females. 1 interior, 1 exterior. Modern and fancy cos- tumes. The story deals with young people in a co-ed school where a substantial tuition is charged. The heroine, Doris Green, is anxious to enter the school to complete her studies, after which she hopes to engage in social service work. Doris, an orphan living with her aunts, finds all her ambitious plans are interrupted when the family income is abruptly cut off. Doris calls at the school—not for the purpose of entering Miss Fraser’s class, but to bid good-bye. The story of her disappointment reaches friendly ears, as well as some who are not so well disposed toward Doris. The friends rally to aid her, ready to combat the opposition, and the battle is on. But it’s not such a rough war—it has many kind and humorous incidents. The comedy is developed around this situation, with our heroine the central figure in the clash. Sympathetic efforts to overcome knotty difficulties result in some very original scenes with amusing schemes on the part of the hero, Richard Hunter, his pal Phil Martin, and funny Willy Wright. Any number of young people may appear in the fancy dress scene, and singing and dancing may be introduced. (Royalty, tem dollars.) Prick so CENTS. THE PASSING PRESENT A play in 3 acts. By Gretchen Damrosch. Produced originally at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, New York. 9 males, 8 females. 1 interior scene. Modern costumes. While New York climbs boldly into the skies and tucks its in- habitants away into efficient bandboxes, the Frenches go on living in an old-fashioned private residence. Times are changing, apartment houses are going up around them, modern life has moved in with its new ways, but Mr. French, his wife Kathie and his sister Aunt Hallie, refuse to recognize this and continue to cling to their old way of living, with all its traditions. Although their income leaves them little margin, and although their children brood on the inequalities of life, they have friends and social position and they keep alive a flavorsome corner of old New York. Their son, Lansing, however, is their undoing. Hoping to earn a lot of money without working for it he gets mixed up in an oil swindle and is about to be sent to prison. His sister, Page, in an effort to save her brother and the family name, appeals to Brock Tobey, a wealthy broker, in order to get the money essential to his freedom. But Mr. French, in hearing of this, will have nothing to do with the idea, decides to sell their corner to apartment builders, and a general breakup of the family follows. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 75 CENTS. THIS THING CALLED LOVE Comedy in 3 acts. By Edwin Burke. Produced origi- nally at the Elliott Theater, New York. 4 males, 6 females, I interior scene. Modern costumes. Tice Collins believes that every man should marry and has come home with the idea of finding a helpmate. As the story opens he is to be the dinner guest of the Bertrands and it is the hope of Harry Bertrand to impress his guest with the perfection of marriage. Not that the Bertrands are an example, but Harry hopes to stage this show of devotion as a means to a certain end which has a business merger as the objective. The author’s treatment of this revolution- ary idea is so good-natured that he sweeps his audiences along in a whirlwind of laughter. Mr. Burke does not see marriage through the rose-colored glasses of romance nor through the clouds of marital bickerings. This disassociation makes possible a true picture of wed- lock and he has deftly brought to life a normal group of characters engaged in the great American pastime of finding happiness and con- tentment. Such an adventure is replete with humor and no little sentiment. (Royalty on application.) Prick 75 CENTS. ADAM AND EVA Comedy in 3 acts. By Guy Bolton and George Middle- ton. Produced originally at the Longacre Theatre, New York. 6 males, 4 females. 1 interior, 1 exterior. Modern costumes. The story of a wealthy man, his extravagant, selfish family, cling- ingly dependent upon him and apparently regarding him as bother- some except when he poises pen above check book. These relatives even arrange with his physician to have him go away on a long trip, so that they may run up bills more freely. In comes the fa- ther’s young business manager, who tells his employer how he would love a home. The exasperated father tells him they will change places and puts him in command of the household, himself lighting out for the upper reaches of the Amazon. The young man soon finds himself confronted by the same hurri- cane of flippancy and terrific bills for lingerie. As a desperate remedy he deludes the family into thinking that father’s big rubber business is ruined. In divers and humorous manners they meet the emergency. Of course, it does them all good and brings out the best in them. “Adam and Eva” is genuine fun. It enjoyed a year’s run on Broadway and was a great success on the road and in motion pictures. We strongly recommend it for amateur production. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 7; CENTS. ARE YOU A MASON? Farce in 3 acts. By Leo Dietrichstein. Produced origi- nally by Rich and Harris at the Garrick Theatre, New York. 7 males, 7 females. 1 interior. Modern costumes. “Are You a Mason?” is one of those delightful farces like “Charley’s Aunt” that are always fresh. ““A mother and a daughter,” says the critic of the New York Herald, “had husbands who account for absences from the joint household on frequent evenings, falsely pretending to be Masons. The men do not know of each other’s duplicity, and each tells his wife of having advanced to leadership in his lodge. The older woman. was so well pleased with her hus- band’s supposed distinction in the order that she made him promise to put up the name of a visiting friend for membership. Further perplexity over the principal liar arose when a suitor for his second daughter’s hand proved to be a real Mason. . . . To tell the story of the play would require volumes, its complications are so numerous. It is a house of cards. One card wrongly placed and the whole thing would collapse. But it stands, an example of remarkable ingenuity. You wonder at the end of the first act how the fun can be kept up on such a slender foundation. But it continues and grows to the last curtain.” (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 73 CENTS. A CHURCH MOUSE A comedy in 3 acts. By Ladislaus Fodor. Produced originally by William A. Brady, Ltd., at the Playhouse, New York. 5 males, 2 females. 2 interior scenes. Modern costumes. This sparkling, tender and entirely captivating little comedy is one of the most delightful items that we have added to our list in a long time. As Robert Garland, in reviewing the New York production for the New York World-Telegram, puts it—‘‘it spoofed big business and went as far as to laugh out loud in the face of the depression.” There is enough good clean laughter in this play to make it a welcome visitor at any theatre. The story is concerned with the manner in which a plain, but very efficient, stenographer first gets a position as the secretary to a great Viennese bank president, and how finally she becomes his wife. 'To bring this about she discards her plain office clothes, adorns herself in a becoming evening dress and decides to make her employer realize that she is more than a writing machine. Her change of costume effects so complete a transformation that everyone who sees her hails her as ravishing and exquisite; so much so that the bank president asks her—little Susie Sachs—to become his wife—the Baroness von Ullrich, if you please. A captivating and refreshing comedy, ideal for amateur and little theatre production. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 75 CENTS. POLLY WITH A PAST Comedy in 3 acts. By George Middleton and Guy Bolton. 7 males, 5 females. 2 interiors. Modern costumes. “Polly” is one of the most successful comedies of recent years. Produced by David Belasco, with Ina Claire in the leading role, it ran a whole season at the Belasco Theatre, New York, as well as in London. The play has to do with the clever efforts of a girl to manufacture for herself a picturesque past in order to make herself more interesting and attractive. The little deceit gets many persons into trouble, but Polly and her friends eventually turn the trouble to good account, and Polly finds herself—after the secret is divulged— even more interesting and attractive than before, despite her desperate confession to being the daughter of a Baptist clergyman. Exceedingly good fun, with just enough sophistication. Your audience will find here an entertainment that is dainty, sparkling and diverting. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price 73 Canrs. MONEY IN THE AIR A comic-mystery in 3 acts. By Thetta Quay Franks. Produced originally at the Ritz Theatre, New York. 8 males, 3 females. 1 interior scene. Modern costumes. Amid the shadows of a December night, surrounded by a sprin- kling of mistletoe and holly wreath, it is learned that Penelope Worth- ington and her aunt Mrs. Courtenay Manners will become heir to the fortune of Penelope’s brother, who has been missing for some twenty years, if he does not appear by Thursday. Penelope has been making every effort to locate her brother, much to the chagrin of the am- bitious old aunt. Larry Derreau, engaged to Sally Dale, turns up to be the lost boy, but not until a certain Arthur Hamilton ex- changes this information with Penelope for half a million dollars. They are all gathered at the Long Island home of Mrs. Manners, when the villainous Hamilton suddenly upsets the lamp throwing the living-room into darkness. A shot pierces the night, followed - quickly by another, and as the lights go on again Hamilton is dis- covered mortally wounded. It is very apparent that the villain fired the first shot—but who fired the second? That is the mystery—a mystery that is finally cleared in a novel and highly exciting fashion. “Money in the Air” is a fine, clean, wholesome play, very enter- taining, and holds your interest from the beginning to the end. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prics 73 Cunrs. OUT OF THE NIGHT Mystery comedy in 3 acts. By Harold Hutchinson and Margery Williams. Produced originally at the Lyric Theatre, New York. 7 males, 3 females. x interior. Mod- ern costumes. Tom Holland, hastening in mid-winter te the Maine lodge of his uncle finds the supposedly vacant house in apparent readiness for his arrival. Close on his heels come his affianced and her friend, Dr. Sarah Walters, seeking ‘an explanation for his visit. The appearance of a rural constable in search of rummers, and the added presence of a Hindu servant who moves in a mysterious manner, are as nothing compared with the accidental discovery that the uncle, thought to be on his way to Europe, has been shot to death in the very room where the rest of the party are revealed. The tension is heightened by mysterious rappings, doors that slam, a hand that reaches out and takes a cartridge needed as evidence from the hand of the heroine. Not until the final curtain is the situation cleared up, with a “kick” that is too good to reveal here. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price yy Curse. “THE BLUE GHOST A mystery melodrama in 3 acts. By Bernard J. McOwen pad J. P. Riewerts. Produced originally at the Forrest _ Theatre, New York. 6 males, 1 female. 1 interior scene. _ Modern costumes. Ghosts—any ghosts for that matter—will make an audience shout, a shivec and shake, but a Blue Ghost is something again to be reckoned with. Here the authors have succeeded in giving you something _ novel, a play that will send your local theatre-goers wild over its non- sense, suspense, and bloodcurdling situations: Murder has been done and practically everybody’s hair has been standing on end in the castled house of Doctor De Former. The periodical appearances of a Blue * Ghost are responsible. Inspector Wise, ace investigator, is put on the case, and after an unusual number of thrills succeeds in unravelling what appears to be a hopeless mystery. The element of fear is skillfully turned: into a source of great laughter and amusement. You cannot afford to miss it. “Eerie, ghostly, uncanny things happened so fast and Suroady that the weak gasped, the strong gulped and even the blasé blinked.” New York Evening World. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price 7s Canms. i). THE TADE'COD - Mystery play in prologue and 3 acts. Dramatized from Alan Sullivan’s novel by William Edwin Barry. Produced originally at the Cort Theatre in New York. 6 males, 4 females. 1 interior scene. Modern costumes. A young novelist turns detective to clear up a murder mystery that has baffled the police and prevented the murdered man’s daughter . from marrying him. He proceeds on the theory that murderers return to the scene of their crime. The former gardener and suspect turns up and is engaged along with the weird old housekeeper. The discov- ery of the Jade God in a secret panel is heightened by the arrival of a strange East Indian peddler. His offer of assistance to unearth the criminal is shrewdly accepted by the novelist, and results in a hypnotic seance during which the peddler escapes with the Jade God, but is captured along with it. The final stroke of detection is accom- “plished in resetting and reliving the events leading up to the crime - during which a confession is forced from the criminal. The idol is then smashed to end its evil spell. The daughter, her father’s death’ now oe avenged, finds solace and love in the arms of the novelist who has ne brought about the solution. The thrilling events of this clever play oar not fail to captivate an amateur. audience. ~ (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 75 CENTS. Philip Barry Sidney Howard George Kaufman Harley Granville-Barker The Capeks Phil Dunning George Abbott Dorothy Parker Ferenc Molnar Hatcher Hughes Avery Hopwood Ring Lardner Tom Cushing Elmer Rice Maxwell Anderson The Quinteros Lynn Riggs Susan Glaspeli Rose Franken John van Druten Benn W. Levy Marthe Stanley John Golden Don Marquis Beulah Marie Dix Zona Gale Alfred Kreymborg P. G. Wodehouse Noel Coward Ian Hay J. B. Priestly Mary Roberts Rinehart Ashley Dukes George M. Cohan Augustus Thomas Winchell Smith William Gillette Frank Craven Owen Davis ! Austin Strong A. A. Milne Harriet Ford Paul Green Edward Chitie Carpenter war s Arthur Richman George Middleton Channing Pollock George Kaufman Martin Flavin Victor Mapes _ Kate Douglas Wiggin i Roi Cooper Megrue b Jean Webster George Broadhurst Madeline Lucette Ryley I 95 West 45th Street, . New York, N. Y. Standard Ghee Edition _ Includes Plays by Send for our latest complete ahve SAMUEL FRENCH “Oldest Play Publisher in the World © alae Fred Ballard Percy MacKaye Willard Mack Jerome K. Jerome : ie Mark Swan ee Rachel Crothers a W. W. Jacobs Ernest Denny Kenyon Nicholson Edgar Selwyn ; Laurence Housman Israel Zangwili ° Walter Hackett © ; A.E. Thomas - Edna Ferber Justin Huntley McCarthy Frederick Lonsdale — Rex Beach. ; Paul Armstrong ’ George Kelly Booth Tarkington George Ade J.C. ai Elliott Nugent | Barry Conners Edith Ellis Harold Brighouse Harvey J. O’Higgins Clare Kummer Se hey James Forbes ey William C. DeMille Louis N. Parker Lewis Beach Guy Bolton — Edward E. Rose Marc Connelly - Lynn Starling af Josephine Prestian Peabody: = aa Catherine Chisholm Cushing % Ciyde Fitch ae Earl Derr Biggers f Bret Thomas Broadhurst Charles Klein Bayard Veiller C. Haddon Chambers Richard Harding Davis — Robert Housum Salisbury Field Leo Dietrichtstein — Eden Phillpotts Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Brandon Tynan ire ae Clayton Hamilton = Edward Sheldon iF Wana Edward Paulton ay Adelaide Matthews William Cary is tend Tate, ae . Di | > ar i" Fa Cie i ' cy , ; fi iP Fi hing =A ¥ a, (errias.} ' - i [ Ay iW 7 4 vj +, : hy 4 ‘ei vit s : : 7 dy “ ng 7 { - UY a 9 a ¢ uy iy . al t i! re nets | f | a ) r ‘ | Ee ay Ae Ny . Atay \ x . 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