^icket-of-Leave Tom Taylor THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY CENTRAL CIRCULATION BOOKSTACKS The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its renewal or its return to the library from which it was borrowed on or before the Latest Dote stamped below. You may be ‘harged a minimum fee of $75.00 for each lost book. Theft, and lor dIselpIliHiry action and may resu m MNEVtfCAU TEIEPHONE CENTER, .■K..VP.SITY OF lUINOIS LIBRARY AT UEBANA-CHAMPAIG^ sm i e f^AYll 1398 When renewing by phone, write new due date bdow previous due date. WWW I Ticket-of- Le&.ve Mdoi. A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS By Tom Taylor, Esq. c4uthor of Our c4mertca,n Cousin/^ *'The FooCs ^l^enge/* i etc* PHILADELPHIA THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 1918 , I r CAST OF CHARACTERS. Olympic Theatre^ Winter Garden^ London^ 1863. New York^ 1864. "^ladf Lancashire jj Neville Mr. W. J. Florence A-i"* H. D.v.„po,. Hawks haw [a Detective] Mr. Horace Wigan Mr. Hagan. ^ Melter Moss. Mr. G. Vincent Mr. Bland. Green Jones Mr. R. Soutar Mr. V. Bowers, Mr. [a Bill Broker] Mr. Maclean -_Mr. Hind. Sam Willoughby .Miss Raynham Mrs. Floyd. Maltby Mr. H. Cooper Mr. T. Morris. Burton Mr. Franks Mr. Smith. May Edwards __Miss KateSaville Mrs. Chanfrau. E77iily St. Evremond Miss Hughes Mrs. W. J. Florence. Mrs. Willoughby Mrs. Stephens Mrs. Hind. Guests f Navvies^ Time — The Present Day. An interval of three years and a half between the First and Second Acts, and intervals of six and four months between the Second and Third, and Third and Last Acts, respectively. EXITS AND ENTRANCES. R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; S. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door, RELATIVE POSITIONS. R. means Right; L. Left; C. Centre; R. C. Right of Centre; L. C. Left of Centre^ COSTUMES. Melter Moss-jrirst Aa.- Rusty brown overcoat, shabby black trousers low crowned black hat. TAird Aa.- Old-fashioned black coat and troi^' low-crowned black hat. Fourth Act: Ditto, and drab hat James Dalton.-^.W/ Act: Drab coat, check trousers and 'vest drab hat ir Act: Black frock coat and vest, grey trousers, black hat. Fourth BRiElfv ‘’•°"^ers, light vest, wide-awake hat. with'w ri X'' drab Kersey trousers, drab hat with black hat-band. Second Act : Velveteen coat, grey vest and trousers trousers, black hat! rourth Act : Fustian suit, wide-awake hat, H AWKSHAt^-^i^W Act: Tweed summer suit, trousers, and boots, wide-awake hat. r/ttn/ Suit of black (eccentric). Fourth Act : First Dress cord breeches, waistcoat with red sleeves, fur cap. Second Dress-hxovtn coat and overalls, wide-awake hat. Green JoNES.-First Act: Full evening suit and light paletot. 5.W • bhabby morning gown, smoking cap, and check trousers. Fhzrot Act: Blue frock coat, white vest, drab trousers, black hat. Fourth Act : Blue (butcher’s) coat and white sleeves, white apron, check trousers, greasy black hat. ^ ^ Sam W 1 LLOUGHBY.-.S.W Act: Old paletot, check trousers and vest, high- lows, cloth cap. Third Act: Tweed suit. Fourth Act: Green coat and vest, drab trousers, black hat. Mr. Gibson.— Act : Frock coat, light vest, dark trousers. Third Act ■ Ditto. Fourth Act : Ditto. Maltby.— .. 4c/.' Fancy summer suit. Fourth Act : Tweed coat buff vest, light trousers, white apron. May Edwards.-^iW ^c/.- Light cotton gown, small shawl, black lace net tied over head. Second Act : Neat grey dress, white apron. J'hird Act : White muslin, trimmed with mauve ribbons. Fourth Act: Drab stuif gown, dark shawl anu bonnet, and apron. Emily.— Act: Rich silk dress, lace shawl, pink bonnet. Second Act • Showy muslin dress, hair a /a Francaise. Third Act : Spotted muslin and hat. Fourth Act : Pink muslin, shawl, and bonnet Mrs. Willoughby.-5cc.« I used to sleep like a top down at Glossop. But in this great big place, since I ’ve been .vioTn hand across his eyes) I don t know how it is-I get no rest-and when I do. it’s worse than none-there s great black crawling things about me. (Gulfs dawn a f ass of wine.) I say, Downy ; do yo’ know how a chap feels when h^- ’- going mad? Scene i.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 9 DaL I know the symptoms of del, trem, pretty well; sit down, sit down. First and foremost, (^puts him a chair) I prescribe a deviled bis- cuit — I ’ll doctor one for you. {Calling,) Waiter ! a plate of biscuit, toasted hot — butter and cayenne. (Brierly hides his head in his hands; aside, looking at him contemptuously i) The horrors ! ah, he ’s seen too much of life lately. Bob, are you in cash ? Bri, Welly cleaned out; I’ve written to the lawyer-chap, down at Glossop — him that ’s got all my property to manage, yo’ know — for more brass. Dal, {aside) Now, if I 'd a few of Moss’s fivers — here ’s a chance. You must bank with me till the brass comes. Delighted to lend you a sovereign — five — ten — as much as you want. Enter Moss, R. ist E. Bri, Nay, will yo’ though ! That ’s friendly of you. Here ’s luck — and sink the expense ! {He pours out wine, standing in front of table) Moss, {aside to Dalton). I ’ve got the flimsies— I ’ll do it at seven ten. Dal. {aside) Fork over. Moss, {aside, giving him a roll of notes) There ’s fifty to begin with — twenty, a tenner, and four fives. Plant the big ’un first. Enter Hawkshaw, C., meets Moss at back of chair ; approaches the table where the Detectives are; one of them nods towards Moss a7id Dalton. Moss, Good evening, gentlemen, {crosses m front to L.) you ’ll find my friend, Mr. Downy, excellent company, sir. Very improving for a young man from the country. {Aside) That ’s an honestly earned seven-pun- ten ! l^Exit Moss, L. 1st E. ( Waiter brings biscuits and cayenne) Dal, Now, for your devil. Master Bob. {As he prepares the biscuit, Hawkshaw approaches the table and takes up the paper which Dalton has put down ; Dalton pushes the biscuit across to Brierly.) Try that 1 Hawk, Beg pardon, sir, but if the paper ’s not in hand {Sits at back of table, L.) Dal. {rudely, and pocketing the note hastily) Eh, sir.^ Hawk, {sitting down coolly at the table and unfolding the paper) Pa- pers very dull lately; don’t you think so, sir? Dal, {assuming a country dialect) I never trouble ’em much, sir, ex- :ept for the Smithfield Market List, in the way of business. Hawk. Ah, much my own case. They put a fellow up to the dodges )f the town, though ; for instance, these cases of bad notes offered at the )ank lately. ( Watching him close) Dal. I never took a bad note in my life. Hawk, You 've been lucky— in the Smithfield line, too, I think you said, n the jobbing way, may I ask, sir, or in the breeding? lO TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act Dal Sometimes one, and sometimes t’ other— always ready to turn t nimble shilling. ^ Hawk, My own rule. Dal. May I ask your business.^ Hawk. The fancy iron trade. My principle is, to get as much of n stock on other people’s hands as I can. From the country, I think? Dal. Yes, Yorkshire. Hawk. Ah ! I ’m Durham myself ; and this young gent ? Bn. What s that to you ? {Pushing away the biscuit) It ’s no use- I can t swallow a morsel. Hawk. From Lancashire, I see; why, we are quite neighbors when v are at home, and neighbors ought to be neighborly in this overgrown cit so I hope you ’ll allow me to stand treat; give it a name, gentlemen. Dal. (roughly.) Thank you, I never drink with strangers. Bn. They ’ve a saying down in Glossop, where I came from, if vo want a welcome, wait to be axed. Hawk. Ah, quite right to be cautious about the company you kee young man. Perhaps I could give you a bit of good advice Bri. Thank ye ; I’m not in the way o’ takin’ good advice. ! Hawk. Well, don’t take bad ; and you won’t easy find a worse advise than your thieving companion here. Dal. (firing up) Eh ? what do you mean by that ? ' Hawk. Not you, sir. (Tapping the champagne bottle) This gentlema here. He robs people of their brains, their digestion, and their conscience to say nothing of their money. But since you won’t allow me to stan anything Dal. And wish to keep ourselves to ourselves. ; Bn. And think your room a deal better than your company — meanir no offense you know. Hawk, {rises and crosses to C.) Not in the least. If gentlemen can‘: please themselves in a public establishment ! 1 11 wish you a very goo( evening. (Aside.) A plant ; I ’ll keep an eye on ’em ! [Exit, R. u. E Dal. (aside) T don’t half like the look of that fellow. There ’s some thing about his eye I must make out if Moss knows him ; Bob, will yoi excuse me for five minutes } Bn. Don t be long ; I can’t a-bear my own company. Dal. I ’ve only a word to say to a customer. [Exit L. ist E, Hawkshaw re-appoars c., watches Dalton off, and follows him, L. 2 d E., after a moment* s interval, Bri. (goes to chair R. of table, L.) And I ’ll try to sleep till he comes back. If I could only sleep without dreaming ! I never close my eyes but m back at Glossop wi’ the old folks at home — ’t mother fettlin’ about me. Scene i.J TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. II IS she used when I was a brat — and father stroking my head, and callin* ne his bonny boy — noa, noa — I musn’t think o’ them — not here — or I shall ro mad. {Sinking his head in his iiands, and sobbing,) {Music — other Guests come in, R. and L., and sit at the other tables.) Enter Maltby, c:.,fro7n L. Mai. Now then, James. Jackson take orders. Interval of ten minutes illowed for refreshment. Give your orders, gents, give your orders. The kigger melodists will shortly commence their unrivalled entertainment, pre- iminary to the orchestral selection from Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony. Snter May Edwards, with her guitar, r. u. e. ; the Waiters move about, bringing refreshments to tables ; VLax goes down, R. May. If they ’ll only let me sing to-night. {Tuning guitar 1) Mai, Halloa, halloa ! what ’s this ? Oh, it ’s you, is it, Edwards ? Come, 'm glad to see you ’re about again, but I can’t have you cadging here. Jlfay. Oh, Mr. Maltby, if you ’ll only allow me to try one song, and go ound after it, I ’ll stop as soon as ever they ring up. Mai. Well, well, you was always a well-behaved girl, so, for once in a /ay. {Crosses to L.) May. Oh, thank you, thank you, and if you should have an opening for le, in the room, sir, when I ’m quite strong again Mai, No chance of it, we ’re chuck full — a glut of talent ; but if I should e able to find room for you in the chorus, and to double Miss Plantagenet /hen she ’s in the tantrums, ten shillings a week, and find your own ward- Dbe, you know — I ’m not the man to shrink from a generous action. Now, len, Jackson, money in 4. \Exit Maltby, l. u. e. (May sings ; after her song she goes round the tables; all repulse herl) 1 st Party, (r.) The concert’s quite enough, without caterwauling be- •veen the acts. 2d Party, (r.) We’ve no small change, miss. Waiter! bottle pale herr>\ '^d Party, (L.) Be off! £ifth Party, (l.) Now then, what *s the girl gaping at Can’t you take n answer ? May, {to Brierly.) Please, sir Bri. (l.) Be off with thee, lass, I ’m in no mood for music. May, {suppressing her tears 1) Not a penny ! Bri. Stop, lass; {feels in his pocket) not a farden. Where’s Downy? ome here, what ’s ’t crying at ? M ay. I 've not taken anything to-day, and I ’ve not been well lately. ^he turns faint, and grasps a seat to support herself 1) Bri. {rising.) Poor thing ; here, {places chair) sit thee down ; why thee oks welly clemmed. Try and eat a bit. {He gives her a biscuit 1) 12 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Aci {She tries to swallow. May, Thank you, sir, you 're very kind. cannotl) If I had a drink of water. Bri. Wather? {at bad: of table, L.) Nay, a sup o’ this will hear thee up. ( Tries to give her wine fro7n his bottle.) Not a drop ! ( loohs around and sees IV alter crossing from l. to R., bringing a decc ter of sherry.) Here, that ’ll do. ( Takes decanter.) W ait. Beg pardon, sir; it ’s for No. i. Bri. I 'se No. i. 1 st P arty, (r.) Holloa, sir ! that 's my sherry. Bri, No, it 's mine. 1 st Party. I 11 let you know — {he rises and turns up his cuffs • Brier looks at him) No, I ’ll see the landlord. {Exit ist Party, l. u. Bri. There, lass. {Pours out a glass for M.k\) Sup that. ' May, {drin/es.) It ’s wine. Bri. Sup it up. M ay. It makes me so warm. Bri. It’ll put some heart i’ thee. Sup again, thou ’lit tune thy pip like a mavis on that. Now try and eat a bit. M ay. Oh, sir, you ’re too good. Brt. Good ? me ! nay Enter Maltby l. u. 's.., followed by isT Party. Mai. (c., soothingly) Merely a lark, depend upon it. The gentlemt will apologize. {To Brierly.) The gent who ordered that bottle . sherry Bri. (l. C.) Let him ordther another, I 11 pay for it. Mai. The gent can’t say fairer. {Calls) Bottle sherry, Jackson ; seve and SIX, sir. Bri. Here. {Feels in his pockets) Eh .? score it down. Mai. We ain’t in the habit of scoring, sir; not to strangers. Bri. Then yo ’d betther begin ; my name ’s Bob Brierly. Mai. Your name may be Bob Brierly, sir, or Bob Anybody, sir, bt when people take wine in this establishment, sir— especially other party' wine— they pay for it. 7 t- j Dalton re-afpears behind, C.,from L. u. E. Brt. A tell yo’ I ’ll pay as soon as my friend comes back. Mai. Oh, your friend ! A regular case of bilk mLI) parties gather round frem May, {frightened) Oh, please, sir; please Mr. Maltby. \st Party. It ’s too bad. ^d Party. Why can’t you pay the man.? Zd Party. Police ! •GENE I.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. ^3 Dal. {coming forwardy L.) Halloa! what’s all this? Bri. (C., seizing hi^ni) Here, Downy, you lend me a sovereign to pay lis chap. Dal Sorry I have n’t change, but we ’ll manage it directly. ( To Malt- Y.) It 's all right. I ’ll be bail for my friend here. Mai. (R.) Your word ’s quite enough, sir. Any friend of Mr. Moss’s Dal. Come, Bob, don’t be a fool, take a turn and cool yourself. {Draw- ng him off; aside.) Now to plant the big ’un. [Draws him L. i st E. Mai. {to Guests) Sorry for this disturbance, gents ; quite out of keep- ig with the character of my establishment. {Bell—musiCy piano) But be concert is about to re-commence ; that way, gents, to the Rotunda. Guests go offy C.; fiercely to May.) This is all along of your cadging, 'dwards, sitting down to drink with a promiscuous party. Mayy (R.) Oh, I ’m so sorry — he never thought — it was all his kindness. Mai. (L., sneeringly) Kindness I much kindness he ’d have shown you, t you ’d been old and ugly. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Mayy {indignantly) You ought to be ashamed of yourself 1 it is cruel a you to insult a helpless and friendless girl like me. Mai. Insult ! ho, ho, ha, here ’s a lark ! A half-starved street-singer heeking me in my own establishment ! You ’d better apply for an engage- nent, you had, on the first vacancy. {Looking off) Hollo ! what ’s that ? arriage company ! Heavy swells on the lark ; white ties and pink bonnets ! )how the ladies and gentlemen to the Rotunda, Jackson. [Extty R. C, Mayy {smks down at one of the tableSy L.) I ’m foolish to be angry ; my )read depends on such as he. Oh, if I could only get away from this veary work 1 if some kind lady would take me in. I m quick at my needle j )ut who ’d take me, a vagabond, without a friend to speak for me ? I ’m all ilone in the world now. It ’s strange how people’s life is made for ’em. I ;ee so many girls, nicely dressed, well off, with parents to love and care or ’em. I can’t bear it sometimes, to see them, and then think what I am, ind what’s before me. {Puts her hand to her face) I’m a silly girl ; it s ill because I ’m so weak from the fever. There’s nothing like keeping a ^ood heart. How good he was to me ; it was all through me he got into his trouble ; but I must n’t think of him. Ah, {looking offyV.. ist E.) there ’s L pleasant looking party yonder. Come along old friend, you ’ve to earn ny supper yet. [Takes her guitar y and exity R. ist E, ^nter Green Jones and Emily St. Evremond, r. u. e. ; he wears evening costume : blacky white tiey Gibus haty &^c. ; she is gaily dressed : pink bonnety &^c. Greeny {speaking as he comes down) Excuse me, Emily ! Anything )ut the Rotunda ; if your mama likes the music, let her enjoy it. Emily. I ’m sure the music ’s very nice, Mr. Jones. Green. Mr. JoneSy Miss St. Evremond ! What have I done to be kept 14 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Ac at arm s length by that chcvaux de /rise of a mister? was it for this th thawed the thick-ribbed ice of Mrs. Traddles ? Em, Thick-ribbed ain’t a proper word to use to any lady, and I : you my mas name ain t Traddles, Mr. Jones ; it’s the same as mine— Evremond ; she ’s changed it at my wish. Green, I beg pardon of your stern parient, {sits L.) Mrs. St. Evremo; late Traddles ; but I repeat, was it to be called Mister Jones that I trea Mrs. St. E. and chyild to the Star and Garter ; and her chyild without IV ' E. to the Trafalgar, where from the moonlit balcony that overhung fragrant river, we watched together the sunset over the Isle of Dogs ? Em. And very wrong it was of me to go to that whitebait dinner wi out ma ; and preciously she blew me up about it, though 1 told her 3 could n t have treated me with more respect if I ’d been a countess, inst( of a coryphee. Greeii^ (l.) Emily, you only did me justice. My intentions are hon able. If you are in the ballet, that’s no reason you shouldn’t be a de good girl. You ve been a trump of a daughter ; I don’t see why y should n t turn out a trump of a wife. Emily, accept my hand. Em, (l. c.) Nonsense; Green, you don’t mean it. ; Green. I ’m perfectly serious. My hand and my heart, my fortune a my future. Don’t stare, Emily. It ’s as true as that my name is Gref I ’m quite in earnest — I am indeed. E7n, Oh ! Green, dear, I ’m in such agitation. {Rises?^ Green, (l.) We will spend a rosy existence. You like life, and I flati myself I understand it. Ein. And don’t I? I call this life : the music and the company, a: the singing and the trapeze. I thought the man must break his neck. ? was beautiful. I Green, Yes; I like to associate with all classes. “Purvey mankinc you know, Emily— from China”— to earthenware. So when Chari Punter proposed a night at the tea gardens, I sank the ewell ; and here am with Emily and her mama. Charley did n’t seem to see the parient ; bi ‘‘ Propriety, Charley, my boy,” I said, and he submitted with a sigh. Ai now what will you have ? {Re-enter May, down R. ist E. ; she begins sing.) Oh ! anything but that. Now do oblige me by shutting up, that a good girl. E7n, No, no, poor thing. Let her sing ; she has a sweet voice. Green. Flat, decidedly. E7n, {co7ite7nptuouslyi) You’re another. Give me half a crown for he Green, {gives one, she asks by gesture for another i) Two ? Such a bor I shall have to change a note at the bar. Em. You ’ll have to change a good many notes when we are marri© (To May.) Come along; you shall have both half crowns. \Exeunt Green Jones and Emily, l. U; e.. as May is followii^ JCENE I.J TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. IS Enter Brierly, l. ist E. Bri\ Downy not here ? He said I was to bring t* brass to our table. May, {recognizes him up C. ; comes down,) ’Tis he ! {Joyouslyi) Oh, ir. I’m so sorry Bri, Why, it ’s t’ singing lass. ( Crosses to her,) I say, have you seen ly friend ? May, No, sir. Bri, And where ’s t’ landlord. Here ’s that ’ll make him civil enough. {Shows a number of sovereigns in his hand,) May, Oh, what a lot of money ! Bri, Brass for a twenty pound note. I got it changed at t’ cigar hop down t’ road. He ’s a good ’un is Downy — lends me whatever I want, lere yo’ landlord. Hoy ! Enter Maltby, l. U. e. Mai, Coming ! Coming ! {Recognizing Brierly.) Oh, it ’s you. {Down R.) Bri, {flinging a half sovereign to Maltby.) There ; seven and six or t’ wine, and t’ other half crown ’s for t’ thrashin’ I owe you. {Approaches him threateninglyi) Mai, {pocketing the money and retr eating i) Take care; I ’ll teach you D insult a respectable licensed victualler. ( To May, who tries to calm Jrierly.) And you, too, you tramp ; I ’ll have you locked up for annoying ly customers. How do I know my spoons are safe } Bri, Thou cur ! {He rushes toward Maltby, who escapes L. u. E., rying Police ! ”) May, I cannot bear you should trouble for me, indeed, sir. Bri, (r.) Nay, never heed that muck-worm. Come, dry thine eyes. Concealing her tears.) Thou ’s too soft for this life o’ thine. May, {apologetic ally 1) It ’s the fever, I think, sir — I use n’t to mind un- ind looks and words much once. Bri, Here, take this, {puts money into her hand) and stay thee quiet at ome till thou ’st i’ fettle again. May, Two sovereigns 1 oh, sir. {Cries.) Bri, Nay, thou ’It make better use o’ t’ brass than me What, ryin’ again ! come, come, never heed that old brute ; hard words br’ak no •ones, yo’ know. May, It ’s not his hard words I ’m crying for now, sir. Bri, What then 1 M ay. Your kind ones — they ’re harder to bear — they sound so strange 3 me. Lri. Poor thing ! heaven help thee — thou mindest me of a sister I lost, he ’d eyes like thine, and hair, and much t’ same voice, nobbut she faveit i6 ticket-of-leave man. [Ac: redder i’ t’ face, and spoke broader. I 'd be dad whiles fe h gradely lass like you to talk to ^ ^ ^ ^ ' Bu, , live, .i,, , , , yo«-™ right; lco„, s.ifLade,'b“"- ;• ““ • “P »»«■- » ’ party, sir, as I was a speakin’ of; and I d ^pe she didn t fly out, sir, which Mrs. Molloy of a morning, after her te she says it s the tea — is that rampageous Ed^Ird^’ enough when I said I wanted Mis th^r^ believe, my dear, you’ve bewitched every soul ii the Ouse, from the kitchens to the attics. confine iter witchcraft to your lodgers, m' good kdy. She s bewitched my wife. My name ’s Gibson. May^ Oh sir; I ’ve never been able to say what I felt to your good, kin< lady; but 1 hope you will tell her I am grateful. ^ Mr. G. She knows it by the return you have made. You ’ve showed yoi tlTtKh'^I fifty people ready to help, there’s not Ini worth helping— that s my conclusion. I was telling my wife so this morning and she insisted that I should come and satisfy myself that she had helped one person at any rate who was able and willing to help herself. (Looks ai ker.) And a veiy tidy, nice looking girl you are, (goes up round table and comes down) and a very neat, comfortable room you have, I must say 1^. (R.) Which you can tell your good lady, sir, from me. Miss Edwards rent were always ready to the days and minits, as I was telling ner brother just now. ® Mr. G. (R. c.) Brother .? My wife said you were alone in the world. aZlZ' ^ ^ hesitates) Mr. G. (Pointing to Sam, has put down a chair and is balancing ktmself acrobatically.) Is this the young gentleman (Sau pitches avtr With chair, and Mrs. Willoughby lugs him up.) Mrs. IV Oh dear no, sir, begging your pardon, which that is my p-andson, Samuel Willoughby, the only one of three, and will be fifteen the twenty-first of next April, at eight o’clock in the morning, and a growing. TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 29 fcENE I.] ,oy which take your cap out of your mouth, Samuel, and stand straight, iid let the gentleman see you. (Mr. Gibson sits L. of tablet) Sam, {sulkily.) The old gent can see well enough ; it don’t want a tele- cope. ' {Slinks across at back to L.) I ain’t a-going to be inspected. I ’ll nizzle. {Takes flying leap over chair t) \Exit Sam, L. Mrs. W. (R.) Which Miss Edwards’ brother is grown up, and only :ome back this blessed mornin’ as ever was, discharged from Her Majesty’s Service, and five foot nine in his shoes, by the name of Robert ^which well le may, for a sweeter complexion - 'Mr. G. With a good character, I hope. May. Oh, yes; the very best, sir. Re-enter Brierly, L. Bri. {aside.) I ’ve done it ! I can face her now. Mr. G. So, {rises) I suppose this is Robert ; a likely young fellow. ■ May, (L. C.) This is Mr. Gibson, Robert, the husband of the lady who ivas so good to me. , Bri. (C.) Heaven bless her and you, too, sir, for your kindness to this poor girl, while I was unable to help her. Mr. G. But now you ’ve got your discharge, she ’ll have a protector. Bri. I hope so, sir— as long as I live, and can earn a crust— I suppose I shall be able to do that. Mr. G. What do you mean to do ? Bri. Ah, there it is ; I wish I knew what I could get to do, sir. There ire not many things in the way of work that would frighten me, I think. Mr. G. That’s the spirit I like; your sister speaks well of you, but I should n’t mind that. It ’s enough for me that you ’ve come out of (Brierly looks startled) Her Majesty’s service with a good character. (Brierly rives a sigh of relief t) You write a good hand ? (May goes up and round table; gets letters from box; comes down, L. C.) ■ Bri. Tolerably good, sir. May. Beautiful, sir ; here are some of his letters ; look, sir. {Going to show him, but pauses, seeing date of lettert) Portland! not this, sir. {Turns paget) This side is better written, i Mr. G. A capital hand. Can you keep accounts ? i Bri. Yes, sir, I helped to keep the books — yonder. Re-enter Sam, L. door, comes over rapidly at back, to Mrs. WILLOUGHBY. I Sam. Holloa, granny, here ’s a parcel I found for you in the letter-box ; M’t it heavy, neither. Mrs. W. (R.) For me! {Takes it.) Whatever is it! Eh! money? Oh ! Sam, you ha’ n’t been gone and doin’ anything wrong ! Sam, (r. C.) Bother ! Do you think if I had I 'd a come to you with the swag? 3o TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act Mrs. W. {who has opened the packet, screams, and lets a haher f frotn the packet) M ay. What ’s the matter, Mrs. Willoughby Mrs. W. Sovereigns! real golden sovereigns ! Sam. Oh, crickey ! {Goes up and down in exultation, R.) May, {picks up the paper Mrs. Willoughby has let fall) Here’s twenty pound in payment of an old debt.’ Mr G. {who has seated himself and begun to write, rises and con. down) Yes, and no signature. Come, don’t faint, old lady ! Here m her a glass of water. ( To May.) ’ ^ Mrs. IV. {recovering) Sovereigns! for me? Oh, sir, let me look em— the beauties— eight, nine, ten, twelve, fifteen, eighteen, twenty ' Tu the money I lost. Sam. There, granny ; I always said we was cornin’ into our fortune ’ Mrs. W. {with a sudden flash of doubt) I should n’t wonder if it w some nasty nng-dropper. Oh! are they Bank of Elegance, or only gi washed ? Which I ’ve seen ’em at London Bridge a sellin’ sovereigns at penny apiece. Mr.^ G. (r. c.) Oh, no ! they’re the real thing. = Brt. (L.) Perhaps it ’s somebody that ’s wronged you of the money, an wants to clear his conscience. Mr. G. (C.) Ah ! eccentric people will do that sort of thing, even wit income tax. Take my advice, old lady— keep the cash. Mrs. W. (R.) Which in course a gentleman like you knows best an I m sure whoever sent the money, all I wish is, much good may it do hi4 and may he never know the want of it. i Bri, Amen ! \ Mrs W. Which, first and foremost— there ’s my silver teapot, I ’ll ha^ out of pawn this blessed day, and I ’ll ask Mrs. Molloy to a cup of tea in mi best blue chaney, and then this blessed boy shall have a year of finishir school. ^ Sam. I wish the party had kept his money, I do (Mrs. Willoughby 2^ counting the sovereigns over and over) I say, granny, you' could n’ spare a young" chap a couple of them, could you } Mrs. IV. Drat the boy’s imperence ! Him askin’ for sovereigns a: natural Ah ! they’ll all be for you, Sam, one of these days. Sam. I should like a little in advance. (Sam makes a grab at the sovereigns playfully, and runs at bach to 1.., followed by Mrs. Willoughby, whom he dodges behind a chair; QxhSQut writes at table) |CENE I.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN, • Mrs, W. {half hysterically, throwing herself into a chair) Oh! im— which that boy will be the death of his poor grandmother, he will. Sam, {jurnpmg over chair-back, on which he perches gives back mo7tey kisses her) There, granny, it was only a lark. Mrs, W, {admiringly and affectionately) Oh, what a boy you are. {^Exeunt Mrs. Willoughby <2/2^ Sam, l. door Mr, G, {gives note to Brierly.) Here, young man, bring this note to y office, 25 St. Nicholas lane, at ten o’clock to-morrow. I Ve discharged y messenger ; we ’ll see if you are fit for the place. Bri, Oh, sir ! Mr. G, There— there— don’t thank me. {Crosses to 1 .) I like grati- de that shows itself in acts like yours to my wife. Let ’s hope your rother will repay me in the same coin. [Exit R. door, [May. Robert, the money has brought us a blessing already. {He takes r in his arms exulting ly ; music, piano,) ACT 1 1 L :ene.— Mr. Gibson’s bill-broking office in Nicholas lane, city; a mahogany railing runs up the stage, separating compartment, L., {in which stand across the stage two large mahogany desks, set round with wire, and a brass rail at the top to support books) from the compartment, R., at the side of which, in side flat, R. 2d E., is the door leading to Mr. Gibson’s private office; in front of the com- partment, L., runs a fnahog any counter, with a place for writing at, divided off, L.; a large iron safe for books in R. flat ; another safe, R., near door ; door communicating with passage and street, in C. fiat ; a small desk down stage, R. ist E.; two windows, L. {As the curtain rises, Sam is discovered carrying the ledgers out of safe, ^., through an entrance in the railing to comparhnent, L, and arranging them on the desks ; Brierly is discovered at the counter nmnbering cheques in a cheque-book, L.) Sam, (R.) There they are, all ship-shape. I say. Bob, if granny could i these big chaps, {whilst carrying ledgers) all full of £, s. d., and me much at home with them as old Miggles with his toy terriers! {Puts ks on desk, and returns to C.) Bri, (L.) Only the outsides, Sam— fifty— fifty-one Sa 77 t, Ever3/'thing must have a beginning. I 'm only under messenger, vv, at six bob a week ; but it ’s the small end of the wedge. I don’t mean stay running errands and dusting books long, I can tell you. I intend speculate — I ’m in two tips already 32 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act Bri, Tips? ^ 1 / Sa77i, Yes. ( Takes out bettmg book.) I stand to win a fiver on Po for the Derby, and a good thing on the Count for the Ascot Cup ; t were at Pollux last week, but he s all right again, and the Count’: splendid form, and the stable uncommon sweet on him. Bri. Bring me those pens. {As Sam co7nes to hiTu with the peTis C 077 tes to C. aTid catches hhn by the collar and shakes htTul) You yoi rascal! Now, you mark me. Master Sam. If ever I hear of you putt into a tip again, I 11 thrash you within an inch of your life, and then split on you to Mr. Gibson, and he ’ll discharge you. SaTH. Now I call that mean. One city gent interfering with ano: city gent’s amusements. Bri. {bitterly?^ Amusements ! When you ’ve seen as much as I h'c you ’ll know what comes of such amusements, lad. Sa77z. As if I didn’t know well enough already. Lark, lush, an< latch-key; a swell rig-out, and lots of ready in the pockets; a drag Epsom, and a champagne lunch on the hill! Oh, my— ain’t it st ning ! Bn. Ah ! Sam, that s the fancy picture — mine is the true one. Exq ment first, then idleness and drink, and then bad companions, sin, shai and a prison. Sa77t. Come, I don t want to be preached to in office hours ; grai gives me quite enough of that at home ; ain’t it a bore, just ! Bri. Oh, my lad, take my advice, do! Be steady— stick to work ^ home. It’s an awful look out for a young chap adrift in this place wi out them sheet-anchors. {Returns to counter, L.) ' Sa7n. Oh, I ain’t afraid. I cut my eye teeth early. Tips ain’t wcs than time bargains; and they’re business. {Crosses at back to his L.) i don’t look glum. Bob, you re the right sort, you are, and sooner than 1 you I’ll cut tips, burn “Bell’s Life,” and take to Capel Court and I “ Share List,” and that ’s respectable, you know. (Sits on counter 1) ; Bri. {looking over cheque bookl) You, young rascal! you’ve made \ misnumber my cheque. Sa7n. Serves you jolly well right, for coming to business on your we ding day. Bri. Oh ! I ’ve two hours good before I ’m wanted for that. Sa7n. I say Bob, you don’t mean to say you ’ve been to the bank fort petty cash this morning? Bri. Yes. SaTn. And didn’t leave the notes on the counter? Bri. No. Sam. And did n’t have your pocket picked ? Bri. No. Sam. Well, you are a cool hand. I ’ve often wondered how the pfj • i TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 33 SCENB 1.} chaps in Newgate managed to eat a good breakfast before they’re turned off. But a fellow coming to office the morning he ’s going to be spliced — and when the governor has given him a holiday, too— by Jove, it beats the Old Bailey by lengths. I hope I shall be as cool when I ’m married. Bri, You — you young cock-sparrow. Sain, Yes. I Ve ordered the young woman I want down at Birming- ham. Miss Edwards ain’t my style. Bri, No — is n’t she though ? I ’m sorry it’s too late to have her altered. Sam, She ’s too quiet — wants go. I like high action. Now I call Mrs. Jones a splendid woman. Sam Willoughby, Esquire, must have a real tip- top lady. I don’t mean to marry till I can go to church with my own brougham. Bri, I suppose that means when you ’ve set up as a crossing sweeper. And now, Sam, till your brougham comes round for you, just trot off to the stationer’s and see if Mr. Gibson s new bill-case is ready. Sam, {vaulting over the counter, sees May through the glass door, L., offl.. ist E.) All right. Here’s Miss Edwards a coming in full tog. I twig— I ain’t wanted. Quite correct — Samivel is fly. {Puts his finger to his nose and exit, C.) Enter May, l., in wedding dress, Bri, Ah, May, darling ! ( Takes her by the hand and kisses herl) Sam, {looking in.) I saw you ! {Exit, C. D. Bri. (R.) Hang that boy! But never mind his impudence, my own little wife. May. Not yet, sir. Bri. In two hours. May. There ’s many a slip between the cup and the lip, you know. But as the clerks are n’t come yet, I thought I might just come in and show you {Displays her dressl) » Bri. Your wedding-gown ! May. Yes. It’s Mrs. Gibson’s present, with such a kind note; and she insists on providing the wedding breakfast ; and she ’s sent in the most beautiful cake, and flowers from their own conservatory. My little room looks so pretty. Bri, It always looks pretty when thou art in it. I shall never miss the ' sun, even in Nicholas lane, after we are married, darling. May. Oh ! Robert, won’t it be delightful ? Me, housekeeper here, and you, messenger, and such a favorite, too ! And to think we owe all to these good, kind, generous- — There’s only one thing I can’t get off my mind. Bri. What ’s that } May. Mr. Gibson does n’t know the truth about you. We should have told him before this. 34 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act in Bri, It ’s hard for a poor chap that s fought clear of the mud, to let g( the rope he s holding to, and slide back again. I ’ll tell him when I ’ve beei long enough here to try me ; only wait a bit. May. Perhaps you are right, dear. Sometimes the thought comes Iik( a cloud across me. But you ’ve never said how you like my dress. (Z?/r- playing it.) Brz, I couldn’t see it for looking at thy bonny face; but it’s a granc gown. (Gets round at back to L.) May. And my own making! I forgot— Mrs. Jones is come, and Mrs Willoughby. They ’re going to church with us, ycu know ; Emily looks ic nice ; she would so like to see the office, she says, if I might bring her in. Bri. Oh, yes ; the place is free to the petticoats till business hours. May, (crosses door, L., and calls at door, L.) Come in, E mil y, Enter Mrs. Green Jones, l. Em, Oh ! Mr. Brierly. May, While Robert does the honors of the office, I ’ll go and help Mrs, Willoughby to set out the breakfast. The white service looks so lovelyi Robert, and my canary sings as I haven’t heard him since I left the olcj lodgings. He knows there ’s joy in the wind. Mrs, W, (calling without?) Miss Edwards ! i M ay. There ! I ’m wanted. I ’m coming, Mrs. Willoughby. Oh, dear 1 If I’d known the trouble it was to be married, I don’t think 1 should have ventured. I ’m coming. ^Exit L. ist E; Em, (who has been looking about her?) I did so want to see an office-^ a real one, you know. I ’ve seen ’em set on the stage often, but they ^in’t a bit like the real thing. , Bri, They are but dull places. Not this one, though, since May s beert housekeeper. \ Ezn, Yes, they are dull, but so respectable — look so like money, yo^ know, f suppose, now, there ’s no end of money passes here 1 Brz, A hundred thousand pounds a day, sometimes. Em, Gracious goodness ! All in sovereigns } Brz, Not a farthing — all in cheques and bills. We’ve a few thousands that a queer, old fashioned depositor insists on Mr. Gibson keeping here, but except that, and the petty cash, there ’s no hard money in the place. Em. Dear me ! I thought you city people sat on stools all day shov- eling sovereigns about. Not that I could bear to think of Jones sitting on a stool all day, even to shovel about sovereigns, though he always says something in the city would suit him better than the comic duet business. But he doesn’t know what’s good for him — never did, poor fellow. Brz, Except when he married you. Ezn, W^ell, I don t know about that, but I suppose he would have got through the property without me — he ’s so much the gentleman, you know. Scene i.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 35 Brz\ He ’s coming to church with us ? Em. Oh, yes! You know he’s to give away the bride. But he was •bliged to keep an appointment in the city first ; so queer for Jones, wasn’t : ? He would n’t tell me what it was. Green, {heard without, L. C.) Two-and-six, my man. Very good, wait. Bri. Here ’s your husband ! Em. (looking through door, C.) In a cab— and a new coat and waist- oat, and trousers ! Oh, Jones ! Well, I shan’t pay for them. Enter Green Jones, l. c., in a gorgeous new suit. Green, (speaking off.) Now, hand me out those parcels— yah, stupid, ive me hold. (Hands in parcels one by one.) Here, bear a hand. (He pitches parcels to Brierly, who pitches them on to Mrs. Green Jones, who deposits them on the counter, L.) Em. (as first bonnet box comes in.) Jones! (As second bonnet box }mes mi) Green ! (As case of eau-de-cologne comes in.) Green Jones ! jlove box comes ini) Oh ! (Two bouquets in paper are given in.) Gra- ous goodness ! Green. There all out. Let ’s see — bonnets, eau-de-cologne, gloves, luquets — seven ten ; two and six the cab — my own togs, five ten — that ’s irteen two and six in all. Em. Jones, are you mad.^ Green. Is your principal here, Brierly? Bri. The governor? No, it ’s not his time yet. Green, (en attendant i) You could n’t advance me thirteen two six, could u? Bri. What ! lend you the money ? I ’m afraid Em. (reproachfullyi) Oh, Jones ! Green. Emily, be calm. It ’s not the least consequence. They can dt the shopman, I mean — that is — the two shopmen and cabby. Em. Oh, he ’s gone crazy ! Green. The fact is, I ve had a windfall. Choker Black has turned up imps. He was put in the hole in California ’s a year, had to bolt to Aus- dia struck an awfully full pocket at the diggings, and is paying off hi'^ I ticks like an emperor. He let me in for two thousand, and he has sen,. : bills for five hundred, as a first installment. Km. Five hundred ! And you’ve got the money? 'Green. I ’ve got the bills on his agent. Here they are. Emily, em- ice your husband ! (He kisses heri) Bn. (r.) I wish you joy — both of you. Mr. Gibson will discount the Is for you as soon as he comes in. .rreen, (c.) But, I say, cash, you know, no curious sherry— no old mas- TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 36 [Act 1 ters, or patent filters — I Ve had rather too much of that sort of thing in i time. Em, (l., 'Who has been peeping into bonnet box.) What a duck ol bonnet! Bri, No, you ’re not among your old sixty per cent, friends here. \ only do good bills at the market rate. Em, (who has opened glove box.) And what loves of gloves : Green. That ’s your sort. I feel now the full value of the commerc principle. Em. Oh, Green ! But you ’ll be careful of the money Green, Careful ! I’m an altered man. Henceforth I swear — yoi] allow me to register a vow in your office ? — to devote myself to the \ tuous pursuit of money-making. I ’m worth five hundred pounds, I ’ve : teen hundred more coming in. Not one farthing of the money shall go foolish extravagance. Em, But how about these things, Jones? Green, Trifles ; — a cadeau de noce for the ladies, and a case of eau-^ cologne for myself. I ’ve been running to seed so long, and want wat; ing so much. (Sprinkles himself with eau-de-colognei) Em, Oh dear. Green I I ’m afraid you ’re as great a fool as ever. ;! Bri, Nay, nay, Mrs. Jones — no man’s a fool with ;£5oo in his pocli But here come the clerks; band-boxes and bouquets ain’t business-li You must carry these down to May. Green, (loading Emily with the parcels?) Beg her acceptance o bonnet, a bouquet, and a box of Fiver’s seven and a quarter’s ; and .aco the same yourself, from yours ever affectionately, G. J. (Tries to kiss i over the parcels, but cannotl) ( Em, (from over the parcels?) Oh, go along with your nonsense ! give you one down stairs. S^Extt L. isv Enter Mr. Burton and Mr. Sharpe, clerks, l. c. ' Sharpe, Good morning. Governor come yet ? Bri, Not yet, Mr. Sharpe ; it ’s getting near his time, though. (Cle hang up their hats, coats, &^c., and seat theinselves at desks, L.) Sharpe, (to Mr. Green Jones.) Can we do anything for you, sir? Bri, (indicating GREEN JONES.) This gentleman ’s waiting to see ' Gibson. Here he is. j Enter Mr. GiBSON, L. C. Mr, G, (rubbing his feet on the mat.) Good morning, morning, II Sharpe— good morning, Burton. Well, Robert ; didn’t expect to find at the office this morning. H Bri, Here ’s a gentleman waiting for you, sir, on business. Mr, G, If you’ll walk into my room, sir? |j \^Exit Green Jones into Mr. Gibson’s room, r. 2c| :ene l] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 37 Brz, (R.) I thought I might as well number the cheques, sir, and go r the petty cash. Somehow, I felt 1 should n’t like anything to go wrong -day. Mr, G. (C.) Well, that ’s a very proper feeling. I hope May likes my fe’s present. She is a first-rate housekeeper, though she did call you r brother, the little rogue — and I Ve every reason to be satisfied with u. Bri, I *m right proud of that, sir. Mr, G, You won’t mind my giving you a word of advice on your wed- ng-day ? Go on as you ’ve begun— keep a bright eye and an inquiring ngue in your head — learn how business is done — watch the market — and Dm what I ’ve seen of you the six months you ’ve been here, I should n’t Dnder if I found a better berth than messenger for you one of these lys. Bri, Mr. Gibson— sir— I can \ thank you— but a look out like that— it kes a man’s breath away. Mr, G, In the city there ’s no gap between the first round of the ladder id the top of the tree. But that gentleman ’s waiting. {Pauses; goes to wry R.) By-the-way, I expect a call from a Mr. Hawkshaw. Bri, {starting:) Hawkshaw ! Mr, G, Yes, the famous detective. Show him in when he comes, ve a particular appointment with him. \Exit Mr. Gibson mto his own roozn, r. 2d e. Bri, Hawkshaw coming here ! The principal witness against me at y trial. Perhaps he won’t know me— I ’m much changed. But they say, Portland, he never forgets a face. If he knows me, and tells Mr. Gib- )n, he ’ll discharge me— and, to-day, just when we looked to be so happy 1 would break May’s heart. But why should I stay } I ’m free for the iy — I will not wait to meet my ruin. {Going up C.) Enter Hawkshaw. l. c. Hawk, (r. C.) Mr. Gibson within ? Bri, (l. C.) Yes, sir, but he has a gentleman with him. Hawk, Take in my name. ( Writes on a card with pencily and gives ' to Brierly.) Bri, (takes card and crossing to R. sees name on it; aside?) Hawk- law ! It is too late ! Would you like to look at the paper, sir? {Offers im one from desk?) Hawk, {as he takes ity gives a keen look of recognition at Brierly, '^ho shrinks under his eye, but represses his agitation by an eff ort?) I ve ^en you before, I think ? Bri, I don’t recollect you, sir. Hawk, (carelessly?) Perhaps I ’m wrong — though I ’ve a good memory )r faces. Take in my card. (Brierly ^R., with card; sitSy L.) 38 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN, [Act I] It’s Dalton’s pal; the youngster who got four years for passing forge Bank of England paper, at the Bellevue Tea Gardens. I owe Master Da ton one for that night. Back from Portland, eh ! Looks all the better f( his schooling. But Portland ’s an odd shop to take an office messeng from. I wonder if his employer got his character from his last place. Re-enter Brierly, r. Bri, Mr. Gibson will see you in a moment, sir. Hawk, Very well. {Gives him a looki) Re-enter Green Jones from Mr. Gibson’s room, r., with cheque. Green, {to Brierly.) All right Market rate — and no old masten I ’ll drive to the bank, cash this, settle with those counter-skippers, and rattl back ii? time to see you turned off. I say — you must allow me to order little dinner at the ‘‘Star and Garter,” and drive you down — all right yo know. Mail phaeton and pair— your wife and my wife. I want to shoN you the style G. J. used to do it in. {Goes up.) Now, cabby, pull rounq {Speaking loudly i) London Joint Stock Bank — best pace. \^Exit Green Jones, l. c Bri, {aside!) He little thinks what may be hanging over me. Mr. G. {appearing at the door of his room, R.) Now, Mr. Hawkshaw^ I ’m at your service. ^ Hawk, {crosses to R., then returning Brierly the paper!) Cool cast of note passing that at Bow street, yesterday. (Brierly winces ; aside. It’s my man, sure enough. \Exit into Gibson’s room, R Bri. He knows me — I can read it in his face — his voice. He ’ll tell Mr! Gibson ! Perhaps he ’s telling him now ! I wish I ’d spoken to him — bii( they have no mercy. Oh, if I ’d only made a clean breast of it to Mr. Gib) son before this ! ^ Enter GiBSON and Hawkshaw from Gibson’s room, r. ! Mr. G. {to first clerk!) Mr. Sharpe, will you go round to the banks and see what ’s doing? (Sharpe takes his hat and exits L. c.) Mr. Bur- ton, you ’ll be just in time for morning’s clearance. Burton, {getting his hat ; aside!) By Jove! the governor wants to make a morning’s clearance of us, I think. I ’m half an hour too soon foi the Clearing House. Time for a tip-top game at billiards. \^Exit, L. C, Mr. G. Robert ! ( Writing at desk, R.) Bri. Yes, sir. Mr. G. Before you leave, just step round into Glynn’s and get me cash for this. You’ll have time enough before you’re wanted down stairs, yo| rascal. ? ■ji Bri. {aside!) He knows nothing. {Aloud!) I ’ll be back in five min^J utes, sir. | GENE I.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 39 ' (As Gibson /s about giving him the chequey Hawkshaw, who is standing between Gibson and Brierly, interposes, and takes cheque carelessly^) Hawk, (R. C.) Your messenger, eh? Mr, G. (R.) Yes. Hawk, Had him long? Mr, G, Six months. Hawk, Good character? Mr, G, Never had a steadier, soberer, better-behaved lad in the office. Hawk, Had you references with him ? Mr, G, Why, I think I took him mainly on the strength of his own ood looks and his sweetheart s. An honest face is the best testimonial fter all. Hawk, H’m— neither is always to be relied on. Mr, G, You detectives would suspect your own fathers. Why, how iou look at the lad. Come, you Ve never had him through your hands. A pausel) Hawk, (r. C.) No, he ’s quite a stranger to me. (Turns away,) Here ’s he cheque, young man. Take care you make no mistake about it. Bri, (aside, going C.) Saved! saved! Heaven bless him for those vords. \Extty L. C. . Hawk, (asidel) Poor devil, he ’s paid his debt at Portland. (Aloud,) ^ow, to business. You say a bill drawn by Vanzeller & Co., of Penang, )n the London Joint Stock Bank, was presented for discount here, last light, which you know to be a forgery ? Mr, G, Yes. As it was after hours, the clerk told the presenter to call his morning. Hawk, Bill-forging is tip-top work. The man who did this job knows vhat he s about. We mustn’t alarm him. What time did the clerk tell hm to call? Mr, G. At eleven. Hawk. It’s within five minutes. You go to your room. I’ll take my 3 lace at one of these desks as a clerk, and send the customers in to you. When the forged bill is presented, you come to the door and say, loud mough for me to hear— “ Vanzeller & Co., Penang,” and leave the rest to aie. Mr, G, (nervously 1) Hadn’t I better have assistance within call? Hawk, Oh dear, no — I like to work single handed ; but don’t be ex- bited. Take it coolly, or you may frighten the bird. (Goes to desk, L.) Mr,G, Easy to say take it coolly! I haven’t been thief-catching all life. S^Exit Gibson into his room, L, Enter Moss, C., and down C. Moss, (at the counter , getting out his bills,) Let me see Spelter and 40 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act III Wayne. Fifty, ten, three— thirty days after sight. That’s commercial {Examtmng another bzll.) For two hundred at two months-drawn bi Captain Crabbs— accepted the Honorable Augustus Greenway. That ’s Airty per center. Better try that at another shop. ( Takes out another '. Thatlfd^herf' paper-ninety-nine, eight, two-at sixty days Mr. G. (at door of his room, r.) Mr. Hawkshaw ! Hawk. H — sh ! (Crosses to R., warns him against using his name, but obeys his call, and goes m.) Moss, (on hearing name.) Hawkshaw! (With a quick glance as HAWKSHAW/aw^jy«/-^, Mr. Gibson’s A detective here ' Ware- hawk ! (Alarmed, but recovering^) Well, it ain’t for me-I ’m all on the square, now. If bills will go missing, it ain’t me that steals ’em ; Tiger does that ; I am always a bona fide holder for value ; I can face any examin- ation, I can. But I should like to know Hawkshaw’s little game, and \ should nt mind spoiling it. (Re-enter Hawkshaw, r.) Mr. Gibson if you please ? ' ; Hawk. He ’s in his office, sir. (As Moss f asses in he recognises him.) Melter Moss here! Can he be the forger! He heard my name. Dear,' dear, to think that a business man like Mr. Gibson should be green enough! to call a man like me by his name. (Re-enter Moss, R.) Here he comes now for the signal. (Goes to desk, L.) Moss, (coming down with cheques and bill book?) All right ! Beautiful paper, most of it. One, two of ’em fishy. Well, I ’ll try them three doOrs ! down; they ain’t so particular. j Hawk, {aside.) No signal ! i Moss, (in front of counter, L.) If you ’ll allow me, I ’ll take a dip of' your ink, young man ; I ’ve an entry to make in my bill book. (Hawk- i so. Ayr pitches him a fieni) Thank you. QAosswrites:) i Enter Dalton, l. C., dressed as a respectable elderly commercial man, in ’’ as complete contrast as possible with his appearance in first act; ii comes down, C. ^ | Dal. Mr. Gibson ? ( T akes out his bill case?) I Hawk, (at desk, L.) You’ll find him in his office, sir. J Dal. (aside.) That ’s not the young man I saw here yesterday afternoon. | (Aloud?) Let me see first that I ve got the bill. (Rummages for bill?) 1 Moss, (recognizing Dalton.) Tiger here, in his city get up ! Oh, oh ! | If this should be Hawkshaw’s little game } I ’ll drop him a line. I (Writes, crosses to C., and passes paper secretly to Dalton, with aM significant look, and taking care to keep behind the railing of ihe\ counter^ ENE I.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 41 Val. {recognizing htm^ Moss! {Taking paper, reads^ **Hawkshaw’s that desk.” Forewarned, forearmed ! {Goes up^ Moss, {goes up C.) There, I hope I Ve spoiled Hawkshaw’s little game. \Exit Moss. Mr. Gibson appears at door of office, R. Mr. G. {about to address Hawkshaw again.) Mr. Hawk, {hastily interrupting him.) H — sh ! a party wants to see you, , if you could step this way for a moment. DaL Would you oblige me, Mr. Gibson, by looking very particularly this bill } {Gives it to Gibson, who comes ddw7il) Mr. G. (c.) '‘Vanzeller & Co., Penang.” {Glances at Hawkshaw, de, who crosses and seats hhnself at desk, R.) He don’t stir! ‘Wan- ler & Co., Penang.” {Aside.) Confound it, I haven’t made a blunder, /e I! “Vanzeller & Co., Penang.” {Hawkshaw prepares handcuffs der the desk.) Val. Yes, a most respectable firm. But all’s not gold that glitters; bought the paper as safe as you do, but unluckily I burnt my fingers :h it once before. You may or may not remember my presenting a bill iwn by the same firm for discount two months ago. Mr. G. Yes, particularly well. Dal. Well, sir, I have now discovered that was a forgery. Mr. G. So have I. Dal. And I ’m sadly afraid, between you and me By the way, I pe I may speak safely before your clerk ! Mr. G. Oh, quite. Dal. I ’m almost satisfied that this bill is a forgery, too. The other has tn impounded, I hear. My object in coming here yesterday was, first to ify, if possible, the forgery in the case of this second bill ; and next, to c your assistance, as you had given value for the first as well as myself, bringing the forger to justice. (Hawkshaw looks up as if in douhtl) Mr. G. Really, sir Dal. Oh, my dear sir ! If we city men don’t stand by each other ia tse rascally cases ’ But before taking any other step, there is one thing we to myself, as well as to you, and that is, to repay you the amount of i first forged bill. Mr. G. But you said you had given value for it? Dal. The more fool I ! But if I am to pay twice, that is no reason you )uld be a loser. I ’ve a memorandum of the amount here. {Looks at ' bill bookl) Two hundred and twenty — seven — five. Here are notes — □ hundreds — a ten — and two fives — seven — and one — two — three ounting out copper 1) Mr, G. Oh! pray, sir, don’t trouble yourself about the coppers. Dal. I ’m particular in these matters. Excuse me — it ’s a little pecu- 42 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act ii: liarity of mii;ie — {counting out coppers) three — four— five. There, that* off my conscience ! But you Ve not examined the notes. (Hawksha\ pockets handcuff si) M r. G, Oh, my dear sir. {Putting them upi) Dal. Ah ! careless, careless ! {Shakes his head.) Luckily, I had en dorsed ’em. Mr. G. Really, sir, I had marked that two hundred and twenty off to ; bad debt a month ago. By the way, I have not the pleasure of knowing your name. Dal. Wake, sir — Theopilus Wake, of the firm of Wake Bros., shipper and wharfingers, Limehouse and Dock street, Liverpool. We have j branch establishment at Liverpool. Here ’s our card. {Gives card?) Mr. G. So far from expecting you to repay the money, I thought yoi were coming to bleed me afresh with forged bill No. 2 , for a forgery it is most certainly. Dal. Quite natural, my dear sir; my dear sir, quite natural; I’ve m right to feel the least hurt. Mr. G. And what’s more, I had a detective at that desk ready t^ pounce upon you. Dal. No, really. Air. G. You can drop the clerk, now, Mr. Hawkshaw. (Hawksha'V^ co7ncs down, R.) Dal. Hawkshaw ! Have I the honor to address Mr. Hawkshaw, th< detective— the hero of the great gold dust robberies, and the famous Trunk line transfer forgeries. {Crosses to c.) Hawk. I 'm the man, sir. I believe {Modestly I) ' ■ Dal. Sir, the whole commercial world owes you a debt of gratitude i] can never repay. I shall have to ask your valuable assistance in discovert ing the author of these audacious forgeries. i; Hawk. Have you any clue } \ Dal. (c.) I believe they are the work of a late clerk of ours, who go! into gay company, poor lad, and has gone to the bad. He knew the Van- zellers’ signature, as they were old correspondents of ours. Hawk, (r.) Is the lad in London ? Dal. He v/as within a week. Hawk. Can you give me a description of him.^ Age — height — hail • — eyes — complexion — last address — haunts — habits — associates — {signiff cantly) any female connection ? Dal. Unluckily I know very little of him personally. My partner, Wal- ter Wake, can supply all the information you want. Hawk. Where shall I find him } Dal. Here s our card. We ’ll take a cab and question him at our office. Or, {as if struck by a sudden thought) suppose you bring him here, so that we may all lay our heads together. iCENE I.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 43 , Hawk, You’ll not leave this office till I come back? I Dal, If Mr. Gibson will permit me to wait. Mr, G, I shall feel extremely obliged to you. Hawk, You may expect me back in half an hour at farthest — (^going p C,y returns) egad, sir, you ’ve had a narrow escape. I had the darbies pen under the desk. {Showing handcuffs?) Dal, Ha, ha, ha ! how very pleasant. ( Takes and examines handcuffs }iriousfy,) ‘ Hawk, But I ’ll soon be down on this youngster. , Mr, G, If only he hasn’t left London. Hawk, Bless you, they can’t leave London. Like the moths, they turn nd turn about the candle till they burn the wings. , Dal, Ah ! thanks to men like you. How little society is aware of what . owes its detective benefactors. Hawk, There’s the satisfaction of doing one’s duty — and something Ise now and then. Mr, G, Ah ! a good round reward. Hawk, That ’s not bad ; but there ’s something better than that. Dal, Indeed ! Hawk, Paying off old scores. Now, if I could only clinch the darbies n Jem Dalton’s wrists. Dal, Dalton ! What ’s your grudge against him in particular Hawk, He was the death of my pal— the best mate I ever had— poor oe Skirrit. {Draws his hands across his eyes?) I shall never work with uch another. Llr. G, Did he murder him ? Hawk, Not to say murdered him right out. But he spoiled him — gave dm a clip on the head with a neddy — a life-preserver. He was never his wn man afterwards. He left the force on a pension, but he grew sort of laralyzed, and then got queer in his head. I was sitting with him the week »efore he died. “Jack,” he says— it was Joe and Jack with us— “Jack,” he ays, “ I lay my death at the Tiger’s door ” — that was the name we had or Dalton in the force. — “ You’ll look after him, Jack, he says, “for the .ake of an old comrade.” By no, I won’t say what I said, but I prom- :ed him to be even with Jem Dalton, and I ’ll keep my word. Dal, (c.) You know this Dalton.^ Hawk, (r.) Know him ! He has as many outsides as he has aliases. I ou may identify him for a felon to-day, and pull your hat off to him, a )arson, to-morrow. But I ’ll hunt him out of all his skins, and my best light’s sleep will be the day I ’ve brought Jem Dalton to the dock ! Dal, Mr. Hawkshaw, I wish you every success ! Hawk, But I’ve other fish to fry now. {Going upy looks at card?) N ake Brothers, Buckle’s Wharf, Limehouse, \Exit Hawk., C. 44 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act id Dal. Ask anybody for our office ! {Asidel) And if anybody c'an te you I shall be astonished. {Following him up, then returning.) G. I m really ashamed to keep you waiting', sir. Dal. Oh, 1 can write my letters here, {pointing to the counter) if yo don t mind trusting me all alone in your office. Mr. G. My dear sir, if you were Dalton himself— the redoubtable Tige —you could n’t steal ledgers and day-books, and there ’s nothing more val uable here— except, by the way, my queer old depositor. Miss Faddle’s live thousand, that she insists on my keeping here in the office in gold, a she believes neither in banks nor bank-notes. And, talking of notes, may as well lock up these you so handsomely paid me. {Goes to safe, R. Dal. Not believe in notes! Infatuated woman ! {Aside.) I hope he ’1 like mine. Mr, G, {locks safel) I ’ll leave you to 'write your letters. \Exit Mr. Gibson into his office, r DaL Phew ! ( Whistles low.) That ’s the narrowest shave I ever had So, Jack Hawkshaw, you ’ll be even with Jem Dalton yet, will you,? Yot may add this day’s work to the score against him. How the old bo] swallowed my soft sawder and Brummagem notes ! They ’re beauties ! I! would be a pity to leave them in his hands— and five thousand shinen p raps alongside of em. Come — I Ve my wax handy — never travel with- out my tools. Here goes for a squeeze at the lock of this safe. ! {Goes to safe, R., and by means of a pick-lock applies wax to the. wards of the lock by the key-hole. Music, pianol) ; Enter Brierly, Q,from i. ! Brz, {hangs up hat L.) Clerks not returned. Hawkshaw gone.? {See\ Dalton at safe.) Holloa! who’s this.? Tampering with the safe! Hold hard there ! {He seizes Dalton, who ttirns.) ^ Dal, {aside, R.) Brierly ! Hands off, young ’un. Don’t you know locksmith when you see him .? Bn, (r. c.) Gammon ! Who are you .? How came you here .? What are you doing with that safe .? Dal, You ask a great deal too many questions. Bn, I ’ll trouble you to answer ’em. Dal, By what right .? Bn, I m messenger in this office, and I ’ve a right to know who touches a lock here. ' ^ Dal. You messenger here? Indeed! and suppose I took to asking questions you mightn’t be so keen of answering yourself — Robert Bri- erly ! Bri, Y ou know me I Dal, Yes. And your character from your last place — Port - Scene i.l TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 45 Bri. {terrified^ Hush ! r . • Dal. Your hair hasn’t grown so fast but I can see traces of the pnson- ;rop. Bri. For mercy’s sake ! , , r Dal. Silence for silence. Ask me no questions and I 11 press for no Bri. You must explain your business here to Mr. Gibson. I suspected /ou for a thief. ... Dal. And I know you for a jail-bird. Let ’s see whose information will U the farthest. There, I ’ll make you a fair offer, Robert Bnerly. Let me pass, and I leave this place without breathing a word to your employer that you ’re fresh from a sentence of penal servitude for four years. De- tain me, and I denounce you for the convict you are ! (A knock at the door.) ■ Mrs. W. {without?) Mr. Brierly! Bri. Hush! Coming;, Mrs. Willoughby. Dal. Is it a bargain.^ _ r. r ^ Go— go— anything to escape this exposure. {Giving him his hat, &^c.,from counter, L.) • i xt u n Dal. {at door?) There’s Aby Moss, waiting for me outside. He shall blow the lad to Gibson. He may be useful to us, and I owe him one for ... ^ \Exit Dalton, l. c. spoiling my squeeze. L Enter Mrs. Willoughby, l. ist e. Mrs '^V Which I ’ve to ask pardon for intrudin’, not bein used to an office, and knowin’ my place, I ’ope. But it ’s gettin’ on for a quarter past eleven, Mr. Robert, and twelve ’s the latest they will do it, and the breakfast all set out beautiful— and some parties is a gettin’ impatient, which it s no more than natural, bless her, and Sam, that rampagious But what- ever ’s the matter ? You look struck all of a heap like! Bri. Oh, nothing, nothing. It ’s natural, you know, a man should look queer on his wedding morning. There, go and tell May I 11 be wit er directly. Enter Sam, l. ist E. Sam. Come along. Bob, we ’re all tired of waiting, especially this child. (Sings nigger song.) Come along I Mrs. W. {admiringly?) Oh, that boy ! If it ain’t enough to make any grandmother’s ’eart proud. Bri. Go— go— I ’ll follow— I ’ve some business matters to attend to. Sam. A nice state for business you ’re in— I don’t think - There, granny. (Looks at him?) This is what comes of getting married . If it ain’t an awful warning to a young fellow like me I Mrs. IV. Drat your imperence. Sam. But the party ’s waiting down stairs, and we ’re wanted to keep 4^ ticket-of-leave man. [Act i ’em in spirits, so come along, granny. (Polkas out with Mrs. Willougj BY, L. 1st E.) Bri. Known ! Threatened ! Spared by Hawkshaw, only to be d' nounced by this man. Enter Moss, L. C. Moss. Mr. Gibson, if you please ! Bri. He s in his office, sir— that way. {Points to open door, R.) Moss. I remember the young- man now. A convict get himself into respectable situation. It is a duty one owes to society to put his employe on his guard. ^ j Bri. Yes— he ’s gone— 1 can draw my breath again — I was wrong to k him go. But to have the cup at one’s lip, and see it struck away— could n’t— 1 could n’t — even the detective had mercy. When we ’re marriec I ’ll tell Mr. Gibson all. Re-enter Moss and Mr. Gibson from his office. M^oss. You can (question him, sir, if you don t believe me j anyway, I ’v done my duty, and that ’s what I look to. {Exit Moss, L. c Bri. (L.) Here ’s the money for the cheque, sir. (Gibson takes money. ^ Bri ERL Y is going, l. ist E.) \ Mr. G. (r.) Robert' , ^ Bri. (l.) Sir. ' Mr. G. Where are you going Bri. To dress for church, sir. Mr. G. Stay here. Bri. Sir ! ^ ; Mr. G. You have deceived me. [ Bri. Mr. Gibson i Mr. G. I know all — your crime — your conviction — your punishment! \ Bri. Mercy ! mercy ! Mr. G. Unhappy young man. ; Brt. Ah ! unhappy you may well call me. I was sentensed, sir, but .1 was not guilty. It’s true, sir, but I don’t expect you to believe it— I’ve worked out my sentence, sir— they had n’t a mark against me at Portland— you may ask ’em — here ’s my ticket-of-leave, sir. You own I’ve been steady and industrious since I came here. By heaven’s help I mean to be so still — indeed I do. Mr. G. I dare say, but I must think of my own credit and character. If it was buzzed about that I kept a ticket-of-leave man in my employ- ment — Enter Green Jones, c., down r.. May, Emily, Mrs. Willoughby and Sam, l. 1st e. Mrs. W. (l.) Which, axin’ your pardon, Mr. Gibson, we’re all ready, and the cab is a waitin’ ;!ENE I.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 47 Prz, May, Bri, AIL Em, Mrs, Heaven help thee, my poor lass. You are pale — tremble — are ill — oh, speak! what is it? Bear up. May. But our marriage — cannot — be — yet — awhile. The wedding put off ! (May stands aghastt) No bonnets ! ] W, And no breakfasts. ! , By Jove! \ {Together:) Sam, Here ’s a go ! J May, Am I dreaming! Robert, what does this mean? Brz, It ’s hard to bear. Keep up your heart — I ’m discharged. He ows all. May, {to Gibson.) Oh, sir, you couldn’t have the heart — say it is not 'azn, (l.) And the parson getting cold. May, (l. c.) Robert, why are you not dressed? What is the matter? le. Mr, G. Sorry for it. You have both deceived me ; you must both leave b place. Brz, You hear; come. May. May, I ’ll go, sir. It was I deceived you, not he. Only give him a ance {Music — piano, till endl) Bri, Never heed her, sir. She’d have told you long ago, but I hadn’t 2 heart — my poor lass. Let her bide here, sir — I ’ll leave the country — 1 ’list. May, Hush, hush, Robert ! We were wrong to hide the truth — we are rely punished ; \i you 've courage to face what ’s before us, / have. Bri, My brave wench ! Thank you for all your kindness, sir. Good- e, friends. Come, May, we ’ll go together. ACT IV. .’ENE I. — Bridgewater Arms ; a large g aily^decor at ed coffee room see out with tables and benches ; a bar crosses the corner of room, up L., with gaily painted hogsheads ranged above it ; beer engine, &^c., at the head of bar, L. C. ; door to street in flat, R. ; door to parlor, R. 2d E. ; curtained windows in flat ; a piano, L. ; a trap leading to cellar practicable, up stage, C., near the end of the bar ; table and three chairs in front, R. ; table and benches up, L. ; table and benches at back, R. , (Moss, with bags of silver, and Dalton, seated at table, R. , Malt BY waiting zipon them,) Mai. {at back of table, R.) Pint of sherry. {Putting it downl) Very rious ! Yes, Mr. Moss, it ’s a pleasure to see you, sir, at the Bridgewater *ms ; though it ain’t the Bellevue Gardens ! worse luck ! 48 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [ACT MosSy (r. of table:) Ah ! ups and downs are the lot of life, Mr. Mai Y ou ’ll let me know when Mr. Tottie comes ? MaL Ah, the sub-contractor for the main sewer in the next sti Such a nuisance ! stops all traffic Moss. But sends you all the navvies. It ’s here they’re taken on, paid, you know. MaL Connection not aristocratic, but beery ; we do four butts a v at the bar, to say nothing* of the concert room up stairs. DaL (L. of tablcy R.) What, the navvies like music to their malt, they? MaL Oh, yes, sir! I introduced the arts from the West End. roughs adore music, especially selections from the Italian Opera; and a: sentiment and sensation, if you could hear Miss St. Evremond touch tl up with the ‘‘Maniac’s Tear,” the new sensation ballad, by a gifted c poser, attached to the establishment, and sold at the bar, price one £ ling ! why, we ’ve disposed of three dozen “ Maniac’s Tears ” on a ' night — astonishing how it goes down ! DaL With the beer? Enter Mrs. Green Jones, door in flaty and comes down L. ; she wed handsome evening dress under her shawl. MaL (c., cofning forward to her.) Here comes Mrs. Jones ; gentler? this is the great and gifted creature I was alluding to. Em. (l.) Go along with your nonsense ! MaL Miss St. Evremond, the great sensation balladist, formerly of Nobility’s Concerts, and her Majesty’s Theatre — {aside) in the ballet. " Moss. Proud to make the acquaintance of so gifted an artiste. ■ Em. You’re very obliging, I’m sure. {Taking off her bonnet i shawl, and smoothing her hair; to Maltby.) How’s the room to-nig MaL Tidy, but nothing to what it will be. It ’s the navvies’ pay ni‘ you know. ^ Em. Navvies ! oh, lord ! {sighs) to think of Emily St. Evremond wi ing her sweetness upon an audience of navigators ! DaL They are not aristocratic, but they are appreciative. Em. Yes! poor creatures ! they do know a good thing when they h it. (Ti? Maltby.) DaL If Miss St. Evremond will oblige us with a ballad MaL “The Maniac’s Tear.” Em. If these gentlemen would n’t mind. DaL On the contrary — we like music ; don’t we. Moss? Moss. I doat upon it ; especially Handel ! Em. But where ’s the accompanist ? MaL I regret to say the signor is disgracefully screwed ! Em. Oh, never mind, Jones can accompany me ! {Going upi) Cfi in, Green Jones; you’re wanted! (Maltby opens pianoi) 49 GENE 1.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. "nter Green Jones with basket of trotter Sy door in fiat ; they both come doWHy L. Green. In the trotter line, or the tuneful? Em. To accompany me on the piano ! {She arranges her hatri) Green. Till you ’re ready, these gentlemen would n’t like to try a trotter, muld they? A penny a set, and of this morning’s boiling — if I might 2mpt you ? They ’re delicious with a soupgon of pepper. Mai. No, no, Mr. Jones, these are xiQ\,your style of customers. Green. Excuse me, Mr. Maltby, I ’m aware trotters are not known in ood society ; but they go down as a relish, even with people accustomed 0 entrees ! I liked ’em as a swell before I was reduced to them as a sales- nan. Mai. (c., to Mrs. Green Jones.) Perhaps you ’d give us the ‘‘ Maniac’s fear” ? Em. (l. C.) I can’t do it without letting down my back hair! Dal. (r. C.) Oh, down with the back hair, by all means ! Em. You’re very kind. Jones ! Where’s the glass? ones procures a hand-glass from basket ; Emily arranges her hair by glass. Greeny (L., seating himself at the pianol) One word of preface, gentle- nen ! It ’s a sensation ballad ! scene — Criminal Ward, Bedlam ! Miss St. Lvremond is an interesting lunatic — with lucid intervals. She has mur- lered her husband — {finds basket in his way) Emmy ! if you ’d just shift hose trotters — and her three children, and is supposed to be remonstrating vith one of the lunacy commissioners on the cruelty of her confinement ! {Music — Emily sings a sensation ballady ^^The Maniac's Tearfi accompanied by her husband ; all applaudl) Mai. {going offl) Now — look sharp. Miss St. Evremond. The Wis- :onsin Warblers are at their last chorus. {Exit Maltby, l. u. e. Em. {to her husband?) Bye-bye, dear, till after the concert; you know [ can’t be seen speaking to you while you carry that basket. Green. True — in the humble trotter-man who would suspect the hus- Dand of the brilliant St. Evremond ! There ’s something romantic in it — I tiover round the room — I hear you universally admired — visibly applaud- ed — audibly adored. Oh, agony ! Em. Now, Jones- — you are going to be jealous again ! I do believe jealousy ’s at the bottom of those trotters ! {Exit Mrs. and Mr. Green Jones, l. ist e. Moss. Now ’s our time — while the fools upstairs are having their ears tickled. You’ve the tools ready for jumping that crib in St, Nicholas lane? 50 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [ACT DaL Yes, but tools ain’t enough — I must have a clear stage, and a pj who knows the premises. Moss, I Ve managed that — nobody sleeps in the place but the old house keeper and her precious grandson. Dal, He ’s as sharp as a terrier dog — and can bite, too — a young vai mint. If I come across him ( Threateningly^) Moss, No occasion for that — you 're so violent. I ’ve made the youn man’s acquaintance. I ’ve asked him to meet me here to-night for a quic little game — his revenge, I called it. I ’ll dose the lad till he ’s past leavin the place. You drop a hint to the old lady — she’ll come to take care c him. The coast will be clear yonder. Dal, And the five thousand shiners will be nailed in the turning of jemmy. If we had that young Brierly in the job — he knows the way abor the place blindfold. But he ’s on the square, he is — bent on earning a honest livelihood. Moss, But I ’ve blown him wherever he ’s got work. He must dance t our tune at last ! Dal, Ah ! \iyou "ve got him in hand ! Work him into the job, and I jump the crib to-night. ; Moss. He ’s applied to be taken on at the contract works near hen This is the pay night — Tottie, the sub-contractor, is a friend of mine -t Dal. He ’s lucky ! J Moss. Yes. I find him the cash at twenty per cent, till his certificate are allowed by the engineer. ’T ain’t heavy interest, but there ’s no risk-; a word from me, and he ’d discharge every navvie in his gang. But I ’y only to breathe jail-bird, and there ’s no need of a discharge. The md themselves would work the lad off the job. They are sad roughs, bif they ’ve a horror of jail-birds. j Dal. Ah ! nobody likes the Portland mark, I know that — I ’ve tried til honest dodge, too. ■ Moss, It don’t answer. ; Dal, It didn’t with me. I had a friend like you, always after m( Whatever I tried, I was blown as a convict, and hunted out from honej men. Moss, And then you met me — and I was good to you — wasn’t 1 1 Dal, Yes. You were very kind. ^ Moss. Always allowed you handsome for the swag you brought, and pi3 you up to no end of good things ; and I ’ll stick by you, my dear — I nev Come on, {squaring) both of you! Stan up to em, Bob, I m not afraid ! {Navigators gather round.) Enter Mrs. Willoughby, door in flat. Mrs. JV. (r. c.) It ’s his voice — which well I know it. Oh ! Sam, San I Ve found you at last ! Sam. Well, suppose you have — what then ? Mrs. TV. What then! Oh ! dear-oh ! dear. And I’ve run myself int, that state of trimmle and perspiration, and if it had n’t been for the gen tleman I might have been east and west, and high and low, but it ’s at thi “ Bridgewater Arms ” you ’ll find him, he says — and here I have found you sure enough— and you come home with me this minute. : Moss, (r.) Ah ! you ’d better go home with the old lady ! ! Dal. (r. c.) And if you take my advice, you ’ll send him to' bed with- out his supper. } Sam, (c., Mrs. Willoughby pushing him away.) I ain’t going Now, you give me my money— I ’m not going to stand any nonsense. Mrs. W. (r. c.) And this is what he calls attending elocution class ol a night, and improvin’ of his mind— and me a toilin’ and a moilin’ for him— which I ’m his own grandmother, gentlemen, and him the only one of three. {Still holding himl) ( Sam. It’s no use, granny. I’m not a child to be tied to your aproii strings— you ve no right to be naggin’ and aggravatin’, and coming after S chap, to make him look small this way. I don’t mind— I shan’t stir! There ! {He flings his cap on the table, sits on it, swinging his legs.) ' Mrs. W. Oh ! dear oh ! dear — he ’ll break my heart, he will. Brz. (c.) Sam, my lad, listen to me, if you won’t hearken to her. .{Crosses:) A bad beginning makes a bad end, and you ’re beginning badly ; the road you ’re on leads downwards, and once in the slough at the bottom o ’t— oh ! trust one who knows it— there ’s no working clear again. You may hold out your hand— you may cry for help— you may struggle hard— but the quicksands are under your foot— and you sink down, down, till they close over your head. Hawk, {seated, l.) Hear the little flannel-back. He talks like a mis- sionary, he do. {All laugh.) Brt. Go home, my lad— go home with her— be a son to her— love her : as she has loved thee make her old days happy — be sober, be steady, and when you re a grown man, and her chair s empty at t’ chimney-corner, , Scene i.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. sr ;Ou ’ll mayhap remember this day, and be thankful you took the advice of oor, hunted-down, broken-hearted Bob Brierly. Sam, {who has betrayed signs of feeling while he has been speakingi) don’t know' — I feel so queer — and — don’t look at me. {To Mrs. WiL- .OUGBY ; gets off table, crosses to her.) I ’ve been a regular bad ’un, ranny — I ’m very sorry — I ’ll put on the curb — I ’ll pull up — that is, I ’ll ry- Mrs. W. {risesi) Oh ! bless him for those words ! Bless you ! my own ear boy. {Crosses to Brierly.) And you, too, Mr. Brierly — which, if the ddow’s blessing is worth while, it ’s yours, and many of them. Oh ! dear — 'h! dear. {Cries; gets out her handkerchief, a^td in doing so drops her purse and keys; Moss picks up the purse; Mrs. WILLOUGHBY catches his eye as he does so; Dalton unobserved by all picks up the key si) : Bri. {passes back to L.) Nay, don’t thank me. It’s late now. Go ome — Sam, give her your arm. Moss. Here ’s your purse, old lady. {Making a final attempt on Sam.) Vhat, you won’t stay and make a night of it? , Mrs. W. I ’ll trouble you not to speak to my grandson. If ever an old lan was ashamed of his grey hairs, iC'^you ought to be. Come, Sam. Moss, {aside.) Baulked. , Dal. No — I did n’t give her back her keys. Sam, {turning to Moss.) If I wasn’t a going to turn over a new leaf — h, wouldn’t I like to pitch into you ! \Exit Sam and Mrs. Willoughby. Hawk, {pretending to be very drunki) And so should I — an old var- lint — and so would all of us ; you ’re bad enough for a tommy shop- eeper. Navvies. Aye, that he is — ought to be ashamed of himself. Moss, {crosses to C.) And who accuses me ? A nice chap, this, to take way honest folk’s characters ! Hawk. Stow that! He’s one of us now — a regular blue-stocking, ottie’s taken him on ! He ’s paid his footing — eh, mates ? All. Aye — aye. Hawk. Here *s Bob’s health, mates. All. Aye — aye. Moss. Stop ; {goes up C. towards L. table) before you drink that health, est know the man you ’re drinking to. You ’re a rough lot, I know, but ou ’re honest men. Bri. Oh, man, if you *ve a heart {Risesi) I Moss. I owe you one — I always pay my debts. {ToNawiesi) You’re S ot felons, nor company for felons — for jail-birds. \aIL Jail-birds! 58 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act IV. Moss, Aye — jail-birds. Ask him how long it is since he served his four years at Portland. (Hawkshaw^^?^.^ upy crosses, and sits quietly at head of table, L.) Look !— he turns pale — his lip falls ; he can’t deny it ! (Brierly turns away,) Hawk, Who knows, lads — perhaps he ’s repented. All, No — no. {Grumbling?^ No jail-bird — convict — no ticket-of- leaver. {They turn away from Brierly.) Bri, Aye, mates — it’s true I was convicted, but I wasn’t guilty. I served my time. I came out an altered man. I tned hard to earn an honest livelihood ( They all turn away.) Don’t all turn away from me ! Give me a chance — only a chance. All, No — no. Bri, Nay, then, my last hope is gone--I can fight no longer ! ( Thrown his head on his hands in despairl) {The Navigators retire up, Hawkshaw pretending to be verj drunk, appears to sleep with head on table. The Navigators drop off, and exit, D. F., one by one.) Moss, {to Dalton.) Honesty’s bowled out at last! It’s our gam^ now. {Puts his hand on Brierly’S shoulder.) I say my friend Bri. Eh ! {Looking up) You ! The man who told them ! {Fiercely Moss, (L.) Yes— yes; but don’t put yourself in a passion. Bri. Only tell me— is it you who have followed me in this way } wh( have turned all against me? who have kept me from earning honest bread i Moss. Yes. Bri. But why, man, why? I have done you no wrong. ^ Moss. Ask him. (Pointing to Dalton.) He ’s an old friend of yours Bri. I don’t know him yet— I ’ve seen that face before. Yes, it is— Jefi Downy? Thou villain! (He seizes himi) I know thee now. Tho; shalt answer to me for all this misery. ' Dal. Easy does it, Bob. Hands off, and let ’s take things pleasantly. ' Bri. Not content with leading me into play, and drink, and devilry- with making me your tool— with sending me to a prison, it ’s you that hav dogged me — have denounced me as a convict. Dal. Of course— you did n’t think any but an old friend would hav taken such an interest ih you. Bri, Did you want to close all roads against me but that which lead to the dock ? Dal, Exactly. Bri, {turns to Moss.) Moss, Exactly. Dal, You see, when a man ’s in the mud himself and can t get out of i he don’t like to see another fight clear. Come, honest men won t hk% anything to do wit\\ you — best try the black sheep — we ain’t proud. {A bENE I.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. 59 t R.) We Ve a job in hand will be the making of all three, {Fills his lassl) Here, drink, and put some heart into you. (Brierly drinksl) hat’s your sort — a lad of spirit— I said there was real grit in him — didn't Mossey ? Moss. You always gave him the best of characters. Dal. Is it a bargain ? Bri. Yes. Dal. There ! Tip us the cracksman’s crook — so ! {Shakes hands with peculiar gripl) Enter May, door in flat. May, (C.) Robert — not here } {Sees him.) Ah, there he is. * {Going pauses.) Who are those with him } Dal. Now a caulker to clinch the bargain. {They drinkl) May, {in painl) Ah ! Robert. Bri. You here — lass.^ Moss. Oh, these petticoats ! Dal. You 're not wanted here, young woman. May. He is my husband, sir. He is not strong — the drink will do him irm. Dal^ Ha, ha, ha ! Brandy do a man harm ! It 's mother’s milk — take lother sip. {Fills BRlERLY’S^/a.y^ again.) To your girl’s good health? May. Robert, dear — come with me. Bri. Have you got work ? May. No — not yet. Bri. No more have I, lass. The man took me on — it was the old story. May. Oh, Robert — come! Bri. I shall stay with friends here — thou go home, and don’t sit up for le. May, {imploring 1) Robert! Bri. I ’ve my reasons. Dal. Come, are you going. Bri. (May clings to himl) Stand off, lass. You used to do what I bid DU — stand off, I say. {He shakes himself free from herl) May. Oh, Robert, Robert ! {Staggers back to table, L, and sits.) Bri. {aside.) I must — or they ’ll not trust me. May. These men? to what have they tempted him in his despair? hey shan’t drive me away. {Aside.) I ’ll watch. {Exit door in flat, fter a mute appeal to Brierly. The tables have before this been ^ eared of all the Navvies except Hawkshaw, lies with his head on he table as if dead drunk ; Moss rises and goes down, R.) Mai. {re-entering fro7n bar, L, U. E. ; shaking Hawk, by the shoulder,} low, my man, we ’re shutting up the bar. Hawk. Shut up. I ’m shut up. Good night. {Lets his head falll} 6o TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [Act 1 Mai, {coming down.) It ’s no use — he won’t go, and I ’m wanted in t concert room. [Exit Mal., l. u. e., calling, “ Bar closed Moss, {to Dalton, suspiciously pointing to Hawk.) There ’s party Dal. {rising.) Eh.^ {Shaking Hawk.) Holloa, wake up. (Haw gruntsl) Moss, He ’s in a deplorable state of intoxication. Dal, Yes, he ’s got his cargo — no danger in him — now for bu sines First and foremost no more of this. {Pockets bottle ; to Brierly.) You ’ heard the job we have in hand ? Bri, Yes, but you have not told me where it is, or why you want n help. ‘ Dal, It *s old Gibson's office. The five thousand you know — ^you kno where it 's kept. Bri, Well. Dal, And you '11 take us to it } Bri, Yes. Dal, That 's the ticket. Then we may as well start. • Bri, Now ! Dal, My rule is, never put off till to-morrow the crib I can crack to-dsj Besides, you might change your mind. ^ Moss, One has heard of such things. Bri, But Dal, You crane Bri, No. ' Dal, I '11 get a cab. {Going.) , Moss. And I ’ll get another ; we 'd best go single. {Following himlj\ Dal. No, it would n’t be polite to leave Mr. Brierly. {Aside.) I do^ half trust him — don’t let him out of your sight. {Exit door in plat.) Bri. {aside.) If he ’d only leave me for a moment. ; Moss, {crosses to front, R. ; sitting?) He ’s carried off the bottle, and tl bar ’s shut up, or we might have a little refreshment. Bri, Perhaps, if you went to the landlord Moss, No, I ’d rather stay with you; I like your company, uncommon Enter Maltby,* l. U. e., with a wine basket and candle. Mal. Here’s Mr. Tottie standing champagne round to the Wiscons Warblers, and the bar stock all out, and the waiters in bed. I must i down to the cellar myself — very humiliating! {Goes to trap near ba^ What with the light, and what with the liquor — I say, Mr. Moss, if y( would lend me a hand. Bri. {aside.) I might give him the information. {To Maltby.) L me help you, sir. {Goes to trap.) Moss. Then I ’ll go, too. (Maltby opens trapl) Bri, The stairs are steep ; two ’s quite enough. bENE II.] TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN, 6t Moss. But I 'm so fond of your company. Mai. If you’ll hold the light. (Brierly fakes it, and Maltby goes nvnl) Bri. {aside). A word’ll do^it. {Going down; Moss takes candle from \m and gets between him and Malt BY.) Moss. Allow me. The light will do best in the middle. (Moss descends^) Mai. {from below). Now, then ! Bri. {rapidly closes the trap afid stands upon it.) Now’s the time. 'Seizes the pen that stands on the bar, and writes, reading as he writes, (ickly) To Mr. Gibson, Peckham. The office will be entered to-night ; m in it to save the property and secure the robbers — R. Brierly. But ho ’ll take it. Hawk, {who has got up and read the letter over his shoulder.) I will. Bri. You.^ Hawk, {pulls off his rough cap, wig, and whiskers, and speaks in his vn voice?) Hawkshaw, the detective. {Gives a pistol?) Take this— I ’ll 2 on the look out. (Hawk, lets his head fall as Dal. re-appears beck- ting at the door, and Moss re-appears from the trap— closed in.) GENE II. — A street in the city ; moonlight. Enter Mrs. WILLOUGHBY a7id Sam, l. She searching her pocket. Sa7n. You ’re sure you had ’em at the public. Mrs. W. Certain, sure, my dear, leastwise, I let myself out with the ig street door, so I couldn’t have left that in the kitchen window, and I ’d lie little ones all in my pocket, which I noticed a hole in it yesterday — and ;.’s the best Holland, at one and six, and only worn three years, and they in’t dropped into my skirt, and they ain t hanging to my crinoline. Sam. Oh, bother, granny ; we can’t have a regular Custom House search a the street ; let ’s go back to the public ; perhaps they ’ve found fern. 'Inter Mr. and MRS. Green JONES, L. She with shawl and bonnet ; he ! with his basket and guitar . \ Green. There ’s^only one set left ; perhaps Providence has sent a custo, ner. Trotters, mum? (ThMRS. W.) I Em. (L. C., stopping him.) In my company! I’m surprised at you! honceal that basket. {Advancing to Mrs. W.) Why, if it isn ’t Mrs. Wil- loughby and Sam. W^hy, don’t you know us the St. Evremonds ? \'Mrs. W. (r. C.) Lor bless me— and so it is! and that dear, blessed itian that suffered so in his shins— which perseverance is its own reward; md may I ask what Mr. Jones 1 Em. Mr. St. Evremond. Mrs. W. Mr. St. Evremond — what ’s he a doin’ ? Em. He ’s in business. 62 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [ACT I Green, Yes, as a {Producing basket.) E7n, {getting between MRS. Willoughby and the basket.) As a sc of a sheep farmer. But whatever are you doing here at this time of nigh Mrs. W. Oh, my dear, it ’s a long story — and if you wears pocke mend ’em, is my advice — which, which, whether they dropped, or wheth they was picked SafUy {impatiently i) We can’t get in ; granny’s lost her keys. Ein. And ^<9^ haven’t a latch Well, I wouldn’t have thought it you. Where did she lose them ? Sain. At the Bridgewater Arms — and the house is shut up now. Em. I ’m engaged there ; I don’t mind knocking Maltby up — I rath like it. Come along, Jones, it’s only a step; {aside to him) conceal th basket. {Exeunt Em., Sam, and Mrs. Willoughby, l. ist Green. Emily thinks trotters low ; she don’t see that even the trotte trade may be elevated by politeness and attention to seasoning. {Exit, L. 1st Enter Dalton, Moss and Brierly, r. Dal. Come along. Bob. All serene. {Aside.) Where could he h^ got that six-shooter from ? However, I nailed the caps in the cab. Mo.j you be crow — two whistles if the coast ain’t clear — we ’// work the cri Lucky I nailed the old woman’s keys. They ’ll save tools and time. Gt me the glim. (Moss takes out small lantern and gives it to himl) No; my lad, {to Brierly) take care ; I ’m a man of few words. The pal wl sticks by me, I ’ll stick by him, till death. But the man who tries to dout on me, had better have the hangman looking after him than Jem Dalton. {Exeunt Dalton, Brierly and Mo^' Enter Hawkshaw, r. j Hawk. This should be Crampton’s beat. {Gives a peculiar whist and enter a Detective, R. ist E.) Take the fastest Hansom you can fin tear down with this to Beckham. {Gives note.) Bring the old gent ba^ to St. Nicholas lane. Say he’ll be wanted to make a charge. There’s crib to be jumped. I ’m down on ’em. By the bye, lend me your bark( {Detective gives him a pistol, and exit, R. ist E.) Jem Dalton’s a touj customer. I always feel rather ashamed to burn powder. Any fool c. blow a man’s, brains out. {Tries caps and charges^) That lad’s tr blue after all. I had no idea that he tumbled to their game. He ma aged that letter uncommonly neat. Now for St. Nicholas churchyai When Jem Dalton planted his tools ne never thought they’d come up dc hies. Enter May, breathless, R. May. I ’ve followed the cab as far as I could. I saw them get out, ai lost them at the last turning. If I could only keep them in sight — if could but hear my voice — Robert ! Robert ! \Exit iCENE III.] TICKET-OF-Li.AVE MAN. 63 CENE III. — The churchyard of St. Nicholas' with tombstones and neglected trees; wall at back, L. C. ; up, side of stage, L., an iron raiT mg, supposed to separate the churchyard from the street; in fiat, R. C., the wall of Mr. Gibson’s office, with practicable back door. (Dalton and Brierly drop over the wall, L. C., followed by Moss.) Dal. Now to transplant the tools ! {Gets tools from behind tombstone.') ill right. Moss, look alive ! Here ’s the door and the keys. [Dxit into office by back door, R. Q., followed by Brierly. Moss, {on the look-out?) Nice quiet place — I like working in the city ; I /ish everybody lived out of town, and left their premises in charge of heir housekeepers. (May is heard, L., singing the refrain of her song.) Vhat ’s that ? That girl ! She must have followed us. Here she is. Enter May in the street, L. May, {sees Moss.) Oh, sir, you were with him ! where is he ? Moss. I ’m just taking a little walk in my garden before retiring for the light ; they ’ve gone on to the Cave of Harmony — first turn on the left ; here ’s a red lamp over the door ; you can’t miss it. May. Oh, thank you — thank you ! S^Exit L. 2d E* Moss. That ’s neat ! Trust old Moss when anybody ’s to be made safe. (Hawkshaw during the above has dropped over wall at the back, seizes Moss from behind, stops his mouth with one hand, and handcuffs him, R.) Itir or speak, and you ’re a dead man ! Dal. {appearing at back door.) Hang the cloud ! I can’t see. Moss ! Hawk, {imitating?) All serene ! Dal. {coming down?) We’ve done the job. {Calling to Brierly.) I^Qw, the box. , Bri. {within?) I ’ll bring it. {Comes from door with cash box?) Dal. We’ll share at the Pigeons, in Duck Lane. The box ! quick! I Bri. A word or two first. Dal. We can talk in the cab. . Bri. No, here. You were my ruin four years ago. Dal. I ’ve paid you back twice over to-night. Come, the box. Bri. I suffered then iox your crime. Ever since you’ve come between ne and honest life — you ’ve broke me down — you ’ve brought me to this. Dal. I suppose you mean you ’ve a right to an extra share of the swag ? Bri. No, I mean that you’re my prisoner, or you’re a dead man. [Seizes him and presents pistol?) Dal. Hands off, you fool ! Bri. Nay, then {Snaps pistol?) 64 TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN. [ACT I Dal. You should have asked me for the caps. Here they are. (Hoi them up^ Bri, No matter ; armed or unarmed, you don’t escape me. {A stru^ ^le — Dal. strikes down Bri. as Hawk, rushes from his concealment, i Hawk, Now, Jem Dalton ! It ’s my turn ! DaL Hawkshaw ! {They struggle; Hawkshaw is forced down on the tombstone nearly strangled; Sam appears outside the rails, L., springs ov them, seizes Dalton by the legs and throws him over; HaW] SHAW rises and puts the handcuffs on Dalton ; May appears the street, L.) May. Robert! Husband! Sam, {over D ALTON.) Lie still, will you.^ You're a nice young ma {Crosses to R., looking over Moss.) You 're a pair of nice young men ! Hawk, Now, Jem Dalton! remember poor Joe Skirrett — I promis him I’d do it. I 've done it at last. Enter Mr. Gibson from back door of house, followed by May, who gone round, Mr, G, This way ! Here they are ! The safe open ! The cash-box gort Hawk, No, saved. {Gives it to him?) Mr, G, By whom } Hawk, The man who is bleeding yonder, Robert Brierly. May, My husband — ^wounded ! Oh, mercy ! {She kneels over him?^ Mr, G, Thank heaven, he 's not dead. I can repay him yet. ' Hawk, Men don’t die so easily. He ’s worth a dozen dead men. \ May, Look— he opens his eyes. Robert, speak to me— it ’s May— y(^ own wife. Bri, {faintly?) Darling, I ’m glad you ’re here. It ’s only a clip of % head. I ’m none the worse. It was all my game to snare those villain Who’s there? Mr. Gibson! You wouldn’t trust me, sir, but I was r ungrateful. You see, there may be some good left in a ‘‘Ticket-0 Leave-Man,” after all. {Tableau?) Hawk. May. Bri. Gibson. Moss. Dalton. Officers. Sam THE END. Successful Plays for All Girls In Selecting Your Next Play Do Not Overlook This List YOUNG DOCTOR DEVINE, A Farce in Two Acts, by Mrs. E. J. H. Goodfellow. One of the most popular plays for girls. For nine female characters. Time in playing, thirty minutes. Scenery, ordinary interior. Mod- ern costumes. Girls in a boarding-school, learning that a young doctor is coming to vaccinate all the pupils, eagerly con- sult each other as to the manner of fascinating the physician. When the doctor appears upon the scene the pupils discover that the physician is a female practitioner. Price, 15 cents. SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For eleven females. Time, thirty minutes. Costumes, fantastic gowns, or dominoes. Scene, interior. A grand expose of Masonry. Some women profess to learn the secrets of a Masonic lodge by hearing their husbands talk in their sleep, and they institute a similar organization. Price, 15 cents. A COMMANDING POSITION. A Farcical Enter- tainment, by Amelia Sanford. For seven female char- acters and ten or more other ladies and children. Time, one hour. Costumes, modern. Scenes, easy interiors and one street scene. Marmn Young gets tired living with her aunt. Miss Skinflint. She decides to “attain a commanding position.” Marian tries hospital nursing, college settlement work and school teaching, but decides to go back to housework. Price, 15 cents. HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For ten female characters. Time, half an hour. Scene, an easy interior. Costumes, modern. Mabel Sweetly has just become engaged to Harold, but it’s “the deepest kind of a secret.” Before announcing it they must win the approval of Harold’s uncle, now in Europe, or lose a possible ten thousand a year. At a tea Mabel meets her dearest friend. Maude sees Mabel has a secret, she coaxes and Mabel tells her. But Maude lets out the secret in a few minutes to another friend and so the secret travels. Price, 15 cents. THE OXFORD AFFAIR. A Comedy in Three Acts, by Josephine H. Cobb and Jennie E. Paine. For eight female characters. Plays one hour and three-quarters. Scenes, inter- iors at a seaside hotel. Costumes, modern. The action of the play is located at a summer resort. Alice Graham, in order to chaperon herself, poses as a widow, and Miss Oxford first claims her as a sister-in-law, then denounces her. The onerous duties of Miss Oxford, who attempts to serve as chaperon to Miss Howe and Miss Ashton in the face of many obstacles, furnish an evening of rare enjoyment. Price 15 cents. THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA The Power of Expression Expression and efficiency go hand in hand. The power of clear and forceful expression brings confi-^ dcnce and poise at all times — in private gatherings, in public discussion, in society, in business. It is an invaluable asset to any man or woman. It can often be turned into money, but it is always a real joy. In learning to express thought, we learn to command thought itself, and thought is power. You can have this power if you will. Whoever has the power of clear expression is always sure of himself. The power of expression leads to: 1 The ability to think '‘on your feet” ? Successful public speaking ^ Effective recitals i The mastery over other minds Social prominence Business success ? Efficiency in any undertaking J Are these things worth while? They are all successfully taught at The National School of Elocution and Oratory, which during many years has dc veloped this power in hundreds of men and women. A catalogue giving full information as to how any of thes<* accomplishments may be attained will be sent free on rtquert THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OF ELOCUTION AND ORATORY Parkway Building Philadelphia I I