Appropriate to the character portrayed.
Scene.
—A modern business office. Center door, desk in
center covered with paper and letters; four office
chairs, telephone, rug, etc., as may be available.
DISCOVERED: Alice seated at desk.
ENTER, c.d., Diana.
Diana. Well, Alice Berning, what do you mean by
being indoors on such a beautiful day? Come, put on
your wraps, my machine is——
Alice. Diana, you are a regular steam engine. No,
I cannot accept your kind invitation to go for a spin.
Diana. Do you know what brought me here to-day?
It was to ask you to accompany us on our tour through
the north next week. (Sits on arm of Alice's chair)
There's a dear. Say you will come. Why, you cannot
imagine how disappointed Jack and I will be, not mentioning
all our other guests, if you refuse.
Alice. Really, Diana, I am very sorry to have to refuse.
But I simply cannot go. Why, look at all this
correspondence and no one but myself to answer it.
Diana. Why don't you get a stenographer? Why
not advertise?
Alice. Oh, I've done that—I advertised for a stenographer,
and, would you believe it, when I came down
this morning there were at least twenty-five applicants
outside my door clamoring to get in.
Diana. And how did you get rid of them?
Alice. I interviewed each one separately, but found
not one qualified to do my work. I verily believe if I
encounter another applicant like any of my last ones
I shall close up shop and bury myself in the woods.
(Woe-begone look)
Diana (fingering cards and papers on desk). Alice
Marie Jenkins Berning, what does this mean? Why
there isn't anything on these so-called letters but meaningless
words. Since when did Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Courld,
Mr. Montemout and all these other society favorites become
your clients? Ah-ah—the plot thickens—so Dick
has been consulting you, too? I suppose he wishes to
sue for a separation or something like that. (Cries
wildly) Oh dear, oh dear!
Alice. Diana, if you do not stop that nonsense you
will spoil my practice. What will my clients think if
they should come in and see you carrying on so?
Diana (sobs). Oh, but my husband; to think he has
deceived me so. Oh dear, oh dear!
Alice. For goodness sake, stop! And how unlucky
you should find out the real state of affairs.
Diana (brightly). Come now, own up. You haven't
had a client since you started, and these papers are
only pretenses so that a promising client might think
you prosperous.
Alice (sighs). Well, I might as well own up. I certainly
have had bad luck; but, never mind, my luck will
change.
Diana. Ah, dearie, when will you learn your lesson?
You were never meant to battle and worry like this,
and——
Alice. I am not——
Diana (places hand over Alice's mouth). Now there,
please do not interrupt me. Of course you are worrying;
why there are tiny wrinkles forming across your
brow, and before you know it your mouth will become a
straight line and the sparkle will disappear from your
dear eyes. Now come—give up this silly fad.
Alice. Can't. When I started this, everyone was
against me, especially father and Tom, and now that
I've started I shall continue. But how I do wish for
better business, and also for an office assistant.
Diana. Well, (Walks toward c.d.) I've got a date
with the dressmaker. I'm sorry you are so firm about
this thing. Well, good-bye and good luck. [EXIT c.d.
Alice. Well, it could not be avoided, (Rearranges
papers) but I will not give it up. Why, I'm stationed
here a month and not a client yet. (Listens) I do believe
someone is coming toward this office. I must put
on a business air. (Through telephone; makes sure it
does not ring) Yes, I know—but you see business is so
rushed now. (ENTER c.d. Bell) Well, I might consider
it. Just a minute, please. (To Bell) Just be
seated a minute, please. (Through telephone) As I was
saying, I cannot consider it below $5,000.... What's
that?... I'm sorry, but my advice is always worth
that.... No, not a cent less....
Bell. I beg your——
Alice (waves Bell to silence; continues through telephone).
No, I cannot spare time now.... Yes, come
over to-morrow.... Oh, about this time.... Good
day. (Writes)
Bell. But I say——
Alice. Just a minute, please, and then I'll attend to
you. (Writes, blots, folds) Well, madam, what can I
do for you?
Bell. Well—I—I—jus-t—just——
Alice. Please, my time is valuable.
Bell. I just wanted to know if—if—you would contribute
to the home for disabled animals?
Alice (gasps). No, madam, I am not interested—in—animals.
Good-day. (EXIT Bell, nervously, c.d.)
Well, of all the nerve! And all that energy wasted.
ENTER Miss Johnickstoner, c.d.
Alice. Well?
Miss Johnickstoner. I—I—came—in—answer to
your advertisement.
Alice. Take a seat, please. Now write your name
and address. (Miss Johnickstoner writes name) Well,
Miss Johnickstoner, what is your average speed in
stenography?
Miss John. I—I—don't—do—not—know.
Alice. Well, try. (Dictates) Dear Sir: We are in
receipt of your favor of the 9th inst. Now with reference
to your claim that—— (Miss Johnickstoner brings handkerchief
to face; sobs) My dear—eh—Miss, what is
the trouble?
Miss John. I didn't get the word after receipt.
Alice. We'll try again. Ready? (Dictates) Dear
Sir: We are in receipt of your favor of the 9th inst.
Now with reference to your—— (Miss Johnickstoner
stops; looks up at Alice; sobs) What now?
Miss John. My point broke.
Alice. Here's another. We'll continue now. (Dictates) —claim
I would suggest that you would let it
drop for the present. You know—— (Long wail from
Miss Johnickstoner) Now this—is—too—bad. What
is it this time?
Miss John. I don't (Sobs) think I li-ke this work.
Alice. Oh!
Miss John. I think I'll be going—now——Mamma—is
waiting—for me—outside. [EXIT c.d.
Alice. Ah, the poor little darling and her Mamma
waiting for her. Ugh!
ENTER Miss Chickenfencer, c.d.
Miss Chickenfencer. I believe I'm in the right
place. I came in answer to your advertisement.
Alice. Yes? Now, before we begin, are you addicted
to crying?
Miss Chicken (takes small powder puff from handbag;
powders nose). What a funny question. Well, you see,
if the story is really sad, I shed a few tears. You know,
the kind (Dramatically) where they are just about to be
married, when he receives a letter from his father commanding
him to come home—he goes but she remains;
day by day she longs for him, and gradually fades away—and—just
as she—is dying—her—long-lost—lost——
Alice. I'm sorry, but really——
Miss Chicken. Oh, that's all right; I was almost
finished anyway. (Looks around office) Say, I kind-a
like this place. What are the wages?
Alice. I start at $20.
Miss Chicken. $20? Well—I might consider it.
What am I required to do?
Alice. I suppose you can take dictation, also answer
the telephone when I'm not here.
Miss Chicken. You bet I can. You should have——
Alice. I'll dictate a little to you now.
Miss Chicken. Very well. Fire away.
Alice (dictates). Dear Sir: We are in receipt of
your——
Miss Chicken. Isn't it funny? Now at my last place,
the boss said that word just like you, and because I corrected
him he was furious.
Alice. To which word do you refer?
Miss Chicken. Why, you said receipt instead of
recipe.
Alice. I prefer saying receipt. We shall continue
now—(Dictates)—letter of the 6th inst. The claim you
mentioned in your letter is one that will be hard to
tackle.
Miss Chicken. Good gracious, I'm stuck. Say, how
do you write that word? (Thinks) Oh, never mind, I
know.
Alice. You know that many of my clients have had
similar cases, but I have had to refuse to take them.
Although I would like to take your case I am afraid—(Miss
Chickenfencer throws pencil down)—that I shall
have to—— (To Miss Chickenfencer) Why are you
not writing?
Miss Chicken. Goodness! you are a regular steam
engine. Say, would you mind if I took off my coat and
hat. I'm sure we'll become real intimate—(Powders
nose)—and you sitting there all that time and not telling
me that my nose was shiny.
Alice. Are you finished? I hate to disturb you,
but——
Miss Chicken. Oh, that's all right. Just a minute
until I fix this dip. Say, isn't it awful when you wash
your hair. I can't do a thing with mine. Now I have
a friend whose hair is so——
Alice. Really you must excuse me, but would you
mind reading the letter as far as you have gone?
Miss Chicken. Certainly not. Here goes. (Reads)
We are in recipe——
Alice. Receipt.
Miss Chicken. —of your favor of the 6th inst. The
clam——
Alice. The what?
Miss Chicken. Clam.
Alice. Oh!! Claim.
Miss Chicken. Oh, of course. (Giggles) How stupid
of me. (Reads) —you mentioned in your letter is one
that will be hard to tickle——
Alice. Oh, lor——
Miss Chicken. You know that many of my giants——
(Telephone rings)
Alice (through 'phone). Hello—yes—who?—Miss
Chickenfencer?—Why no, there is——
Miss Chicken. Hold on there. That's for me.
(Through 'phone) Hello—Oh, it is you, Bob? Yes, I
met him on Wall Street and told him where I was bound
for. Go on! What are you trying to do? Oh. Bob stop.
You know I did not.... I say I did not.
Alice. My dear Miss——
Miss Chicken (waves Alice to silence). That will be
great. Oh, that's all right; this woman here is a perfect
dear. I know she won't mind my taking this afternoon
off.
Alice. Well of all the nerve.
Miss Chicken. Well, about two o'clock? Very well—good-bye.
(Hangs up receiver) Isn't he the sport?
You should see him. Six feet two; dark eyes and hair;
dances divinely, and, talk about giving you a good time,
he is right there. How fortunate I am to have him ask
me to-day when I was feeling so bored with being indoors—and,
oh, the dance afterwards. Whew! Oh, I
could hug you to death, you old dear, to let me off like
this to enjoy myself. (Dances around stage) Something
great is going to happen to-day. I feel it. Just
think, first I am employed here, and now Bob is going
to take me out——
Alice. I'm sorry, that——
Miss Chicken. There, there, all right. I know you're
going to say you are so sorry that it is not a nicer day.
Oh, but we do not mind the weather in the least. (Looks
in mirror) Goodness! this mirror is too small. Tell me,
is my hat on at the right angle? Oh, I guess it is all
right. (Walks to door) I'll see you to-morrow at 10
o'clock. That's the time, is it not?
Alice. My dear young lady, you need not come back
at——
Miss Chicken. You are too kind hearted. And I
never take advantage of kindness. Of course I'll come
back to-morrow. You were just going to say I need not
come back until to-morrow afternoon. The idea, leaving
you to answer all this correspondence. (Looks at watch)
Good gracious, I must be off. It's half-past one. Now
don't work too hard. Good-bye! [EXIT c.d.
(Alice, overcome, sinks in chair; throws up hands)
CURTAIN
Scene II
Alice. Well, if that Miss Chickenfencer comes back
I shall have to send for the police reserves to take her
away. Of all the people I've ever met she is the limit.
Can you imagine anyone being so—— ('Phone rings)
Hello—Yes—Here I am on the wire.... Who is this?
Oh, Miss Chickenfencer.... What's that? You'll be
back when?... Speak louder, please.... Oh, good
gracious, don't scream.... Oh, you won't come back.
(Aside) Thank the Lord! (Through 'phone) Very
well—I am sure you will be happy.... Yes, he also.
(Aside) God help the poor man. (Through 'phone)
I'm busy now—— (Lays receiver down; picks up pen;
writes; takes up receiver) Good-bye. I was just in
time to bid her good-bye. I wonder what she was saying
all that time, and she just married?
ENTER c.d. Miss Prune (Diana disguised).
Alice. Hello, what have we here?
Miss Prune. Pardon, madame. (Bows low) I believe
I have the pleasure to address the young lady
advertising for a stenographer.
Alice (aside). I'm in for it again. I suppose this is
the applicant. (To Miss Prune) Yes, I have the painful
privilege to inform you that before you is the woman
who is in sore need of a helping hand.
Miss Prune. May I be seated?
Alice. Certainly.
Miss Prune. I wonder what good fortune directed
my steps towards you. You see I was between two minds
(Sews) whether to accept this position——
Alice (aside). She is mine already.
Miss Prune. ...—or whether to take that of a secretary
to a young man. But I said to myself, if there is a
woman, noble and upright enough to earn her own living
without depending on mere man, it is my duty as one of
her sex to plod along with her in her courageous career.
So I refused the other position and came I to thee.
Alice. But, my dear madam, I am afraid you did a
foolish thing. Know you not that a secretary's position
pays better than that of an office assistant? The latter
is all I require.
Miss Prune. When you speak like that to me, you
make the tears of sorrow gush forth from my eyes.
(Applies handkerchief to eyes; Alice smiles) Do you
think money is the only thing worth while? Ah, no!
(Stands; very dramatically) I care nothing for money.
It is to help to do something noble that I crave. (Hand
over heart) It is here, here, that I feel that there will
come a day when my name, Dewdrop Mehitable Prune,
shall tremble on every lip. I shall be honored and
obeyed. And (To Alice) why will I be distinguished
and honored? Because of my noble nature and willing
ways. I should shrink from taking one penny of yours
to pay me for services rendered you in your hour of
need.
Alice. I am afraid, then, that you have come to the
wrong party. I am not great enough myself, never
mind enabling you to attain your noble heights.
Miss Prune. Say no more about it. Here I am, and
here I intend staying. Pay me what you will; but I
shall continue to maintain this lofty position.
Alice (aside). I fear she is crazy, but, I believe,
harmless. (To Miss Prune) Would you mind if I
inquired of you your accomplishments?
Miss Prune. My talents are varied. I am well versed
in literature and consider myself a girl of wide erudition.
I can perform a little on the harp and piano. My
voice——
Alice. Just a minute, please. I suppose you can
dance, sing, flirt, cook, paint, etc., but can you take dictation,
answer the telephone, and attend to an office in
general?
Miss Prune. Yes, ma'am.
Alice. Well, then, I shall have to leave you for the
present in charge here. I have an appointment. Now
listen, I want it thoroughly understood that you are to
treat all visitors with the deepest respect. Make them
feel at home, and keep them here until I return. Now
remember my directions, please. (EXIT Alice c.d.
Miss Prune clears table; does away with all papers)
ENTER Mrs. Baxter c.d.
Mrs. Baxter. Is Miss Berning in?
Miss Prune. Oh, no, she has just gone out. But
come right in and sit down; she will be back directly.
(Dusts chair for Mrs. Baxter; sits opposite her; sews)
Isn't it warm to-day? This morning I was down to the
market and I am that tired. But it was worth it. Why
I got the sweetest butter for 30 cents and a dandy head
of cabbage for 4 cents; imagine that, 4 cents. How much
do you pay for cheese?
Mrs. Baxter. Really—I haven't the slightest idea
what my servant pays for it.
Miss Prune. Well, now, isn't that too bad? Now if
you knew, perhaps I could help you to buy it cheaper.
Tell your servant to go down to Mulligan's market on
Second Avenue, and you will be surprised at the results.
Mrs. Baxter. I haven't the least doubt. Will you
please tell Miss Berning that I called. Here's my card.
(Walks to c.d.)
Miss Prune. But where are you going? You must
wait until Miss Berning returns. Come now, let me take
your hat and coat and make yourself comfortable.
(Pushes Mrs. Baxter into chair)
Mrs. Baxter (furious). Will you kindly tell me the
meaning of this? I command you to open that door and
let me pass out.
Miss Prune. Now there, don't get excited. I have
my orders to make visitors comfortable and I intend to
carry them out. (Telephone rings; Miss Prune looks
around for button) I suppose that is another visitor.
I'll tick the button. (Pushes button on wall; loud report;
both jump)
Mrs. Baxter. Good gracious, what are you trying to
do, kill——
Miss Prune. Oh, that's all right; the old bell is out
of order. But never mind. Here, (Hands large book to
Mrs. Baxter) make yourself comfortable while I stand
at the door to welcome the approaching guest. (Stands
at c.d.; looks up and down)
Mrs. Baxter (aside). Oh Lord, she must be mad. If
I try to escape I shudder to think of the results. (Telephone
rings loud and long)
Miss Prune. Why don't she come up, whoever she is?
I can't go down to her. (Telephone rings) Now this is
too bad, the poor bo——
Mrs. Baxter (edging away). Perhaps if you take up
that receiver (Points to 'phone) that ringing will cease.
Miss Prune (crosses to 'phone). Well now, who'd
ever have thought it was this ringing? (Through
'phone) Hello—Hell-O—Yes—Yes—Yes. She'll be
right back.... Well, in about an hour's time. (Mrs.
Baxter frightened) Hold the wire then until she returns.
Call soon again. Good luck to you. (ENTER
Miss Worker) Well, how-do-you-do? Come right in.
Here, be seated. Let me take your hat——
Miss Worker. But I say——
Miss Prune. Now don't say a word. Make yourself
comfortable. Are you acquainted with this woman?
(Mrs. Baxter) No? Oh, goodness, what is your name?
Oh, never mind, I've got your card. Mrs. John Baxter,
meet—oh, what is your name? (Miss Worker) Nevertheless,
pull your chair up closer to Mrs. Baxter and
engage in conversation. I've got a letter to write.
Miss Worker. This is indeed a pleasure to meet one
who is so well known in society. I presume you are
Mrs. Baxter, the wife of Senator Baxter?
Mrs. Baxter (cuttingly). You are correct in your
supposition.
Miss Worker. Perhaps, then, you can help me in my
work by contributing to a new home being erected for
homeless men.
Mrs. Baxter. Really! I am not interested.
Miss Worker. Surely you will not refuse money for
such a noble cause. Why just this past winter we have
housed——
Mrs. Baxter (yawns). I have no doubt. If you go
around to my residence, my secretary shall attend to
you.
Miss Worker. Oh, but how much better would it be
to receive it direct from you. Just think of the benefits
and blessings that God would shower down upon you
if you gave with your own hands out of a charitable
heart a few of your earthly goods.
Mrs. Baxter (yawns). Really I am sure it would be
delightful. But I have told you what to do; so do it
or not, just as you wish.
Miss Worker. Ah, my dear Mrs. Baxter, I cannot
believe——
ENTER Mary c.d.
Mary. Hello, everyone. Where's Miss Berning?
Miss Prune. Not in at present. But make yourself
at home.
Mary. Don't speak to me of home. Home is only a
figure of speech. Why who ruins the home of to-day?
(Excited) It is man, man, MAN; it is MAN ruining everything.
Why did we have such a hard time to get the
vote? It was because he will have to part with some
of his ruining ways. I say, give me freedom of vote or
give me DEATH.
Miss Prune. Well—well—then be—eh—make yourself
comfortable.
Mary. How can I be comfortable, when all around
me I see women stretching forth their hands to us to
help them, now that we got the vote? They work and
slave for man and what does he do for them in return?
Nothing. (Miss Prune and Miss Worker both jump;
Mrs. Baxter bored) They are paid a few dollars but
nothing more. Were we allowed to direct, to have a
voice in the Government? No. We were good enough
as playthings, helpmates or slaves for man, but when
it came to anything higher we were scoffed down. Oh,
now that we've got the vote we will show them. I ask
you (To Miss Prune) are we not man's equal in everything?
Miss Prune. I—I—guess so. (Mrs. Baxter amused;
Miss Worker nervous)
Mary. Ah, you make me sick. (Shakes Miss Prune)
Wake up! Get some spunk into you! Demand your
rights! Speak up! Have some aim in life! Don't you
ever want to raise yourself higher, become someone who
will be well worth knowing?
Miss Prune. Ye—yes, ma'am.
Mary. Well, you never will be if you act like this.
(Turns suddenly) Oh, Mrs. Baxter, how-do-you-do?
Why, when did you come in?
Mrs. Baxter. About two hours ago.
Mary. You don't mean to tell me that you were here
all that time and I not seeing you? Well, well, isn't that
funny? But, by the way, Mrs. Baxter, are you still of
the same idea regarding Woman Suffrage?
Mrs. Baxter. I still maintain what I have told you
over and over again. A woman's place is in her home.
(Yawns) To be candid, it would, indeed, bore me to
have to vote, and broaden my mind, as you say. I have
so many social affairs to attend I really find no time
for your clubs.
Mary. You are too lazy. All you are good for is
to——
Mrs. Baxter (stamps foot). How dare you insult me
like that. I am my own mistress, and I can do as I
please. What do you do? You go around demanding
your rights, while your hus——
Mary (excited). I will not have a mean, gossiping
woman like you, who would much rather go around
to—— (Miss Prune enjoying it)
Miss Worker (comes between two). For shame!
(Prayerful attitude) Oh Lord, forgive them. It would
be better for both of you to go your own way without
molesting one another.
Mrs. Baxter. Yes, I intend going my way. But I
insist upon an apology from this woman.
Mary. Why should I apologize to you? Ah, my
cause, my noble cause! (Stands on chair) Three cheers
for Woman Suffrage and may she rule from one corner
of the earth to the other! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
Mrs. Baxter (opposite). Three cheers for the Antis!
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! [EXIT c.d. Miss Worker
ENTER Alice c.d., horrified; Miss Prune hides.
Alice. Why, Mary and Mrs. Baxter, what does this
mean? (Mrs. Baxter and Mary both run to Alice)
Mrs. Baxter. Oh, my dear Alice, on which side are
you? For it or against it?
Mary (scornfully). Of course she is on my side. She
has too much brains to be on yours.
Mrs. Baxter. How dare you? Do you mean to insinuate——
Alice. Oh, come now. Stop this quarreling. To tell
the truth, I am neutral.
Together (Mrs. Baxter and Mary glaring at one
another) There.
Alice. But, tell me, what brought you here?
Mrs. Baxter. I just dropped in to ask you to attend
a dinner party this evening.
Mary. She will not go. She is coming with me.
(Puts arm around Alice) There's a dear. Won't you
come to the lecture given by Dr. Weeks this evening on
"What Woman Will Do With the Vote"?
Alice. I'll tell you what I will do. I shall go to
neither place. Come now, you two shake hands and be
good friends.
Mrs. Baxter. I will n——
Alice. For the land's sake, why keep up this pretense
any longer? You know right well, Mary, that
you are dying to know where Mrs. Baxter bought her
new hat. (Mrs. Baxter and Mary look at one another;
both laugh)
Mary. You are right, Alice. Although we rave and
clamor for our rights, we are still only women down
deep in our hearts.
Mrs. Baxter. And, although I try to make people
think I would not be bothered about Woman's Rights,
I am still enough of a woman not to want a man to get
anything over on me. Well, come along, Mary; I have
a new gown to show you.
Mrs. Baxter.}
Mary.
}
Good-bye, Alice dear, wish you luck.
[EXIT Mrs. Baxter and Mary c.d., chatting gaily
Alice. Well, those two are beyond me. A few minutes
ago they were fighting like two bitter enemies, and
now they go off like two of the best friends. Well,
strange things do happen. (Turns to table) Oh dear,
what has happened to my stenographer and—oh!—oh!—where
have my papers and letters disappeared to?
(Spies Miss Prune in corner) So, there you are. Will
you kindly tell me the meaning of this? What have
you done with my papers?
Miss Prune. Burned them.
Alice. You have what? Do you realize that they
were important legal documents? (Falls in chair; covers
face with hand) Oh dear, oh dear, what shall I do. I
guess I might as well give it all up.
Miss Prune. Good!
Alice. Why, what do you mean?
Miss Prune. This. (Removes make-up)
Alice. Diana?
Diana. At your service, mum.
Alice. Explain!
Diana. It is simply this. When I left your office
yesterday I was bound to have you come with us by hook
or by crook, so, very much depressed in spirits, I walked
into the club and who should I meet there but two of
my old school-mates. Instantly I thought of this plan,
and to bring back school-day memories they promised to
help me. My beloved school chums were to apply for the
position you had open and I would also. So, my dear,
Miss Johnickstoner, the first applicant, happens to be
Miss Marie Hopkins, daughter of the mayor of Koscoe,
the second applicant, Miss Chickenfencer, was the most
dare-devil girl in our school, Miss Rose Fishby, and the
third stands before you.
Alice. Well, of all the nerve! I must say you had
little to do to play such a joke on me.
Diana (arm around Alice). There now, cheer up.
You know you are dying to laugh and vow it was a clever
way to make you give up this silly fad. Of course, I am
sure of your coming now.
Alice. Indeed. (Laughs) Well, I must admit you
certainly played the game high. I suppose I simply
must give in. But, oh dear, how I shall be laughed at.
Diana. All you have got to do is to laugh also. You
know the old saying, "Laugh and the world laughs with
you, weep and you weep alone."
Alice. But, Mrs. Baxter, what will she say when she
finds this out?
Diana (laughs). Oh, some day I shall act for you
the part Mrs. Baxter played in this tragedy. My, but
her dignity was taken down a bit.
Alice. I can imagine.
Diana. The only thing I regret is the impression we
gave you of stenographers. I must admit we did exaggerate
a little. But, you see, if we acted as real stenographers,
you would be so pleased and contented with
your lot that you would never consent to give it up.
Alice (sighs). But, oh, I can just picture father and
Jack referring to this, in a burst of laughter, as "Alice's
Blighted Profession."
(Both look at one another; laugh)
CURTAIN
MALE CHARACTERS
FUN IN A SCHOOL ROOM
Farce in One Act. Four Males
By Harry E. Shelland
One interior scene. A Dutch dialect teacher and three pupils
consisting of a Bowery tough, a Hebrew boy, and a rather good little
boy, create much merriment. Plays forty minutes.
PRICE 15 CENTS
A MANAGER'S TRIALS
Farce in One Act. Nine Males
By A. L. Fisher
One interior scene. Daniel Slowman's encounters with the various
applicants who respond to his advertisement will make a mummy
laugh. The piece is rich in opportunities for easy but telling character
acting. Plays thirty minutes.
PRICE 15 CENTS
MEDICA
Farce in One Act. Seven Males
By W. K. Engle
One interior scene. Runs with a snap from beginning to end—there
isn't a slow part in it. It is sure to please. It will bring
down the house wherever played. Plays thirty-five minutes.
PRICE 15 CENTS
SNOBSON'S STAG-PARTY
Farce in One Act. Twelve Males
By Levin C. Tees
One interior scene. The cast includes a Coon, Dutchman, Irishman,
Dago, Cockney, Irishwoman and ward politician. The piece
will fetch roars of laughter and can be made the medium of all
kinds of "specialties." Plays "straight," one hour.
PRICE 15 CENTS
THE LITTLE RED MARE
Farce in One Act. Three Males
By O. E. Young
One interior scene. By a series of comical episodes the farmer's
daughter is mistaken for his red mare and the audience is kept in
roars of laughter over the muddle, till it is finally cleared up. Plays
thirty-five minutes.
PRICE 15 CENTS
THE WARDROBE OF THE KING
Burlesque in One Act. Eight Males
By William J. McKiernan
One exterior scene. Costumes grotesque and fantastic. An amusing
burlesque for boys, easily produced, full of bright situations, and
sure to make a hit. The play may be staged very simply, or made as
elaborate as the producer sees fit. Besides the eight speaking parts,
the company of officers, suite of the King and Queen, etc., may utilize
any number of persons. Plays one hour. By the introduction of
specialties the time may be considerably lengthened.
PRICE 15 CENTS
FEMALE CHARACTERS
CRANFORD DAMES
Play in One Act. Eight or Fourteen Females
By Alice Byington
Two interior scenes. Costumes of sixty years ago. A clever adaptation
of Mrs. Gaskell's "Cranford," which is perhaps one of the
finest pieces of humoristic writing within the range of English fiction.
Plays one and a half hours.
PRICE 15 CENTS
MURDER WILL OUT
Farce in One Act. Six Females
By L. M. Elwyn
One interior scene. A breezy and effective farce in which half a
dozen bright girls can delight an audience with half an hour of
innocent fun. Grandmother Stiles and her demure but frolicsome
granddaughter are excellent characters; Dinah, the colored cook, is
amusing, and Bridget O'Flaherty is a funny Irish girl—her quarrel
with Dinah being exceedingly laughable. Plays thirty minutes.
PRICE 15 CENTS
GERTRUDE MASON, M.D.; OR, THE LADY DOCTOR
Farce in One Act. Seven Females
By L. M. C. Armstrong
Plain interior scene. An exceedingly bright piece for young ladies,
in which young Dr. Gertrude, already a victim of circumstances, is
made the victim of a practical joke. Plays thirty minutes.
PRICE 15 CENTS
MAIDENS ALL FORLORN
Comedy in Three Acts. Six Females
By Evelyn Simms
Scene, a parlor in a seaside cottage. Three young girls, chafing
under the monotony of a man-forsaken resort, write Teddy to come
and visit them. Teddy cannot come but answers that his friend, Dr.
Jocelyn Denby, will come and help while away the time. Great preparations
are made for his reception, including much interest by a
maiden Aunt. Each prepares a present to bestow on the Doctor and
feigns an ailment to interest him. The Doctor arrives—a woman.
Plays one hour.
PRICE 15 CENTS
PLACE AUX DAMES; OR, THE LADIES SPEAK
AT LAST
Shakespearian sketch in One Act. Four Females
One plain interior scene. Four of Shakespeare's heroines, Portia,
Juliet, Ophelia and Lady Macbeth, find themselves at a watercure
where they discuss their husbands. A clever burlesque, long a favorite
and now published for the first time at a popular price. Plays forty-five
minutes.
PRICE 15 CENTS
THE ROMANCE OF PHYLLIS
Comedy in Three Acts. Four Females
By Evelyn Simms
One interior scene. A capital little play offering four well contrasted
parts of nearly equal value and strength. Plays one hour.
PRICE 15 CENTS
PLAYS FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY
15 CENTS EACH
| | F |
| CRANFORD DAMES. 2 Scenes; 1½ hours | 8 |
| GERTRUDE MASON, M.D. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 7 |
| CHEERFUL COMPANION. 1 Act; 25 minutes | 2 |
| LESSON IN ELEGANCE. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 4 |
| MAIDENS ALL FORLORN. 3 Acts; 1¼ hours | 6 |
| MURDER WILL OUT. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 6 |
| ROMANCE OF PHYLLIS. 3 Acts; 1¼ hours | 4 |
| SOCIAL ASPIRATIONS. 1 Act; 45 minutes | 6 |
| OUTWITTED. 1 Act; 20 minutes | 8 |
| WHITE DOVE OF ONEIDA. 2 Acts; 45 minutes | 4 |
| SWEET FAMILY. 1 Act; 1 hour | 8 |
| BELLES OF BLACKVILLE. 1 Act; 2 hours | 30 |
| PRINCESS KIKU. (25 cents.) | 18 |
| RAINBOW KIMONA. (25 cents.) 2 Acts; 1½ hours | 9 |
| MERRY OLD MAIDS. (25 cents.) Motion Song | 11 |
PLAYS FOR MALE CHARACTERS ONLY
15 CENTS EACH
| | M |
| APRIL FOOLS. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 3 |
| BYRD AND HURD. 1 Act; 40 minutes | 6 |
| DARKEY WOOD DEALER. 1 Act; 20 minutes | 3 |
| WANTED, A MAHATMA. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 4 |
| HOLY TERROR. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 4 |
| MANAGER'S TRIALS. 1 Act; 1 hour | 9 |
| MEDICA. 1 Act; 35 minutes | 7 |
| NIGGER NIGHT SCHOOL. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 6 |
| SLIM JIM AND THE HOODOO. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 5 |
| WANTED. A CONFIDENTIAL CLERK. 1 Act; 30 minutes | 6 |
| SNOBSON'S STAG PARTY. 1 Act; 1 hour | 12 |
| PICKLES AND TICKLES. 1 Act; 20 minutes | 6 |
| HARVEST STORM. 1 Act; 40 minutes | 10 |
| CASE OF HERR BAR ROOMSKI. Mock Trial; 2 hours | 28 |
| DARKEY BREACH OF PROMISE CASE. Mock Trial | 22 |
| GREAT LIBEL CASE. Mock Trial; 1 Scene; 2 hours | 21 |
| RIDING THE GOAT. Burlesque Initiation; 1 Scene; 1½ hours | 24 |
MILITARY PLAYS
25 CENTS EACH
| | M | F |
| BY THE ENEMY'S HAND. 4 Acts; 2 hours | 10 | 4 |
| EDWARDS, THE SPY. 5 Acts; 2½ hours | 10 | 4 |
| PRISONER OF ANDERSONVILLE. 4 Acts; 2¼ hours | 10 | 4 |
| CAPTAIN DICK. 3 Acts; 1½ hours | 9 | 6 |
| ISABEL, THE PEARL OF CUBA. 4 Acts; 2 hours | 9 | 3 |
| LITTLE SAVAGE. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting | 4 | 4 |
| BY FORCE OF IMPULSE. (15 cents.) 5 Acts; 2½ hours | 9 | 3 |
| BETWEEN TWO FIRES. (15 cents.) 3 Acts; 2 hours | 8 | 3 |
RURAL PLAYS
25 CENTS EACH
| | M | F |
| MAN FROM MAINE. 5 Acts; 2¼ hours | 9 | 3 |
| AMONG THE BERKSHIRES. 3 Acts; 2¼ hours | 8 | 4 |
| OAK FARM. 3 Acts; 2½ hours; 1 Stage Setting | 7 | 4 |
| GREAT WINTERSON MINE. 3 Acts; 2 hours | 6 | 4 |
| SQUIRE THOMPKINS' DAUGHTER. 5 Acts; 2½ hours | 5 | 2 |
| WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE. 3 Acts; 2 hours | 4 | 4 |
| FROM PUNKIN RIDGE. (15 cents.) 1 Act; 1 hour | 6 | 3 |
| LETTER FROM HOME. (15 cents.) 1 Act; 25 minutes | 1 | 1 |
ENTERTAINMENTS
25 CENTS EACH
| | M | F |
| AUNT DINAH'S QUILTING PARTY. 1 Scene | 5 | 11 |
| BACHELOR MAIDS' REUNION. 1 Scene | 2 | 30 |
| IN THE FERRY HOUSE. 1 Scene; 1½ hours | 19 | 15 |
| JAPANESE WEDDING. 1 Scene; 1 hour | 3 | 10 |
| MATRIMONIAL EXCHANGE. 2 Acts; 2 hours | 6 | 9 |
| OLD PLANTATION NIGHT. 1 Scene; 1¼ hours | 4 | 4 |
| YE VILLAGE SKEWL OF LONG AGO. 1 Scene | 13 | 12 |
| FAMILIAR FACES OF A FUNNY FAMILY. | 8 | 11 |
| JOLLY BACHELORS. Motion Song or Recitation | 11 | |
| CHRISTMAS MEDLEY. 30 minutes | 15 | 14 |
| EASTER TIDINGS. 20 minutes | | 8 |
| BUNCH OF ROSES. (15 cents.) 1 Act; 1½ hours | 1 | 13 |
| OVER THE GARDEN WALL. (15 cents.) | 11 | 8 |
COMEDIES AND DRAMAS
25 CENTS EACH
| | M | F |
| BREAKING HIS BONDS. 4 Acts; 2 hours | 6 | 8 |
| BUTTERNUT'S BRIDE. 3 Acts; 2½ hours | 11 | 6 |
| COLLEGE CHUMS. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting | 9 | 3 |
| COUNT OF NO ACCOUNT. 3 Acts; 2½ hours | 9 | 4 |
| DEACON. 5 Acts; 2½ hours | 8 | 6 |
| DELEGATES FROM DENVER. 2 Acts; 45 minutes | 3 | 10 |
| DOCTOR BY COURTESY. 3 Acts; 2 hours | 6 | 5 |
| EASTSIDERS, The. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting | 8 | 4 |
| ESCAPED FROM THE LAW. 5 Acts; 2 hours | 7 | 4 |
| GIRL FROM PORTO RICO. 3 Acts; 2½ hours | 5 | 3 |
| GYPSY QUEEN. 4 Acts; 2½ hours. | 5 | 3 |
| IN THE ABSENCE OF SUSAN. 3 Acts; 1½ hours | 4 | 6 |
| JAIL BIRD. 5 Acts; 2½ hours | 6 | 3 |
| JOSIAH'S COURTSHIP. 4 Acts; 2 hours | 7 | 4 |
| MY LADY DARRELL. 4 Acts; 2½ hours | 9 | 6 |
| MY UNCLE FROM INDIA. 4 Acts; 2½ hours | 13 | 4 |
| NEXT DOOR. 3 Acts; 2 hours | 5 | 4 |
| PHYLLIS'S INHERITANCE. 3 Acts; 2 hours | 6 | 9 |
| REGULAR FLIRT. 3 Acts; 2 hours | 4 | 4 |
| ROGUE'S LUCK. 3 Acts; 2 hours | 5 | 3 |
| SQUIRE'S STRATAGEM. 5 Acts; 2½ hours | 6 | 4 |
| STEEL KING. 4 Acts; 2½ hours | 5 | 3 |
| WHAT'S NEXT? 3 Acts; 2½ hours | 7 | 4 |
| WHITE LIE. 4 Acts; 2½ hours | 4 | 3 |
WESTERN PLAYS
25 CENTS EACH
| | M | F |
| ROCKY FORD. 4 Acts; 2 hours | 8 | 3 |
| GOLDEN GULCH. 3 Acts; 2¼ hours. | 11 | 3 |
| RED ROSETTE. 3 Acts; 2 hours | 6 | 3 |
| MISS MOSHER OF COLORADO. 4 Acts; 2½ hours | 5 | 3 |
| STUBBORN MOTOR CAR. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting | 7 | 4 |
| CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. (15 cents.) 3 Acts; 2¼ hours | 9 | 3 |
FITZGERALD PUBLISHING CORPORATION
SUCCESSOR TO
DICK & FITZGERALD, 18 Vesey Street, N. Y.
Transcriber's note: Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Ads for plays originally included at the beginning of the book have been joined to the further ads at the end of the book.