Captain Cranberry

ACT II

SCENE.—Same as in Act I. The next morning.

(The table is set for breakfast. Cyn. and Lee are seated at the table. The center door is open. It is a bright sunlight morning.)

Cyn. More coffee, Mr. Gordon?

Lee (passing her his cup). Don’t care if I do, Miss Tinker. Do you know, I am positive that I am dreaming!

Cyn. I ain’t sure but I am myself. This has all been rather sudden.

Lee. That doesn’t express it, Miss Tinker. When I think of all the things that have happened since I left Orleans yesterday noon, I feel as if I had been struck by a landslide, and landed right side up in Paradise.

Cyn. Land, Mr. Gordon, that ain’t no way to talk.

Lee. Isn’t it? Well, if these muffins aren’t heavenly, I never struck anything that was. The only thing that worries me is a fear that you will regret your kindness in taking in a derelict, and want to withdraw from your part of the bargain. Do you? I hate like time to give you the opportunity, but I know I took advantage of the storm to get a shelter last night. Do you want me to release you?

Cyn. I ain’t said anything about it, have I?

Lee. No, but you certainly are taking a chance. You haven’t even asked me for references.

Cyn. No, I’m taking you on faith, and if I’m satisfied to do it I shouldn’t think you need to worry.

Lee (reaching across the table and shaking hands with her). Miss Tinker, you’re a brick! I feel just as if I had come to visit my aunt, or something. I hope you will never regret your kindness. (As Cyn. passes him the plate of muffins.) No, don’t. Have mercy. If I eat another mouthful I shall have to be helped from the table. (Rises.) That’s the best breakfast I ever ate, and believe me, the landlady is way ahead of the breakfast.

Cyn. Land sakes, that’s no way to talk to a woman my age. What do you think of the view from here?

Lee (going to door). Perfectly corking. It cleared off great, didn’t it?

Cyn. Think this will be a good place for your work?

Lee. Yes, if you happen to have a window on the back looking out onto a nice quiet little hen-house.

Cyn. (astonished). What on earth do you mean? You don’t want to paint a hen-house, do you?

Lee. Paint a——(Suddenly realizes what she means.) Oh, no, no, of course not! I get you now! You—you don’t understand me, of course. Well, I have to work where there’s nothing to look at.

Cyn. Land o’ goshen, what do you paint?

Lee (airily). Oh, anything, any little thing I take a fancy to. I have a good long look at it, and then I paint it from memory. If I should look at the object I was painting I shouldn’t paint, I should just sit and look.

Cyn. Well, I never heard the beat!

Lee. Odd, isn’t it? I suppose you have heard of the impressionist art. Well, I belong to a new line. It’s called the memorist art.

Cyn. You don’t say? Well, folks are never satisfied. They’re always getting up something new. Land, if you’re so newfangled as all that (glancing at table), I don’t know as I’ll be able to suit you.

Lee (starting toward stairs). I should worry! I may have an up-to-date line of art, but I’ve got an old-fashioned stomach.

[Exit by stairs.

Cyn. (looking after him and smiling). Land sakes!

(She takes some dishes from table and exits, R.)

Enter Sam., c., in his school suit, cap and sweater.

Sam. Miss Cynthy! Miss Cynthy! (Stops and listens, then goes to table.) Gee! Muffins!

(Puts one in his pocket, and starts to eat another. He goes to door, listens; to stairs, listens; takes two pipes from his pocket, looks about uncertainly, puts one in the pocket of Lee’s raincoat which still hangs over chair by fire. He still looks about uncertainly; goes to table; opens the sugar-bowl, puts other pipe in, and puts cover on. He then runs out, C. Slight pause. Lee comes half-way down-stairs. Cyn. enters R. with a pan but without noticing. Cyn. exits, C.)

Lee (looking up the stairs). Come on! Hurry up! She has gone out but she is apt to come back!

Enter Peter by stairs.

Peter. Say, how long do you suppose I am going to stand this “come on, hurry up” business? You seem to think I’m a regular little baseball ready for you to bat around whenever you happen to be in a playful mood.

Lee. There, don’t be peeved. Didn’t I get you a shelter from the storm? Now, get out, quick, and come back later, and ask Miss Tinker to board you. It’s best we should be in the same house but whatever you do, don’t let on that you know me.

Peter. Don’t fret! I wish I didn’t. I’m not at all proud of the acquaintance. (Goes to table.) The way you always manage to get next to the eats is a caution.

(Eats a muffin and pours some coffee.)

Lee. We must get to work just as soon as possible. I’ve got to throw a bluff about the artist business. Say, what are you going to pretend you are doing in Bay Point?

Peter. Don’t let that worry you!

Lee. Well, you don’t want to choose the same thing I have.

Peter. Say, you make me tired! You haven’t got the only crop of brains on earth. I guess I can think up something for myself, and you just bet it won’t be any such silly line of labor as you are engaged in.

(Takes all the muffins from the plate and exits, C. Lee stands looking after him a second and then slowly exits by stairs. Slight pause.)

Enter Hep., C.

Hep. Cynthy! Cynthy! (Looks about, goes to door, R.) Where are you? (Cyn. enters C., with a pan of potatoes.) Oh, there you are! I couldn’t hardly wait to swallow my breakfast. Obed Daniels came over last night an’ he said you’d got some more work an’ weren’t goin’ ter leave after all. I wouldn’t ’a’ been ten seconds gettin’ here if it hadn’t been for the night. Did yer ever see sech a storm as we had last night? I wuz scared to come over agin. How’d you happen ter git work after I left, Cynthy? Weren’t it dreadful sudden?

Cyn. Yes, it was rather sudden.

(Sits down and pares some potatoes.)

Hep. And my land, how did you happen ter get work on sech a night?

Cyn. The storm sent the work to me.

Hep. (astounded). The storm sent it? Cynthia Tinker, what air you goin’ ter do?

Cyn. Well, I suppose you might as well know one time’s another. I’ve taken a boarder.

Hep. (with a little scream). A boarder! Cynthy Tinker, who? Fer the land’s sake, tell me before I die!

Cyn. Hush!

Enter Lee by stairs.

Lee. Pardon me, Miss Tinker.

Cyn. That’s all right. Mr. Gordon, this is one of my neighbors, Mrs. Sawyer.

Lee. Delighted, I’m sure.

Hep. (all eyes). Land sakes, I’m pleased to be acquaintanced.

Lee (taking his coat from chair). I think I’ll go up shore and see what has become of my car.

Hep. I hope you will find it there all right.

Lee. Oh, it’s there! I’m not worried about that. What troubles me is how I’m going to get it here. [Exit, C.

Hep. (breathlessly). Cynth—is that—you ain’t never—do tell—my land!

Cyn. Well, Hepsy, are you overcome?

Hep. I—I am! Cynthy, is that young flip your boarder?

Cyn. Yes.

Hep. Where—where did he come from?

Cyn. Out of the storm last night.

Hep. You ain’t telling me that you’ve took in a stranger?

Cyn. No, I’m not telling anything. You are doing the telling, but it’s what I did.

Hep. What do you know about him?

Cyn. He paid me a month in advance. I don’t need to know any more.

Hep. Well, I’m beat! I never heard the match! Where did he come from, and what did he come for?

Cyn. You will have to ask him a few things yourself. I haven’t known him very long.

Hep. Well, if he’d stayed in my house over night I’ll bet I’d have known.

Cyn. (impatiently). Do you think we sat up all night?

Hep. And do you know, I wuz so upset when Obed told me about you gettin’ some work, an’ he didn’t know what, said it wuz a secret. My land, I thought I should go out o’ my head, I wuz so upset. I forgot to ask him about that family who wuz coming without any furniture. It went clean out o’ my mind until he’d gone out an’ then it come over me all to once. I made one leap for the door and opened my mouth good and wide to yell Obed! An’ jest then a gust o’ wind and rain come round the corner an’ knocked my breath clean down my throat. I thought I wuz a goner fer a second, but the thought o’ them people without any furniture brought me to, but by that time Obed hed gone an’ I don’t know yet who they be.

Cyn. (dryly). That certain is a pity, Hepsy.

Lemuel Sawyer (outside). Hepsy! Hepsy! Be you in there?

Hep. Yes, Lem! What is it?

Enter Lem. He is tall and angular; about forty years old, and self-important.

Lem. Mornin’, Miss Cynthy. I hear you ain’t leavin’ us after all.

Cyn. No, I’ve decided to stay.

Hep. Lem Sawyer, what do you suppose Cynthy has up an’ done?

Lem. I swan, I give up. You wimmen folks is likely ter do most anything. What now?

Hep. She’s took a boarder. A teetotal stranger! Took him right out o’ the fog last night.

Lem. Well, that ain’t the only queer thing that wuz done in the bay last night. Where’s Samuel?

Hep. Samuel? Mercy sakes, gone to school, I suppose. (Looks at clock.) No, ’tain’t time yet. I don’t know where he is.

Lem. Well, I got to get holt o’ him before he gets into school. Come an’ look for him!

Hep. What on airth has he been up to now?

Lem. Nothing. I got to find out some more ’bout that pipe business. I guess fer once there wuz more truth than poetry in what he told. There wuz seven pipes stole last night.

Lem. Yep! An’ the post office wuz broke into!

Hep. What?

Cyn. Mercy sakes!

Lem. I guess there ain’t been sech doin’s in this town fer quite a spell. I reckon as constable o’ Bay Point I’m goin’ ter be pretty busy. By the way, Cynthy, you say you’ve took a stranger in? Where does he hail from?

Cyn. Why—why, he didn’t say. Land sakes, Lem, he’s nothing but a boy. You wouldn’t go to suspecting any one jest because they was a stranger in town.

Lem. I dunno. I’ll be back later. I got to keep my eye on everybody, strangers especially.

Hep. That’s right, Lem. I see this little flip that’s boardin’ with Cynthy an’ I don’t like the looks of him at all. I wouldn’t trust him as fur as I could heave a cat!

(Exit, C., followed by Lem.)

Cyn. (indignantly, following them to door). Hepsy Sawyer! (Stands looking after them a second, and goes slowly back to table. She suddenly discovers the empty muffin dish.) My land! Two dozen muffins!

(Ber. sticks his head in the door.)

Ber. (at the top of his voice). Fresh mackerel!

Cyn. (turning with a start). Land sakes, Cap’n! Is it you?

Ber. (laughing and stepping in). I reckon it is! You didn’t go after all?

Cyn. No, I didn’t. Cap’n Berry, it’s the strangest thing. After you left last night, I—I got to thinking about what you said. It was enough to set anybody thinking and the more I thought about it, the more I believed you were right and finally I said jest what you told me to, and I put back all the things I had been packing and made up my mind to stay right here. Then I said it again, and I was jest thinking that I was making a terrible fool of myself, when there comes a knock at the door, and a young fellow comes in out of the storm and wants to board with me.

Ber. (smiling). Yes?

Cyn. My land! Is that all you are going to say? Aren’t you surprised?

Ber. No. It was odd the way it happened, but something, you know, was bound to happen.

Cyn. Well, I’m beat! I ain’t got over it yet.

Ber. (taking her hand). I’m glad, Miss Tinker, glad as I can be, an’ now you jest keep your eye on the Beacon and you will make port all right. Like your boarder?

Cyn. Oh, yes, he’s a nice little fellow with a real taking way, if I can only keep him filled up. If he eats everything the way he eats muffins I don’t know. Ain’t you over early, Cap’n?

Ber. Yes, rather. The constable telephoned fer me to come over soon’s I could. Seems to have been a good deal goin’ on last night. Post-office robbed and seven pipes took.

Cyn. You didn’t find yours then?

Ber. No.

Cyn. Ain’t it the queerest thing?

Ber. Seems kind of that way. I’ll look in agin before I go back to the point. I’d kind of like to get a look at your boarder.

Cyn. Well, I guess you won’t be the only Bay Pointer taken that way. I expect the whole town before the day is over.

Ber. (laughing). Shouldn’t wonder. Well, I’ve got a special reason for wantin’ to see him. (Heartily.) I’m glad, Miss Cynthy, more’n glad!

[Exit, C.

(Cyn. clears the remaining things from the table and exits R., leaving sugar bowl and pitcher of water on the table. Peter knocks several times at door, and finally steps in. Cyn. enters, R., and looks at him in surprise.)

Cyn. Land sakes! I thought I heard some one knocking.

Peter (with a low bow). Yes, madame, I knocked but receiving no response to my vociferous attack upon your door, I took the unprecedented privilege of entering your charming domicile, I will not say unheralded but unbidden.

Cyn. (staggering). Well, for the mercy, wh-what—did you want to see me?

Peter. If you rejoice in the euphonious name of Cynthia Tinker, it is you I seek. Are you Miss Tinker?

Cyn. Good land, yes! What on airth do you want?

Peter. I seek a place to satisfy the cravings of the inner man. Also a place to rest my weary brain.

Cyn. I should think likely your brain would be weary. I don’t seem to understand yet what it is you’re driving at. If you’d jest tell me kind of plain like what you want of me.

Peter. I would like to board with you.

Cyn. (staggered). What?

Peter. Alas! Is that not plain enough? How can I say it in a more simple form? I would like to sleep in one of your rooms, eat of your delicious muffins.

Cyn. Muffins? What do you know about my muffins?

Peter. In faith not much, but you have a look about you which tells me that you are an expert at muffins.

Cyn. (half convinced). Whatever made you come here?

Peter. I met a lady somewhat loquacious, but seeming n’ertheless to know whereof she spoke, who advised me to come.

Cyn. Is that so? Must have been Hepsy Sawyer. Hum! Mighty free about advising people to go to other people’s houses. What did she say?

Peter (doubtfully). You really wish me to tell you?

Cyn. (grimly). Yes, every word.

Peter. Let me think. She said inasmuch as you had been foolish enough to take in one poor silly imitation of a man, you might be crazy enough to accommodate as big a fool as I appeared to be.

Cyn. Indeed? To pay her for that I will take you. If I’m going to have the reputation of running a lunatic asylum I might as well have plenty of inmates. Who be you?

Peter. Peter Pretzel Pomeroy. (Bows low.)

Cyn. For the land——

Peter. From Brookline, Mass.

Cyn. What are you going to do here? Write poetry stuff about the sand dunes and the ocean?

Peter. Alas, no! I am no poet. I am an agent for the Holton-Holland Co. I am demonstrating a useful little household article, called the Ladies’ Little Charm. No housekeeper can possibly be happy without one.

(Takes a clothes sprinkler from his pocket and shows it to her.)

Cyn. For the land—what is it? Looks like the top of a pepper-pot.

Peter. You have never seen one?

Cyn. (hesitating). No-o, I guess not. What is it for?

Peter. Oh, joy! Oh, bliss! Oh, rapture! They haven’t reached Bay Point yet. I’m the first on hand. This, dear madam, is a clothes sprinkler. (Takes a bottle from his pocket.) If you will just let me fill this with water, I will show you how it works. (Takes pitcher from table.) Is this water or champagne? Water, of course! (Fills the bottle and puts on the sprinkler-top. He then places a handkerchief on table.) Spread your clothes on the table and sprinkle lightly, wets them all over the same. It can likewise be used to sprinkle the floor (illustrating) before sweeping. To water the flowers!

Cyn. For the land sakes, stop! There won’t be a dry spot in the house!

Peter. Likewise to shampoo the hair.

(Waves the bottle over his own head and then over hers.)

Cyn. (desperately). If you will stop I will buy one.

Peter. You, madame? Never! I give this to you from the depths of a grateful heart. (Bows and places it on the table.) Just show it to your friends. (Abruptly changing the subject.) What room do I occupy?

Cyn. Why, come right up and see! (Goes toward the stairs followed by Peter.) The best room is taken but I guess I can satisfy you maybe.

Peter. Not the least doubt of it, madame. To be fortunate enough to secure a room in your house is like finding the dime in a birthday cake.

[They exeunt by stairs.

(Slight pause. Ariel enters, C., in a white linen dress, with a cap and sweater.)

Ariel. Miss Cynthy! Miss Cynthy!

Enter Lee, C.

Lee (stopping and regarding her in astonishment). Ariel!

Ariel (doubtfully, as she turns toward him). Why—why—it’s Lee, isn’t it? (As he moves toward her.) Why, I can’t believe it can be!

Lee (taking her hand). And I can’t believe it is you! Why, Ariel, how do you happen to be here?

Ariel. My eyes are troubling me and I had to come home.

Lee. Home? My heaven, Ariel, is Bay Point your home?

Ariel. Yes. Didn’t you remember?

Lee. No. I remembered it was Cape Cod but I didn’t remember the town, and to think that I have come to your home! Ariel, it seems years since I have seen you.

Ariel. Why did you leave New Haven without seeing any of your friends?

Lee. I know what you must think of me. Things looked too black against me, but, Ariel, I am not as black as I was painted. I have come down here to start all over again. I have been told that I have a brilliant future ahead of me along a certain line. I have splendid opportunity, and I am going to make good or die. Do you understand why I’m so anxious to make good? Did you understand before—before the smash came, how much I cared for you? And I dared to hope that you cared a little, too. Did you, Ariel?

Ariel (breathlessly). Oh, you mustn’t talk this way!

Lee. Can’t you give me just a word of hope to encourage me to work? I will never bother you. I will never ask anything of you until I prove to you that I am straight. Ariel, didn’t you care just a little?

Ariel (softly). Yes.

Lee (joyfully). Ariel!

Ariel. Oh, why did I say that? I have no right to offer you any encouragement.

Lee (stepping toward her). Ariel——

Ariel. Hush! I hear some one coming. (Suddenly.) Why, Lee, I was so surprised to see you that I never thought. Have you taken this house? Has Miss Cynthy gone?

Lee. Gone? Of course not! I am boarding with her.

Ariel. Boarding with Miss Cynthy? Why, you can’t be! She was going away.

Enter Cyn. by stairs.

Lee. Well, here she is to answer for herself.

Cyn. Oh, it’s you, Arey? I wondered who was talking down here. Do you know Mr. Gordon?

Ariel. I have met him before. He went to Yale and my school is near there, you know. We have met at—at some social affairs.

Cyn. (delighted). Well, now, that’s real pleasant, ain’t it? I have taken another boarder, Mr. Gordon. I hope you don’t mind.

Lee. Not at all. The more the merrier. Who is it?

Cyn. I don’t believe I can ever remember what he said. It’s Peter, I am sure of that much, and he sells clothes sprinklers for a living.

Ariel (amused). What?

Lee (astounded). Good lord!

Cyn. Real kind o’ comical, ain’t it?

Lee. I should say it was!

Ariel (taking up the bottle on the table). Is this one of them?

Cyn. Yes, and it works real kind of cute, too.

Lee (looking at it). Good-night! Oh, Miss Tinker, I got my car up here and I was going to ask you if it would be all right to run it into this little house out back here?

Cyn. Why, yes, if it’s big enough.

Lee. Just about right, I think. Thank you. I will see you later, Miss Freeman.

Ariel. Good-morning, Mr. Gordon. (Lee exits, C. Ariel goes to Cyn. and throws her arms around her.) Oh, Miss Cynthy, you aren’t going after all! Wasn’t it dreadful sudden, your taking Mr. Gordon?

Cyn. Well, it was rather unexpected. He was hunting around in the fog last night for a place to stay, and he came here, and after he got here he didn’t want to leave.

Ariel. Wasn’t that wonderful?

Cyn. (with a curious smile). Yes, I think it was kind of.

Ariel. I’m so glad. I never needed you so much in my life as I do now.

Cyn. What’s the matter?

Ariel. Nat Williams came home last night. It—it seems that before he sailed this last time father about the same as promised him that I would marry him after I graduate.

Cyn. Arey, what are you talking about?

Ariel. What am I going to do?

Cyn. As you please, of course. Your father is crazy.

Ariel. It’s so hard. I want to please father and there isn’t a thing in the world against Nat. He is a good man and doing well.

Cyn. There’s lots of good men doing well in this world, but that don’t make it out you got to marry them all.

Ariel. I just can’t make up my mind to marry Nat.

Cyn. Of course you can’t. (Decidedly.) You are too young to marry any one.

Ariel. Why, lots of girls younger than I am marry.

Cyn. Well, because some folks is foolish——(Suddenly stops and looks at her.) Land o’ goshen, Arey, there ain’t some one you want to marry, is there?

Ariel (faintly). I didn’t say so.

Cyn. Who is it?

Ariel. No one in Bay Point, Miss Cynthy. And it can’t ever come to anything. He is just the kind that father wouldn’t approve of.

Cyn. I never knew it to fail.

Ariel. And I’m so unhappy. (Begins to cry.)

Cyn. (dryly). Of course! Dyin’ of a broken heart!

Ariel (reproachfully). Why, Miss Cynthy!

Cyn. (going to her and putting her arms around her). There, child, you know I’m sorry for you. Only you’re so young, it seems so kind of foolish for you to be talking about marrying any one.

Ariel. I haven’t got any mother—and—and—(Ber. enters, C., unnoticed) dad’s going against me, and—if—if—you don’t stand by me I’ll die!

Cyn. There, child——(Suddenly notices Ber., who is trying to make a quiet exit.) Oh, it’s you, Cap’n?

Ariel (springing to her feet). Oh!

Cyn. It’s Cap’n Berry!

Ariel (trying to choke back her tears). Good-morning.

Cyn. Go in my room, dearie. [Exit Ariel, L., hastily.

Ber. (awkwardly). I’m sorry I happened——

Cyn. That’s all right, Cap’n. I guess you think women folks are always crying.

Ber. That’s their privilege and safety valve. There’s times when the men would like durned well to cry, but they swear instead. Wha-what did she mean about her—her father’s going against her?

Cyn. Oh, she didn’t just realize what she was saying. I don’t believe Abner would ever really go against her. He worships the ground she walks on, but he is acting queer all of a sudden.

Ber. What’s the trouble? Of course ’tain’t none of my business, but sometimes an outsider can help, unexpected like, you know.

Cyn. I’m afraid no outsider can help in this. It looks like some trouble between Arey and Abner. He’s set on her marrying Nat Williams.

Ber. Cap’n Williams that sails for Howland Gordon o’ Boston?

Cyn. Yes.

Ber. Well, he’s said to be a likely sort o’ chap, ain’t he?

Cyn. Oh, yes, but you don’t believe in a girl’s being forced to marry a man she doesn’t care for, do you, even if he is a likely sort of chap?

Ber. Is Cap’n Abner forcing her?

Cyn. I don’t know as he is exactly, but he’s terrible set on it, an’ I don’t see why. He’s had two spells before this of trying to induce her to say “yes” to Nat. It’s terrible queer. He tries to make her feel that she owes everything, even her life, to him, and it’s her duty to obey.

Ber. (frowning). Oh, he does, eh? Then she knows she ain’t really Freeman’s daughter?

Cyn. Oh, yes, she knows it, but she doesn’t realize the difference. She wasn’t more’n a year old when he found her.

Ber. Never had no clues as to whom her own folks was?

Cyn. No, I guess not, although I think I’ve heard tell he has some things that were on her, a locket or something, I don’t remember what. He’s been a good father to her all these years. I can’t imagine what ails him now. Well, there’s lots o’ queer things in this world, and lots of unhappiness. (Suddenly.) Well, if I’m going to get dinner for—land, Cap’n Berry, I forgot to tell you. I’ve taken another boarder.

Ber. Well, you are rushing things, ain’t you? Say, Miss Tinker, do you know anything about the young chap you took in last night?

Cyn. No, not a thing!

Ber. Seems a good sort of fellow?

Cyn. He certain does. He’s got a real taking way with him. (Alarmed.) What’s the matter, Cap’n Berry?

Ber. Well, of course there was considerable excitement in town last night, and of course a stranger always causes a lot of talk, and his coming mysterious like——

Cyn. (interrupting). There wasn’t nothing mysterious about it fur’s I can see.

Ber. Well, some people look at it different, especially Hepsy Sawyer. That woman’s got a northeast gale blowing off the end of her tongue fresh every hour. Anyway they’ve got it going that this chap you’ve took in may be concerned, and I expect you will have the whole crowd down here in a few minutes.

Cyn. My land, Cap’n Berry, that boy never had nothin’ ter do with it in this world. He is as innocent as—as—as a little ba-a lamb. Cap’n Berry, you don’t believe that I did wrong in taking him in? You know you—you——

Ber. Yes, I know, and I think you done jest right. I know you wouldn’t have taken a stranger in if it hadn’t been for what I said, and don’t you worry a mite, Miss Cynthy, no matter what any one says, I will stand by you. Where is your boarder? I’d like to have a look at him.

Cyn. He’s out in the back yard trying to get his car into father’s old carpenter shed. Come out and see him.

[Exit, R., followed by Ber.

Enter Lee, C. He wears his raincoat. Peter comes down-stairs.

Lee (joyfully). Well, old man, you got in?

Peter (with dignity). Certainly. I should worry but what I could get into any place where they would take you. Have you heard the excitement in town this morning?

Lee. No, I have been up shore after the car. What’s going on?

Peter. Seven pipes were stolen last night.

Lee. Seven? Why, you said three.

Peter. I said I took three.

Lee (puzzled). Well—but——(Staggered.) You don’t mean to say some one else look the other four?

Peter (looking surprised). Why, I supposed you were the some one else!

Lee. Well, you have another think. I know absolutely nothing about it. I left that part of the job to you, and why—great heavens, Pete! Seven pipes? Just the number we planned on taking!

Peter. Exactly. That’s why I thought you had a hand in it.

Lee. But what do you make of it?

Peter. I don’t make. We wanted a mystery. We’ve got it! The sooner we get to work the better.

Lee. That’s right.

Peter. I’ll go out and see if I can hear something more.

Lee. Good idea, but whatever you do, don’t let on that you know me.

Peter. Don’t fret about that. I never saw you before.

(Exit, C. Lee looks after him a second and exits by stairs.)

Enter Nat Williams, C. He is tall, dark complexioned, about thirty-five, and rather self-important. He has the appearance of always getting what he goes after. He glances about. Ariel enters L.

Nat (rushing forward and taking her hand). Ariel! I have been chasing all over Bay Point after you. Hepsy said she thought you came down here. I couldn’t wait to see you again.

Ariel (with an effort). How do you do, Nat?

Nat. I couldn’t realize my good luck when I heard you were at home, although of course I am sorry about your eyes. I wish you would tell me that you are glad to see me.

Ariel. Why, of course I am always glad to see old friends.

Nat. That is too impersonal. I want you to say you are glad to see me.

Ariel. You are somewhat exacting, aren’t you?

Nat. Ariel, don’t talk to me that way. I can’t stand it. You know how much I care, and you must try to care, too.

Ariel. Must?

Nat. You understand what I mean.

Ariel (wearily). Haven’t we been all over this before?

Nat. We have several times, and we are going over it again and again. I have thought of you all this home trip, little dreaming that I was coming straight to you. I thought I should have to wait until summer before I saw you again. Now that I haven’t got to wait I don’t intend to lose one minute.

Ariel (impatiently). I shouldn’t say you did.

Nat. There is no one in my way. I’ll make you care for me.

Ariel (angrily). Will you, indeed? Do you expect to do it by yourself? I guess you will have to call for help.

Nat. Your father will give me all the help I need.

Ariel. This is something he cares nothing about.

Nat (growing angry). You know better than that.

Ariel. Oh, what’s the use? We always quarrel. Why start it again?

Enter Abner, c.

Nat. Captain Freeman, would you mind saying to your daughter what you said to me last night?

Ariel. Oh, never mind about it. Don’t trouble yourself, father. I can imagine what you said, and I can be just exactly as happy if I don’t hear it.

Abner. Ariel, I don’t want you to go to acting this way with Nat. You just make him mad, and I don’t wonder. Sometimes you are enough to make St. Peter swear. Nat wants to marry you, not now, but when you graduate. I don’t see any earthly reason why you shouldn’t promise to. Nat’s a fine fellow and doing well. You haven’t anything against him?

Ariel. Certainly not, but I don’t care to promise myself to any one. Graduation is quite a long ways off yet.

Abner. Ariel, I don’t very often ask anything of you. I don’t remember that I have ever asked any very special thing. Don’t you think it’s your duty to do this first thing that I ask?

Ariel. Oh, dad, how can you make such a request in such a way? (Bursts into tears and runs out, R.)

Abner. Well, Nat, this looks mighty foolish to me. If a girl won’t, she won’t.

Nat. Do you intend to let her do as she pleases?

Abner. Let her? Good lord, do you expect me to force her into a marriage with you?

Nat. Don’t you feel that you owe me some recompense?

Abner. Well, great heaven, won’t anything but Ariel satisfy you?

Nat. No.

Abner (angrily). Well, I must say you——

Nat (quietly). Captain Freeman, what were you doing in the post-office last night?

Abner (starting). In the post-office?

Nat (pointedly). Yes, long after it closed?

Abner (growing angry). What do you mean?

Nat. Just what I say. I know you were there. There is no use in denying it.

Abner (beside himself). Why, you—do you mean to insinuate——

Nat (calmly). Just explain your presence there. (Slight pause. Abner remains silent.) You didn’t find what you were looking for, did you? I was before you, Captain Freeman. Before I sailed this last time, I made a midnight visit to the post-office myself, but I covered my tracks. I think something must have scared you off before you had a chance to pick things up.

Abner. You dare to tell me that you entered the post-office?

Nat. Oh, yes, you won’t say anything about it. If you did I should be obliged to show the papers I went after, and you wouldn’t have any one see those papers for a farm.

Abner (desperately). I don’t know what you are driving at.

Nat. Oh, yes, you do. See here, Captain Freeman, all in this world I want is your influence with Ariel. This is a mean way to get it, I’ll admit, but I want the girl and I don’t care how I get her.

Abner. And if I refuse to bother Ariel any more what is it you are threatening?

Nat. Why, I don’t know as I have exactly threatened anything. Threatened isn’t a nice word. Of course you know that you owe as much to Miss Tinker as you did to my father. I don’t know exactly how you would come out if the thing was to go to court, but as long as Miss Cynthy is in need of money it looks to me like a question of honor on your part. I understand she is about to leave town to look for work.

Abner (snapping the words out). She isn’t going! (Beside himself again.) If you think you can frighten me you are mistaken! I absolutely deny that I was inside the post-office last night.

Nat. Oh, well, of course if you are going to take that stand I shall——

Abner (warningly). Hush!

Enter Lem. and Obad., C.

Lem. Oh, you are here, Cap’n Freeman?

Obad. (all out of breath). We’ve hunted all over town for yer. Fer the love of John Paul Jones, stay put fer a while until we see if we can get at any facts to help us.

Lem. What’s become o’ Cap’n Cranberry, an’ where’s Miss Cynthy?

Enter Cyn. and Ber., R. Ariel enters, R.

Ber. We’re here, Lem. What’s the matter?

Enter Hep., C., dragging after her Sam., who is not at all willing to be dragged.

Hep. Lem, here’s Sammy! I’ve chased all over town and I declare ter goodness I’m——

Lem. Never mind where you’ve chased, as long as you got him.

Hep. And I had to drag him every step of the way. He wuz bound he would not come.

Sam. (fearfully). I ain’t got nothin’ ter tell, dad!

Lem. You will tell all right if I get after you.

Sam. You always said not to tell things, an’ I ain’t got nothin’ to tell.

Hep. Ain’t he the beatenest young one!

Ber. (picking Sam. up). You keep him frightened to death all the time. He will tell all about who took the pipe from him when you get ready to hear it.

Lem. Miss Cynthy, you hev taken a boarder?

Cyn. I have taken two.

Hep. Two? You don’t ever in this world mean that you have taken in that crazy——

Lem. Hepsy! Will you hush up? I don’t mean that fellow that’s just come to town this morning selling clothes sprinklers. I mean that fellow who was prowling around Bay Point last night in the fog.

Cyn. (indignantly). Who says he was prowling?

Lem. I say so. Prowling around——

Ber. Oh, belay there, Lem! There weren’t nothin’ a stranger could do last night but prowl around. It was hard enough for us folks that lives here all the time.

Lem. Well, maybe so, Cap’n, but we hev got to inquire what he was doing. (Importantly.) In fact we got to inquire into everybody’s business that was out last night. It ain’t so much those durned pipes, though it certainly beats tunket who took them, but the post-office was broken into, you must remember, and Obed’s safe was broke open.

Obad. (excited). Gosh all fog horns, yes! And, Abner, I found your pipe on the floor right by the safe.

Abner (staggered). What? I don’t believe it!

Obad. (handing him a pipe). Yes, sir! Yours all right! I know your pipe as well as I do my own.

Enter Lee by stairs, unnoticed.

Abner (breathing hard). Do you—do you mean to say that you think that I——

(Glances at Nat and stops abruptly.)

Lem. Why, o’ course not! The idee, Cap’n Freeman! We know you ain’t in no ways concerned, but don’t you see? It goes to show that the fellow that stole the pipes broke into the post-office?

Abner (with a sigh of relief). Oh!

Lem. And now I want to see this boarder of yours, Miss Cynthy.

Lee (stepping forward). Am I the one you wish to see?

Lem. I guess you be. I suppose you have heard tell all about what happened in town last night?

Lee (bowing). Yes.

Lem. Well, we want to find out everything we can ’bout sech a mystery, an’ we feel obleeged to inquire about any strangers who came ter town last night.

Lee. I see. Well, my name is Lee Gordon. I came down the Cape from Boston in my auto. I am going to do some sketching.

Lem. So? Want tew know! Wal, can you inform me if you went near the post-office last night?

Lee. I may have. I don’t know.

Lem. Do you know your glove when you see it? Them’s your initials? L. G.?

(Hands Lee a heavy driving glove.)

Lee. Yes, this is my glove. Where did you find it?

Obad. (dramatically). I found it on the post-office steps.

All. What?

Lee. I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t be surprised to know that I visited the meeting-house. I couldn’t tell where I was going.

Ber. Of course you couldn’t. This is all foolishness.

Lee. Of course if you want to believe I was mixed up in the robbery just because you found my glove on——

(He is carrying his raincoat on his arm and as he speaks he impatiently flings it over onto the other arm and the pipe which Sam. put in the pocket drops to the floor.)

Hep. My land! What’s that?

Obad. (at the top of his voice). It’s a pipe!

(Lem. picks it up and examines it. Lee looks at it in astonishment. Sam. looks frightened and begins to edge toward the door.)

Ber. Well, by tunket, hasn’t the fellow a right to own a pipe?

Lem. He has sartain, one o’ his own, but I can’t no wise see that he has any right to yourn, Cap’n Berry.

(Hands it to Ber., who is completely staggered.)

All. What? Did you ever? It is! Cap’n Cranberry’s!

Sam. (thinking things are moving in a manner favorable to him, opens sugar bowl). And here’s another in Miss Cynthy’s sugar bowl!

All. What?

Cyn. (dropping into a chair). Mercy sakes!

Hep. Land, Cynthy’s overcome!

(Grabs clothes sprinkler from table and sprinkles Cyn.)

Lem. (to Lee). Wal, now what hev you got to say, young man?

Lee. Absolutely nothing. I haven’t words equal to this occasion.

Lem. What room did he sleep in last night, Miss Cynthy?

Cyn. (sufficiently recovered to be indignant). I shan’t tell you. He never had nothing to do with this in the world, never!

Lee (gratefully). That’s mighty kind of you, Miss Tinker, but it is also foolish. (To Lem.) My room is up-stairs, the first on the right.

[Exit Lem. by stairs.

Obad. Wal, I cal’late there ain’t much more ter be said.

Ariel (stepping forward). Well, there is a whole lot more. Mr. Gordon is a friend of mine.

All. What? He is?

Hep. Do tell!

Abner. Well, how long since?

Ariel. Quite a long time since.

Abner. Is that so? Queer I never heard of him before. Where did you meet him?

Ariel. At a friend’s in New Haven while Mr. Gordon was at Yale.

Nat. If you knew Mr. Gordon at Yale perhaps you know how he happened to leave college?

Ariel. Yes, I know. He left under circumstances which didn’t look favorable to him but none of his friends believed he was at all to blame, any more than I believe it now.

Hep. Well, do tell!

Nat. Mr. Gordon always seems to be found under circumstances which look anything but favorable to himself.

Abner. How do you happen to know this fellow, Nat?

Nat. He is the son of Howland Gordon, the man I sail for. After he was expelled from Yale he went to work for his father. He is just leaving his father under circumstances which don’t look favorable.

(Lem. comes down the stairs.)

Obad. Find anything, Lem?

Lem. Yes, by Crismus, three more pipes! (Shows them.)

All. What? You don’t say? Let’s see!

Cyn. (overcome). My land! My land!

Hep. (applying clothes sprinkler). There, Cynthy! There!

Lem. (to Lee). Well, young man, I guess I’ll arrest you!

Lee (with a shrug of his shoulders). All right! Go ahead!

Ber. (wrathfully). Yes, go ahead, and I’ll bail him out!

Lee. I’ll admit that you have plenty of evidence against me, but here comes a man who can at least explain my connection with those pipes. (Points to the pipes in Lem.’s hand.)

Enter Peter, C.

Peter (stopping short and looking at the assembled company in astonishment). By my faith, I didn’t know it was old home week!

Lem. (to Peter). Young man, what do you know about this fellow?

Peter (innocently, pointing to Lee). What do I know? About him? Absolutely nothing! I never saw him before in my life!

(Lem. claps his hand on Lee’s shoulder and walks him to the door. Cyn. is overcome and Hep. again applies the clothes sprinkler.)

CURTAIN

ACT III

SCENE.—A room in Abner’s old fish-house, supposed to be on the shore. There is one exit, L. An old-fashioned bureau, R. A doll’s house. Some rag rugs on the floor. Some old chairs. An old lounge, L., front. A hammock. On a stage where it is possible there should be a large door in the center with a view of the water beyond. An impression of the room being up-stairs would add to the scene.

(As the curtain rises, Sam. stands by the exit listening.)

Abner (outside). Come up-stairs, Nat! (Sam. gives a frightened look around the room and crawls under the sofa. Nat and Abner enter.) This is a good place to talk things over. Hardly any one but Arey ever comes up here. (If there is a door C., he throws it open.) There’s a fine view from here. On a clear day you can see way down to High Land. This used to be Arey’s playhouse.

Nat (looking about). Well I know that. We boys used to come up here to tease the girls because the cake that went with the tea parties appealed to us. It was here I fell in love with Arey. It was here I first asked her to marry me.

Abner. I’m sorry, Nat, that Arey doesn’t care for you.

Nat. It’s plain to see now why she doesn’t care.

Abner. Nonsense!

Nat. No nonsense about it. Look at the way she took the part of that darned little sand peep. Well, I’ll make her see what he is before I get through.

Abner. You are crazy jealous, Nat. Don’t make a fool of yourself. Ariel is good-hearted and impulsive, and quick to take the part of any one who is in trouble.

Nat. She wouldn’t help me if I was dying.

Abner (impatiently). Well, perhaps she wouldn’t! Might as well say one thing as another. It’s a waste of time and energy to argue with a man who is madly in love and insanely jealous.

Nat. Are you going to let her take up with this little crook and throw me over?

Abner. Crook is a strong word, Nat. The boy may have been expelled from college, and may be in wrong with his father, but he didn’t break into the post-office last night. I think it is more than likely that he called there in his efforts to find a boarding place. I was scared off by some one’s knocking on the door.

Nat (with an exclamation of satisfaction). Ah! Then you admit that you were the one who entered the post-office?

Abner. Certainly. I don’t know how I am going to pull out, but I can’t let this fellow face a charge of which I am guilty. How did you know I was there?

Nat. After we had our little talk last night, I guessed you would go there and I followed you. I thought you might be interested in looking over Cap’n Obed’s old papers.

Abner. Yes, I was. Well, now we will face the situation. I have several times offered you money which you have refused to take.

Nat. I’m not interested in money. I’m doing well enough. You know what I want.

Abner. Yes, I do know. You want me to actually force my daughter into marrying you.

Nat. Well, why not? You admit I am all right. There is no reason why she wouldn’t be happy with me.

Abner. And in case I refuse, just what are you going to do?

Nat. Well, of course I don’t suppose you want all your old friends and neighbors to know how you cheated my father and old Joel Tinker, and of course now there is Miss Cynthy.

Abner. Well, I can’t see any way of giving her money without telling the whole thing.

Nat. The land this building stands on is hers, isn’t it?

Abner. I’m not saying just what belongs to her. (Suddenly and determinedly.) See here, Nat, if you can show me a way out of the hole I am in, I will see what I can do with Arey.

Nat. That sounds like sense. Get Ariel to give me her promise and I’ll hand over the papers I stole from Obed’s safe last winter, and you will never hear another word from me.

Abner. Well, what about last night? I was a tarnation fool.

Nat. I’ll take the responsibility of it. I’ll say that I did it. I’ll hatch up an excuse of some kind. I don’t suppose you really made away with anything? (Laughs.)

Abner. It isn’t at all likely. Obed will find all his stuff after a while. I couldn’t very well speak up and tell him where I put the money box.

Nat. Well, if he doesn’t find it, you can tell me, and I will tell them where it is when I get around to a confession.

Abner. Well, that will pull young Gordon out of the post-office business, but it doesn’t make it out he didn’t steal about six pipes. Mine is accounted for.

Nat. Oh, Gordon is up to something. That’s the kind of a little snipe he is. His father has nothing but trouble with him. How soon will you see Arey?

Abner. Right off. I don’t see that we have provided any way to straighten things out with Miss Cynthy.

Nat (easily). Well, she has managed to pull along all these years. Why fret now? What she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her.

Lem. (outside). Cap’n Abner, are you up there?

Abner (going to door). Yes.

Obad. Well, for the love o’ Admiral Dewey, listen to this! (Enters, followed by Lem.)

Lem. Say, Obed has discovered that there weren’t nothin’ took from the post-office last night.

Obad. Gosh all fog horns, no! I found the money box! Not a cent gone! Everything upset from one end the place to the other, and nothing took! That young Gordon chap must be a lunatic. Cranberry has gone his bail, but I reckon he ought ter be in an asylum instead o’ traveling around loose.

Lem. Wal, it’s the durndest piece o’ business I ever heard tell on, and everybody don’t believe he took all those pipes even if there is so much evidence against him. Some says it was a big fellow and some says it was a little one.

Obad. I stick to it the man that stole my pipe wuz a little bit of a feller. He up behind me and put his hand in my pocket (illustrating as he talks) an’ scat before you could so much as wink.

Lem. Yes, an’ Jim Hincks says he wuz a big feller.

Abner. And Sammy said so once, and then he shied off and wouldn’t say much of anything.

Obad. No wonder. The way Lem talks at the kid is enough to frighten a whale.

Lem. An’ Cranberry didn’ know when his pipe was took and wouldn’t say nothin’ if he did. He’s took an awful shine to Miss Cynthy’s boarder.

Obad. Say, suppose we find the feller and tell him we found out he didn’t take nothin’ from the post-office an’ see what he says.

All. That’s right. Good idee!

Lem. Maybe he’ll own up ’bout the pipes if he finds out the charge agin him ain’t so serious.

Obad. Maybe so, but it’s my opinion the feller is plumb crazy.

(They all start to exeunt. Ariel comes to door followed by Hep.)

Ariel. Father, are you here? (Stops abruptly.) Oh, a meeting of the vigilance committee? Is Sammy up here?

Abner. No.

Ariel. Hepsy can’t find him, and sometimes he comes up here when I am home, you know, so I thought perhaps he was here.

Hep. My land! I’ve been all over town. I’m beat out. He didn’t go to school and I ain’t seen him since he was over to Cynth’s this morning.

Obad. By tunket, I don’t blame the kid. He will run away some o’ these days an’ never come back, an’ it’ll serve Lem durned right.

Lem. (angrily). What in thunderation would I do? Let him grow up to be a teetotal liar?

Obad. Gosh all fog horns, yes, if he wants ter be! Half the world gets their living that way!

(All exeunt but Ariel. Abner comes back.)

Abner. You are going to stay up here, Arey?

Ariel. I think so, dad, a little while. I haven’t been up here since last summer.

Abner (uneasily). You—you were always happy up here, little girl?

Ariel. Yes, dad, and happiest when I knew you were down-stairs.

Abner. And I was happy when I knew you were up here. Arey, I have tried to be a good father to you and give you a happy home.

Ariel (going to him and putting her arms around him). You have, dad! You have! No girl could ask for a kinder father or a happier home.

Abner. And I want to know you are going to have a happy home when I’m gone. Arey, Nat’s really in love with you.

Ariel (turning away from him). Oh, father!

Abner. If you knew it meant a good deal to me, would you tell him yes? To please me? To help me? He could give you a good home. Could make you happy.

Ariel (slowly turning to him). Do you mean—there is a—a reason why you want me to marry Nat? That I really could help you by marrying him?

Abner. Yes, that’s what I mean.

Ariel. I can’t understand how such a thing can be, but if that is the case I will do it for you, if you will tell him I don’t care for him and explain the reason I am marrying him. Will you do that?

Abner. Yes.

Ariel (turning away). Very well.

Abner (stepping toward her). Arey!

Ariel (with an effort). Dad, will you go away please and leave me alone?

Abner (hesitating a second). Very well.

(Exits with bowed head. Ariel gives a long sigh, goes to C. door and stands looking out for a second, then goes to doll house, opens door and takes out a large doll. She goes to bureau, unlocks a drawer, takes out a small box. Suddenly leans forward on the bureau, her head on the doll.)

Ariel. Oh, Alicia, has it come to this? (Sam. crawls cautiously out from under sofa. He steals toward the hammock and throws a pipe into it, then starts for door. Ariel suddenly turns.) Who is it? Who is there?

(She starts forward. Sam. hastily crawls under sofa again. Ariel walks forward with the little box in her hand.)

Ber. (outside). Ship ahoy! Anybody on deck?

Ariel (going to door). Father isn’t here, Captain Berry. I’m up here alone.

Ber. That so? Can I come up?

Ariel. Why, certainly, if you like. (Ber. enters.) This is my playhouse up here. I have spent the happiest days of my life up here in this old room. I think I have spent the only happy ones I will ever know.

Ber. Nonsense! That’s a pretty way for a young girl like you to be talking, jest when you got all your life before you.

Ariel. I wish I didn’t have. I wish this was the last day of my life.

Ber. (aghast). Miss Freeman, you don’t know what you are saying. Something must have happened to pretty much upset you. You don’t look like a coward. I can’t somehow believe you are one.

Ariel (surprised). A coward?

Ber. It’s only a coward, a pretty contemptible one at that, who would rather die than face what’s coming to him.

Ariel (suddenly standing straight and throwing her head up). You are right. I didn’t think of that. Thank you, Captain Berry. That was just what I needed to hear. You—you spend a good deal of time over here in town, don’t you?

Ber. (smiling). Is that a reflection on my duties as keeper of Bay Point Light?

Ariel (hastily). Oh, no, no, no! I didn’t mean that. I was just thinking that you must like our town. I know you have an assistant, and any one doesn’t have to meet you but once to realize that your duty would stand before anything else in the world.

Ber. (pleased and touched). Why, Miss Freeman, I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. You can’t understand how much I appreciate that coming from you.

Ariel. Why from me, especially? Oh!

(Drops the little box and a little ring.)

Ber. (picking them up and looking at the ring fascinated). What is this?

Ariel (slowly). That—that is a link, Captain Berry. The only connecting link between Ariel Freeman and the girl she really is.

Ber. (breathing hard). What do you mean?

Ariel. I suppose you know I’m not Captain Freeman’s daughter? Everybody knows.

Ber. Yes, I’ve heard.

Ariel. That little ring is the only thing which could throw any light on who I really am. That was on my finger, and that was absolutely all there was to help.

Ber. How did this help?

Ariel. There is a name engraved inside the ring.

Ber. (slowly). And the name is Alicia.

Ariel. Why, who told you that?

Ber. (realising what he has said). Why—why—it’s right here! (Hastily examines the ring.) You can see it for yourself!

Ariel. You have wonderful eyes. I have always known what the name is, and I have hard work to trace it. You see what a curious little old-fashioned ring it is; it has a German mark in it. Captain Freeman traced this to a German jeweler who in 1878 engraved the name Alicia in a baby ring for a Mrs. Emerson. The address was a hotel in Berlin. Father moved heaven and earth to trace it still further, but that was all he ever found out. He decided that my mother must have been Alicia Emerson, but whom she married, who my father is, will probably always remain unknown. Somewhere in the world I may have a mother—a father.

Ber. You have been happy here?

Ariel. Oh, yes, indeed. I couldn’t have had a kinder father than Captain Freeman. Gracious, Captain Berry, I can’t imagine why I have told you all these things! I never speak of them to any one but Miss Cynthy. Somehow you seem to be the kind of man one tells their innermost secrets to. It was so kind of you to help Lee Gordon this morning.

Ber. Nonsense! Nothing kind about it. Justice, that’s all. He ain’t any more guilty than I am.

Ariel. You really think so?

Ber. Certain! One look at his face will tell you that.

Ariel. But the evidence against him? Such a lot of it!

Ber. By tunket, the circumstantial kind or I’ll eat my hat.

Ariel. Why, Captain Berry (suddenly grabbing pipe from hammock), look! Here’s a pipe in my hammock! What in the world——

Ber. (taking pipe). Jumping jingoes! Seth Mason’s! Got his name on it!

Ariel. I thought some one was up here just before you came up. It seemed to me that some one who was small was moving around. I was over by the bureau and I can’t see across the room, you know. I was startled for a second and by the time I got my senses together to cross the room they were gone.

Ber. Um! So? (Looks about. Crosses room away from Ariel. He suddenly stoops and looks under sofa.) This is a queer mix up, ain’t it? (Bell rings.) What’s that?

Ariel. That’s the house bell. Dad had it connected so we could hear it when we were over here and Hannah was out. I think she is out now, I will just run over to the house if you will excuse me.

Ber. Certain! (Ariel exits. Ber. goes to sofa.) Come out! Come out here, I say! It’s no use, Sammy! I have caught you square! You might as well come out! All right then! I’ll bring you out myself. (Reaches under sofa and pulls Sam. out by one foot. Sam. yells and kicks.) Belay there! That ain’t no way to act with your old uncle. I ain’t going to hurt you. (Sits down on sofa and holds Sam. in his arms.) Now hush up, and tell Uncle Cran the whole business.

Sam. (struggling to get away). No! I ain’t got nothin’ to tell!

Ber. Oh, yes, you have, Sammy! Sit still! You tell Uncle Cran what you stole all those pipes for. I was the only one in the room that was watching you this morning, and I guessed somewheres near the truth. You were frightened when that pipe fell out of Mr. Gordon’s pocket, and then when you found that no one was going to suspect you, you opened up the sugar-bowl and took the other one out, and now you just brought this one up here and put it in Arey’s hammock.

Sam. (thoroughly frightened). Pa will kill me!

Ber. No, he won’t. Now listen, Sammy, this whole thing has got to come out some way. Your father will get it out of you, and you know how he will get it. Now, you tell me the truth and I’ll promise you that I will make things right with your father. I won’t let him touch you. You can trust me, can’t you?

Sam. (holding him around the neck). Yes, Uncle Cran.

Ber. Well, then, when did you get a chance to go up into Mr. Gordon’s room and leave those three pipes there?

Sam. I didn’t take those.

Ber. (reproachfully). Now, Sammy, I said if you told me the truth.

Sam. That’s the truth, Uncle Cran! I took this pipe, and the one in the sugar-bowl and the one in Mr. Gordon’s pocket, but I didn’t take the others.

Ber. By Crismus, you look as if you were telling a straight story. Why in the name o’ all that’s sensible did you steal any of the pipes?

Sam. Well, a man took dad’s away from me, an’ maw didn’t believe it and I knew there wouldn’t any one believe it, and pa whales the stuffins out of me for telling things and—and—I thought if some more people lost their pipes he’d believe me. So I stole three and—and—pa had to believe me.

Ber. (striking his knee). Well, by tunket, if that ain’t one on Lem! (Suddenly looks serious and speaks half to himself.) But belay there, Cranberry! You ain’t got but half the story yet! There’s those other pipes! Well, Sammy, I’ll pull you out of this some way, although I don’t know as it’s the right thing for me to do.

Sam. (stretching). Oh, I’m awful tired! I been layin’ under this sofa awful long. More’n an hour, more’n three hours, I guess. Nat Williams was up here an’ Cap’n Abner. Say, Uncle Cran, it was Cap’n Abner that broke into the post-office last night.

Ber. (at the top of his voice). What?

Sam. He was hunting for a paper. And—and—Cap’n Abner cheated Miss Cynthy. Nat said the land this house stands on belongs to her, and—and—Cap’n Abner cheated Nat’s father, too,—and—and—Cap’n Abner is going to make Miss Arey marry Nat—and—and—she cried over there (pointing to bureau) on top of her doll—and—and—I guess I don’t remember any more.

Ber. Well, that’s quite sufficient if it’s truth you are telling.

Sam. Of course it is! I wouldn’t tell you any stories, Uncle Cran.

Ber. (a trifle dazed). All right. Now listen, Sammy, you forget this stuff you have been telling me jest as soon as ever you can. Don’t you breathe a word of it to a living soul. If I ever hear that you have, I’ll forget to make peace with your father, and there won’t be any more trips with me over to the Point to visit the light.

Sam. Oh, I’ll never tell, Uncle Cran! Honest! Hope to die!

Ber. All right. Now you go and find Cap’n Abner and tell him that I am up here and want to see him. Then you go home as hard as you can pelt. Your mother is looking for you.

Sam. (exits). All right, Uncle Cran.

(Slight pause. Ber. sits on the sofa looking down at the floor.)

Ber. Great jumping jingoes!

Enter Lee and Peter.

Lee. Captain Berry, I was just talking with Miss Freeman and she said you were up here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kindness to me. I don’t see how you ever happened to stand by a stranger the way you did.

Ber. I guess it was because you are Miss Cynthy’s boarder.

Lee. Captain Berry, this is Mr. Pomeroy and (laughing) he is the best friend I have got on this earth.

Ber. (shaking hands with Peter). Well, he certain didn’t act the part this morning.

Peter. Entirely his own fault, I assure you.

Lee. Say, Captain, may we talk with you for a little while?

Ber. Certain! Glad to have you. Sit down.

Lee. You have proved such a good friend that we are tempted to make a clean breast of things and tell you our part in this affair.

Ber. Heave ahead! If you can throw a search-light on the mystery it will be a good thing.

Lee. It is true that I have been expelled from college and that I’m in trouble with my father.

Peter (heartily). He isn’t to blame in either case, Captain Berry.

Lee (to Peter). Thanks, old man. (Turns to Ber.) When I was at Yale I was connected with a college magazine and I have several times been told that I had a great future ahead of me as a newspaper man or magazine editor. My friend Pomeroy here had to leave college last year because an invalid uncle who had brought him up was dying. The uncle left Pete all his money and when I got into a mess with dad, Pete suggested that he buy a magazine he had heard about that was on its last legs and see if we could give it a brace. I jumped at the chance. It was what I would most like on earth. Pete bought it and we have started to publish and edit a startling fiction magazine called The Red Cap. For a starter we have announced a serial detective story—“The Mystery of the Seven Pipes.”

Ber. Well, by tunket!

Peter. It’s going to be the greatest thing on record. We write all but the last chapter and offer a prize for the best solution of the mystery. Gee! Folks run after the first issue as if it was soothing syrup and they had a kid with the colic. I had been down on the Cape, so I suggested that we lay the scene down here somewhere.

Lee. And to give local color I suggested that we come down and carry out some of the story ourselves. Last night when we arrived there was a thick fog and it seemed a good chance to make a start. We drew lots and it fell to Pete to steal the pipes.

Peter. We planned on stealing seven but I only got as far as three.

Lee (laughing). For the love of Pete, have you any idea who took the other four?

Ber. Yes, by tunket, I have! This beats the Dutch and no mistake! You go find Obed and Lem and tell them what you have told me. Then you bring them back here and we will clear up the mystery.

Lee (jumping up). Done, by jingo!

Peter. Lead us to it!

[They exeunt.

(Slight pause. Abner enters.)

Abner. Did you send Sammy after me?

Ber. Yes, I did. I’ve got something to say to you and I thought this would be a good place up here. Cap’n Freeman, I’m Ariel’s father.

Abner (staggered). What? What do you mean? (Suddenly growing furious.) What kind of a trick is this? Do you expect me to take your word for it? What’s your game?

Ber. (calmly). I married Alicia Emerson twenty years ago this month. Two years later she and our year old daughter made a trip with me. We ran into a storm and were wrecked. My wife’s body was recovered. The child’s was not. I supposed her dead, of course. She wore a ring, a ring that had been her mother’s. It had her name, Alicia, engraved in it, also the mark of a German jeweler and——

Abner (hoarsely). Enough! How long have you known this?

Ber. I guessed it last night when I saw Alicia’s face in your daughter. I made sure of the truth this afternoon.

Abner. Well, what are you going to do? She is under age. The law would give her to you, I suppose. Are you going to take her away from me after all these years?

Ber. You love her?

Abner. How can you ask such a question? She is all I have! Ask any one in Bay Point. Ask the girl herself!

Ber. (quietly). And yet loving her you ask her to marry a man she doesn’t love. Kind of curious, ain’t it?

Abner (furiously). Now see here, Cranberry, that’s my business.

Ber. (decidedly). It’s mine, also. She is my daughter. If you will not give the girl happiness, I will take her from you and give it to her myself.

Abner (desperately). You mean that—that——

Ber. Just this! Drop this Nat Williams business and never take it up again, and give Miss Cynthy Tinker what you owe her.

Abner. What do you know about Cynthy Tinker?

Ber. What does it matter? I know you have been cheating her for years. Do you want me to go into details?

Abner (hastily). No. Supposing I refuse?

Ber. Well, it will be my gain. I shall be able to find a little happiness with my daughter. I only had her a year. I only had her mother two years. Then they were both taken from me at the same time. I’ve had a lonely life, always at sea or keeping a light on some dismal point. Often when the gales have come and the storms have lashed around the old house and there’s been nobody but jest old Cranberry and his pipe, I have looked around my lonely settin’ room and wondered how it would seem to have Alicia on the other side of the fire and a little girl on the floor near by.

Abner. My heaven, Berry, I hadn’t thought of your part of this!

Ber. No, we usually get our own point of view. Mighty seldom we get the other fellow’s.

Abner. And if—if I agree you are willing to swear you will not take the girl?

Ber. On my word of honor. You do love the girl after all.

Abner. But great heaven man, I can’t square things with Cynthy Tinker without having people know the facts. Nat will tell.

Ber. Why don’t you do the telling yourself? If you have been cheating perfectly innocent people I think you will find that confession is a good thing for a guilty conscience. Anyway you have two paths to choose from, and you know what is at the end of each.

(Lee and Peter rush in, Ariel follows. Obad. and Nat. and Lem., Cyn. last with a letter in her hand.)

Lee. Well, Captain, we have told them! And it didn’t kill them either!

Peter. Yes, they rejoice in all the horrible details.

Obad. Gosh all fog horns I should say we did! Did any one ever hear the like? A story! “Mystery of the Seven Pipes!”

Lem. I always said writers wuz half cracked. I never was so sure of it as I am this minit! But the mystery ain’t all cleared by a long sight. Mr. Pomeroy only took three pipes. Who took the other four?

Ber. I suppose, Lem, as constable of Bay Point, you would like to have the mystery cleared up?

Lem. I sartain would, and then I could go back to work at something sensible.

Ber. Well, I’ll tell you what you want to know if you’ll jest do me a little favor.

Lem. (puzzled). Why, sartain, Cap’n, always glad to do anythin’ fer you.

Ber. Well, Sammy took three pipes.

All. Sammy?

Lem. My Sammy?

Obad. Gosh all fog horns!

Ber. Mr. Pomeroy stole yours from Sammy. You wouldn’t believe the boy, he was afraid of you and he took some pipes on his own hook to make his story sound true.

Obad. Rev. Mr. Peters said he was smart and by Crismus, he is! He’s too smart fer you, Lem!

Lem. Wal, he’ll find out how smart I am when I get home.

Ber. Lem, you promised me a little favor, you know?

Lem. Sure!

Ber. You are not to touch Sammy.

Lem. (astonished). I’m not to—— (Suddenly stops and grins.) Well, all right. You’ve got me, Cap’n. You always did spoil that kid. Wal, there’s still another pipe.

Abner. Yes, mine. I dropped it when I broke into the post-office last night.

All. What? You? Abner!

Obad. Fer the love o’ Admiral Sampson what fer?

Abner (steadily). I wanted to find some old papers in a business deal between your father and me. I suppose you remember that your father sold me this whole shore property here?

Obad. Yes, sartain.

Abner. Well, I found out right after I bought it that half the land didn’t belong to him to sell. There was a mistake in his title and some of the land belonged to Nat’s father and some of it belonged to Miss Cynthy’s father.

Cyn. Land o’ goshen!

Abner. They didn’t seem to know. They must have thought old Mr. Daniels knew what was his property. I didn’t say anything. You know why I wanted the property and the money I have made here. I knew if they realized this land was theirs they wouldn’t have sold. They would have used it themselves. I knew I had a good thing and I kept it. I made a pile and I kept them from their chance of making money when shore property was worth its weight in gold. That day has long gone by, but I’m ready to pay Miss Cynthy whatever seems right. I’ll leave it to Cap’n Cranberry to figure it out. I have offered money to Nat and he has refused to take it. He wants my daughter instead. Well, he had better take my money, for he can’t have my daughter unless she wants him.

Ariel (joyfully). Father!

Nat (furiously). Thunderation!

[Exit.

All. Good work! That’s the talk, Cap’n Abner!

Abner (slowly). I have deceived and cheated all these years. Of course I realize that I’ve got to lose my friends, that I will be the talk of the town.

Ber. I don’t see why. It’s taken a pile of courage to come out and say you were wrong and make it right. If your neighbors are good friends they will stand by you. They won’t go back on you.

Obad. That’s right, Abner. Of course we won’t.

Lem. And there ain’t a mite of reason why any one should know anything about this. I for one shan’t mention it to Hepsy, and (grimly) I guess if she don’t know it you’re safe.

Cyn. (earnestly). And I ain’t got the least bit of feeling against you, Cap’n Abner.

Abner. Thank you, Cynthy. Thank you all. I don’t deserve such treatment from you.

Lee. Say, Miss Tinker, just because you are suddenly coming into money I hope you won’t be so set up that you’ll bounce your boarders.

Cyn. Well, I guess it won’t be such an awful lot o’ money that I need to be set up too high. I said you could stay as long as you wanted to and I meant it. You can.

Lee. Good news!

Peter. Rah, rah, rah! Thank heaven we don’t lose those muffins!

Cyn. (suddenly). And I declare to goodness, Mr. Gordon, here’s a special delivery letter that come for you. (Gives it to him. He tears it open.) I thought it must be important and I come out to look for you and so much has happened that it went clean out of my head.

Lee. Well, say, this is certainly the day for unusual things to happen. Look at this, Pete! (Hands the letter to Peter.)

Peter (glancing it over). What now? Well, glory be! Listen, you who heard Mr. Williams denounce Lee this morning. The fellow who was guilty in the Yale mix up has been found out and they want Lee to go back to college. His father has also found out his mistake and he wants Lee to go back to work for him.

Ariel (going to Lee). Oh, Lee, I’m so glad!

Lee. Well, they are just too late. Lee is going to stay right here on his present job until he makes good.

Lem. Wal, I guess we got everything cleared up; we might as well be moving along.

Obad. Gosh all fog horns, yes! I been so excited I ain’t had hardly a bite to eat to-day. I’m faintin’ dead away if any one should ask you.

(Ber. walks to door, C., and stands looking out. Cyn., Lee, Peter, Obad. and Lem. exeunt. Abner starts to follow, then looks back at Ber. uncertainly. Ariel goes to Abner and throws her arms around him. Ber. watches them from the door.)

Ariel. Oh, dad, I can’t tell you how happy I am.

Abner. I’m glad to hear you say it, Arey. I come mighty near asking you to sacrifice your happiness.

Ariel (joyfully) But you didn’t quite do it after all.

Abner. Not quite.

Ariel. Father dear, don’t think anything you said can make a bit of difference. I only love you more than ever before.

Abner. Lord, Arey, what can I say to a thing like that?

Ber. (coming forward). Say you are a fortunate man to have such a daughter.

Abner. Yes, that’s what I ought to say. It’s true. I’m afraid I don’t realize how true. (Pats Ariel on the shoulder.) Run along, little girl, and be happy. (Ariel exits.) Captain Cranberry, I——

Ber. If you please, Abner, I don’t believe I can talk any more just now. If you’d just leave me up here alone for a while. It’s all right that you should have her. It’s you that’s been the real father to her. You have had the privilege that I have missed. You—you see she’s Alicia’s little girl and I’ve jest got to get over it, that’s all.

Abner (grasping his hand). All right. I won’t talk. Some day—later, I’ll try to tell you all that I feel.

[Exit.

(Ber. stands in the center of the room with bowed head.)

Ber. Alicia’s little girl! (Slight pause.)

Cyn. (outside). Arey! Arey! (Enters.) Land, Cap’n, I thought Arey was here. Are you here all alone?

Ber. (slowly). Yes, alone, Cynthy. The way I’ve lived the most of my life. The way I’ll always have to live it.

Cyn. My land, Cap’n, you must be dreadful down and out to talk that way.

Ber. I ain’t a mite o’ good to any one on the face of the earth.

Cyn. You? You ain’t? Well, I’d like to see the man, woman or boy in Bay Point that you ain’t some good to. Cap’n Berry, I didn’t suppose you ever got to feeling like this. I think you must have lost sight of the Beacon.

Ber. (suddenly looking up). By tunket, Miss Cynthy, you’re right! That’s jest what I’ve done! I reckon I’m kind of tuckered out. I was jest naturally making a fool of myself, thinking there weren’t nobody on earth that loves me, and by Crismus, why should there be? I ain’t got relations same’s other men and I ain’t got no right to expect the same kind of happiness as other men. Well, I’ll set sail for the Point and go on duty. That’s the thing for me to do. I’ve been spending too much time over here and I need to go to work.

Cyn. Cap’n Berry, I should think you would be ashamed to talk so. Nobody loves you! Why, everybody in Bay Point loves you, and you know it.

Ber. (suddenly and bluntly). Do you, Miss Cynthy?

Cyn. (very much confused and upset). Why, my gracious, Cap’n! What a way to put it! How you talk!

Ber. (looking at her curiously). I’m a regular old fool, Cynthy. I’ve had this on my mind for a long time and now, by tunket, I’m going to get it off and then I’ll stop mooning around like a sixteen-year-old kid! The first day I met you I loved you and I have been loving you a little more every time I have seen you since. I wouldn’t want you to marry unless it meant the same to you as it does to me, and I can’t believe that’s possible. I reckon I know what you’re thinking. I reckon I know what your answer will be, but I might as well have it from you straight. (Goes to her, and puts his hands on her shoulders.) Cynthy, do you think it would be possible for you to find happiness with a frost-bitten old Cranberry?

Cyn. (looking up at him). I think it would, Cran, if you were the Berry.

CURTAIN

A Comedy in Three Acts

By Walter Ben Hare

Ten male, twelve female characters, or seven males and seven females by doubling. Costumes, modern; scenery, two easy interiors. Plays a full evening. Betty, a moving picture star, going south on a vacation, loses her memory from the shock of a railway accident, and is identified as a rival, Violet Ostrich, from a hand-bag that she carries. In this character she encounters the real Violet, who has just eloped with Ned O’Hare, and mixes things up sadly both for herself and the young couple. An exceptionally bright, clever and effective play that can be highly recommended. Good Negro, Irish and eccentric comedy parts.

Price, 35 cents

CHARACTERS

Lin Leonard, Betty’s one best bet.

Major Jartree, of Wichita, not only bent, but crooked.

Ned O’Hare, a jolly young honeymooner.

Mr. E. Z. Ostrich, who has written a wonderful picture-play.

Dr. McNutt, solid ivory from the neck up.

Jim Wiles, a high-school senior.

Archie, a black bell-boy at the Hotel Poinsettia.

Officer Riley, who always does his duty.

Officer Dugan, from the Emerald Isle.

Mr. Ebenezer O’Hare, a sick man and a submerged tenth.

Mrs. Ebenezer O’Hare, “Birdie,” the other nine-tenths.

Aunt Winnie, Betty’s chaperone.

Lizzie Monahan, Betty’s maid, with a vivid imagination.

Ethel Kohler, a high-school admirer of Betty.

Violet Ostrich, a film favorite, Ned’s bride.

Mrs. K. M. Diggins, a guest at the Hotel Poinsettia.

Daffodil Diggins, her daughter, “Yes, Mamma!”

Miss Chizzle, one of the North Georgia Chizzles.

Pearlie Brown, Violet’s maid, a widow of ebon hue.

Violet, Violet Ostrich’s little girl aged seven.

Diamond, Pearlie’s little girl aged six

and

Betty, the star of the Movagraph Co.

Jartree may double Dugan; Ned may double Riley; Jim may double Archie; Mrs. O’Hare may double Ethel; Aunt Winnie may double Pearlie and Lizzie may double Miss Chizzle, thus reducing the cast to seven males and seven females. The two children have no lines to speak.

SYNOPSIS

Act I. Betty’s apartments near New York. Married in haste.

Act II. Parlor D of the Hotel Poinsettia, Palm Beach, Fla. Three days later. Betty loses her memory.

Act III. Same scene as Act II. A full honeymoon.

JUST A LITTLE MISTAKE

A Comedy in One Act

By Elizabeth Gale

One male, five female characters, or can be played by all girls. Costumes, modern; scenery, an easy interior. Plays forty minutes. Mrs. Ball receives a cablegram from her sister Lucy stating that Jerry will arrive that day and begging her to be cordial. Mrs. Ball then goes out to hire a cook, leaving three young friends to receive the unknown guest. The cook, sent down from the agency in haste, is greeted and entertained as Jerry and when the real Jerry (Miss Geraldine Take) arrives she is sent out to the kitchen. After considerable confusion and excitement she is discovered to be the “Little Miss Take.” Strongly recommended.

Price, 25 cents

A War Play in Four Acts

By Mansfield Scott

Seven males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays two hours. Royalty for amateur performance $10.00 for one, $15.00 for two performances. Inspector Malcome Steele, of the U. S. Secret Service, devotes himself in this thrilling play to unravelling the German plots that surround Prof. Middlebrook’s submarine shell that is to bring the downfall of the Hun. The battle between his wits and those of “Tom Cloff,” the German secret agent, is of absorbing interest. An easy and effective thriller that can be recommended for school performance.

Price, 35 cents

CHARACTERS

Hans Kraft, alias James McGrady.

Otto Herman, alias William.

Mr. Warren Middlebrook.

Monsieur Charles LeClair.

Professor Henry Westerberg.

Detective Albert Bradbury.

Inspector Malcome Steele.

“Tom Cloff.”

Mrs. Middlebrook.

Eleanor Middlebrook.

Margaret Linden.

Delia.

SYNOPSIS

Act I. The living-room. August 11, after dinner.

Act II. Same as Act I. August 12, 1:30 P. M.

Act III. The private laboratory. That evening, 7:30.

Act IV. Same as Act III. Later, 10 P. M.

THE AMERICAN IDEA

A Sketch in One Act

By Lily Carthew

Three males, two females. Costumes, modern; scenery, an interior. Plays twenty minutes. Royalty for amateur performance $5.00. Mignon Goldman, following the American Idea, throws off the parental yoke and marries the man of her choice and not the choice of her parents. She brings home for the parental blessing John Kelly. Abe, her father, is disconsolate at this prospect until he sees John and recognizes in him Yan Kele Operchinsky, rechristened in accordance with “The American Idea.” Originally produced at The Peabody Playhouse, Boston. Strongly recommended.

Price, 25 cents

THE CROWNING OF COLUMBIA

A Patriotic Fantasy in One Act

By Kathrine F. Carlyon

Twenty-five boys and twenty-four girls. Costumes, modern and picturesque. Nothing required in the way of scenery but a platform. Plays half an hour or less. Columbia is approached by the Foresters, the Farmers, the Miners, the Pleasure Seekers, the Ammunition Workers and even the Red Cross Workers, all asking her to be their Queen, but it is only when the Soldiers and the Red Cross Nurses come, asking nothing and giving all, that she yields. Easy, pretty, timely, and strongly recommended. Introduces music.

Price, 25 cents

A War Play in Three Acts

By Mansfield Scott

Twelve males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, a single interior. Plays an hour and a half. Royalty, $10.00 for first, $5.00 for subsequent performances by same cast; free for school performance. Inspector Steele, of the Secret Service, sets his wits against those of German emissaries in their plot against Dr. Treadwell’s air-ship, a valuable war invention, and baffles them after an exciting pursuit. An easy thriller, full of patriotic interest. Easy to get up and very effective. Strongly recommended for school performance. Originally produced by The Newton (Mass.) High School.

Price, 35 cents

CHARACTERS

Dr. Henry Treadwell, inventor of the Giant Air-ship.

Victor Lawrence, his pretended friend—a German spy.

Harold Felton, of the United States Army.

Carleton Everton, a young Englishman.

Karl Schoneman, of the German Secret Service.

Franz Muller, his assistant.

Arthur Merrill, also of the United States Army.

Inspector Malcome Steele, of the United States Secret Service.

Henry Gootner, a German agent.

Francis Drury, one of Treadwell’s guests.

Corporal Thayer.

Private Freeman.

Ruth Treadwell, Treadwell’s daughter.

Muriel Lawrence, Lawrence’s daughter.

Mrs. Treadwell.

Margaret Linden, a friend of Ruth’s.

The Time.—America’s second summer in the war.

The Place.—A deserted mansion on a small island near Eastport, Maine.

SYNOPSIS

Act I. The afternoon of June 10th.

Act II. The evening of September 21st.

Act III. Scene 1. The afternoon of the next day. About 1:30.
Scene 2. An hour later.

ART CLUBS ARE TRUMPS

A Play in One Act

By Mary Moncure Parker

Twelve females. Costumes of 1890 with one exception; scene, a single easy interior. Plays thirty minutes. Describes the trials of an ambitious woman who desired to form a club in the early days of club life for women about thirty years ago, before the days of telephones and automobiles. A capital play for ladies’ clubs or for older women in general. The costumes are quaint and the picture of life in the year of the Chicago World’s Fair offers an amusing contrast to the present. Recommended.

Price, 25 cents

A Play in Four Acts

By Mary P. Hamlin and George Arliss

Eleven males, five females. Costumes of the period; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. Royalty for amateur performance where an admission is charged, $25.00 for each performance. Special royalty of $10.00 for performance by schools. This play, well known through the performances of Mr. George Arliss still continuing in the principal theatres, presents the builders of the foundations of the American Republic as real people, and its story adroitly illustrates not merely the various ability of its leading figure, Alexander Hamilton, but the unconquerable courage and determination that were his dominating characteristics. The vividness with which it vitalizes the history of its period and the power with which it emphasizes Hamilton’s most admirable and desirable quality, make it most suitable for school use, for which special terms have been arranged, as above. Strongly recommended.

Price, 60 cents

CHARACTERS

Alexander Hamilton.

General Schuyler.

Thomas Jefferson.

Monroe.

Giles.

Tallyrand.

Jay.

Zekiel.

Reynolds.

Colonel Lear.

First Man.

Betsy Hamilton.

Angelica Church.

Mrs. Reynolds.

Soldier’s Wife.

Melissa.

THE SCENES

Act I.—The Exchange Coffee House in Philadelphia.

Act II.—A room in Alexander Hamilton’s house in Philadelphia. (The office of the Secretary of the Treasury.)

Act III.—The same. (Six weeks later.)

Act IV.—A reception room in Alexander Hamilton’s house. (The next morning.)

THE MINUTE MAN

A Patriotic Sketch for Girls of the High School Age in a Prologue and Three Episodes

By Nellie S. Messer

Thirteen girls. Costumes, modern, Colonial and of the Civil War period. Scenery, three interiors. Plays an hour and a half. Betty and Eleanor, typically thoughtless girls of the present day, run across the diaries of Bess’s mother and grandmother, which relate the experiences of girls of their age and kind at previous periods of their country’s history, and learn a vivid lesson in patriotism. The scenes of the past are shown in dramatic episodes visualizing the matter of the diaries that they read. A very clever arrangement of a very stimulating subject, strongly recommended for all occasions where the promotion of patriotism is desired. A timely lesson strongly enforced.

Price, 25 cents

Transcriber’s Notes