ACT I
SCENE.—The living-room of Miss Boltwood’s home.
There are doors to L. and R., a
closed window near R., a fireplace with fire near
C. and over it a cupboard that locks; a tea table, four
straight chairs, a high winged chair or settle, a mirror, furnishings
of a colonial tea table, a black cat (toy), etc.
(Mandy is discovered on stage. She pokes fire, looks into
kettle, stumbles over cat by the hearth.)
Mandy. Dere’s dat cat agin! Here you, Salem, git out from
under Mandy’s feet ’fore I break my neck or yours! Black imp o’ Satan!
(The cat is supposed to spit.) He spits! I pray you, spit not at
poor old Mandy, please, Mr. Cat! Oh, you looks a very witch cat! Good
Salem! Good pussy!
(Pets the cat.)
Enter Betty Boltwood in afternoon dress but with an
apron on.
Betty. Mandy, aunt bids you assist me with the porcelain
against the tea-drinking this afternoon. Fetch the linen towel and the
tray.
Mandy. Yes, missy. Here dey is.
(Mandy gets towel and tray and she and Betty
wipe the dishes and arrange them on the tea table.)
Betty (holding up cream pitcher). I like well this tea
set, Mandy. ’Twas a most pleasing gift that aunt’s cousin fetched her
from China. She surely hath a vast love for tea. ’Tis almost a carnal
weakness!
Mandy. True, missy. You’ aunt do love tea most ’stravagantly,
an’ cats too! (Looks scornfully at Salem.) A true sign
she will never marry. But Missy Boltwood am so sperity de mens am
’fraid of her, mebbe.
Betty (as they set the table). Aunt is too
strong-willed and—and—managing to obey any man. Heard you not that
when a girl she was betrothed to Judge Ingram, but could not abide the
thought of marriage?
Mandy. Lawsy, Miss Betty! An’ such friends as dey is, too! De
Judge am a Tory. Is dat de reason Missy Boltwood ain’t no patriarch
like mos’ of de Hartfield ladies?
Betty. Nay, Mandy, ’tis because aunt lived so many years in
England. She thinks there need be no quarrel between the Colonies and
the king. Could she but hear William Dickinson defend the cause of our
independence——
(There is the sound of a wagon driven rapidly. Mandy
runs to the window dish in hand.)
Mandy. Why, dere’s you’ William Dickinson now, a-dashin’ by in
de wagon!
Betty (darting also to the window). Where? I see only
dust. Looked he not up at the window, Mandy?
Mandy. No, Miss Betty. He was racin’ dose colts over de groun’!
Betty (pouting). And we have not met in two long days!
Mandy (earnestly). Miss Betty, if you’ aunt knew how
lovery you is wid dat William Dickinson, she would prison you in you’
chamber. You know well she can’t ’bide de Dickinsons ’count of de old
quarrel ’tween de famblies.
Betty. True, but naught can be said against William. He is the
bravest and handsomest minuteman in the company, and——
Mandy. Sh, missy! I hears you’ aunt on de stairs.
Enter Miss Lavinia Boltwood, handsomely gowned.
Miss B. Cease your chattering, Mandy. Fetch me the egg cakes
and the macaroons from the great cupboard.
[Exit Mandy.
Betty. With your permission, aunt, I will go abroad to take
the air. ’Tis too beauteous a day to remain within.
(Takes off her apron.)
Miss B. Then I pray you go down to the Meadow Road and buy me
some sage cheese from Mrs. Abiel Dickinson. Should you chance to see
young William, chatter not with him. ’Tis not seemly for maidens to
talk overmuch with men.
Enter Mandy with a plate of cakes in each hand.
She stands listening with the plates slanted so that the cakes are in
danger of falling off. She now grins knowingly at Betty
behind Miss B.’s back.
Betty (demurely). I will heed your counsel, aunt.
’Twill be best to wear my new bonnet. The old one is sadly shabby.
(Exit Betty, who returns in a moment and puts her
bonnet on before the mirror.)
Miss B. Mandy, you stupid, lay down the plates and put the
teapot to warm.
Mandy (putting teapot on the hearth). Is you goin’ to
give old Mandy jess a leetle tea to-day, missy? I knows tea is powerful
’spensive. Why so, missy?
Miss B. Because the Parliament taxes tea. Have you no
remembrance of the Boston Tea Party, more than a year agone, when the
tea was thrown overboard in Boston Harbor?
Mandy. Yes, missy, I recommembers, an’ lots of lady patriarchs
stopped drinkin’ tea den. Missy Abiel Dickinson she drink “Liberty
Tea,” an’ I helps her pick de raspberry leaves las’ summer——
(Knocker sounds.)
Miss B. There is the knocker, Mandy. Do you attend the door.
(Exit Mandy. She ushers in Mrs. Strong,
Mrs. Cowles and Mrs. Adams.) Good-afternoon,
Mrs. Strong; good-afternoon, Mrs. Cowles; good-afternoon, Mrs. Adams. I
hope I see you all well.
Mrs. S. I am in my usual state of good health, thank you, Miss
Boltwood.
Mrs. C. Save for a slight rheum, I am enjoying the blessing of
health, thank you.
Mrs. A. Thank you kindly, Miss Boltwood, I am as well as can
be expected.
Miss B. Lay aside your cloaks, ladies. Mandy, assist the
ladies.
(They remove their wraps.)
Mrs. S. Did I not see your niece Betty flitting through the
lane as I came by?
Miss B. It may be. I sent her on an errand to Mrs. Abiel
Dickinson’s. ’Tis a safe walk to the Meadow Road.
(She moves to the fireplace and makes the tea.)
Mrs. S. (looking meaningly at the others).
Laws-a-massy! Is she throwing the girl at William’s head?
Mrs. A. Sh! She does not know how enamored the young people
are. When she learns it—poor Betty!
Miss B. (turning from the fireplace). I pray you,
ladies, draw up to the table ere the tea be cold. (They seat
themselves. Mandy brings the teapot and places it
before Miss B. Mandy looks longingly at the
tea, sniffs it, and licks her lips behind their backs. The ladies pour
the tea into their saucers and blow it noisily, crooking their little
fingers as they raise the saucers to their lips. At a sign from
Miss B., Mandy exits.) ’Tis a pity I have none
of my rose conserve to give you. I sent it all to my friends in England
by the Christmas packet.
Mrs. S. Your conserve is marvelous, Miss Boltwood. The receipt
is a secret, I presume.
Miss B. A family heirloom, Mrs. Strong. Pray tell me, ladies,
if the tea be sufficiently brewed. I can assure you ’tis prime Bohea
and no “Liberty Tea”!
(She laughs a little scornfully.)
Mrs. C. ’Tis of an elegant strength and ’tis an elegant tea. I
feel certain no duty was paid on it. Was it honestly smuggled, my dear
Miss Boltwood?
(All laugh.)
Miss B. Indeed it was, and through Judge Ingram too. A poor
Tory he!
Mrs. A. Mayhap the good man will become a patriot in time.
(Helps herself to a cake.)
Mrs. S. We ought to scorn to use anything taxed, as the king
hath used the Colonies so unjustly! Still, ’twould be a hardship to
give up the tea.
Miss B. Well, I am neither Tory nor patriot; so I drink
smuggled tea, and shall drink it till I am under better advisement.
Pray take of the candied cherries, Mrs. Strong. May I fill your cup,
Mrs. Cowles? (The knocker sounds. Mandy passes
through from L. to R. She ushers
in Judge Ingram, who carries a newspaper. All rise and
curtsey.) Good-afternoon, Stephen Ingram.
Judge. Good-afternoon, Miss Lavinia. Pray do not let me
interrupt your tea-drinking, ladies. I but stopped in passing to
leave Miss Boltwood’s Boston Gazette. The news is recent—but
four days old—and of great moment. (He opens the paper.) The
Provincial Congress at Lexington is adjourned. ’Tis said General Gage
is resolved to crush the rebellion. (Ladies show excitement.) He
has now in Boston four thousand disciplined men. I fear me there will
be war, long and bloody, before our king is master once more.
Mrs. C. Master! Never again in these colonies!
(The ladies rise in indignation.)
Mrs. S. Our minutemen will match with any British soldiers!
Mrs. A. We women can assist our men, if it comes to a war
against injustice!
Judge (laughing). Ladies, ladies! Such ardent patriots,
and yet drinking tea!
Mrs. A. (firmly). If war is coming and our men must
fight, I, too, can make some sacrifice. I will give up tea and all
taxed articles.
Mrs. S. And I!
Mrs. C. I, too! Come, Miss Boltwood, join our league. It shall
be named from your house where ’twas born, “The Boltwood Band.” Come,
now.
Miss B. Nay, I am no patriot.
All. Come, come; no denial.
(They join hands and place hers in theirs.)
Mrs. C. This shall be our oath: “We swear to give up tea and
all taxed articles till the war be over.” Now, in unison.
All (including Miss B.). We swear to give up
tea and all taxed articles till the war be over.
(Judge looks on amused.)
Judge (rising). Well, ladies, now that you are all
committed to raspberry leaves and linsey-woolsey, I will go. (There
is the sound of a galloping horse, then excited voices of men. All rise
and go to the window.) ’Tis an express. Look you, his horse is
smoking! There must be news from Boston. I will go and learn it, then
report to you. [Exit.
Mrs. A. Oh, I pray there has been no bloodshed!
Mrs. S. If blood has been shed, let us hope ’twas British!
(Mandy rushes in from L., greatly excited.
She looks over the shoulders of the ladies at the window.)
Miss B. (sharply). Mandy! Get you to the kitchen!
[Exit Mandy, at L.
Enter Judge, at R. He looks very
grave.
Judge. ’Tis as I feared. The rash minutemen have fired on the
king’s troops and war has begun. Day before yesterday there was a fight
at Lexington and Concord——
Mrs. S. Tell us, man! Who was victorious?
Judge. The rebels stood their ground, ’tis reported, and the
king’s troops retreated, but not because of defeat——
Mrs. C. Did the Regulars retreat to Boston?
Judge. Yes, and I fear it was a rout at the last. Owing to the
firing of the rebels from behind walls and trees, the British became
panic-stricken.
Mrs. S. (excitedly). Hurroo for our brave men! ’Tis
glorious that they routed the trained troops!
Miss B. But why did the fighting begin out at Lexington,
Stephen? ’Tis a good ten miles from Boston.
Judge. General Gage was hoping to destroy the ammunition
at Concord. In some way his plan was learned, and Paul Revere, the
goldsmith, rode all night warning the countryside. When the Regulars
came, the minutemen were ready.
Mrs. A. (compassionately). Did many men fall?
Judge. ’Tis reported a hundred minutemen and nearly three
hundred of the king’s troops.
Mrs. S. Well, thanks for that! Each minuteman, it seems,
convoyed three Britishers with him out of existence!
Mrs. A. My dear Mrs. Strong! Feel you no pity?
Judge (listening). The Hartfield minutemen are summoned
to assemble at once at Clapp’s Tavern. Methinks I hear the drums.
Mrs. C. I must needs return home with the news, Miss Boltwood.
I thank you for a very elegant tea.
Miss B. As ’tis your last for the present, I am glad it
pleased your taste.
Mrs. S. (rising). Forget not your vow, ladies. ’Tis for
our hostess to uphold the “Boltwood Band.”
Miss B. I have passed my word, and shall keep it. I
never break a promise. (Ladies curtsey.) Farewell, ladies.
(Exeunt Mrs. C., Mrs. A. and Mrs.
S.) I fear me, Stephen, troublous times are before us, and there
is a matter I would discuss with you. Should the war prove serious I
may return to England. I would Betty were well settled, for she is
over-impulsive and filled with romance. You are a Tory and will fare
well when the patriots are punished, as they doubtless will be. Why
should you not marry the child? ’Twould be a most excellent arrangement.
Judge. Marry Betty! Impossible! How can you suggest such
a thing? The girl would not abide one old enough to be her father.
Besides, there is an obstacle.
Miss B. An obstacle! Pray what?
Judge. Yourself, Lavinia. My heart is still yours though you
cruelly condemn me to single living. I am ever hoping that you may
reconsider your decision.
Miss B. Say no more, Stephen. I thought the old flame had
died for lack of fuel. I like you well in friendship, but as I have
declared, I will not be at the bidding of any man. I will not.
Judge (sadly). As you will, Lavinia. But if you consent
not to my happiness, at least do not mar Betty’s. She and young William
Dickinson are lovers. He is a fine, upright youth. Let her marry where
she will.
Miss B. (horrified). What? Betty philandering with
William Dickinson! The sly minx! She shall never marry any Dickinson,
however “upright” he be.
Enter Mandy at L., much excited,
carrying carpet-bag and bundles.
Mandy. Oh, missy, missy! De Britishers is comin’! I’se all
ready to run!
Miss B. Hush, stupid! They will not come here.
[Exit Mandy, running from L. to R.
Judge (moving toward door at R.). Good-night,
Lavinia. Is there never to be hope for me?
(He takes her hand.)
Miss B. (positively). Stephen Ingram, I have declared
I will never marry, and I am not the sort to break my word.
(Listens.) List! There are the drums. Let us go view the
minutemen. [Exeunt.
Enter Mandy excitedly from L., with
bundles. She runs to window and looks out. Then sees tea table with
remains of the tea-drinking. She peers about to see if the coast is
clear, then drinks tea left in the cups and teapot, eats cakes.
Mandy. Might as well eat dis ’fore de Britishers gets it.
Enter Betty. Mandy jumps guiltily away from
the table.
Betty. Oh, Mandy! The minutemen are summoned. William must
go. What if he should be shot—killed! (She covers her face
with her hands. The knocker sounds, Mandy answers
it, R., and ushers in William Dickinson.
Betty runs to meet him. Mandy exits at
L.) William! William! I feared I should not see you before
your leaving. Never did I dream that matters would come to war. ’Tis
dreadful!
(She weeps.)
Will. Nay, nay, Betty. ’Tis not dreadful, ’tis glorious to
fight for our independence. Your tears are unseemly. Come, look up.
I have brought you a keepsake. (Takes a string of gold beads from
his pocket. Betty smiles through her tears.) When
last I was in Boston these confronted me in a goldsmith’s window and
straightway I had a vision of them about your fair neck. Let me see the
reality.
(He puts the beads around her neck and embraces her.)
Betty. I thank you, William. I will ever wear them hidden thus
(tucking them under her kerchief) with thoughts of you when you
are far away. Would that there were no need for you to go.
Will. But there is need, and I go gladly if I go with your
promise to wed me some time.
Betty. But my aunt——
Will. I know you have ever put me off because of your aunt’s
disrelish for my family. But now, dear Betty, give me this comfort as I
leave. Do you not love me?
Betty. Indeed I love you with all my heart, William, yet I
cannot promise without aunt’s consent. She has been father and mother
to me since I was an infant child. ’Twould not be right.
Will. (impatiently). You will not promise without her
consent and you forbid me to ask it as she will of a surety say “No.”
Then it lies with you to obtain it by fair means or foul.
Betty (firmly). William, I will do my best to obtain it
even by craft.
Enter Miss B. unobserved. She listens.
Will. Craft would be fair enough. She cannot appreciate true
affection. A woman who has flouted one of the best men in the world
and yet doth keep him dangling! Bah! If he were not a saint he would
betake himself to another woman and be happy. Betty, I love you better
than anything in life save honor, but I will not be put off like Judge
Ingram. I swear that I will wed you e’en though a dozen frozen-hearted
spinsters barred my way.
Miss B. Highty-tighty, young man! By what right do you embrace
my niece?
(The lovers start apart.)
Will. By the right of the great affection between her and me,
madam. I duly crave your permission to marry her.
Miss B. (coldly). You are a Dickinson. That permission
you will never have.
Will. If there is naught against me save my name, I beg of you
to reconsider your decision.
Miss B. (positively). Nay, my mind is made up on that
point.
(Sound of drums.)
Will. ’Tis the last call; I must go. Farewell, Betty. (He
gathers her in his arms before Miss B. can come between
them.) Miss Boltwood, I am resolved to wed your niece with your
permission or—without it! [Exit.
(Betty runs to the window.)
Miss B. Betty Boltwood, I am amazed that you should permit
yourself to become interested in a Dickinson! I forbid you to receive
this presumptuous young man again.
(Betty begins to wave her handkerchief at the window. Her
aunt snatches it from her hand. They both stand at the window watching
the minutemen.)
CURTAIN
ACT II
SCENE.—The same. A fire is on the hearth, the cat by the fire. The
window is open and the roses are seen climbing near the sill. It is an
afternoon in June not long after the battle of Bunker Hill.
(As the curtain rises, enter Miss B. She is in
summer dress. She carries a reticule or bag. She goes to door at
L.)
Miss B. Mandy!
Mandy (appearing in door). Yes, missy.
Miss B. Fetch me the parcel of old linen. We roll bandages
this afternoon for those wounded at Bunker Hill.
[Exit Mandy.
(Miss B. sits down, takes the cat in her lap. She
sighs.)
Mandy (entering with a roll of linen in her hand).
Here’s de linen for de poor boys in Bos’on. Dis war am dreadful. All de
mens gettin’ killed and all de rest of us goin’ widout tea! Isn’t you
hankerin’ for jus’ a leetle tea, missy?
Miss B. (looking embarrassed). Why—why.... Oh, stop
your chattering, Mandy!
(The knocker sounds. Mandy exits and returns with a
letter.)
Mandy. De post left dis letter, missy.
(Miss B. opens letter, reads, looks thoughtful.
Mandy gazes, all curiosity.)
Miss B. ’Tis from Judge Ingram at Boston.
Mandy. Glory! Glory! De Judge am fighting de Britishers!
Miss B. Stupid! You know the Judge is a Tory. I sent him
to Boston to arrange my affairs in case I should return to England.
He says (taking up the letter) that he is attending on young
Dickinson who was badly wounded at Bunker Hill—while bearing the
colors at the head of his company. Humph! He doth not lack bravery,
’twould seem. The Judge requests me to send word to the young man’s
mother. Perchance neighbor Kellogg’s boy would bear the message to Mrs.
Dickinson. I will go and see.
(Exit Miss B., at R., leaving
letter on the table. Mandy exits at L.)
Enter Betty with knitting. Sits by the window which
is open. She takes the cat and lifts it to the sill.
Betty. Smell the roses, Salem. How sweet they be. You are a
wise pussy; tell me if William has the rose and the letter I sent him
some days since. The post is so tardy these days. (Puts down cat;
rises and goes to the mirror; pulls beads from their hiding-place under
her kerchief; arranges them around her neck.) ’Tis a pity I cannot
wear William’s keepsake openly. The beads become me well.
Enter Mandy and Betty forgets to
hide the beads. Mandy brings in the teakettle and
hangs it on the crane.
Mandy. Oh, missy, missy! You’ William Dickinson am shot!
(Betty screams and falls back horror-struck, then
seizes Mandy by the arm.)
Betty. Not killed! Tell me instantly!
Mandy. He am mortally wounded but will recover. De Judge say
so in dat letter. (Points to letter on table. Betty
seizes letter and begins to read. Mandy is horrified
that she should read her aunt’s letter.) Oh, missy, missy! You’
aunt would scalp you did she catch you readin’ her letter. She mos’
awful ’ticular ’bout her letters.
Betty (with a cry). This letter has been on the way ten
days! William may be dead for aught we know.
Mandy (looking out the window). Lawsy, here’s Missy
Boltwood comin’ now. She’ll see you readin’ her letter! Guess
Mandy better be in de kitchen!
(Mandy runs out at L. Betty drops
down behind the high chair.)
Enter Miss B.; takes up letter again; reads it
aloud thoughtfully.
Miss B. “The courage and patriotism of the men have so
infected me that I am convinced at last. In fact I have already
forsworn my allegiance to the king and have enlisted in the army of the
patriots.” (She meditates; takes cat in her lap as she still holds
the letter.) Stephen Ingram, you are a fool to change opinions
at your time of life. And yet even I cannot but admire the devotion
of the patriots to their cause; the cause, too, is a just one. I am
minded to embrace it instead of being but an onlooker. (She leans
back wearily.) Hum, hum. I feel the need of my tea. (She goes to
door at L. and listens, then to door at R.
She takes a key from a hiding-place and unlocks the chimney
cupboard, brings out a little teapot, caddy, cup and saucer. She makes
herself a cup of tea with the water in the kettle and drinks the
tea. Betty watches her from her hiding-place, and
Mandy also puts in her head and sees with amazement. Her
eyes pop out. When Miss B. rises to put the things
away, Mandy hastily withdraws and Betty
hides again.) There, Salem, I feel better for my Bohea, but what
a scandal ’twould make did the “Boltwood Band” know of my daily deceit.
But you are my only confidant, Salem, and I know I can trust your
discretion. (She rises; takes reticule preparing to go out. Steps
toward L. Mandy can be heard falling backward
and exclaiming “Oh, lawsy!”) Mandy!
Mandy. Yes, missy.
Miss B. Come now into the garden and pick all the roses that
are overblown. To-morrow I make the rose conserve. I will show you the
blossoms I have in mind.
Mandy. Yes, Missy Boltwood.
(They exeunt at R. As soon as they are gone
Betty comes from her hiding-place. She takes the key and
unlocks the cupboard, smells of the teapot and says “Tea!” Then she
locks the cupboard again and is about to steal out at R.
when Miss B. reënters at R. She
looks sharply at Betty and perceives the beads.)
Miss B. Betty, where got you those beads?
Betty (confused and trying to conceal them). What—what
beads, aunt?
Miss B. Do not attempt deceit with me. You know well what I
mean. The gold beads about your neck; who gave you them?
Betty (with courage). They are a keepsake from William
Dickinson. I pray you, aunt, be not displeased.
Miss B. (sharply). Give them to me. ’Tis not seemly for
maidens to receive trinkets from young men. Come, undo them.
Betty. Nay, aunt, I will not. I promised to wear them always
and I will not take them off, e’en at your command.
Miss B. Well, then, I will take them off for you. (Miss
B. unclasps the beads after some resistance on
Betty’s part. They fall to the floor. Betty
snatches them up and throws them out of the window. She and her
aunt gaze at each other defiantly. Miss B. goes to the
window.) Mandy, quick, bring me the beads that Miss Betty threw
from the window just now.
Mandy (heard from outside). Yes, missy.
Miss B. (angrily). Your conduct is disgraceful, miss.
Know you not ’tis wicked to disobey and flout your elders? From this
moment I forbid you to ever see or communicate with this Dickinson
again. I shall restore him the beads, and when I journey to England,
you will accompany me. Do you hear? Now go to your chamber and meditate
on your misconduct.
Betty. Nay, aunt, I will not give William up; I love him. You
may be cruel and dangle your lover for a lifetime, but I will marry
mine, and you shall grant me your permission.
Miss B. I grant my permission! Never! I do not break my word,
miss.
Betty (scornfully). Ah, do you not? Who, pray, has
been drinking tea daily while pretending to deny herself? I beheld you
with my own eyes take your little teapot from the locked cupboard!
’Twould make a pretty story did I tell it. And I warn you, if you do
not grant your permission to William and me, I will publish the secret
tea-drinking. The town shall ring with it!
Enter Mandy.
Mandy. Can’t fin’ no gol’ beads, missy, nowhere.
Miss B. Stupid! Did you search under the window?
Mandy. Poor ol’ Mandy crawl all ober de groun’. No beads dere.
Miss B. (suspiciously). Methinks you may admire those
beads. Unroll your turban.
Mandy. ’Fore de Lawd, missy, don’ ’spicion Mandy o’ dem beads.
I isn’t got dem.
(Miss B. looks in Mandy’s turban. She
takes out strange things including a clay pipe. She also searches
Mandy’s pockets and her dress hem. No beads. Miss
B. is angry.)
Miss B. If you have thieved those beads, naught can save
you from the whipping-post, hussy. I will search the garden myself.
[Exit.
Betty (confidentially). Come, Mandy. Tell me where my
beads—tell me where my beads are.
Mandy (excitedly). May de debbil carry me off, Miss
Betty, if I ain’t tellin’ you de trufe. I don’ know where dose beads
is. But I ’vises you to watch you’ aunt in de garden. If she finds
dem——
Betty. True. I will be there to see. [Exit.
(Mandy wanders about the room in some excitement. She
does a song and dance; anything appropriate to the period. Suddenly
an idea strikes her. She goes to the hiding-place of the key, unlocks
the cupboard, takes out the teapot and makes tea, drinks it with an
exaggerated imitation of her mistress’ manner, looking about nervously
all the time.)
Mandy. Dat am de stuff, sure. Missy drink tea, Mandy drink tea
too. No one see me ’cept dat black witch-cat! He can’t tell. (Sound
of the knocker.) Lawsy! Some one’s at de door! (She grabs the
tea things and slams them into the cupboard, locks it and hides the
key. She then exits at R. She returns with Mrs.
S. and Mrs. C.) Please seat you’selves, ladies,
while I tells Missy Boltwood you is here. [Exit at R.
Mrs. C. ’Tis best that friends should break her the unhappy
news, not any chance comer. Think you not so?
Mrs. S. Truly. A privilege of friendship is to report the
disagreeable. I wonder how she will relish such tidings? Stephen Ingram
was always a near friend to her, though ’twould take a Solomon to tell
whether she cared aught for him.
Enter Miss B.
Miss B. Good-afternoon, neighbors.
Mrs. C.
Mrs. S.}(together). Good-afternoon,
Miss Boltwood.
Mrs. C. We trust we see you well and—and—of good fortitude.
Mayhap you will need it.
Mrs. S. (eagerly). Prepare yourself for sad news; very
sad news, my dear Miss Boltwood. Judge Ingram—you are aware that he
but lately joined our army.
Miss B. I pray you go on!
Mrs. C. The report has but now come that he has been
discovered in communication with the British.
Mrs. S. And that he has been arrested and will be executed as
a spy!
Miss B. (incredulously). Stephen Ingram a spy!
Impossible! It is not true.
Mrs. C. His conversion to patriotism was very sudden, my dear
Miss Boltwood, and all know his Tory beliefs.
Mrs. S. You have our deepest sympathy in that an old, and,
mayhap, a dear friend has proved unworthy. True, he was a kind,
agreeable man, but he was far too easily influenced, as you well know
yourself.
Miss B. (rising in indignation). Ladies, I will not
hear Stephen Ingram traduced. I care not what reports are rife; I know
the man. He would never do aught dishonorable. He may be of a yielding
disposition, but his principles are adamant!
Enter Betty. She looks in surprise at her aunt and
guests.
Mrs. S. (maliciously). Miss Betty, your aunt is deeply
concerned over the downfall of Judge Ingram. The whole town is buzzing
with the news. It seems the Judge joined the patriot army but to
furnish information to the British. He has been discovered and is to be
executed as a spy!
(Betty springs to her aunt’s side and puts her arms around
her.)
Betty. Dear aunt, ’tis a false charge—I know it. They would
not execute an innocent man.
(Miss B. sinks into a chair as if about to faint.
Betty runs and gets wine. Mrs. C. rushes
to the fireplace, seizes a turkey wing and burns it, then holds
it under Miss B.’s nose. She waves aside wine and
feathers.)
Mrs. C. Burnt feathers are so reviving!
Miss B. (recovering). I want no wine, or
sympathy, so called. If my best friend is unjustly accused,
I will journey to Boston and see him righted. Methinks I have some
influence on both sides of this quarrel.
(Mrs. S. and Mrs. C. look at one
another.)
Mrs. C. (aside). ’Tis best to go now. Miss Boltwood,
pray call on us if we can be of any assistance.
Mrs. S. (spitefully). Mayhap you would prefer solitude
for the recovery of your equanimity.
[Exeunt Mrs. S. and Mrs. C.
Betty. Pray, aunt, let us go immediately to Boston. Every
minute may be precious.
Miss B. Betty, I am deeply grateful for your belief in Judge
Ingram.
Enter Mandy with Mrs. A. Mandy
carries a basket into which she has been picking the roses. She
looks curiously at Miss B., as she observes her
agitation. Mrs. A. takes Miss B.’s
hand affectionately.
Mrs. A. My dear friend, I have just heard the news concerning
Judge Ingram. Surely there is some awful misapprehension. No one who
knows him could, for a minute, believe him a spy for the British.
Miss B. (still holding Mrs. A.’s hand).
I thank you for those words. There is some grave mistake. For fear
that he may—may be executed before others can clear him—— (Turns
to Mandy, who stands with open mouth, and speaks
sharply.) Mandy! Run to Clapp’s Tavern and reserve two seats on the
Boston coach to-night. Here, pay for them with this guinea.
(Gives Mandy gold from her side pocket.
Mandy exits in haste.)
Mrs. A. Take my prayers and my good wishes with you, Miss
Boltwood. If I can be of service in any way, pray let me know.
[Exit.
Miss B. Come, Betty, let us make haste to prepare for the
journey. [Exeunt.
(For a moment the stage is empty. There is the sound of a
knocker. No one responds. The knocker sounds again. After a
time Judge, in the uniform of a minuteman, enters
supporting Will., who has his arm in a sling.)
Judge. There seems to be no one at home, William, but you must
rest before going on to your own house. Mayhap the ladies will return
soon.
Will. (sinking back wearily in the great chair; he is white
and weak). ’Twas most kind of you, sir, to bring me home. I do not
think I could have journeyed so far unaided. Yet you are needed in the
army.
Judge. I shall return immediately. (Enter
Mandy in haste.) Ah, here is the wench. How are your
mistresses, Mandy?
(Mandy falls back amazed and gazes at Judge
with rolling eyes. She slowly backs into a corner and does not take
her eyes from him.)
Mandy. Is you a ghos’, sir? I heard de ladies say you was
executioned. Please, Mr. Ghos’——
Judge (laughing). Nonsense, Mandy. I am true flesh and
blood. How fares Miss Boltwood?
Will. How is Miss Betty?
Mandy. Dey is all well, sir. Dat is, dey is feelin’ awful bad
dat you is executioned. On dat account dey is startin’ on de coach
to-night for Bos’on, sir.
Will. What does she mean?
Judge. Executed! What tale is this?
Mandy. De tale dat you is executioned as a spy, sir, for de
Britishers. Missy Boltwood she say dat am a lie, an’ she goin’ to save
you, sir.
Judge. Bless her for her faith in me.
Will. And does Miss Boltwood—er—er—is she still
disapproving of me?
Mandy (cheerfully). Oh, yes, sir. She powerful mad when
she see dem beads on Miss Betty’s neck. And when she frowed dem out de
window——
Will. Who? Not Miss Betty?
Mandy. Oh, yes, sir. She got mad, too, an’ frowed de lovely
beads out de window. We ain’t never found dem, neider, sir.
(Will. looks much cast down.)
Enter Miss B. and Betty with
bandboxes and bags. They wear bonnets. They stare dumbfounded at
the Judge and Will.
Miss B. (going to Judge at
L.). Stephen Ingram, thank God!
(They clasp hands.)
Betty (flying to the side of Will.). Oh,
William! (He tries to rise, but sinks back.) Your wound, how
fares it?
(She hangs over him and Mandy brings pillows.)
Judge (laughing). Do I look like a man about to be
executed, Lavinia? Mandy has told us of the false report.
Miss B. ’Twas false! I knew it! But how—why——
Judge. Another Ingram, but not from Hartfield, was the spy. He
has met his punishment ere this, poor fellow.
Betty. Aunt Lavinia, William craves the fresh air. May we go
into the garden?
Miss B. (absently). Yes, child.
[Exit Will., leaning on Betty, at R.
Judge. Lavinia, I could not be a traitor to the patriot cause,
for I am with it heart and soul. Your example did help to win me over.
Miss B. Mine? How so?
Judge. When you practiced such self-denial and gave up your
tea. (Playfully.) I knew you were wedded to it.
Miss B. (humbly). Oh, Stephen, you shame me. I did not
keep my vow. I confess I have been drinking tea in secret. The habit
was too strong for me. But now your patriotism has kindled mine. I,
too, adopt the patriot cause. To it I will give myself and all I have,
even my tea! Look! I break the pot in token that I break the habit.
(She takes the teapot from the cupboard and is about to shatter it
on the hearth when Mandy springs forward.)
Mandy. Oh, missy, don’ smash de little teapot! Give it to old
Mandy.
(She holds out her hands for it. Miss B. puts the
pot into them. Mandy clasps it to her breast.)
Miss B. Well, take it and get you to the kitchen. You can brew
naught but “Liberty Tea” in it now.
(Mandy starts to go but is loath to lose any of the
conversation, so lingers by the door at L.)
Judge. Lavinia, it rejoices me that you so heartily embrace
the glorious cause of independence. ’Tis noble——
Miss B. Say not so, Stephen. You must, in your heart, despise
me for my weakness.
Judge. Despise you! I could not. Come, tell me. Were you about
to journey to Boston in my behalf?
Miss B. Yes, I had so purposed. I would have wrested you from
prison and execution, if need be!
Judge. What a friend you are, Lavinia!
Miss B. (looking at him tenderly). I have but now
learned your worth to me, Stephen.
Judge. And I yours. Our friendship shall endure while life
lasts. ’Tis above passion.
Miss B. (faintly). Yes, Stephen.
Judge. I see now how exalted is our relation. ’Tis an ideal.
Miss B. (downcast). True, ’tis an ideal—but——
Judge (enthusiastically). Dear Lavinia, you have shown
me how earthly are mere love and marriage compared to this mating
of our souls. Never again will I annoy you with words of love. Such
friendship is all I ask!
Miss B. (amazed, then indignant). Stephen, I care not
for your friendship!
Judge (surprised). What mean you, Lavinia?
Miss B. (embarrassed, yet courageous). I mean that I
know—now—that I—I—love you, Stephen.
Judge (joyfully). Can it be that you are willing to wed
me?
(He comes nearer and looks tenderly at her.)
Miss B. Yes, Stephen.
(He takes her in his arms. Mandy looks interested,
then glad. At this point she exclaims.)
Mandy. Hurroo!
Miss B. (sharply, turning about toward Mandy).
Mandy, why are you still here? Go into the garden and finish the rose
gathering.
Mandy. Yes, missy.
(She takes basket and exits at L., still clasping
the teapot to her breast.)
Enter Betty and Will. at
R.
Judge (looking at Betty and
Will.). Lavinia, I pray you permit the young people to be as
happy as we are. Will you not?
Miss B. I will, at your bidding, Stephen. (She goes toward
them.) Betty!
Betty. Yes, aunt.
Enter Mandy excitedly, holding up the beads. She
still clasps the teapot.
Mandy. Here’s de gol’ beads, missy. Mandy found dem hangin’ on
de rose-bush.
(She gives the beads to Miss B.)
Miss B. Good Mandy. You shall be rewarded. Here, Betty, take
your beads. I give William permission to put them about your neck with
my blessing.
Betty (joyfully). Oh, thank you, aunt.
(She gives the beads to Will.)
Will. I am deeply grateful, Aunt Lavinia.
(He clasps the beads about Betty’s neck and kisses
her. The Judge and Miss B. stand
hand-in-hand beaming at them. Mandy gazes joyfully
also, still clasping the teapot. She turns suddenly to the cupboard
which Miss B. had left open, and seizes the tea-caddy.
With this in one hand and the pot in the other, she cries.)
Mandy. Glory! Glory! Dey has love and I has tea!
CURTAIN
