Chapter XXI: Part 21

MRS. HALE [_not as if answering that_]. I wish you'd seen Minnie Foster when she wore a white dress with blue ribbons and stood up there in the choir and sang. [_A look around the room._] Oh, I _wish_ I'd come over here once in a while? That was a crime! That was a crime! Who's going to punish that?

MRS. PETERS [_looking upstairs_]. We mustn't--take on.

MRS. HALE. I might have known she needed help! I know how things can be--for women. I tell you, it's queer, Mrs. Peters. We live close together and we live far apart. We all go through the same things--it's all just a different kind of the same thing. [_Brushes her eyes, noticing the bottle of fruit, reaches out for it._] If I was you I wouldn't tell her her fruit was gone. Tell her it _ain't_. Tell her it's all right. Take this in to prove it to her. She--she may never know whether it was broke or not.

MRS. PETERS [_takes the bottle, looks about for something to wrap it in; takes petticoat from the clothes brought from the other room, very nervously begins winding this around the bottle. In a false voice_]. My, it's a good thing the men couldn't hear us. Wouldn't they just laugh! Getting all stirred up over a little thing like a--dead canary. As if that could have anything to do with--with--wouldn't they _laugh_!

[_The men are heard coming down stairs._]

MRS. HALE [_under her breath_]. Maybe they would--maybe they wouldn't.

COUNTY ATTORNEY. No, Peters, it's all perfectly clear except a reason for doing it. But you know juries when it comes to women. If there was some definite thing. Something to show--something to make a story about--a thing that would connect up with this strange way of doing it.

[_The women's eyes meet for an instant. Enter Hale from outer
door._]

HALE. Well, I've got the team around. Pretty cold out there.

COUNTY ATTORNEY. I'm going to stay here a while by myself. [_To the Sheriff._] You can send Frank out for me, can't you? I want to go over everything. I'm not satisfied that we can't do better.

SHERIFF. Do you want to see what Mrs. Peters is going to take in?

[_The Lawyer goes to the table, picks up the apron, laughs._]

COUNTY ATTORNEY. Oh, I guess they're not very dangerous things the ladies have picked out. [_Moves a few things about, disturbing the quilt pieces which cover the box. Steps back._] No, Mrs. Peters doesn't need supervising. For that matter, a sheriff's wife is married to the law. Ever think of it that way, Mrs. Peters?

MRS. PETERS. Not--just that way.

SHERIFF [_chuckling_]. Married to the law. [_Moves toward the other room._] I just want you to come in here a minute, George. We ought to take a look at these windows.

COUNTY ATTORNEY [_scoffingly_]. Oh, windows!

SHERIFF. We'll be right out, Mr. Hale.

[_Hale goes outside. The Sheriff follows the County Attorney into
the other room. Then Mrs. Hale rises, hands tight together,
looking intensely at Mrs. Peters, whose eyes make a slow turn,
finally meeting Mrs. Hale's. A moment Mrs. Hale holds her, then
her own eyes point the way to where the box is concealed. Suddenly
Mrs. Peters throws back quilt pieces and tries to put the box in
the bag she is wearing. It is too big. She opens box, starts to
take bird out, cannot touch it, goes to pieces, stands there
helpless. Sound of a knob turning in the other room. Mrs. Hale
snatches the box and puts it in the pocket of her big coat. Enter
County Attorney and Sheriff._

COUNTY ATTORNEY [_facetiously_]. Well, Henry, at least we found out that she was not going to quilt it. She was going to--what is it you call it, ladies?

MRS. HALE [_her hand against her pocket_]. We call it--knot it, Mr. Henderson.

[_Curtain._]

THE POT BOILER

A SATIRE

BY ALICE GERSTENBERG

Copyright, 1916, by Alice Gerstenberg.
All rights reserved.

THE POT BOILER was first produced by the Players' Workshop, Chicago,
Ill., on the night of November 20th, 1916, with the following cast:

THOMAS PINIKLES SUD [_the playwright_] _William Ziegler Nourse_.
WOULDBY [_the novice_] _Morton Howard, Jr_.
MR. IVORY [_the financier_] _Henry Ryan_.
MR. RULER [_the hero_] _Donovan Yeuell_.
MISS IVORY [_the heroine_] _Caroline Kohl_.
MR. INKWELL [_the villain_] _H. C. Swartz_.
MRS. PENCIL [_the woman_] _Anna Buxton_.

THE POT BOILER is published for the first time. The editors are
indebted to Miss Gerstenberg for permission to include it in this
volume. The professional and amateur stage rights on this play are
strictly reserved by the author. Applications from amateurs to
produce the play should be addressed to Norman Lee Swartout,
24 Blackburn Road, Summit, N. J. Professionals should address
Miss Alice Gerstenberg, 539 Deming Place, Chicago, Ill.

THE POT BOILER

A SATIRE BY ALICE GERSTENBERG

[SCENE: _A stage only half set for a morning rehearsal and dimly
lighted. Sud, a successful playwright, enters in a hurry carrying
a leather bag of manuscripts._]

STAGE HAND. Good morning, Mr. Sud.

SUD. Good morning, Gus. Just set two doors; that'll be all I'll need this morning. We're rehearsing for lines. [_Steps down stage and calls front._] Joe, I'm expecting a young man, it's all right, let him in.

WOULDBY [_from auditorium back_]. I'm here now, Mr. Sud.

SUD. Come up, Mr. Wouldby. Some more border lights, please.

WOULDBY. It's very good of you to let me in.

SUD. I was fond of your father. I am glad to see his son.

WOULDBY. I have written a play, too.

SUD. Too bad, too bad, you make the price of paper go up.

WOULDBY. It must be wonderful to be the master playwright of our day. Everybody knows Mr. Thomas Pinikles Sud.

SUD [_setting stage_]. Yes, it is a privilege to be a friend of mine!

WOULDBY [_pursuing Sud_]. Will you read my manuscript, sir?

SUD. Never roll a manuscript. I see very well you don't even know the first principles.

WOULDBY. How can I learn the first principles? No one will tell me.

SUD. Wait, I will do a great thing for you, let you stay and see a dress rehearsal of my latest play, "The Pot Boiler." In it I have used all dramatic principles.

WOULDBY. What are they?

SUD. Well, for instance, this pencil is the woman in the case.

WOULDBY. Pencil!

SUD. This inkwell is the villain, although that's really too dark for him. Deep-eyed villains are out of fashion.

WOULDBY. Inkwell!

SUD. The heroine is Miss Ivory paper cutter.

WOULDBY. Ivory!

SUD. Mr. Ruler is the hero.

WOULDBY. Ruler!

[_Other characters enter from stage door._]

SUD. I haven't finished writing it, but we're going through it this morning as far as I have written, then I shall see how to go on. Here are the players now. Line up, please, and let me see your costumes. [_He studies them._] Now to work--[_Rubbing his hands._] to work--clear the stage!

[_Mrs. Pencil and Ruler go out left; Mr. and Miss Ivory and
Inkwell go out right and close the door._]

SUD. Mr. Wouldby, if you sit down here with me, we'll be out of the way. [_Sud and Wouldby sit on two stools way down right._] You must imagine that this room is the library in Mr. Ivory's house. [_Sud claps his hands and calls._] Ready.

[_There is a pause, then the door up left opens and Mrs. Pencil
comes in; her pantomime is as Sud explains it to Wouldby._]

SUD [_in stage whisper to Wouldby_]. The adventuress--she comes in--she has been cut--she is worried--that nervous twitching of lips and narrowing of eyes are always full of suspense--she takes off her gloves, her hat--that's good business. A door opens--she starts--by starting she shows you she is guilty of something--

MISS IVORY [_without hat or gloves enters from right_]. Oh, there you are, Mrs. Pencil.

MRS. PENCIL. Yes, I'm back.

MISS IVORY. I thought I should have to drink my tea without you.

[_They sit down to tea--Miss Ivory back of table center. Mrs.
Pencil left of table._]

SUD [_in stage whisper to Wouldby_]. That tells the audience what time of the day it is; besides, drinking afternoon tea shows Miss Ivory is in society.

MRS. PENCIL. Isn't your father going to join us?

SUD [_aside_]. That's merely to show the girl has a father.

MISS IVORY. No, he is talking business with Mr. Inkwell.

MRS. PENCIL [_starting_]. Inkwell!

MISS IVORY. Yes, do you know him?

MRS. PENCIL [_evasively_]. I? Oh--no.

MISS IVORY. You've heard of him?

MRS. PENCIL. Yes--of course----

SUD [_aside_]. Do you catch it? Do you see how her nervousness and her few words at once suggest that there is a link between Mrs. Pencil and Inkwell? That's where I show my technique.

WOULDBY [_scratching his head_]. Technique! How can I learn it?

SUD. It is the secret that every playwright locks in his breast. Keep the young ones out! _Mum_ is the word!

MISS IVORY. I am so sorry father has all this trouble with the brick-layers. They shouldn't have gone on a strike--just now--when you are visiting us.

SUD [_to Wouldby_]. That tells that Mrs. Pencil is a guest in Miss Ivory's house.

MISS IVORY. When you were here last year my mother----

SUD [_aside_]. The girl hesitates--they both look sorrowful; we had to cut down the cast, so I killed off her mother.

MRS. PENCIL [_sadly, with foreign accent_]. Ah, my dear--we were such close friends--since my arrival in this country----

SUD [_aside_]. You see, I had to make her a foreigner. A villainess always talks with a foreign accent.

MRS. PENCIL. I haven't had much time to read particulars about the strike. Does your father still refuse to arbitrate?

MISS IVORY [_haughtily_]. What right have brick-layers to make rules for my father? He would show his weakness if he gave in--I have faith that what he does is right.

SUD [_to Wouldby_]. The innocent heroine, so cool and pure and white.

[_The right door opens and Inkwell enters--he starts as he sees
Mrs. Pencil; there is a straight look of recognition between them
which Miss Ivory does not see._]

SUD [_aside_]. That's a dramatic scene. Doesn't it thrill your spine?

MISS IVORY. Mrs. Pencil, may I introduce Mr. Inkwell--[_Inkwell and Mrs. Pencil bow slightly._] Will you have a dish of tea?

SUD. Cup, cup of tea.

MISS IVORY. Dish; _dish_ of tea, or I quit. [_Pause._] Which is it?

SUD. Oh, very well, dish if you like.

[_Sud's manner indicates he gives in simply to let the rehearsal
progress, but that he will settle with Miss Ivory later._]

MISS IVORY. Please tell me that you have ordered the strikers to come to father's terms?

MR. INKWELL [_at right of table_]. He is looking through his safe for more papers so he asked me to wait in here.

SUD. That's an explanation why he came in.

MISS IVORY [_offering cup_]. How many lumps?

SUD [_aside_]. That question of the number of lumps is very important; it gives a natural air to the scene.

MISS IVORY. I am going to the dining-room to get some arrack for your tea.

MR. INKWELL [_nervously_]. Oh, please don't trouble----

MISS IVORY. No trouble at all.

[_Exit right._]

SUD. When you want to get a character out, you've got to get 'em out.

MR. INKWELL [_at right of table, to Mrs. Pencil_]. You here!

MRS. PENCIL [_at left of table_]. Sch! I had to come! I couldn't live without you any longer----

INKWELL. But in this house?

MRS. PENCIL. I was her mother's friend.

INKWELL. You are indiscreet----

MRS. PENCIL. I was desperate for you! You kept putting me off--when I read about this strike I had to come.

SUD. Mrs. Pencil is the dreadful woman! A play can't exist without her----

WOULDBY. You mean she was his----

SUD [_seriously_]. Oh, yes--the more fuss we make about her the better.

MRS. PENCIL. Oh! Clem! You aren't glad to see me! Oh! that I have lived for this!!!

[_She tears around the stage waving her hands in grief--making
faces of agony. Sud rises in astonishment and follows her left._]

SUD [_shrieks in anger_]. Idiot! Can't you talk! Do you think I write lines to be cut? How dare you cut my lines!!!

MRS. PENCIL. I've done just what it says. [_She takes her part from table, reads from it and shows it to him._] "Mrs. Pencil shows extreme despair and passionately----"

SUD. That's not the play! That's the moving picture version!!! Come here.

[_He fumbles with his papers. Takes blue pencil to her part,
changes his mind and uses red pencil--and puts them back of
different ears._]

WOULDBY. Oh! Have you the same play ready for the movies?

SUD. I write in columns--alongside of each other. Dramatic version, moving picture, novelization--for magazines--newspapers and books.

WOULDBY. All _at once_!

SUD. Yes!

WOULDBY. What are all the pins for?

SUD. When I cut out a line one place--I keep it until I find a place somewhere else to patch it in.

[_Hands new lines to Mrs. Pencil, who is back of table center._]

WOULDBY. A great playwright has to be economical with his great ideas!

SUD. Yes, if he wants a yacht.

MRS. PENCIL [_studying her book_]. Now I see, now I see--Mr. Sud. Shall I go on?

SUD. Yes, go on!

[_Sud comes down right to Wouldby._]

MRS. PENCIL. Oh! Clem--I was so frightened when I heard about the strikers. Even if you are their leader now, they might turn and murder you.

[_Mrs. Pencil and Inkwell play center, front of table._]

INKWELL. Nonsense, I control the strikers, they come to me for orders. I'll stop this strike as soon as old Ivory gives me my price.

MRS. PENCIL. What do the brick-layers want?

INKWELL. They want shorter hours, more pay, better light--better air----

[_Inkwell stops and looks at Sud._]

SUD. Go on--go on--don't glare at me!

INKWELL. Pardon me, Mr. Sud--but you have me say the brick-layers want better air. It doesn't sound right. You see brick-layers work out of doors and the air there is--I beg your pardon--it's in no way of criticism, sir----

SUD. Come here. [_He cuts the line, using wrong colored pencil first._] Leave out "light and air." That's a confusion from bad typing in the serial version. Go on, Mr. Inkwell.

INKWELL [_sits right of table and Mrs. Pencil left_]. See here, Kate, you keep out of this business--I'm not going to be spied on by any woman.

MRS. PENCIL [_in whisper_]. Who is spying on you?

INKWELL [_in whisper_]. You!!

MRS. PENCIL. I?

SUD [_smacks his lips_]. Now we are coming to a big scene! There is nothing so effective as the repetition of the same words brought up to a climax. Begin again, Mrs. Pencil. "Who is spying on you?"

MRS. PENCIL. Who is spying on you?

INKWELL. You!

MRS. PENCIL. I?

INKWELL. You!

MRS. PENCIL. I?

INKWELL. You!

MRS. PENCIL. I?

SUD [_tearing his hair--going to them_]. Parrots! Nothing but parrots! Increase the stress--build up the scene--build--build!

INKWELL. How can we build when you don't give us any lines?

SUD. What do you call yourselves actors for if you can't supply acting when the playwright uses dashes!--This is the biggest scene in the play. [_Crosses to lower left._] The very fact that I don't give you a lot of literary lines puts me in the class of the most forceful dramatists of the day! My plays are not wishy-washy lines! They are full of action--red-blood--of flesh and blood! Now you do _your_ part--bing-bang stuff!--shake them in their chairs out there--make shivers run up their spines! Make 'em _feel_ you! Compel their applause! Now go to _it!_ Go to it!!!

[_Sud sets the tempo, repeating their words._]

INKWELL. You!

MRS. PENCIL. I?

INKWELL. You!

MRS. PENCIL. I?

SUD [_shouts_]. Get it over! Get it over!

INKWELL. You!

MRS. PENCIL. I?

SUD [_shouts_]. Get it over! Mr. Wouldby, is it getting over?

WOULDBY [_looks at footlights_]. I don't see anything get over.

SUD. He doesn't see it! You hear? He doesn't see it! Begin again! And please, please, please--get it over--over!!

[_He motions violently with his arms during following scene as if
to help them raise the vitality of the scene. Sud sets tempo
again._]

MRS. PENCIL. Who is spying on you?

INKWELL. You!

MRS. PENCIL. I?

INKWELL. You!!

MRS. PENCIL. I??

INKWELL. You!!!

MRS. PENCIL. I???

INKWELL. You!!!!!

MRS. PENCIL. I??????

INKWELL [_fiercely_]. You!!!!!!!

MRS. PENCIL. I???????

INKWELL. What do you call it then, coming here after me like this?

MRS. PENCIL. What do you mean--like this?

SUD [_shrieks--beside himself_]. Like what?

MRS. PENCIL. Like this?

SUD. Accent it--stress it--increase it! Like _what_?

MRS. PENCIL. Like this!

SUD. Like what?

MRS. PENCIL. Like this!

SUD [_rushes around circuit of stage and ends near Wouldby_]. The best scene in the play--ruined--ruined! I'm noted for my strong, laconic scenes and you make me suffer like this. Perfectly hopeless--I say increase--you decrease; nothing but animal sounds! Nothing but a machine! Oh! What's the use! Go on, go on--now you see, Mr. Wouldby, how actors can make plays fail--

MRS. PENCIL. If you'd write us a decent play once we might--

SUD. No back-talk, madam! I haven't engaged you yet. If you can't play it any better, I'll let you out! Show us what you can do with the rest of the scene! By Heaven--if you can't pound his chest right the box office will lose money on you!

WOULDBY [_his eyes popping_]. Oh! Must she pound him?

SUD. Seeing a woman pounding a man's chest and hearing her scream is worth two dollars to anybody. Go on, Mrs. Pencil.

MRS. PENCIL. You are keeping something from me? You have deceived me! You dog! Tell me! Tell me! Who is she? Where is she? You are keeping something from me!

[_She pounds Inkwell in a rage._]

WOULDBY [_in innocent wonderment_]. Is she trying to yank it out of his chest?

SUD. Pound! Pound! Get it over! [_Sud rushes back between Mrs. Pencil and Inkwell, pushes her down left, drags Inkwell to center, grasps his coat lapel, shakes him violently and shouts her lines: "You are keeping something from me." and pushes Inkwell to right. Sud turns quickly to left and shows her his manuscript._] I wrote "applause" here. You've got to get applause here--so pound!

INKWELL. Would you mind skipping the scene to-day? I'll wear a foot-ball suit to-morrow.

SUD [_in scorn_]. Just like an actor to have a personal prejudice against a part.

INKWELL. I'm not "suited" to it yet--but with the proper costume--

SUD [_in scorn_]. You must not rely on costume! Think of your art!

WOULDBY. But why must she pound him so hard?

SUD [_down left_]. Because he is the villain and the audience likes to see him get it.

MRS. PENCIL [_at right and Inkwell to her left_]. Who is she? You are keeping something from me!

WOULDBY. What has he done to make him the villain?

SUD. I didn't want an explanation here, so I had to interrupt them--sch--here comes Miss Ivory.

[_Miss Ivory enters._]

SUD. Such interruptions reek with dramatic intensity.

MISS IVORY. Here is the arrack for you, Mr. Inkwell--

INKWELL [_accepting it_]. Thank you.

MRS. PENCIL [_nervously_]. I think I'll take my hat to my room--

[_Inkwell gives her her hat. She goes out._]

SUD [_aside_]. Not a bad excuse, the hat! Eh? I had to get her out.

WOULDBY. Very natural--yes--indeed--

MISS IVORY [_seated at right of table. Inkwell stands back of table--center_]. Well, Mr. Inkwell, I hope we may yet succeed in claiming you as a friend--instead of coddling you as an enemy.

INKWELL. If you treat all your enemies so well--what must you do for your friends?

MISS IVORY. We abuse those we love.

SUD [_nudging Wouldby--aside_]. Quite epigrammatic, eh?

INKWELL. Even abuse at such fair hands could only please.

SUD [_aside_]. Did you catch the subtlety of that line?

MISS IVORY [_nervously_]. Wi--wi--will you have some more tea?

INKWELL [_coming left of table--to be opposite her--catching her hand._] I don't want tea--I want you! I love you!

SUD. Wait a moment! That's too abrupt! I've some more lines here somewhere. [_Looks through slips pinned in manuscript._] I cut some out of the beginning of the act. When the first curtain went up and the maid was discovered dusting the room I had the Irish butler make love to her. [_To Wouldby._] [_Handing Inkwell a paragraph._] There, Inkwell, are the love lines I was looking for. Proceed, please.

MISS IVORY. Shall I go back?

INKWELL. To tea.

MISS IVORY. Wi--will--will you have some m--more--t--tea?

INKWELL [_catching her hand and bringing her forward, he gives speech with Irish accent_]. I don't want tea--I want you! I love you! Oh! My darlint, it is a terrible sensation I'ave for you, I'ave--'and me your little 'and in moine, for the loikes of you I never--[_As all look dazed and Inkwell has trouble twisting his tongue._] I beg pardon, Mr. Sud, but this is a butler making love--I am playing the part of a gentleman--

SUD [_has dropped from his stool and retired in tears and rage up right_]. Haven't you any brains of your own? If a musician can transpose music by sight, can't you do the same to dialogue?

INKWELL. But a gentleman doesn't make love like a--

SUD [_goes up stage again--ends at his stool by Wouldby_]. He means the same--now go on--I can't stand these arguments. They will give me apoplexy!

MISS IVORY. Oh! Come on, Robert, say anything.

[_They sit at table again._]

INKWELL. Ahem!

MISS IVORY. Wi--wi--will you have some more t--tea?

INKWELL. I don't want tea! I want you! I love you! Oh! My darling--it is a wonderful feeling--this one--that--which I have for you--indeed--that one which I have for you--put your hand in mine--for a woman like you never before fr--fr--never before have I seen a woman such as you--

[_Again he has brought Miss Ivory down center._]

SUD. My stars! Leave out the h's. That--which--such!--Get it clear for to-morrow's rehearsal.

INKWELL [_puts paragraph in his pocket--hesitatingly, doubtfully, sarcastically_]. I ought to have my name on the program as co-author.

[_Exit left._]

SUD [_jumps forward_]. You ought to have it cut out of the program when you forget to act! [_Raps on floor and cries out._] Mr. Ruler--Mr. Ruler--Pay some attention to your cues, please!--

[_Sud goes off stage center over bridge into pit._]

RULER [_pokes head in from left_]. Beg pardon, sir--I didn't hear my cue!

SUD [_at right of center_]. It's your business to listen for it.

RULER. But they didn't give me the cue!

SUD. Well, what is your cue?

RULER [_not seen_]. What is it?

SUD. I asked you what your cue was?

RULER [_appears_]. What is it?

SUD. Is your hearing perfectly clear?

RULER. Perfectly.

SUD. Then will you kindly tell me what your cue is?

RULER. What is it?

SUD. I shall go mad! I'm dealing with lunatics! Lunatics--Once again I ask you, Mr. Ruler--if you can _hear_--[_Yells._] Kindly read from your book and tell me what your cue is--

RULER [_yells furiously and is now down stage_]. I've been trying to tell you my cue is "WHAT IS IT!"

[_During this scene all the other players come in to see the fight
and grin._]

SUD [_wipes perspiration from brow_]. Heart disease! Heart disease--I shall die of it! That line was cut long ago!!! [_Sud walks back and forth across the pit._] The trouble with you actors is you can't forget. Oh! If you could only forget!

WOULDBY [_meekly_]. I always thought actors had to remember.

SUD. Any fool can remember--

RULER. See here, Mr. Sud--I don't take abuse! In fact, it's my first experience taking it from authors. In all the other companies I've been in the manager kept the playwright out. He wouldn't have him meddling about!

[_Sud stops short during this speech--turns--straightens up--buttons
coat--adjusts tie--faces Ruler._]

SUD. Mr. Ruler, I am backing the show. I haven't engaged you because you can act, but because you were born good-looking, which is scarcely a compliment to your own efforts. [_Other players retire now laughing at Ruler._] If you please we will proceed. I'll find a line here somewhere in my treasure note books.

[_He goes upstairs and stands near border lights aside to hunt
through many books he has in his pockets. Ruler sits left of table
to rest and smoke. Mr. Ivory and Mrs. Pencil play cards out of
character up stage._]

MISS IVORY [_talks out of character and gets light from Ruler for her cigarette_]. Did you see the advance notices in the paper this morning, Jack--saying the Pot-Boiler is sold out three weeks in advance?

RULER. Bill told me there's a steady line outside of the box office.

MISS IVORY. I have visions of rehearsing all night outside the night before the opening.

RULER. I'm used to doing that, my dear. What gets me is the story of the plot the Sunday edition printed. How can the newspaper know the plot before the playwright does?

MISS IVORY. Doesn't Mr. Sud know his own plot?

RULER. Why! No, my part's not written after the second act.

MISS IVORY. My part isn't either, but it doesn't worry me. These authors--[_She points to her forehead._] I don't memorize until dress rehearsal night. What's the _use_. _They don't know themselves_ by that time what lines they told you to keep in or put in or take out. The next morning the critics re-write it _anyway_ for the manager--_I_ don't begin to memorize really--until we're settled for a _run_.

RULER [_worried_]. You'll throw me all out if you give wrong cues--

MISS IVORY [_rises and strolls about_]. Oh! When I can't use my tongue, I let my eyes talk. The public doesn't know the difference. _I_ don't have to act, just be myself. They engage _me_ for my _eyes_.

SUD. Ah! Here's a precious line [_Goes up to Ruler._], take it down, Mr. Ruler. "I was in the neighborhood looking for some real estate." [_All the players suppress a laugh._] Now, Mr. Ruler, you enter in time--[_Sud goes down the stairs again._] You enter in time to interrupt Mr. Inkwell's declaration of love to Miss Ivory. They spring apart--spring! Mr. Inkwell! [_Inkwell springs._] No, the house is not on fire!--I didn't say jump.

INKWELL. Spring is the same as jump!

[_Ruler enters from left. Inkwell goes right, Miss Ivory comes
center._]

SUD. There is no time to discuss synonyms. Go on, Miss Ivory.

MISS IVORY. Oh! Jack--hello!--where'd _you_ come from?

RULER. I was in the neighborhood looking at some real estate--Hello, Inkwell--how's the strike?

[_Miss Ivory and Ruler cross to give Ruler the center._]

INKWELL. If you could persuade Mr. Ivory to--

RULER. No--Inkwell--I'm not converted to your view! I have my own theories!

SUD [_at left speaks across in delight to Wouldby_]. Now we are coming to the kernel of the play's success. The new viewpoint--Use all the stock character and situations you want, but add a new twist.

WOULDBY. What does Ruler think?

SUD. Listen.

RULER. I believe sternly in justice--righteous expiation of sin--only in that way can we progress to higher things.

SUD. Forms, not things.

RULER. Beg pardon, forms--the position I hold to-day is the result of my desires in my previous life--when the trumpet calls me into the next--there I shall reap the harvest of what I have sown here. Why should we help the brick-layers?

[_Miss Ivory interrupts, "Mr. Sud."_]

SUD [_waves her silent_]. Sch!

RULER. If they chose in their past life to be born brick-layers here, have we the right--

[_Miss Ivory interrupts several times. Miss Ivory is on stage
left._]

SUD. Sch!!

RULER. I ask you--have we the right to tear down the building they designed when they were here before? Have we the right to say to them how they shall lay the bricks in the foundation for their next life? Have we the right--

MISS IVORY. Mr. Sudd!!!

SUD [_at last in desperation_]. Well, what is it, Miss Ivory?

MISS IVORY. Excuse me, Mr. Sud--but all this time--while Ruler is talking--I don't know what to do with my _hands_! Couldn't you _cut_ his lines?

RULER. I protest! Mr. Sud, I would resent having a part shortened on me because the leading lady doesn't know what to do with her hands. I really think in this speech of mine you have shown your talent. To cut one word of it would do you a great injustice!

SUD [_smiles at Ruler_]. Thank you! Quite so! Quite so! Miss Ivory, during this scene you might be--you might be--be--fanning yourself--to keep yourself the heroine, cool and white.

WOULDBY. How well you understand human nature. The play is really more important than the players--isn't it?

SUD [_aside. Goes back on stage and sits next to Wouldby_]. Of course, but actors are so superbly conceited.

WOULDBY. I know--poor things!

SUD. Mr. Ivory's entrance.

WOULDBY. The girl's father?

IVORY [_enters_]. I could not find the papers in the safe, Inkwell. Ah--how-do-you-do, Jack.

POSITIONS

_Inkwell_ _Miss Ivory_
_Mr. Ivory_ _Ruler_

[_Ivory has crossed to Ruler and is between Miss Ivory and Ruler._]

RULER. Good morning, Mr. Ivory.

IVORY. Daughter, dear--do you know anything about the papers in the safe?

SUD. Keep up the suspense--Inkwell.

INKWELL. I have no lines here.

SUD. A villain should sustain the suggestion of villainy whether he has lines or not. Look uneasy--tremble--

[_Inkwell looks uneasy and trembles._]

IVORY. But if I see him tremble, Mr. Sud, wouldn't I ask him if he had a chill?

SUD. It's not your business to be looking his way just then. Again, Inkwell.

[_Inkwell trembles, etc._]

SUD [_yells to Ivory_]. Don't catch his eye!

IVORY [_to Inkwell_]. Will you tremble again please?

[_Inkwell does so patiently._]

SUD. Count five for the tremble. Again please, "Daughter dear, do you know anything about the papers in the safe?"

IVORY. Daughter, dear, do you know anything about the papers in the safe?

SUD [_excitedly_]. Everybody look away. Tremble, Inkwell--Now, Inkwell, count five--now look at Inkwell--Again, please.

IVORY. Daughter, dear, do you know anything about the papers in the safe?

SUD [_claps his hands_]. One--two--three--four--five--

IVORY. Those valuable papers!

SUD. That's it, go ahead!

MISS IVORY. I don't even know the combination, father. Could they have been stolen?

WOULDBY. Did Inkwell really take them?

SUD. He's the villain, isn't he? I couldn't let the hero do it.

IVORY. What shall I do? Where shall I look? Where, oh where?

[_Ivory goes up stage back of Miss Ivory to table and knocks off a
revolver._]

MISS IVORY. Oh! Revolvers!

RULER. Let me, sir. [_Picks them up._]

MISS IVORY [_in terror_]. Where did they come from?

WOULDBY [_hands to ears_]. Are they going to use them?

SUD. Of course. I had to show the audience the revolvers are there, so Ivory had to knock them down.

IVORY [_is up stage. Places one revolver on table_]. I have to have these near by when a strike is on, one never knows what to expect.

RULER [_places other revolver on table_]. Even I have one in my pocket.

INKWELL [_slaps his side pocket_]. And I in mine--

MISS IVORY. Oh! dear, how dreadful! Suppose one of them should go off! Oh! Do be careful!

INKWELL [_insinuatingly_]. Have you changed your mind, Mr. Ivory? Have you decided to accept my proposition?

MISS IVORY. What is your proposition, Mr. Inkwell?

INKWELL [_goes left to Ruler_]. I believe your father wishes to discuss it with you. Mr. Ruler, will you have a smoke with me in the orangerie?

SUD [_corrects him with great disgust_]. Orangerie!!!

[_Inkwell and Ruler exeunt right._]

MISS IVORY [_crosses right--anxiously_]. What does he want to know--

IVORY [_almost breaking down. Sinks into chair left of table_]. Oh! My daughter--how can I tell you--how can I--I am ruined--ruined!

[_Sud rises, and beats time in rhythm like a conductor to their
"Ohs."_]

MISS IVORY [_a little up and left of table_]. _You_--_ruined_--_Oh!_--

IVORY. Oh!

MISS IVORY. Oh!

SUD [_turning to Wouldby and whispering audibly_]. When you are hard up for conversation use Oh's--

[_Sits quickly._]

IVORY. We have lived beyond our means--Oh!--my child--I have only brought you misery--

MISS IVORY [_goes to father, stands back of his chair and caresses him_]. Poor father--don't take it that way--I _love_ you--we must live differently--anything you say--

WOULDBY [_to Sud_]. How sweet and sacrificial!

SUD [_enthusiastically_]. Ah! She's pure Ivory--a chip off the old block!

IVORY. That is not all. Inkwell represents the brick-layers; he will continue the strike unless I can buy him off.

[_Sud goes up right, to be behind them. Faces them. Follows every
line in his manuscript._]

MISS IVORY. And you can't raise the money?

IVORY. He doesn't want money. He wants to marry you! He will stop at nothing to get me into prison--any place to crush me--he has power. I have cause to fear him.

[_Ivory at right._]

MISS IVORY [_at left. In distress_]. Oh! Oh!--How terrible--how terrible--what am I to say! Oh--father--and I can save you? And I hesitate? Yes--yes--I will--father!

[_Rushes to Ivory's arms._]

IVORY. Oh! My daughter! My child! My child!

MISS IVORY. Yes, father, I will, cost me what it may. I will.

[_She reads last line flatly._]

SUD. Miss Ivory! Show some feeling! Think how you feel when you read those lines!

MISS IVORY. I know how I feel [_impudently. Then with some feeling._] Yes, father, I will. Cost me what it may, I will, Mr. Inkwell!

SUD. Abandonment, Miss Ivory--abandonment--

MISS IVORY [_nods intelligently_]. Mr. Inkwell! Mr. Ink--we--all--!

IVORY [_rushing after Miss Ivory_]. Wait--think--consider--

[_Inkwell and Ruler enter right._]

INKWELL [_takes her hand_]. Ah, My dear!

IVORY [_with bowed head_]. Oh!

RULER [_in alarm, to Miss Ivory_]. My dear--what is it?

SUD. Now, there's your line of "what is it?" I tucked it in there.

MISS IVORY [_goes left to Mr. Ruler. Ivory is up center. Inkwell is right_]. I can't keep my promise to you--Mr. Ruler--please don't ask for an explanation.

RULER [_excited, rushing up to Mr. Ivory_]. What is it, Mr. Ivory?

IVORY [_in despair, taking Ruler's arm for support_]. Oh--I--am broken-hearted--she is going to marry Inkwell!

RULER. No!--no!--not while I live!

IVORY. It must be! Come with me--I'll tell you--alone!

RULER. Not while I live!

SUD [_excitedly_]. Mr. Ruler! Mr. Ruler! You go out too easily! Wait! I remember a precious line I cut out of one of my last year's plays. It is perfectly fresh! No novelty worn off and incontestably original! "I am coming back."

RULER [_deferentially Ruler writes the line_]. I am coming back--yes, sir. I am coming back.

SUD. There is no, "yes, sir," in it.

RULER. No, sir.

SUD. Do you wish to retire for a few minutes and commit to memory? [_Ruler repeats the line._] Now that we are reaching the climax I want as few interruptions and references to the book as possible--

RULER. I think I have it. [_All resume former positions. Sud climbs on his stool._] Cue please, Mr. Ivory.

IVORY [_drags Ruler across to go out right_]. Come with me--I'll tell you!--alone!

RULER. Not while I live! I am coming back! I am coming back!!!--I am coming back!

[_Exeunt Ivory and Ruler right. Sud tiptoes up center to make sure
Mrs. Pencil is ready for her cue._]

INKWELL [_to Miss Ivory_]. Now that they have left us alone--my darling--let me tell you how I have waited for this moment--

MISS IVORY [_in despair and tears she tries to rush by to right, but he catches her_]. No, let me pass--now, now. I have said yes, let it go at that--I cannot talk now--not now--

[_Exit right weeping._]

MRS. PENCIL [_in fury of jealousy opens door and enters in rage_]. Coward! Villain!--I have been listening behind that door--all your false vows to me!

INKWELL [_he tries to choke her_]. Don't yell so!

MRS. PENCIL [_in ordinary tone_]. I will yell!

SUD [_delighted_]. Of course, she will! Shriek good, Mrs. Pencil.

MRS. PENCIL [_shrieks_]. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

INKWELL [_they struggle. Grabs Mrs. Pencil to put his hand over her mouth_]. Stop--! Stop!

SUD. Tussle! Tussle! The audience loves it!

[_They fight._]

WOULDBY. But what did Inkwell do?

SUD [_talks fast over shoulder to Wouldby like a man in a fast auto talks to another passing_]. Can't you tell. Haven't decided yet! Explanation in last act. No time now. Reaching climax of play. Keep it up! Keep it up!

MRS. PENCIL [_yelling_]. Oh! The treachery--perjury--You are not fit to live! I'll have my revenge--Revenge! Bing! Bang! [_She grabs revolver from table and shoots Inkwell. He falls back and obligingly lies upon the table._] I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

MISS IVORY [_having heard the shot and shrieks, runs in from the wing_]. Oh--who's hurt?

MRS. PENCIL [_turning and aiming revolver at Miss Ivory_]. Don't come near him or I'll shoot you!

RULER [_enters from right_]. What's the matter?

MISS IVORY [_screams at Ruler_]. _Don't_ move or she'll shoot _you_.

RULER [_taking a revolver out of his pocket aims it at Mrs. Pencil_]. Harm her and I'll shoot _you_!

INKWELL [_who has come to in the meantime, manages to get his own revolver out of his pocket, he half raises himself from his lying position on the table and aims at Ruler, crying hoarsely_]. You thought you could be my rival--the girl said she would be mine! If you shoot the woman she'll kill the girl. I'm going to save the girl. Shoot and I'll kill _YOU_!

MR. IVORY [_he enters from right and, hearing these desperate words--takes revolver from his pocket and aims at Inkwell! Screams in fear and rage_]. Stop! Save him or I'll shoot to kill! I'll shoot to kill! I'll shoot to kill!

WOULDBY [_thrilled and excited, cries out_]. Who shoots?

SUD [_overcome with sudden realization, jumps up, grabs his forehead_]. My God! It's a deadlock!!! I don't know who shoots!

OTHERS. Oh! Shoot the _AUTHOR_!!

[_Curtain._]

ENTER THE HERO

A COMEDY

BY THERESA HELBURN

Copyright, 1916, by Theresa Helburn.
Copyright, 1918, by Egmont Arens.

All rights reserved.

ENTER THE HERO was first produced in San Francisco by the St. Francis
Little Theater Players, on January 16th, 1918, with the following
cast:

RUTH CAREY _Ruth Hammond_.
ANNE CAREY _Helene Sullivan_.
HAROLD LAWSON _Arthur Maitland_.
MRS. CAREY _Julia Deane_.

Reprinted from No. 4, of the "Flying Stag Plays," published by Egmont
Arens, by special permission of Miss Helburn. The professional and
amateur stage rights on this play are strictly reserved by the author.
Applications for permission to produce the play should be made to
Egmont Arens, 17 West 8th St., New York.

ENTER THE HERO

A COMEDY BY THERESA HELBURN

[_The scene presents an upstairs sitting room in a comfortable
house in a small city. The wall on the spectator's left is broken
by a fireplace, and beyond that a door leading into the hall. At
the back of the stage is a deep bay window from which one may have
a view up and down the street. A door in the right wall leads to
Anne Carey's bedroom. The sitting room, being Anne's particular
property, is femininely furnished in chintz. A table desk with
several drawers occupies an important place in the room, which is
conspicuously rich in flowers._

_The curtain rises on an empty stage. Ruth Carey, a pretty girl of
eighteen years, enters hurriedly, carrying a large box; she wears
a hat and coat._]

RUTH. Oh, Anne, here's _another_ box of flowers! Anne, where are you?

VOICE FROM ANNE'S BEDROOM. In here. I thought you had gone out.

RUTH [_opening door left_]. I was just going when the expressman left these--and I wanted to see them. [_Looking into the bedroom._] Oh, how pretty your dress is. Turn round. Just adorable! May I open these?

THE VOICE. Yes, but hurry. It's late.

RUTH [_throwing her sister a kiss_]. You dear! It's almost like having a fiance of my own. Three boxes in two days! He's adorably extravagant. Oh, Anne, exquisite white roses! Come, look!

[_Anne Carey appears in the bedroom door. She is a girl of
twenty-two. Her manner in this scene shows nervousness and
suppressed excitement._]

ANNE. Yes, lovely. Get a bowl, Ruth. Quickly.

RUTH. I will. Here's a card. [_She hands Anne an envelope, goes to the door, then stops._] What does he say, Anne? May I see?

[_Anne, who has read the card quickly with a curious little smile,
hands it back to her without turning._]

RUTH [_reading_]:

"The red rose whispers of passion
And the white rose breathes of love;
Oh, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.

"But I send you a cream-white rosebud
With a flush on its petal tips,
For the love that is purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.

Oh, how beautiful! Did he make that up, do you suppose? I didn't know he was a real poet.

ANNE [_who has been pinning some of the roses on her dress_]. Any one in love is a poet.

RUTH. It's perfectly beautiful! [_She takes a pencil and little notebook out of her pocket._] May I copy it in my "Harold Notebook"?

ANNE. Your _what_?

RUTH. I call it my "Harold Notebook." I've put down bits of his letters that you read me, the lovely bits that are too beautiful to forget. Do you mind?

ANNE. You silly child!

RUTH. Here, you may see it.... That's from the second letter he wrote you from Rio Janeiro. I just couldn't get over that letter. You know I made you read it to me three times. It was so--so delicate. I remembered this passage--see. "A young girl seems to me as exquisite and frail as a flower, and I feel myself a vandal in desiring to pluck and possess one. Yet, Anne, your face is always before me, and I know now what I was too stupid to realize before, that it was you and you only, who made life bearable for me last winter when I was a stranger and alone." Oh, Anne--[_Sighing rapturously._] that's the sort of love letters I've dreamed of getting. I don't suppose I ever shall.

ANNE. [_still looking over the notebook with her odd smile_]. Have you shown this to any one?

RUTH. Only to Caroline--in confidence. [_Pauses to see how Anne will take it._] But really, Anne, every one knows about Harold. You've told Madge and Eleanor, and I'm sure they've told the others. They don't say anything to us, but they do to Caroline and she tells me. [_Watching Anne's face._] You're not angry, are you, Anne?

ANNE. Yes, rather. [_Then eagerly._] What do they say?

RUTH. Oh, all sorts of things. Some of them horrid, of course! You can't blame them for being jealous. Here you are having just the sort of experience that any one of them would give their eye teeth to have. _I'd_ be jealous if you weren't my sister. As it is, I seem to get some of the glory myself.

ANNE [_pleads, but disparaging_]. But every girl has this experience sooner or later.

RUTH. Oh, not in this way. Everything that Harold does is beautiful, ideal. Jane Fenwick showed me some of Bob's letters. They were so dull, so prosaic! All about his salary and the corn crop. I was disgusted with them. So was she, I think, when she saw Harold's letters.

ANNE. Oh, you showed them to Jane, too?

RUTH [_a bit frightened_]. No, really I didn't. Caroline did. I lent her my notebook once overnight, and she gave Jane a peek--in the _strictest_ confidence. Jane really needed it. She was getting so cocky about Bob. Girls are funny things, aren't they?

ANNE [_who has been keenly interested in all of Ruth's gossip_]. What do you mean?

RUTH. It isn't so much the man, as the idea of a man--some one to dream about, and to talk about. When I think of getting engaged--I suppose I shall get engaged some day--I never think of being really, really kissed by a man--

ANNE. What do you think of?

RUTH. I always think of telling Caroline about it, showing my ring to her and to Madge. Oh, Madge is green with envy. I believe she thought Harold sort of liked her. [_Anne turns away._] She was so excited when she saw him in New York. She said she would have got off the bus and chased him, but he went into a house.... Anne, why didn't you tell us--me, at least--that Harold was back from South America, before we heard it from Madge?

ANNE. Just because.... I wanted to avoid all this.... It was hard enough to have him within a few hours' distance and know he could not get to me. But it was easier when no one else knew. Don't you understand?

RUTH. Yes, dear, of course I do--but still--

ANNE [_impatiently_]. Now, Ruth, it's quarter past four. You promised--

RUTH. I'm going ... right straight off ... unless--Oh, Anne, mayn't I stay and have just one peek. I won't let him see me, and then I'll run straight away?

ANNE. Oh, for heaven's sake, don't be naughty and silly! Clear out now, quickly, or--[_Changing her tone suddenly._] Ruth, dear, put yourself in my place. Think how you would feel if you were going to see the man you loved for the first time. That's what it really is. Think of it! Two years ago when he went away we were just the merest friends--and now--

RUTH. And now you're engaged to be married! Oh, isn't it the most romantic thing! Of course you want to be alone. Forgive me. Oh, Anne, how excited you must be!

ANNE [_with rather histrionic intensity_]. No, I'm strangely calm. And yet, Ruth, I'm afraid, terribly afraid.

RUTH. Why, what of?

ANNE [_acting_]. I don't know ... of everything ... of the unknown. All this has been so wonderful, if anything should happen I don't think I could bear it. I think I should die.

RUTH. Nonsense, dear, what can happen? You're just on edge. Well, I'll be off. I'll join Mother at Aunt Nellie's. Give my love to Harold. You know I've never called him anything but Mr. Lawson to his face. Isn't that funny? Good-by, dear. [_Throwing Anne a kiss._] You look so sweet.

ANNE [_her hands on Ruth's shoulders for an impressive moment_]. Good-by, Ruth. Good-by.

[_They kiss. Ruth goes. Left alone, a complete change comes over
Anne. She drops the romantic attitude. She is nervously
determined. She quickly arranges the flowers, takes out the box,
etc., straightens the room, and surveys herself rapidly in the
mirror. There is a sound of wheels outside. Anne goes to the bay
window and looks out. Then she stands erect in the grip of an
emotion that is more like terror than anticipation. Hearing the
sound of footsteps on the stair she is panic-stricken and about to
bolt, but at the sound of voices she pulls herself together and
stands motionless._]

MAN'S VOICE [_outside_]. In here? All right!

[_Harold Lawson enters, a well set up, bronzed, rather commonplace
young man of about twenty-eight. He sees no one on his entry, but
as he advances into the room, Anne comes down from the bay
window._]

HAROLD. Hello, Miss Carey, how are you? Splendid to see you again, after all this time. [_Anne looks at him without speaking, which slightly embarrasses him._] You're looking fine. How's your mother--and little Ruth?

ANNE [_slowly_]. Welcome home.

HAROLD. Oh, thanks. It's rather nice to be back in God's country. But it's not for long this time.

ANNE. Are you going away again?

HAROLD. Yes. I've another appointment. This one in India, some big salt mines. Not bad, eh? I made pretty good in Brazil, they tell me.

ANNE [_nervously_]. Sit down.

HAROLD. Thanks. Hot for September, isn't it? Though I ought to be used to heat by this time. Sometimes the thermometer would run a hundred and eight for a week on end. Not much fun, that.

ANNE. No, indeed.

HAROLD [_settling back comfortably to talk about himself_]. You know I loathed it down there at first. What with all the foreigners and the rotten weather and the bugs--thought I'd never get into the swing. Wanted to chuck engineering for any old job that was cool, but after a while--

ANNE. How long have you been home?

HAROLD. About three weeks. I'd really been meaning to come out here and have a look round my old haunts, but there was business in New York, and I had to go South and see my family--you know how time flies. Then your note came. It was mighty jolly of you to ask me out here. By the way, how did you know I was back?

ANNE [_after a pause_]. Madge Kennedy caught sight of you in New York.

HAROLD. Did she really? How is little Madge? And that odd brother of hers. Is he just as much of a fool as ever? I remember once he said to me--

ANNE. Oh, I didn't ask you here to talk about Madge Kennedy's family.

HAROLD [_taken aback_]. No ... no, of course, not. I--I've been wondering just why you did ask me. You said you wanted to talk to me about something.

ANNE [_gently_]. Weren't you glad to come?

HAROLD. Why, of course I was. Of course. And then your note fired my curiosity--your asking me to come straight to you before seeing any one else.

ANNE. Aren't you glad to be here with me?

HAROLD. Why surely, of course, but--[_Pause._]

ANNE. You see, people seemed to expect you would come to see me first of all. I rather expected it myself. Don't you understand?

HAROLD [_very uncomfortably_]. No.... I'm afraid I don't....

ANNE. From the way you acted before you went away I thought you, yourself, would want to see me first of all.

HAROLD. Before I went away? What do you mean?

ANNE. You know well enough what I mean. The parties those last weeks--the theater we went to--the beautiful flowers you sent Mother--the letter--

HAROLD. But--but--why, I was going away. You and your people had been awfully nice to me, a perfect stranger in town. I was simply trying to do the decent thing. Good Lord! You don't mean to say you thought--

ANNE [_watching him very closely_]. Yes, it's true, I thought--and every one else thought--I've been waiting these two years for you to come back.

[_She drops her face into her hands. Her shoulders shake._]

HAROLD [_jumping up_]. Great Heavens! I never imagined--Why, Miss Carey, I--oh, I'm terribly sorry! [_She continues to sob._] Please don't do that--please! I'd better go away--I'll clear out--I'll go straight off to India--I'll never bother you again.

[_He seized his hat, and is making, in a bewildered way, for the
door, when she intercepts him._]

ANNE. No. You mustn't go away!

HAROLD. But what can I do?

ANNE [_striking a tragic attitude_]. You mean to say you don't care at all--that you have never cared?

HAROLD. Really, Miss Carey, I--

ANNE. For heaven's sake, don't call me Miss Carey. Call me Anne.

HAROLD. Miss Carey.... Anne.... I.... Oh, you'd better let me go--let me get away before any one knows I'm here--before they think--

ANNE. It's too late. They think already.

HAROLD. Think what? What do you mean?

ANNE. Oh, this is terrible! Sit down, Harold, and listen to me. [_She pushes him into a chair and begins to talk very rapidly, watching intently the effect of her words upon him._] You see, when you went away, people began to say things about us--you and me--about your caring. I let them go on. In fact I believed them. I suppose it was because I wanted so much to believe them. Oh, what a fool I've been! What a fool!

[_She covers her face with her hands. He gets up intending vaguely
to comfort her, but she thinks he is making another move to go,
and jumps to her feet._]

ANNE. And now you want to clear out like a thief in the night, and leave me to be laughed at! No, no, you can't do that! You must help me. You've hurt me to the very soul. You mustn't humiliate me before the world.

HAROLD. I'll do anything I can, Miss Carey.

ANNE. Anne!

HAROLD. Anne, I mean. But how?

ANNE [_after a moment's thought, as if the idea had just come to her_]. You must stay here. You must pretend for a few days--for a week at most, that we're engaged.

HAROLD. I can't do that, you know. Really, I can't.

ANNE [_going to him_]. Why not? Only a little while. Then you'll go away to India. We'll find it's been a mistake. I'll break it off,--it will only be a pretense, of course, but at least no one will know what a fool I've been.

HAROLD [_after a moment's hesitation_]. Miss Carey--Anne, I mean, I'll do anything I can, but not that! A man can't do that. You see, there's a girl, an English girl, down in Brazil, I--

ANNE. Oh, a girl! Another! Well, after all, what does that matter? Brazil is a long way off. She need never know.

HAROLD. She might hear. You can't keep things like this hid. No. I wouldn't risk that. You'd better let me clear out before your family gets home. No one need ever know I've been here.

[_Again he makes a move toward the door. Anne stands motionless._]

ANNE. You can't go. You can't. It's more serious than you imagine.

HAROLD. Serious? What do you mean?