Chapter VII: Act I

SCENE—_Club rooms handsomely furnished. Entrance R. in 1; door
to dressing room R. in 3; screen to guard last door; chair of
President and small desk, up C; table of Secretary left hand of
President near flat; sofa R. of President’s chair, another L.
of Secretary’s table; door to committee room L. in 2; screen to
guard this door also. Chairs in rows at right angles to desk
and President’s position, not too many nor set too formally; as
members rise or seat themselves they may move chairs a little
so as to give air of informality. Pictures, flowers, etc.,
to taste. Screens far enough from wall that persons behind
them may be seen by audience. (If played in private house any
other arrangement suitable to the room may be made by slight
changes.) A few young ladies besides those in cast may appear
on rising of curtain to give idea of a considerable club. They
may chatter and giggle to interrupt proceedings._

MISS H. (_As pres., rapping on desk as curtain rises._) Order, ladies! The club will come to order. (_All continue talking except sec’y who takes place._)

DOLLIE. (_To member._) Oh, say, have you read the “Woman who Dared”? She’s the ideal new woman. It’s just too lovely!

MEMBER. What loads of money she had. Just think, two hundred suits! And her pants were a dream.

DAISY. (_To member._) I took _so_ much pains with it, and then to have them say such things.

DOLLIE. (_Hearing._) Oh, what did they say?

PRES. (_Raps vigorously._) Order please, ladies! It is already past the hour for meeting.

BIRDIE. (_Sentimentally._) Oh, I do take such an interest in this club. If this club fails, the new woman—(_Pres. sharply._) “Order.” (_BIRDIE drops in seat._) Oh!

PRES. (_Raps very hard._) The club will come to order! Secretary, read—

MEMBER. (_Who has not yet heard the calls to order._) Ashes of roses trimmed with—

PRES. The object of this club is to cultivate self-reliant _new_ women. Let us live up to our opportunities. Secretary, call the roll.

SEC. (_Calls, nobody answers._) Miss Hykight, Miss Lightfoot, Miss Robbins, Miss Giglette, Miss Smythe, Miss Tompkins, Miss White, Miss Spooner, Miss Suitor, (_hesitates_) Miss Doughflyer, Miss—

MISS DOUGHFLYER. (_Jumps up hastily._) Miss President, I wish to correct the secretary. (_With dignity._) My name is _not_ Doughflyer though it is spelled that way. We are English, you know, of Norman extraction, and pronounce our name Duffy. It comes from the French Du Fay.

SEC. I beg your pardon, pleased to make the correction.

PRES. (_To sec._) By the way, Miss Lightfoot, you appear to be a stranger to Miss Duffy. Allow me to introduce you. Miss Duffy, Miss Lightfoot; Miss Lightfoot, Miss Duffy. (_They bow._)

SEC. (_Continues._) Miss Hapgood, Miss Littlejohn, Miss Brownmuffin—(_hesitates_) Willie Jones.

CHORUS. Good gracious, is she a boy?

BIRDIE. (_Rises, severely._) There seems to be some mistake about that name. One of the rules of this club is that no man shall ever enter its sacred precincts or even be mentioned except pro forma. I think it is an insult to the club even to mention a man’s name here in that familiar way—Willie Jones—much less to put his name on the roll.

PRES. I agree to that, Miss Robbins. It is in atrociously bad taste if intended for a joke.

SEC. I found the name on a slip of members proposed.

PRES. (_With dignity._) Ladies, who proposed Willie Jones? (_No answer. DOLLIE, who has been busily talking to a member suddenly realizes that some business is before the club and asks_:)

DOLLIE. What is the question?

PRES. (_Sternly._) The question is, who dared desecrate our roll with the name of a man. Willie Jones, who is he?

DOLLIE. (_Jumps up._) Goodness me, he’s not a he. He’s a girl! (_All laugh._) Such a ridiculous mistake! It would so mortify poor Willie if she were here. She’s such a dear, timid little thing; why, she hardly dares breathe.

DAISY. What a funny name for a girl, anyway.

DOLLIE. Poor thing, she can’t help it. Parents old fashioned you know, and like men well enough to want their names.

PRES. The name is very good since it is borne by a woman. The new woman will not only do as she pleases, but call herself what she pleases. She will not await the pleasure of some man to bestow his precious name on her. _I_ never saw the man whose name _I_ wanted.

BIRDIE. (_Rises._) Nor have _I_, the presumptuous creatures. When they fit themselves to be the companions of the nobler sex it will be time enough for them to ask our friendship only, and for us to refuse if we choose.

PRES. And we also assume the right to ask instead of waiting patiently like slaves in a market. The new woman will be no slave.

CHORUS. Never!

PRES. I believe the next business is to consider the applications for new members to the “New Woman’s Anti-homo Club.” (_To sec._) What applications are there to come up to-day? (_Members begin an epidemic of whispering._) Order please, ladies! (_Brief lull which ends in a general buzz._)

SEC. (_Reads._) The first name is Miss Ernestine Arlington.

PRES. Who proposed Miss Arlington?

SEC. Miss Brownmuffin, who is not present.

PRES. Has anyone anything to say before the ballot is taken?

DOLLIE. I don’t know that I ought to say anything. (_General curiosity._)

DAISY. Oh yes, do.

DOLLIE. But people might blame me for trying to injure the girl.

PRES. Let people talk, the new woman does not care a fig for what people say.

DOLLIE. Miss Arlington is a very sweet girl, but—

BIRDIE. (_Rises._) Miss President!

PRES. Miss Birdie Robbins.

BIRDIE. I rise to correct the language of Miss Giglette. I object to the word sweet. It sounds silly. The new woman will, I hope, not be a piece of confectionery, inciting men to cannibalism.

DOLLIE. (_With slight emphasis._) Well, I don’t care! Ernestine _is_ sweet but that’s not the worst, she’s engaged to be married. (_Chorus of_ “Oh’s.”)

DAISY. Who is he? Oh, I didn’t mean that? Has he money? Is he a foreigner?

PRES. A foreigner with money! Bah! A foreigner is only better than the native tyrant in this, that he makes no pretension to be suffering from that antiquated, imaginary malady _love_. He boldly proclaims that he gives his name and reserves his freedom. He is at least honest. Engaged! Silly, weak creature, that’s enough to know of her.

BIRDIE. I should say!

PRES. The constitution of this club, as we all know, forbids the marriage of its members. We believe that we have a nobler work to accomplish in the world. And I repeat, for the benefit of new members, that no member of this club may receive any kind of attention from any man nor pay attentions to any man, except by consent and advice of this club.

BIRDIE. (_Rises._) I think we ought to censure Miss Brownmuffin for recommending such a creature who is weak enough to throw herself at a man in that way, for I warrant she led him on.

PRES. Are there any other names to be presented to-day?

SEC. Yes, Mrs. Judge Stone!

MEMBER. (_Jumping up._) But no _Missus_ is eligible. We will have no woman who is weak enough to marry a man.

SEC. But Mrs. Judge Stone’s case is quite exceptional. She is a brave woman. Filed a bill of divorce, heard the case herself, and granted a decree with a ripping alimony.

CHORUS. Good, good! (_Applause._)

BIRDIE. What was the cause?

SEC. Her husband, the tyrant, objected to her smoking during their reception to the Count Spaghetti, who married Miss Bullion-Brown.

CHORUS. Oh! oh! the brute! served him right.

PRES. I think we should admit this brilliant woman, the champion of her sex, without the formality of a ballot.

BIRDIE. Yes, by all means, and extend her a vote of thanks, besides, for her achievements in the cause of progress.

CHORUS. Yes, yes!

PRES. Mrs. Judge Stone is admitted by unanimous consent, and the thanks is also a vote. (_To sec._) What is next?

SEC. Some questions were to be presented for future discussion.

PRES. Read them!

SEC. WHEREAS: The New Woman’s Club and Anti-homo Association points with pride to its record in the matter of political and social reform, it further views with alarm the gradual encroachments of the male sex upon the dress of women. Witness the almost universal adoption of bloomers by men of fashion, which is rapidly being imitated by male maids of all work, and even scullions and dish-washers.

BIRDIE. Miss President, such a condition of affairs is ominous. It threatens the very foundations of society. In my opinion men are secretly encouraged in such practices by that class of women whom we designate as marrying women. Our battle is not yet completely won. A large number of our own sex oppose us, and cling to the old system which made woman a slave. I therefore move that a committee be named to call upon Her Excellency, Governor Angelina Perkins, and Chief Justice Daisy Flyer inviting them to a joint discussion of this important question, in the rooms of this club.

DOLLIE. I second that motion.

PRES. I see no harm in it and will name as the committee ex-Judge Birdie Robbins, ex-Mayor Dollie Giglette, of whom, by the way, we are all proud as the youngest mayor ever elected in this city, and Miss Brownmuffin. I think the question will be ably debated, since it is well known that Governor Angelina Perkins is inclined to a strict interpretation of the statutes, while Chief Justice Daisy Flyer has liberal tendencies and her rulings give men all the privileges which they may fairly ask so long as society is constituted as at present.

DOLLIE. For my part I think the question not important. Since women have almost universally adopted pantaloons and derby hats I am willing that the men wear bloomers and put feathers in their hats if they choose. Men are naturally vain and the slaves of fashion.

BIRDIE. We set a bad example in our dress here!

PRES. Our dress here is only a survival, regalia in fact, like that of the women’s Ancient Order of Matrimony.

DOLLIE. It is very absurd and should have been abolished long ago.

SEC. I have the following question to propose: (_Reads._) Shall men be compelled to remove their hats in theatres?

DAISY. The law says plainly, they shall!

BIRDIE. The law, indeed! What’s the use to talk about the law when the people have been fools enough to elect a gang mayor and a man at that. He winks at most outrageous infractions of the law! What are we coming to?

DOLLIE. The remedy lies in the ballot.

SEC. (_Reads._) Shall a woman give her seat in a street car to a tired man?

PRES. That question is absurd. If the man is young and stylishly dressed he gets the seat and if he isn’t he stands, that’s all. Is there any further business?

SEC. None!

PRES. The club stands adjourned till the next regular meeting. (_All rise and with a buzz disperse going R. except pres. and sec._)

ROSA. Hykight, I am worried about the finances of the club.

PINK T. Lightfoot, that is Doughflyer’s business!

ROSA. Doughflyer is _so_ reckless!

PINK T. How much do we owe?

ROSA. Nearly five thousand dollars.

PINK T. That is nothing for a wealthy club like ours. Why, in the old times when men carried the pocket-book and managed clubs they were always head over heels in debt.

ROSA. (_Surprised._) Why, Miss Pink T. Hykight! Do you adduce the men’s clubs as examples for our guidance?

PINK T. Certainly not. Their clubs are cheap nowadays because we allow them so little pocket money. And they are so weak in the matter of drinks.

ROSA. But we can’t pay bills even in 1950 without money.

PRES. I tire of hearing about money. Money has never been the chief object in any condition of society.

ROSA. We’ll not agree there. Our grandfathers and fathers made a god of money, a swinish, brutal fetich. But we must do something; our wine bill is enormous.

PINK T. That comes of giving a banquet at the Paragon Hotel and inviting a thirsty horde of men.

ROSA. But the bill must be paid, and the cigar man is clamoring for his money.

PINK T. Pay him!

ROSA. Pay him! Why, the bill is over three hundred dollars. We do smoke so much and the members are hanging the club up.

PINK T. That is contrary to rules. Doughflyer is responsible for that. She is too easy. By the way, have you a cigar about you?

ROSA. No, I came down in the car with Judge Flyer and she took the last one I had. I’ll ring for Mary to bring in cigars.

_ENTER MARY, R._

PINK T. Oh, here she is now.

MARY. Miss Hykight, there is a man at the door who wishes to see the president.

PINK T. A man! No man can come in here except in extreme necessity or in a menial capacity. Tell him to go.

MARY. I have told him that. He insists, says he must see the president and will not be put off longer. (_Going L._)

PINK T. Will not be put off! Such insolence! Call a policeman. Goodness! I hear him coming in here! He’s bound to speak to me. There’s no escape. I’m subject to impeachment if this gets out.

ROSA. I shan’t take any chances. (_Runs out L._, P. T. _following._)

_ENTER JACK BLAKE, R._

BLAKE. (_Bowing politely._) Can I see the president of the club?

PINK T. (_At L., with dignity._) I am the president. You are intruding, sir.

BLAKE. (_Bowing very low._) I beg your pardon but I must see somebody.

PINK T. (_Aside._) _So_ polite! Your business, sir?

BLAKE. I am collector for the Universal Grab-all Gas Co. The bill, you know.

PINK T. I do not know. See Miss Daisy Doughflyer, our financial secretary.

BLAKE. Duffy! The name given me was _Doughflyer_!

PINK T. (_Laughs._) How absurd! You got the name wrong. She spells it Doughflyer and pronounces it Duffy. She’s English, you know.

BLAKE. Beg pardon! I didn’t know that. I’ve looked all over town for that woman.

PINK T. She’s a lawyer. Doughflyer and Muldoon, Cinderella building, corner of Matilda street and Marie Louise avenue.

BLAKE. Miss Hykight, I thank you for your courtesy. Sorry I intruded. (_Bows politely._)

PINK T. Don’t mention it.

_ENTER MARY, L._

MARY. (_Sees B., coughs._) Miss President, the ice hasn’t come.

PINK T. I’ll see you later Mary! (_Slips coin in her hand. Exit MARY, L._)

BLAKE. By the way, where is the meter? Our man had trouble finding it.

PINK T. Step into the office, through that door. The stewardess will show you. (_Exit BLAKE, bowing very politely, L._)

PINK T. What a charming man! The gas officials are so polite. I hear they train all their men in a regular school of etiquette, taught by a real French professor. But this little interview must be strictly on the Q. T. (_Exit, R._)

_ENTER ROSA and BLAKE, talking earnestly._

ROSA. (_Glancing round._) Thank heaven, she is gone and no one is likely to come so soon after the business meeting.

BLAKE. You have a charming place here. But why is it so very hard to see your officials, Miss Lightfoot?

ROSA. Why, don’t you know? Our rules are very strict. No man without a license is ever allowed to enter here except on certain days of public receptions. If you were seen here with me I should be subject to impeachment and expulsion and you would be hopelessly compromised.

BLAKE. (_Starting._) No!

ROSA. A fact! Can I rely on your discretion?

BLAKE. (_Bowing his best._) You can. I would gladly be the slave of such a charming creature.

ROSA. (_Pretending offense._) No nonsense, please! The new woman dislikes the word slave. On your honor, do you promise silence?

BLAKE. (_Bowing._) I do!

ROSA. For your own sake, too!

BLAKE. I must preserve my reputation. I shall be silent as the grave.

ROSA. (_Aside._) Such lovely manners! Now go, please.

_ENTER MARY L., she starts and coughs._

ROSA. (_To BLAKE._) Oh, please go at once! (_Exit BLAKE, hastily, R._) Mary, you know our rules! This is an accident. He came to see about the gas. (_She gives Mary a coin._) Can I rely on you?

MARY. Forever, Miss Lightfoot.

ROSA. Thank you! (_Exit R._)

MARY. Well, if there aint trouble brewin’ here, my name isn’t Mary Smilax. First the president making eyes at him, and bribin’ me, and then the secretary. And he’s just lovely, too. (_Hears noise._) Oh, there’s the iceman!

_ENTER MACK, the iceman, L._

MACK. Is there nobody around this blessed shop? I’ve been hammering at the side door for an hour.

MARY. Nonsense, Mack! I haven’t been out of my office for five minutes.

MACK. Don’t care, Smilax. I can’t be detained this way. I’ll just leave your ice on the sidewalk hereafter.

MARY. Do it if you dare, and we’ll just try the Susie Miller Ice Company.

MACK. The Susie Miller Co. be blowed! (_Coaxingly._) Now Smilax, you wouldn’t be that hard on a feller an’ lose him a good customer like this club? The company looks to its drivers to hold customers.

MARY. And it’s a poor dependence.

MACK. Mary, don’t be hard on a feller.

MARY. Mr. Mack, your language is shockingly coarse at times. _Feller_ is slang.

MACK. Well, Mary—

MARY. There you go again! Don’t call me Mary. Call me Smilax, or Miss Smilax.

MACK. You used to be just Mary Smith.

MARY. Used to be isn’t now. Smith is too plain and common for me. When I entered the employment of this club I became a new woman, and I just took a new name. I was tired of Smith. When I applied to Justice Daisy Flyer to get a permit to change my name, she said flowers were having a great run for names, and I chose Smilax.

MACK. Mary, you are prettier to me than any flower.

MARY. (_Smiles._) That is a very pretty compliment, but you forget that it is only proper for _our_ sex to pay such compliments as that. The new woman—

MACK. Bother the new woman. Since you have become a new woman, Mary, you drive me to distraction.

MARY. Mr. Mack, you are really provoking. So weak and sentimental. Do have a little regard for propriety, and the modesty natural to your sex.

MACK. I never can please you now. The old woman was hard enough to please, but the new one—heaven help us.

MARY. Mr. Mack, can’t I teach you that it is not your place to compliment me, but my place to compliment you? You are rather forward.

MACK. Oh, it has come to _that_, has it? (_Going, angry, L._)

MARY. (_Aside._) He’s so fascinating when he is vexed a little. (_Follows._) He’s irresistible. John!

MACK. (_Turning._) She called me John. (_To MARY, stiffly._) _John!_ I think _you_ are presuming, Miss.

MARY. I beg your pardon. May I not call you John?

MACK. (_Drops eyes coquettishly._) You are so persistent.

MARY. Then I may call you John?

MACK. It’s so sudden! Give me time. I think I shall never marry.

MARY. Very well, if that is your decision, I—I—

MACK. (_Alarmed._) Oh, I didn’t mean that.

MARY. May I seal that sweet confession with a kiss? (_Advances toward MACK._)

_ENTER BERTIE R. 1, JOHN darts out L._

BERTIE. (_Coughs._) Aw! I saiey there, now!

MARY. (_Turns angrily._) Who are you, sir? Do you know where you are?

BERTIE. (_Adjusting eye-glass and staring._) Yaas! (_Regarding her._) Wathah pwetty, don’t you know; but lacks style.

MARY. (_Angrily._) Do you know where you are?

BERTIE. Yaas.

MARY. Oh, you do! Well let me say that the “New Woman’s Club” is forbidden to men. Special charter, you see. Penalties attached! Why, you could be committed for felony.

BERTIE. (_Starting._) You don’t saiey!

MARY. Yes, I do say. Now will you go at once, before I call a policeman?

BERTIE. I cawn’t, weally, till I’ve found out something I’m dying to know.

MARY. Well, did you ever! Wont go, eh! I shall have to throw you out. (_Business of pushing up sleeves._)

BERTIE. (_Starting._) I declare, she’s going to wesoht to violence. I saiey now! (_MARY takes BERTIE by shoulders and is rushing him toward door. He drops cane, eye-glass, etc. Makes a feeble effort to resist._)

MARY. I’ll show you how to go, you insolent cub!

BERTIE. (_Manages to turn round._) Oh, I saiey now. Don’t be hasty, you know I—I—(_gets coin from pocket and slips it in her hand._) I only wanted to ask a question, then I’ll go.

MARY. (_Looks at coin and changes tone instantly._) Why didn’t you say so at first. We may be detected. Who are you?

BERTIE. Bertie Howell, there’s my cahd!

MARY. Very well, Mr. Howell. Your business?

BERTIE. You were so thweatening, don’t you know. You quite alahmed me. You look so musculah, don’t you know.

MARY. Cut that. Time is precious.

BERTIE. You must sweah eternal secwecy.

MARY. If it is so very important as that, I think I’d rather not.

BERTIE. Me weputation is in your hands. A word would blawst it. You know I have long admiahed in secwet one of the membeahs of this club.

MARY. Indeed! That’s no news. They are rather a swell set.

BERTIE. Awful swaggah, don’t you know. I’ve noticed her in the cahs, don’t you know, and she knows Governoh Angelina Perkins, too, and they talk politics—an’ how I do wish I could undehstand those things, but I cawn’t, you see.

MARY. Yes, I see.

BERTIE. Yestehday she gave me her seat in the stweet cah. It put me all in a flutteh, don’t you know. I blushed scawlet and put me veil down at once.

MARY. Poor silly thing! You are very imprudent coming here.

BERTIE. Vewy, but I confide in you.

MARY. You may trust me implicitly, but what can I do for you?

BERTIE. Mention casuawlly that I am an heir, mamma fwightfully wich, don’t you know, only child, an’ all that. Start a talk, don’t you see.

MARY. But whom am I to talk to! I don’t know your flame.

BERTIE. (_Sucks cane._) Aw, an obstacle wight away, I neveh could suhmount obstacles. I saiey now, help me out, woman. A cwuel custom compels me to sit and wait to be wooed.

MARY. Describe her!

BERTIE. (_Brightening._) To be suah, good idea, don’t you know. Well, she is awfully swell.

MARY. Nonsense! Blonde or brunette?

BERTIE. Aw, thanks for the suggestion. How deuced clevah you aw. She’s a blonde.

MARY. Clothes?

BERTIE. Velvet suit, cutaway coat, silk tile, silveh knee chains that hook into the wing of the shoe toes by a deuce of a clevah little hand, don’t you know.

MARY. Why, that must be the Hon. Dollie Giglette.

BERTIE. _Dollie_, did you say? Oh, how fohgetful I am, I did hear them call her—

_ENTER DOLLIE, R._

MARY. (_With warning gesture._) Hush! There she comes. (_Runs out, L._)

BERTIE. She comes! Wuined! (_Drops his veil instantly._)

TABLEAU.

_DOLLIE, laughing, down R. C. BERTIE, with averted face, L. C._

QUICK CURTAIN.