Chapter III: Part 3

MR. BLISS (_soliloquizing_). Sixty years old to-day! Well, well, how time passes! It seems but yesterday since I was a lad, going to school, and making love to the girls, instead of studying the lessons which Master Winthrop gave out. It seems strange how persons change as they grow older. Then, I was a favorite with the girls, and always escorted one or more to every party, husking, or apple-bee. Now, when called upon to entertain a marriageable person of the other sex, I’m thrown into a decided flutter. It’s ridiculous for one of my age and experience, but still it is a lamentable fact. There was Minnie Warren, a blue-eyed little fairy to whom I got very much attached; in tact, we were engaged. I believe if she hadn’t left Cherryville as she did, I should have finally married her. I was indignant enough when I heard that her father had bought the Union Mills, and the family were going to leave town. She finally married, I heard, and made some man happy. (_A pause._) Well, some say every one has their share of good and ill fortune; but the fact is, I believe that some are fated to be happy, and some to be miserable in this world.

DICK (_entering, L._). Hallo, uncle; have you got the blues? What right have you to talk about being miserable—you, who have everything that wealth can procure to make you happy?

MR. B. I know I have everything comfortable here, but the fact is, Dick, I’m lonely in this great house. You, who pass most of your time in a store, with people constantly coming and going, take pleasure in spending a week or two in a quiet place, and among new scenes; but there’s no novelty in it to me, who have lived here for twenty years with no one in the house but servants.

D. It must be rather lonesome to live here all the time (_glancing furtively at his companion_). I expect you’ll be marrying one of these days, uncle.

MR. B. I might have done so once, but it’s too late now. I’ve got settled down in my bachelor ways, and cannot depart from them.

D. (_mischievously_). You may be forced to depart from them, uncle.

MR. B. (_alarmed_). What do you mean, Dick?

D. You remember the widow Payne, that we have met several times lately?

MR. B. (_interested_). Yes. What of her?

D. She has been heard to express a very favorable opinion of you.

MR. B. That amounts to nothing.

D. But you know that this is leap year, when ladies are privileged to propose.

MR. B. (_startled_). But you don’t think she would do such a thing?

D. (_solemnly_). It is impossible to say. She is a widow, and you know the race of men has been warned, by an astute observer of human nature, to beware of that class of humanity. If she has any sympathy with the “Woman’s Rights” movement, I’m afraid you’re fated, uncle.

MR. B. I couldn’t stand that. But what shall I do, Dick? Leave town?

D. There wouldn’t be any use in that, unless you staid away the remainder of the year.

MR. B. (_nervously_). I couldn’t do that.

D. Then be courageous and bear it like a man. Of course you’d refuse the honor (_questioningly_)?

MR. B. Of course I should. I wouldn’t accept under any consideration.

D. Then that’s all settled. But if you should get into any kind of a scrape, just let me know, and I’ll get you out of it—trust me, uncle.

MR. B. Well, I think I will. No doubt you know more about those things than I do.

D. (_smiling_). I dare say I do.

MR. B. (_rising_). Well, I must go and take my morning walk. Will you go too?

D. (_rising_). Yes; where shall we go?

MR. B. We might as well go and call on the widow, and take a survey of the situation, as I don’t mean to be entrapped by any of her wiles.

D. (_sharply scrutinizing MR. B.—aside_). I must look out for this uncle of mine. He may himself propose to the widow, instead of her proposing to him, and that would be death to my prospects. I must look out and not lose the property. (_Takes out a couple of cigars, which he offers to his uncle.—Aloud._) Have a cigar, uncle?

MR. B.—Thank you, I don’t care if I do. (_Takes one._)

(_Exeunt, L. Curtain falls._)

SCENE II.—_The same. Time, evening. MR. BLISS sits alone, R.,
with his feet resting on the table, smoking and reading the
evening paper. A lady (DICK disguised as MRS. PAYNE) enters L.,
wearing bonnet and shawl, and closely veiled. MR. BLISS starts
up in excitement and offers his hand._

MR. B. Good-evening, Mrs. Payne. I am very happy to see you. (_Leads her to a seat._) Lay aside your bonnet and shawl, won’t you?

MRS. PAYNE. No, I thank you. I cannot stop long. I only came in to make a call.

MR. B. I am afraid this smoke is offensive to you.

MRS. P. Oh, not at all. I enjoy the fragrance of a good cigar.

(_MR. B. lays down his cigar._)

MRS. P. It is quite cool out, this evening.

MR. B. Yes—no—that is, it may be—but I haven’t been out this evening.

MRS. P. I haven’t seen you at our house for several days.

MR. B. (_nervously_). No—I—have been very busy and couldn’t come, but have thought of you, and meant to come.

MRS. P. So you have thought of me. I am glad of that. I have thought of you, also.

MR. B. (_startled_). Ah! Th—thank you, but—

MRS. P. (_interrupting_). I dare say you couldn’t guess my errand to-night.

MR. B. (_nervously_). Oh—no, of course not.

MRS. P. I have long loved you, and have felt certain that I was not disagreeable to you—and, knowing your timidity, I have availed myself of the privileges of Leap Year to come and offer myself to you. (_Rises and throws her arms around his neck._) Hiram, I love you,—do you reciprocate my affection?

MR. B. (_almost overpowered, and looking around, nervously_). I—I—must take time to think of it—it is so sudden.

MRS. P. It may be sudden—and yet why delay our happiness? (_Her head droops on his shoulder._)

MR. B. I—I need time to consider (_a sound of approaching footsteps is heard_)—I—I must go—let me go. I have an engagement at nine.

MRS. P. Then give your consent to our marriage.

MR. B. (_struggling frantically to free himself_). I cannot—I—(_a sound is heard as of a person at the door_). Let me go—let me go—(_in an imploring tone_) quick—somebody’s coming.

MRS. P. Say yes, then, dearest Hiram.

MR. B. (_in an agony of fear_). Yes, yes—anything, if you will only leave me. (_MRS. P. imprints an audible kiss upon his forehead and turns to leave the room. Apparently by mistake she grasps the bell-knob and pulls it vigorously. She goes out by one door, L., as servant enters by another, R._)

SERVANT. Did you ring, sir?

MR. B. Ring? N—no. I don’t wish for anything.

S. That’s strange. The bell rang distinctly, and so loud that I thought you was in a hurry.

MR. B. Well, it’s of no consequence. I don’t need anything.

(_Exit SERVANT, R._)

MR. B. (_pacing the room and soliloquizing_). What have I done? Engaged myself to this widow, notwithstanding all my resolutions to the contrary. But something must be done about it. What shall it be? I might leave town—but that would be cowardly. Besides, I shouldn’t want to shut up the house. I might write, saying I had changed my mind; but I’m afraid that wouldn’t be just the thing. (_Paces back and forth a few moments without speaking._) The fact is, I shall be obliged to marry the widow. There seems to be no other way left me, after giving my promise to her. But I won’t say a word to Dick about it. (_A pause._) After all, I might do a worse thing. She would be a credit to my establishment, and the presence of a woman _would_ brighten up the house. I guess I must go there in the morning and talk the matter over.

(_Curtain falls._)

SCENE III.—_MRS. PAYNE’S sitting-room. MRS. PAYNE present
sewing, R. MR. BLISS enters, L._

MRS. P. Good-morning, Mr. Bliss.

MR. B. Good-morning, and a charming morning it is. I came, Mrs. Payne, to speak further on the matter we were talking of last evening.

MRS. P. Last evening? You mean a week ago.

MR. B. No, I mean last evening.

MRS. P. But you were not here last evening.

MR. B. (_perplexed_). Certainly not; but you called on me.

MRS. P. What do you mean, Mr. Bliss?

MR. B. (_smiling_). I mean that you made a leap-year call on me last evening, and offered me your heart and hand, which I accepted.

MRS. P. (_casting down her eyes_). I am sorry to dispute you, but I had a severe headache last evening, and did not leave the house.

MR. B. (_in a disappointed tone_). Is that so? But certainly some one bearing your semblance called on me last evening. (_A pause._) It must have been one of Dick’s harum-scarum tricks.

MRS. P. No doubt it was. He is full of mischief.

MR. B. Mrs. Payne—

MRS. P. (_smiling_). Well, Mr. Bliss.

MR. B. (_fidgeting nervously_). Couldn’t we make my vision of last evening a reality?

MRS. P. Possibly we might, if you desired it very much. But I’m afraid you haven’t counted the cost. You have been a bachelor so long, that you might soon tire of a wife, and consider her an intruder.

MR. B. I am satisfied it would not be so. Besides it seems as if I had known you before; where can I have met you?

MRS. P. Why, don’t you remember? I knew you at once—I was formerly Minnie Warren.

MR. B. Then I claim you by right of an engagement made between us forty-six years ago—when you were twelve and I was fourteen. Have you forgotten it?

MRS. P. Oh, no, I remember it perfectly well; and how I cried when we left town because you could not go too.

MR. B. (_drawing his chair nearer and placing his arm around her_). There is a good deal of change in the age and size of your lover as he was and as he is. Are you not afraid of repenting if you should marry him?

MRS. P. (_archly_). Oh, no. It is a good trade to exchange a little Payne for a greater bliss. I am satisfied as far as I am concerned.

DICK (_entering, L._). Hallo! What’s all this? I’m afraid I’m intruding. (_Looks anxiously at his companions._)

MR. B. Not at all. Allow me to present you to your future aunt.

DICK (_bowing low—aside_). There’s my inheritance gone to the dogs, and by my own act. (_Aloud to uncle._) This is something new, isn’t it? How did it all come about?

MR. B. (_significantly_). I had a leap-year vision last evening, and have concluded, this morning, to make it a reality.

(_Curtain falls._)

HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MISS EVELYN MONTAGUE, A lady of Wealth.
KATY MAGUIRE, ⎫
ANN FLAHERTY, ⎪
BRIDGET MAGLONE, ⎬ Her Servants.
MARY FINNEGAN, ⎪
JAMES DUNN, ⎪
PAT. GARVEY, ⎭
ELLEN SWEENY, ⎫
JULIA GRIFFIN, ⎬ Servants of Mrs. Bradley.
CORNY REILLY, ⎭

SCENE I.—_MISS EVELYN’S chamber. KATY MAGUIRE, R., dressed in
blue silk, standing before a mirror. She is putting on a lace
collar._

KATY. It is my private opinion that this blue dress is the purtiest of the lot, an’ as long as Miss Evelyn won’t wear it, there’s no reason why Katy Maguire shouldn’t. It won’t be long before it’ll be out of fashion; an’ it might as well be doin’ a little good to somebody, first.

(_She takes out from jewel-case several sets of jewelry, and fastens them in conspicuous places on the waist of the dress. She puts all the bracelets she can find on her wrists, and places around her neck a gold chain, and also a string of cornelian beads. Taking a richly-embroidered handkerchief in her hand, she gazes complacently at herself in the mirror._)

K. There, Katy Maguire (_courtesying to the image reflected_), you look like a lady born and bred. If your mistress should see you now, she wouldn’t need to ask if you was an experienced dressing-maid. There aint many that shows such fine taste in dressin’, or has enough jewelry to set off the dress with. What an ilegant trail it has, sure! (_glancing complacently back at the dress, and taking two or three steps forward to see the effect. Enter MARY, R._)

MARY (_starting back in surprise_). Well, Katy, who ever’d ha’ thought of this being you? What are you rigged up in Miss Evelyn’s finery for?

K. (_loftily_). I am Miss Maguire, now, and I expect you’ll treat me like a lady, as I am. I shall give a reception this evenin’ in the drawin’-room, an’ when you go downstairs, you can invite Miss Flaherty, Miss Maglone, an’ Mister Dunn to be present. An’ if Miss Flaherty thinks best, she might send in to the next house, an’ invite our friends there to come in.

M. What do you suppose Miss Evelyn will say?

K. (_sarcastically_). If you feel anxious to know ye might ask her when she gets home. The entertainment’ll be over before that time. But yer better be goin’ down now to deliver the invitation, as it’s gitting late (_walks along a few steps, swinging her dress_).

M. (_with a look of hatred which changes to a malicious smile_) I’ll be after goin’, thin, Miss Maguire. (_With a mocking bow she leaves the room, R._)

K. It’s aisy to see that Mary is jealous of my good looks. But I pity the poor crathur, for she’s as homely as a sick duck. I must go downstairs now. It’s most time for James to be home from drivin’ Miss Evelyn to the party. He’s a nice lad, an’ I’ll be much surprised if he aint took wid my charms.

(_Exit, R._)

(_Curtain falls._)

SCENE II.—_Kitchen. ANN FLAHERTY, R., BRIDGET MAGLONE, R. C.,
JAMES DUNN, L. C., and PAT. GARVEY, L., present. Enter MARY, L._

M. (_excitedly_). Well, I never seen sich doin’s before! (_All come forward expectantly._)

BRIDGET. An’ what is it, Mary?

PATRICK (_eagerly_). What’s the row upstairs? Anybody kilt?

M. Katy’s been up to Miss Evelyn’s chamber an’ rigged up in her clothes, an’ she says she’s goin’ to give a grand party in the drawin’-room this avenin’, an’ invites all to be prisint.

JAMES (_rubbing his hands_). Ah! Katy’s a jew’l.

ANN. Av course we’ll all accept the invitation.

M. She says if ye thought best, he might sind in to the next house an’ invite the frinds there.

B. Sure an’ we _do_ think best. Pat., jist run over to Mr. Bradley’s an’ ask the cook an’ all the rest to come over here an’ pass the avenin’. We’re going to have a grand party here. Tell ’em to come right away.

P. I’ll bring ’em all in, in five minutes.

(_Exit L., swinging his hat._)

M. An’ what d’ye think Miss Evelyn will say?

B. Arrah now, Miss Evelyn will niver know anything about it. We’ll be all through with the party before she comes home.

A. Indade an’ ye may trust Katy to get through’t safely. She’s lived with the quality before now, an’ knows how things is done. She’s shrewd, Katy is.

J. That’s thrue for you. An’ how can Miss Evelyn come home till I go after her? She tould me to have the carriage there at half-past twelve o’clock, an’ it isn’t ulleven yit.

A. I’m thinkin’ we ought to have a trate before the party is over.

B. Av coorse we must have some refrishments.

J. I ixpect you ladies can manage that.

A. We’ve got plinty o’ presarves and cake an’ wine. But we’ll want some ice-crame.

J. I’ll furnish that same. I’ll sind Pat. for it whin he comes back.

B. Thin we’ll go upstairs now.

A. The rest of yez go, an’ I’ll lay the table all ready for the trate. It won’t be long before I’ll be wid yez.

(_Exit all but ANN. Curtain falls._)

SCENE III.—_MISS EVELYN’S drawing-room. KATY seated on sofa,
C., with the skirts of her dress spread out so as to make as
great a display as possible. Enter ANN, BRIDGET, MARY and
JAMES, R. All but MARY make low bows to her. She acknowledges
the salutations by a slight inclination of her head._

J. This must be a very select party, when Miss Maguire didn’t invite more persons to be prisint.

B. Sure we don’t know how many invitations she has sint out. Fashionable people don’t come very airly. We’ll have more byme-by. (_Bell rings._) They’re beginnin’ to arrive now.

K. Misther Dunn ye’ll oblige me by goin’ to the door, if ye plaze.

(_JAMES goes out, and soon returns L., with CORNY REILLY, ELLEN SWEENY and JULIA GRIFFIN. He conducts them to KATY._)

J. Miss Maguire, this is Miss Sweeny, Miss Griffin, and Misther Reilly.

CORNY (_bowing with many flourishes_). My respects to yez, Miss Maguire. (_The other two visitors bow, and KATY returns the salutations of all._)

J. Miss Maguire, won’t ye favor us with a little illegant music?

M. It’s little enough of that kind ye’ll get.

K. If ye’ll esquort me to the pianner, I’ll play pervidin’ yez will all sing.

A. (_who has just entered_). Av coorse we will.

M. I aint a-goin’ to sing anyway.

K. (_sarcastically_). Yer vice won’t be missed, Miss Finnegan.

J. Allow me to lade yez to the pianner.

(_KATY takes his arm and goes to the piano, L. C., where she seats herself._)

K. (_turning around_). What can ye sing, ladies?

J. You choose the song for us.

K. Well, thin, it’s a midley I’ll play, an’ then ye can sing what ye plaze.

(_She commences drumming on the piano, and her companions, grouped around her, sing, each one a different piece, a short one. Enter PAT., R., who dances round the stage till the close of the singing._)

P. (_going to KATY and speaking in a low tone, but loud enough for all to hear_). Say, Katy, I’ve been down-town, an’ got some ice-crame. It’s downstairs now. We’re going to have a big trate byme-by.

K. (_smiling graciously_). Is that so, Pat.?

P. Yis, an’ the things on the table looked so timptin’ that I stopped an’ refreshed mesilf wid a little cake an’ wine. (_Begins to sing some Irish air._)

J. Look here, Pat.; what did ye meddle with that wine for? Ye spalpeen, I b’lave ye’re dhrunk.

P. (_slyly_). Sure, that’s where ye’re wrong, Misther Dunn. I jist took a wee dthrop to keep my sperits up. (_Begins to dance._)

J. It’s more like ye’ve put all the sperits down yer throat, yer thafe of the world!

P. Owin’ to my partic’lar good nature, I shan’t notice that little insinivation o’ yours. But say, now, let’s have a dance. If you aint goin’ ter play, Katy, jest be my partner, will yer?

J. Miss Maguire’s engaged ter me.

K. Yis, I’m engaged to Misther Dunn.

P. Whew! That’s the way the wind blows, thin. Well _dunn_, Jimmy! (_All laugh._)

J. (_pushing PAT._). Jist be a little more respectful to your betters, ye blackguard! (_Turning to KATY politely_) Will you allow me, Miss Maguire? (_Offers his arm, which KATY takes, and they take their places for the dance._)

P. Say now, who’s goin’ to fiddle for us? Or is we goin’ ter dance widout any music?

C. Miss Sweeny plays on the pianner at our house.

K. Then perhaps Miss Sweeny will do us the favor ter play for us.

(_In imitation of JAMES’ example, PAT. immediately rushes up to ELLEN, saying with many flourishes:_)

P. Allow me, Miss Sweeny. (_She takes his arm and goes to piano and seats herself._)

(_PAT. goes to MARY, and offers his arm for the dance, but she turns disdainfully from him, and goes out with a lofty air. PAT. then goes to JULIA, who accepts him as a partner. CORNEY, at the same time, takes BRIDGET and ANN (one on either arm), and all have taken their places. At the sound of the piano, they break into an Irish jig of the wildest sort. PAT. cuts up the maddest capers. A bell rings outside, but in the uproar it is unheard by the dancers. A moment later, MISS EVELYN appears at the door, L. She stands for a moment, dumfounded at the scene before her. At first she is not seen by any of the company, but ELLEN, happening to look up, beholds her and clasps her hands in alarm. The dancers, not hearing the sound of the piano, look toward it to discover the cause. They observe the dismay pictured in ELLEN’S face, and, following the direction of her eyes, they behold MISS EVELYN. They stand with startled faces._)

MISS EVELYN (_sternly_). What does all this mean?

M. (_triumphantly_). It’s all Katy’s doin’s, miss.

K. (_Darting a withering glance at the speaker, and then turning to MISS E._). We were only indulgin’ in a little innocent amusement, ma’am. I hope you’re not offended.

MISS E. But who gave you leave to deck yourself in this manner?

K. Sure I was only airin’ the dress, ma’am, as it had hung so long in the closet.

MISS E. Well, I don’t approve of any such airs. Leave the room, every one of you! The idea of my drawing-room being the scene of a servants’ party! You will all receive your discharge to-morrow morning.

(_The servants leave the room, R., looking crestfallen enough—all but KATY, who sweeps out of the room with a lofty air, determined to keep up her character to the last._)

P. (_aside to ANN, who goes out last_). An’ aint we goin’ to have our trate then?

A. (_aside_). Whist! Yis. Say nothin’. We’re goin’ to have it right away. Miss Evelyn never comes down below at this time o’ night.

(_Exeunt._)

MISS E. (_seating herself C. in disgust_). Was there ever any annoyance equal to that of keeping servants? Mine are a constant source of trouble. I have threatened to discharge them all to-morrow morning. But what shall I gain by it? I shall have another set who will perhaps try my patience even more than these have done. Servants understand their importance, and realize their power over their employers. It is becoming a species of tyranny. If I could only do without them I most assuredly would do so. (_A shout of laughter is heard in the distance. MISS E. stands up._) What! haven’t they done yet? Probably they are gormandizing, downstairs, at my expense. (_To the audience—a little sarcastically:_) I have heard some persons wish for wealth, so that they could afford to keep servants to wait on them. They do not realize the emptiness of their desires. A person who has few wants, and can minister to them himself, is more independent than the wealthiest person living. Those who keep a multitude of servants are dependent on _their whims_, and should not be surprised at frequent outbursts of High Life Below Stairs.

(_Curtain falls._)

BOARDING ON A FARM.

CHARACTERS.

MRS. MONTGOMERY, A Lady who is seeking Country Board.
MR. MONTGOMERY, her Husband.
FLORENCE MALVINA, ⎫ Their Children.
GEORGE ALEXANDER, ⎭
MRS. JONES, A Farmer’s Wife.
JONATHAN, ⎫ Servants.
PATTY, ⎭

SCENE I.—_Parlor. MR. MONTGOMERY, L., reading paper. MRS.
MONTGOMERY, R., sewing._

MRS. MONTGOMERY. Mr. Montgomery.

MR. MONTGOMERY. Well, my dear.

MRS. M. We must go into the country this summer.

MR. M. Is it absolutely essential to your happiness?

MRS. M. (_with suppressed eagerness_). Of course I should enjoy it very much. But I wasn’t thinking of myself. The children need it far more than I do. They are both quite feeble and need fresh air and country living.

MR. M. I hadn’t noticed that the children were not as well as usual.

MRS. M. No, I dare say not. Men never notice such things. But they are both ailing; and if I didn’t doctor them all the time, they’d be down sick.

MR. M. We can’t afford to pay the extravagant prices charged for country board.

MRS. M. I don’t expect to go to a fashionable place. But we might get boarded, at a low rate, at some farm-house where we could get fresh fruits and vegetables, and those things which can only be found in the country. I’m sure it’s better to pay one’s money for such things than to spend it for medicine.

MR. M. The sea-breeze is better than the country air. You might take a trip with the children to Hingham or Nahant once or twice a week.

MRS. M. (_slightly ruffled_). How foolishly you talk! But then it’s what I might expect. These short trips always fatigue people more than they benefit them. When it’s too late to help the children, perhaps you’ll think of my advice and wish you’d followed it.

MR. M. If it’s as serious a matter as you suppose, and this is the only remedy, I should say go, by all means.

MRS. M. You must judge for yourself.

MR. M. But I don’t believe it is possible to find such a place as would suit you at a reasonable price.

MRS. M. (_eagerly_). I found an advertisement in last week’s paper describing a place that I thought would be just such us we would like. Here it is. (_Takes paper from table—reads._)

“COUNTRY BOARDING.—Those who are leaving behind them the noise
and dust of the city, and wish to refresh themselves by a
communion with nature, will find a desirable summer retreat at
Honeysuckle Villa, in the beautiful town of Hillsdale. It is
within five minutes’ walk of the railroad, in the midst of a
country rich in vegetation, and smiling under the liberal eye
of a bountiful Providence. A beautiful lake, at the distance
of a quarter of a mile, presents strong attractions for the
angler, while a boat which has recently been placed upon it
will enable the visitor to enjoy the luxury of a sail. No pains
will be spared to render this a delightful retreat for the
denizens of the metropolis.

“ELIPHALET JONES.”

MR. M. That sounds well enough. But what proof have you that things are as represented?

MRS. M. I wrote to Mr. Jones, and received a very gentlemanly reply. As he says, the terms are quite moderate. Mrs. Livingston pays nearly twice as much.

MR. M. What are the terms?

MRS. M. Thirty dollars per week for you, myself, and the two children.

MR. M. But are there trains at hours to accommodate me?

MRS. M. Yes, I took pains to ascertain that.

MR. M. Very well, then, make whatever arrangements you choose. We can but give it a trial.

(_Exit MR. M., L._)

MRS. M. (_triumphantly_). That’s one point gained. The next thing is to make preparations for our journey. I was determined not to be cooped up in the city another summer, when all our acquaintances are boarding in the country.

(_Curtain falls._)

SCENE II.—_Country railway station. MRS. MONTGOMERY, C., and
two children, R., sitting with outer garments on. Two trunks, a
bandbox and travelling-bag on the floor. Enter JONATHAN HODGE,
L., wearing a coarse frock and carrying a whip._

JONATHAN (_to MRS. M._). Be yeaou the folks what’s going to the Joneses?

MRS. M. Yes, we wish to go to Mr. Jones’, at Honeysuckle Villa.

J. Honeysuckle Villa. Wal, that’s a good un. Ha, ha, ha!

MRS. M. (_aside_). Is it possible that they have deceived me? But I shall soon learn. (_Aloud._) Is the carriage ready?

J. (_laughing_). Ya—as, the kerridge is waitin’. You can see it from the door (_nods toward door, L._)

MRS. M. (_looks out with some curiosity_). I don’t see any carriage. There’s nothing but a farm wagon in sight.

J. That’s the kerridge that’s come for ye, anyway. Mr. Jones thought mebbe you’d hev a lot of baggage, so he sent the hay-riggin’.

MRS. M. But there are no seats.

J. Yes, there’s a board to put across, after we get loaded up.

MRS. M. (_indignantly_). And we are expected to ride in such a vehicle as that?

J. There aint no use in callin’ it names. It’s easy enough ridin’ in it.

MRS. M. But we cannot all sit on one seat.

J. The children can set on the trunks. (_Takes up one of the trunks to carry it out. Exit, L._)

GEORGE. Say, mother, have we got to ride in that old, ricketty wagon? It’ll jolt like everything, I know ’twill.

MRS. M. (_in a soothing tone_). We’ve only got to ride a few steps.

J. (_entering_). Don’t know ’bout that. I reckon it’s a good mile down there, and the roads aint none of the best.

MRS. M. (_indignantly_). Mr. Jones’ advertisement stated that his house was only five minutes’ walk from the station.

J. Mr. Jones got the schoolmaster to write that notice for the paper. He came up to the house one night and did it. Jones told him to put it in pretty strong. The marster read it out ’loud after he’d writ it, an’ I declair to goodness, I shouldn’t ha’ knowed ’twas the same place we lived in.

MRS. M. (_decidedly_). Well, if I don’t like the place, we shan’t stay, that’s all.

J. (_smiling incredulously_). Oh, mebbe you’ll like it, after all. Folks need a change sometimes. (_Takes out another trunk, L._)

FLORENCE. Mother, I’m thirsty.

MRS. M. There isn’t anything to drink here. We’ll soon get to Mr. Jones’.

FLOR. (_impatiently_). I want something to drink now.

MRS. M. Wait patiently a little longer, and then you can have a drink of nice, fresh milk. (_Enter JONATHAN._)

J. (_aside_). I shouldn’t be a mite surprised if they was disapp’inted in their expectations. I guess they won’t find many delicacies at Joneses. Leastways, I never did. (_Aloud_) Kerridge is ready, folks. (_Takes bandbox and bag and goes out L., MRS. M. and children follow._)

(_Curtain falls._)

SCENE III.—_Dining-room at country farm-house. Table is set for
dinner. MRS. JONES brings in pie, R._

MRS. JONES (_turning as she enters, and addressing PATTY in next room_). Dish up the beans, Patty, and be spry now. (_Places pie on table and goes out, R. FLORENCE enters L., and sits down._)

(_MRS. J. enters with potatoes, and PATTY with a dish of baked beans, both of which are placed on table. PATTY goes out, R._)

MRS. J. (_addressing FLORENCE_). Go and tell your mother dinner’s ready, child.

FLOR. (_bridling_). My name’s Florence Malvina Montgomery.

MRS. J. (_glancing over the table to see if everything needful is upon it_). Yes, I know it. Go and tell your mother dinner is ready.

(_FLORENCE goes out L., and soon returns with her mother and brother._)

MRS. J. Dinner’s ready, Mrs. Montgomery. Take that chair if you’re a mind to (_indicating it_), and the children can set, one on each side of you. (_They sit._) Will you have some baked beans, ma’am?

MRS. M. Thank you, no, I never eat them.

MRS. J. Don’t eat beans! Why, they’re the wholesomest victuals there is. I’m sure I don’t know what I can give you to eat, then. I haint got nothin’ else but some cold corned beef, and was savin’ that for dinner to-morrer.

MRS. M. I might, perhaps, eat a little of the cold meat.

MRS. J. (_in a loud voice_). Patty, bring in the cold beef that was left yesterday.

PATTY (_outside_). Yes’m. (_Brings in meat R., then exit._)

MRS. M. Haven’t you any new potatoes yet?

MRS. J. Yes, but we thought, as we had these left, we’d use ’em up first.

MRS. M. But these are watery, and not fit to eat.

MRS. J. Oh, they aint bad for the time o’ year. Mr. Jones carried the new potatoes to market this morning. They bring a good price now.

MRS. M. Well, I’m sure I cannot eat these. You may give me a piece of pie, if you please.

GEO. Mother, I can’t cut the pie-crust.

MRS. M. I’ll cut it for you. (_Tries to cut it, but it is so tough the knife slips and falls to the floor._)

MRS. J. Let me cut it. (_She, with some effort, cuts it and returns it to GEORGE._)

MRS. M. Haven’t you any strawberries?

MRS. J. Yes, we’re goin’ to have some on the table Sunday. We send them to market every day, the first of the season, they bring such a good price.

MRS. M. (_sarcastically_). I suppose you sell your cream too.

MRS. J. Yes, we find we can make more money that way than by makin’ butter and cheese. So we buy our butter at the store.

MRS. M. (_indignantly_). We came to the country expecting to get fresh fruit and vegetables. But it seems we are more likely to find them in the city. I am half inclined to go directly back; however, I will perhaps remain one week. It depends on how we are treated whether we stop any longer.

(_Exit with children, L._)

MRS. J. Lor’ now, what airs these city people do put on! Seems to me there’s no end to their whims and wants. They don’t have the least thought about economy. (_In a loud voice_) Patty, you and Jonathan come to dinner.

P. (_outside, R._). Comin’, ma’am.

(_Curtain falls._)

SCENE IV.—_Sitting-room. MRS. M. present, R._

MRS. M. I can’t stand boarding here much longer, that’s a fixed fact. Mrs. Jones sets a most wretched table, and the children are really growing thinner every day. If it hadn’t been for the name of it I should have left Hillsdale before this. The reputation of going to the country for the summer is hardly sufficient to pay for living in small rooms, sleeping on stifling feather-beds, and enduring such execrable cookery, and not a book but the Farmer’s Almanac to be found in the house.

(_FLORENCE runs in L., with a terrified expression of countenance. Her hat is hanging down from her neck, and her hair flying in all directions._)

FLOR. Oh! oh! I’m so scared. (_Runs to her mother._)

MRS. M. Why, Florence Malvina, what a fright you make of yourself! Pray what is the matter?

FLOR. I guess you’d be frightened if you’d been where I was. I just went outside of the road to find some blackberries, when I thought I heard somebody coming. I looked round, and there was a great ugly-looking cow running after me. I ran as fast us I could till I couldn’t go any further, and then I crept underneath the bars, and came up through the field.

MRS. M. It’s a shame for people to allow their cows to run around the streets in such a way. It’s lucky that you were not killed.

FLOR. The cow would have taken me up on her horns if she had caught me, I know she would. She held her head down all ready to do it. (_Enter GEORGE, L., covered with mud and water_). Why George, did you almost get drowned? Just look, mother. George is just as wet as he can be. (_GEORGE looks askance at his mother, but says nothing._)

MRS. M. (_severely_). Well, George Alexander, this is a pretty plight for you to be in. What have you been doing now?

GEO. (_defiantly_). I wasn’t doing anything, only building a dam down by the spring, and pretty soon some boys came along, and they laughed at me, and said they bet I couldn’t jump the ditch there. So I meant to show them I could, and I did do it too; but the ground was all soft and wet the other side, and when I tried to jump back again I fell into the ditch.

MRS. M. What boys were they?

GEO. The Dunn boys. They knew it was wet the other side, and when I fell in, you ought to have heard them laugh.

MRS. M. They are nothing but ill-bred country blockheads. (_To GEORGE._) But don’t stand there any longer with those wet clothes on. Go and change them at once.

(_Exit GEORGE, L. FLORENCE follows him._)

MRS. M. (_sola_). What a wretched place this is! If I was obliged to live in such a way at home, I shouldn’t think I could bear it. The family here haven’t even _decent_ accommodations for keeping boarders.

(_Enter FLORENCE, L., in state of great excitement._)

FLOR. O mother, two men are coming, and they are bringing father in. I’m afraid he’s killed.

MRS. M. (_starting up_). What do you mean, child? (_Enter men, L., bearing MR. M. MRS. M. clasps her hands in anxious suspense; goes up to her husband._) What is the matter, Henry? Has there been an accident? (_The men place MR. M. on sofa and exit L._)

MR. M. It isn’t quite as bad as it seems. I was a little tired and thought I’d ride up from the village to-night, instead of walking. But the stage broke down, and I was thrown out. I was a good deal bruised, but I believe there are no bones broken. Dr. Bryant examined me, and said I would be all right in a few days.

MRS. M. Well, as soon as you are able to leave, I’m going back to the city. I can’t stay here any longer.

MR. M. (_smiling_). You don’t mean that you are willing to go back to the city, and endure all its discomforts again.

MRS. M. I’ve come to the conclusion that there are as many annoyances in the country as in the city.

MR. M. But you forget that the children cannot have country fare after our return.

MRS. M. No, I do not. I find that the country fare we sought is all sent to the city, and we must return there in order to enjoy it. After two weeks’ trial of living in the country, I am thoroughly tired of it, and I think a long time will elapse before I again wish to try the experiment of Boarding on a Farm.

(_Curtain falls._)

TAMING A WIFE.

CHARACTERS.

MR. GROVER, a Merchant.
MRS. GROVER, his Wife.
MRS. ROSS, Mrs. G.’s Mother.
BRIDGET, their Servant.
MR. FARWELL, ⎫
MR. HUNTLY, ⎭ Mr. G.’s Friends.

SCENE I.—_A room at MISS DANE’S boarding-house. MR. FARWELL,
R., half reclining on the sofa. MR. GROVER, C., sitting in a
chair, with his feet on the table. Both smoking._

MR. FARWELL. Why don’t you get married, Grover? I suppose you intend, at some time, to take to yourself a wife.

MR. GROVER. I might if I could find a woman to suit me. But I don’t want any of the vain and frivolous creatures we constantly meet in society.

MR. F. They are not all of this description. Now, there’s Gertrude Hobbs. She is a pretty girl.

MR. G. And when you’ve said that, you’ve said all there is to say.

MR. F. I’m sure she is pleasant and agreeable.

MR. G. And weak-minded.

MR. F. Ah! I see, you would like a girl of spirit. Then, why not take Kate Ross? The only objection to her is, that she has an imperious temper. I should not care to cross her if I were her husband.

MR. G. (_contemptuously_). Pooh! that is your spirit, is it? For my part, there would be no pleasure in subduing a tame, spiritless creature; but, if somewhat mettlesome, there would be some excitement in it. I am half tempted to offer my hand to Kate Ross, to show you what a simple affair it would be to tame a spirited woman.

MR. F. I hope you _will_ do so, as I shall not change my opinion till it is practically refuted. And I will wager a hundred dollars that you will talk in quite a different way after marrying her.

MR. G. You will probably lose your money. When I undertake anything, I usually bring it to a successful termination.

MR. F. (_smiling_). I am willing to take the risk. Theory is very well in its way, but it is practice that tells the story. I confess I have some curiosity to see how the matter ends.

MR. G. Well, you will probably have that satisfaction within six months, as Kate Ross will, without doubt, be Mrs. Grover before that time.

MR. F. You seem quite confident. Have you proposed to Miss Ross?

MR. G. No; but she would not think of refusing my offer. An opportunity of gaining such a position is seldom presented to a poor girl.

MR. F. Very well. If you do not talk in quite a different way after marrying Kate Ross, the money is yours.

(_Curtain falls._)

SCENE II.—_MRS. GROVER’S kitchen. Time—one month after
marriage. BRIDGET, R., washing dishes. MR. GROVER enters, L._

MR. G. Bridget, I find that for two days past dinner has been served before I came home. Hereafter, you must wait till I return before doing so.

BRIDGET. But it was kept warm for ye’s. An’ the misthress told me to do it.

MR. G. I know that; but you are bound to obey me rather than her.

B. (_bewildered_). Sir?

MR. G. To-day I shall not be at home till four o’clock. Four, remember. On no account must you serve up dinner before that time.

B. (_astonished_). But what shall I say to misthress when she tells me?

MR. G. Say? You must tell her that I threatened to dismiss you if you did so. Will you remember?

B. (_confusedly_). I’ll try.

MR. G. (_going toward door with satisfied smile_). There, I think that will set matters right. I would give something to see how Mrs. Grover will take it, when Bridget, by my direction, refuses to obey her. She will begin to find out whom she has to deal with then.

(_Exit, L._)

MRS. GROVER (_enters by another door, R., in season to hear her husband’s last words_). Has Mr. Grover forbidden you to follow my directions, Bridget?

B. Yes, mum. He told me he shouldn’t be at home until four, and he should send me away if I took up dinner before that time.

MRS. G. (_coolly_). Indeed! he is interfering beyond his province. However, you are to obey me, not him. Be sure to have dinner on the table at two o’clock precisely.

B. But he will send me away if I do.

MRS. G. And I will send you away if you don’t.

B. (_in ludicrous dismay_). Och, what will I do? It’s turned away I’ve got to be whether I do it or not.

MRS. G. Better obey me, Bridget. If he should turn you away, you shall be back again in less than a week, and, meanwhile, I will pay you wages; but, if I turn you away, it will be for good.

B. Faix, mum, you’re a jewel. An’ if dinner isn’t on the table at two o’clock precisely, then my name isn’t Bridget McDermott.

(_Curtain falls._)

SCENE III.—_MRS. GROVER, R., and MRS. ROSS, L., who is visiting
her daughter, are seated in the dining-room. The table is
spread, but there is no food on it. MR. GROVER enters, L._

MR. G. (_triumphantly_). You may order up dinner now, Mrs. Grover.

MRS. G. (_surprised_). Dinner! Is it possible that you have not eaten dinner at four o’clock?

MR. G. (_in an appalling voice_). Have you eaten dinner?

MRS. G. (_coolly continuing her sewing_). Certainly. The table was cleared an hour ago. Bridget kept the meat at the fire, but I was sure you had dined down town. Shall I ring for it?

MR. G. (_frowning_). No. May I inquire if Bridget served up the dinner?

MRS. G. Of course you may. I have no objection.

MR. G. (_in a loud voice_). Madam, enough of this trifling. Did Bridget serve up dinner?

MRS. ROSS (_expostulating_). Really, Kate and Mr. Grover, you should not disagree.

MRS. G. (_interrupting her_). Goodness! Mr. Grover, I could hear distinctly enough if you spoke a great deal lower. Of course, Bridget served up dinner. You don’t suppose I did it?

MR. G. At two o’clock?

MRS. G. Certainly.

MR. G. (_rings bell violently. BRIDGET appears, R._). Bridget, do you recollect my telling you this morning I should not be home till four?

B. Yes, sir.

MR. G. And that dinner was not to be served up till that time?

B. Yes, sir.

MR. G. Then, why did you dare to do otherwise?

B. (_undaunted_). The misthress tould me to.

MR. G. Then I wish you to understand that I am the master, and my orders are to be obeyed. I dismiss you from my service.

B. (_courtesying_). Yes, sir.

MR. G. (_angrily_). This instant. Do you hear?

B. (_courtesying again_). Yes, sir. My clothes are all packed. (_Turning to MRS. G._) Good-by, mum.

MRS. G. (_unconcernedly_). Oh, good-by, Bridget. So you are going, are you?

B. Yes, mum.

MRS. G. Perhaps you would like a recommendation.

MR. G. I shall give none.

MRS. G. Because, if you would, I will give you one very willingly.

B. No, mum; I don’t think I shall live out ag’in just yet. I’m goin’ to stop wid my sister a while.

MRS. G. Very well, Bridget; (_in a significant tone_) you must call again soon.

(_Exit BRIDGET, R._)

(_A pause in which MR. G. seats himself, L., leaning back exultantly._)

MRS. G. (_as if unconscious of what had passed_). Is there any news from abroad?

MR. G. (_crustily_). No.

MRS. G. What course is Germany expected to take?

MR. G. (_in a forbidding tone_). I don’t know.

(_MRS. G. rises and folds up her work. MR. G. thinks, with a thrill of gratification, that, in the absence of BRIDGET, MRS. G. will be obliged to get supper._)

MRS. G. (_having reached the door, turns back_). By the way, Mr. Grover, my mother and myself are going out to tea. We are invited to Mrs. Haven’s.

MR. G. (_startled_). But what am I to do?

MRS. G. (_carelessly_). I don’t know, really, unless you come up with us. I presume Mrs. Haven will be very much pleased to see you. Will you come?

MR. G. (_sharply_). No. (_MRS. G. opens the door, preparatory to going out._) Mrs. Grover, I have invited two gentlemen to dine with me to-morrow, and it will be your duty to prepare dinner for them. You will receive articles from the market by nine o’clock. You understand me, do you not?

MRS. G. Perfectly.

MR. G. And know what I expect?

MRS. G. Certainly.

MR. G. And you understand also, that I am a man of my word.

MRS. G. I am very happy to hear it. I have always considered it a very desirable quality.

(_Exeunt MRS. GROVER and her mother, R._)

MR. G. (_complacently soliloquizes_). I think that will settle the matter. If Mrs. Grover married me with the idea of being a fine lady, and having an easy time, she is quite mistaken. I don’t intend to encourage female insubordination. I believe the man was made to govern, the wife to obey. If more husbands had my firmness, things would go on a little better in the world. But it isn’t everybody that has my tact at governing.

(_Curtain falls._)

SCENE IV.—_Dining-room at MR. GROVER’S. The table is laid for
four persons. MR. FARWELL, R., MR. HUNTLY, L., and MR. GROVER,
C., present._

MR. HUNTLY. Have you heard how Brown’s wife has treated him?

MR. F. Not a word.

MR. H. She has deserted him, and gone, no one knows whither. After dinner yesterday, Brown went to his room a moment, leaving his pocket-book on the table. When he returned, his wife, and his pocket-book—containing several hundred dollars—were gone. And although a thorough search has been instituted, no tidings have been had of either.

MR. G. It seems to me that a woman who would do such a thing has not been properly trained by her husband.

MR. F. In my opinion, there are some women of such a nature that they will not brook subjection even from their husbands; or, in fact, subordination of any kind.

MR. G. (_firmly_). I would like to see any woman whom I could not bring under subjection. I cannot conceive of a man surrendering the authority, which is his natural right, into the hands of a woman.

MR. H. (_smiling_). Do you intend, Grover, to carry out your theory of domestic government under your present circumstances?

MR. G. I certainly do not mean to submit to petticoat government. In my eyes the husband should be at the head of the household, and, while I occupy that position, I shall delegate my authority to no one. (_MRS. GROVER enters, R._) My dear, allow me to present to you, my friends, Mr. Farwell and Mr. Huntly.

MRS. G. I am happy to see you, gentlemen. As friends of my husband, I am glad to make your acquaintance.

MR. G. (_turning to his wife_). Is dinner ready?

MRS. G. (_promptly_). It is on the table.

MR. G. (_with a smile of exultation_). Sit down, gentlemen. Mr. Huntly will take a seat on my right (_indicating it_), and Mr. Farwell on my left (_indicating it_). I have provided a dinner to-day, gentlemen (_sharpening the knife preparatory to carving_), which is an especial favorite with me—I mean roast turkey. (_Lifting the cover, his astonished gaze rested on an uncooked turkey. He lifts, successively, the covers of the other dishes, and sees uncooked squashes, and potatoes with their skins on._)

MR. G. (_sternly to his wife_). Will you explain the meaning of this, madam?

MRS. G. (_smiling blandly_). Certainly. Bridget left me yesterday afternoon, by your direction. I have done what I could toward supplying her place. I am truly sorry if the dinner is not to your taste.

MR. G. What do you intend by this insult which you have put upon me in my own house?

MRS. G. (_fanning herself_). You are a little excited, Mr. Grover. You remember that I warned you I should not supply Bridget’s place.

MR. G. (_angrily_). So it seems you want to rule me.

MRS. G. Not at all. I only object to being ruled.

MR. G. It’s the same thing, madam. You would like to have me become a miserable, hen-pecked husband. But that will never happen. (_Turning to guests_) Gentlemen, I regret that circumstances have conspired to render useless the invitation I gave you to dine with me. I cannot, in such case, invite you to stay longer, but shall renew the invitation at a more convenient opportunity.

MRS. G. (_turning toward them_). I, too, shall be glad to see you, gentlemen, and hope, on the next occasion, to offer you a more attractive collation. That, however, depends entirely on whether my husband decides to leave the management of the household where it belongs—in my hands.

(_Exeunt MESSRS. FARWELL and HUNTLY, L._)

MR. G. (_angrily_). Well, madam, I hope you are satisfied with this disgraceful exhibition.

MRS. G. (_quietly_). I am not responsible for it.

MR. G. You have disgraced me before my guests.

MRS. G. Then why did you interfere with Bridget?

MR. G. I am the head of the household.

MRS. G. I beg your pardon. I imagined that Bridget was under my orders.

MR. G. You are right, as long as your orders do not conflict with mine.

MRS. G. Very well, sir, I leave you, then, to the sole management of the household. (_Moves to go out._)

MR. G. Where are you going?

MRS. G. Home to my mother.

MR. G. (_alarmed_). Would you desert your husband?

MRS. G. Yes, until he knows his place. (_Opens the door, R._)

MR. G. But—what will the world say? Don’t go, Kate!

MRS. G. (_turning_). I will stay on one condition, and on one only.

MR. G. What is it?

MRS. G. That you will never, again, interfere in the affairs of the household, and will agree to my recalling Bridget, at once.

MR. G. (_rather sheepishly_). Very well, anything for peace.

(_Exit, L._)

MRS. G. (_sola_). There, sir, I have taught you a lesson. I understand you proposed to tame me. My impression is, that it is the husband that has been tamed. There is truth in the old couplet:—

“When a woman says she will, she will, depend on’t,
And when she won’t, she won’t, and there’s an end on’t.”

(_Curtain falls._)

JOHN SMITH’S TRIALS.

CHARACTERS.

MR. SMITH.
MRS. SMITH.
SHERIFF BAILEY.
BRIDGET.

SCENE I.—_In the parlor. MR. SMITH reclining on the sofa. He
has a newspaper in his hand, but is not reading. MRS. S. enters
L., wearing a plain dress._

MR. SMITH. Seems to me, Amanda, that for one who runs up such a bill as I paid yesterday, you don’t appear remarkably well dressed. What have you done with all the gay garments Madame Dubois has lately made for you?

MRS. SMITH. I haven’t run up any bill, and I don’t patronize Madame Dubois. She is too high in her charges for people in our circumstances.

MR. S. But why should she send her bill here? It was directed in full, to John Smith, Taylor’s Block, Central Street.