Chapter I: Act I

(Sitting-room of the DeSmythe home; "confusion worse confounded;" everything topsy-turvy. Mrs. DeSmythe on couch; Madam Sateene and she looking over lace samples, of which they have a great number. Madam in "swell" street costume.)

_Mrs. De S._ (tossing samples in a heap). There's positively nothing like it! Nothing anywhere near it!

_Madam_ No, and nothing that can be used.

_Mrs. De S._ (snatching a bit of lace from the heap). There! That's a lover's knot pattern. Why, it--

_Madam_ No, that's a sailor's knot. There is a great difference.

_Mrs. De S._ (vaguely). I don't see it.

_Madam_ (patiently). You see the loop in this bends down and in this, it bends--goes up. Every difference in the world, my dear Mrs. De Smythe.

_Mrs. De S._ (meekly, but convinced). Wouldn't it do? All bunched up?

_Madam_ But it is not to be bunched up!

_Mrs. De S._ (with a profound sigh). What can we do? And I threatened with an attack!

_Madam_ I don't know! (rises, sits down, then groans). I am at my wit's end. Let me think.

_Mrs. De S._ (with an inspiration). Take the lace off!

_Madam_ (crushingly). My dear Mrs. De Smythe, the gown is modelled for lace.

_Mrs. De S._ (helplessly). Oh!

(Madam sits in brown study, tapping her forehead.)

_Madam_ Let me see; Wednesday morning. (looks at watch). Ten o'clock. It might be done. Practically two days. (sits staring at wall). No, it couldn't! We might use chiffon.

_Mrs. De S._ Maude hates chiffon.

_Madam_ (with professional coldness). Chiffon is a very artistic trimming.

_Mrs. De S._ (wearily). It may be--it may be, but you know Maude.

(Enter Miss Hoppenhoer.)

_Miss H._ (looks around; sniffs at the untidiness). Jennie, you look ready to faint!

_Mrs. De S._ Sit down. Don't stand there like--a--wooden Indian!

_Miss H._ They don't keel over every few minutes, anyhow! (sits with a thud). You look ready to faint!

_Mrs. De S._ I feel ready to faint; the lace has given out.

_Miss H._ (picking up things). The lace--?

_Mrs. De S._ (with infinite patience). The lace, you know, for Maude's dress.

_Miss H._ (blankly). Eh--what dress?

_Madam_ (in polite surprise). Why, Miss Hoppenhoer, what dress?

_Mrs. De S._ (shrilly). What dress,--oh, Matilda!

_Miss H._ (commencing to "straighten" room in earnest). Oh, is that all? I thought the President had been assassinated!

_Mrs. De S._ Matilda! I must say you don't seem much interested. I should think you would,--your own niece, too!

_Miss H._ (tragically). Look at this room,--look at this room! It is a disgrace to a Christian community! Think of the breakfast we had--or rather, that we didn't have! And yesterday! And now you down sick--down sick! Does it take a month to graduate? (dusts an upholstered chair vigorously). It's such (bang) such non-(bang) nonsense!

_Mrs. De S._ Nonsense to graduate! Matilda Hoppenhoer! Do stop thrashing about! Ugh, that dust! (coughs weakly). Katherine will do that.

_Miss H._ (pounding sofa cushions). Katherine is busy; she has ten miles of flutin' to flute!

_Mrs. De S._ (coughing). Well, stop, anyway! My nerves are bad today.

_Miss H._ You are worn out. We're all as cross as bears!

_Madam_ (emerging from a brown study). What shall I do? And only a yard needed! I think chiffon--

_Miss H._ (straightening out a rug). Use ribbon.

_Madam_ (with dignity). They used ribbon last year.

_Miss H._ Fringe, then,--fringe is very dressy.

_Madam_ They used fringe two years ago.

_Miss H._ (snapping her up). Well, what's the idea? To use something that hasn't never been used?

(Maude comes in, breathless.)

_Maude_ (sitting down hard). Goodness, I'm tired! Auntie, your grammar is bad--very bad. What are you doing?

_Miss H._ (sarcastically). Getting you ready to graduate.

_Maude_ (peeling off her gloves). Well sir, I've just been racing around! O, Valeria's going to have chiffon.

_Madam_ (dramatically). Chiffon!

_Maude_ (tossing her hat on the floor). Yes, and it's awfully pretty.

_Madam_ Chiffon! Is she? (Sits, from sheer weakness.)

_Maude_ (beginning to undo sundry packages). Yes, and--why, what's the matter?

_Madam_ (gasping). Chiffon!

_Maude_ (a light dawning). Am I? Am I?

_Miss H._ (winding yarn into a ball). Am you what? Sit down, child, sit down, you look like a statute!

_Maude_ Am I to have chiffon?

_Mrs. De S._ (firmly). You are.

_Maude_ We can't both have chiffon! I won't be a copy-tale! I won't!

_Mrs. De S._ (sitting erect and speaking with authority). Listen, dearie. The lace has given out.

_Maude_ (stamping her foot). Get more!

_Mrs. De S._ We can't.

_Madam_ And the gown is so modelled that we can use nothing else.

_Maude_ I won't have chiffon! I won't--I won't--I won't.

_Mrs. De S._ (warningly). Do not let Madame Sateene see you in a passion.

_Maude_ Madam would be in a passion herself! She knows how I feel! O dear! (begins to sob). Everything is going wrong! I w-w-won't graduate, so there now!

_Miss H._ (mounting a chair to straighten a picture). That's sensible! You needn't. I never did.

_Mrs. De S._ Matilda, do not encourage the child! Of course she must graduate. Everybody does.

_Miss H._ (sarcastically). If everybody stood on their heads, I suppose we'd have to!

_Mrs. De S._ You cannot judge in such matters, Matilda. You are very old-fashioned.

_Miss H._ (upsetting contents of work basket in lap). Maybe so, maybe so, but I am alive, and that child'll be dead if--

_Mrs. De S._ (holds her head). Matilda, for heaven's sake, stop!

_Maude_ I'll telephone Valeria. May be she--

_Mrs. De S._ (with decision). Maude, sit down! You will do nothing of the sort. Mrs. Reynolds is such a talker! The whole town would know it in ten minutes. Besides, at the Tuesday Club she cut me--actually cut me! I will not permit it.

_Maude_ I don't think that ought to count, now. I suppose I have to have something to wear.

_Madam_ What do you say to a Paris muslin?

_Maude_ (listlessly). What is a Paris muslin?

_Madam_ A sort of fine organdie.

_Maude_ Swell?

_Mrs. De S._ Maudie! Would Madam Sateene propose anything else? She doesn't want you to look like a fright. Now, I think,--(pauses, listening). Why there is papa's voice!

_Maude_ Papa, bless his old bones! Papa, come in here, quick! Hurry up!

(Mr. De Smythe comes in hastily.)

_Mr. De S._ What is it--what is it? Is Mamma worse?

_Maude_ (in tragic attitude). I can't graduate!

_Mr. De S._ (with profound astonishment). Can't graduate? Can't graduate? Didn't you pass?

_Maude_ (scornfully). Pass! That doesn't matter! My dress, my dress, my dress!

_Mr. De S._ (immensely relieved). Oh, your dress! Isn't it fine enough?

_Madam_ Why, you see, Mr. De Smythe, the--

_Maude_ (sobbing and clinging to his neck). I got to have chiffon, ugly, limp, old chiffon! It is so--so--d--drabbled!

_Mr. De S._ Well, never mind! Hus-s-h! You'll make Mamma worse. You needn't graduate! Never mind.

_Maude_ Oh, oh!

_Mr. De S._ Never mind, little girl, you needn't graduate! Never mind!

_Maude_ Oh, I--I must. The presents are coming in.

_Miss H._ (shortly). Return 'em.

_Maude_ You wouldn't, if they were yours! You know you wouldn't! Oh, you're all so mean!

_Madam_ (soothingly). Let's have Paris muslin. It'll be lovely.

_Mrs. De S._ It's too stiff.

_Miss H._ And sounds too furrin! Haven't we got any American muslin? I'd rather wear gunny sack.

_Mr. De S._ Hurrah for Matilda! A female Patrick Henry!

_Mrs. De S._ Papa, don't speak so loud!

_Mr. De S._ (contritely). I beg your pardon, Mamma,--your poor head!

_Maude_ I want something pretty! Not--not just--just any old thing!

_Madam_ (with awful dignity). Paris muslin is beautiful.

_Maude_ The other girls have silk.

_Mr. De S._ Then you must have silk, too,--decidedly. Mustn't she, Mamma?

_Mrs. De S._ (sighing). I do not know, Papa, I do not know. This is a dreadful time,--a dreadful time. I fear I shall not live to see her graduate! (sighs dismally). But you will all enjoy it. Matilda, will you heat the salt bags?

(Miss Hoppenhoer bounces out.)

_Maude_ (flies to couch). O, you precious, precious Mamma! Don't you dare get sick and die!

(Katherine opens the door.)

_Katherine_ Miss Reynolds and Mr. Hamilton.

_Maude_ Hello, Valeria, how you vas? Jack, did you get 'em?

_Jack_ (bows to ladies, shakes hands with Mr. De Smythe). Couldn't _Maude_, nothing but red.

_Maude_ Red! I can't wear red! Madam Sateene, can I?

_Madam_ (after due deliberation). Yes, you can. You will need a touch of color.

_Valeria_ Why don't you carry pink ones?

_Jack_ Pink roses are lovely. You carried pink ones at the Junior Banquet, didn't you, Val?

_Valeria_ (thoughtfully). Did I? Yes, I did! Bridesmaid, I think they were.

_Maude_ I hate pink roses!

_Mrs. De S._ Maudie, Maudie, do not be so vehement!

_Mr. De S._ Never mind about the roses. They are a side issue. The question is, "Wherewithal shall you be clothed!" I must be off to earn your daily cake. Let's decide.

_Maude_ (pensively). Jack, do you like Paris muslin?

_Jack_ Is it anything like Plaster of Paris?

_Maude_ Jack, behave! I am so worried! (signs of tears.)

_Valeria_ She's just tired, poor dear; don't tease her, Jack.

_Maude_ (with dignity). I am not tired. He can't tease me, thank you, _Valeria_. I think, Madam, I will have Paris muslin. Silk is so common.

_Jack_ Why don't you have bobinet?

_Valeria_ Why, Jack, bobinet is--

_Jack_ I know what bobinet is; heavy and kind of corded,--dead swell.

_Maude_ That's pique!

_Mr. De S._ Well, children, defer that discussion until the Fourth of July. Is there time for a whole new rig?

_Madam_ Y-e-s,--I think so.

_Mr. De S._ Cheer up, everybody! We'll have the prettiest frock in the outfit, if it breaks the R.I.P. Railroad! We are the people! I must go hunt those papers--things are stirred up so! Good-bye, Mamma, don't worry! Madam Sateene will save us! (goes).

_Madam_ (rising with alacrity). I shall go look at Paris muslins. Shall I bring you samples?

_Mrs. De S._ No, I am not able to decide. We trust to you absolutely, _Madam_ Sateene, absolutely. (groans). I believe I am going to have an attack! Oh, dear, my nerves! They actually twitch! I wish Matilda were of some use in such matters. Because she never graduated, she thinks _Maude_ shouldn't! Jack, do you see my smelling salts?

(Jack hunts for the salts. Girls talk apart. Madam makes memoranda.)

_Madam_ Miss Maude, how would you like ribbon, very narrow satin ribbon?

_Maude_ Kate Saunders had that in--let me see,--oh, in 1900.

_Valeria_ And that French Girl,--Giggre--wore it last year.

_Madam_ O dear! (grimly). Anybody ever use rope?

_Jack_ (grinning). Only men--for neck-ties mostly. I can't find it, Mrs. De Smythe.

_Mrs. De S._ Then Matilda has put it in the medicine chest. She is so neat! I can't help it--I don't want to have an attack! What shall I do? But I am afraid I--I am going to have one!

_Maude_ (with signs of tears). O, Mamma, don't have an attack! What shall I do? No roses, no dress, no nothing!

_Madam_ (resolutely). Well, you shall have a dress, about noon, to give you (with a tragic sweep of hand) if it is my last effort! Mrs. De Smythe, I'll drop in and report! (Goes hastily.)

_Valeria_ I must go. I stopped for a list of my committee.

_Maude_ (absently). Don't go. What committee?

_Valeria_ Committee on Decorations.

_Maude_ (vaguely). Committee on--?

_Valeria_ Decorations. Wake up!

_Maude_ (goes to desk). O yes! (rummages). This desk is disgraceful! Here it is! (Reads crumpled paper.) "Be it resolved--" goodness, that's about poor Ned Woodruff! Jack, who was on that committee?

_Jack_ (smoothing Valeria's gloves on his knee). Miss Secretary, I do not keep the minutes.

_Maude_ Well, you were presiding! (rummaging). Here it is,--six,--is that enough? Five, rather,--Hal Taylor won't serve.

_Valeria_ (taking the list). O yes, he will.

_Maude_ Said he wouldn't! Told Mabel Hopeland so last night.

_Valeria_ (calmly). Yes, he will.

_Maude_ Well, he said he wouldn't.

_Valeria_ (pocketing the list, unmoved). He will if I ask him.

_Maude_ (shutting desk with a bang). Oh!

(Enter Miss Hoppenhoer, with shawls, salt bags, etc.)

_Miss H._ Jennie, you'd better go to bed.

_Mrs. De S._ (sadly). I will. I hope I shall not have an attack.

_Miss H._ Attack! We'll all have an attack before Friday night! (She busies herself about the couch. Valeria and Maude go out.)

_Miss H._ Now, can you walk, do you think? I'd better call Katherine, hadn't I? Katherine! Be careful of that bag--it's hot--awful hot! Lean on me--(they go out, but Miss Hoppenhoer runs back to pick up things).

_Jack_ Can't I help you! A fellow never knows what to do when--when--anybody has an attack.

(Maude returns.)

_Jack_ Come on, Maude, I've got an old tandem out there. Let's take a spin.

_Miss H._ (dropping a shawl and two bottles). Got a what?

_Jack_ Go get ready, Maude. A tandem.

(Maude goes.)

_Miss H._ (moveless with astonishment). You ride it?

_Jack_ (respectfully). Yes, ma'am.

_Miss H._ (aghast). Ride it?

_Jack_ (fascinated). Yessum. (earnestly). Yes, ma'am.

_Miss H._ Ride a tantrum! Well, such goings on! And all of it comes from graduating! Thank Heaven, I never graduated!

(Commences to pick up things. Curtain.)