i TEARS A Drama by JULIUS HOPP , CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Joseph Whitmore Barry dramatic library THE GIFT OF TWO FRIENDS OF Cornell University 1934 „„ Cornell University Library PS 3515.062T2 Tearsa drama of modern life in four act 3 1924 022 480 655 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022480655 r. ears A Drama of Modern Life in Four Acts by yulius Hopp Boston The Poet-Lore Company igo4 E Copyright 1904 by Julius Hopp All rights reserved 4ij3o/J3 PRINTED AT THE GOKHAM PRESS BOSTOK, U. S. A. The purpose of playing . . . is to hold, as't were, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. — Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2. That romanticism is more interesting than the realism which is prevalent, I grant; but it seems to me that the realism of which we think is only superficial, and naturally the discussion or narra- tion of the common will be interesting, but the point which I wish to make is that if the inner lives of the majority of the human race were dis- closed, we should have romances and even trage- dies in abundance. — Prof. G. R. Carpenter, Columbia University. CHARACTERS Old Mr. Harden His Wife George Harden | Harry Harden >• Their children Anna Harden ) Alice Harden, wife of George Harden, sister of Herbert Harris Mary Harden, her daughter Ferdinand Harden, cousin of George, Harry, and Anna Herbert Harris, a manufacturer Helen Harris, his wife Grace Harris, their daughter, later Harry Har- den's wife William Wallace minor characters A preacher, a teacher, young men and women, a servant girl, a police detective, a delegation of working people, two children of Harry and Grace mvst Art First Scene yg small town in Europe. Home of the old // Hardens. Plainly furnished room; the V y back open to a veranda, from which the market place can be seen. Old Mr. Harden, about sixty-live years of age, sits at the table, resting his gray head upon his right arm, hopelessly looking into vacancy. His features are earnest from, the many inflictions sus- tained during his life. His wife, of the same age that he is, a shrunken, shapeless, old zvoman, bereft by sorrows of every feminine beauty. Her face is wrinkled and her head covered with but few hairs. She is bent by age, and supports herself, while walking, on every object within reach, sighing continuously. Mr. Harden shakes his head in grief, as if not comprehending. Anna {Enters through the door on the left side. She is eighteen years of age. Her eyes are red and swollen with tears. She goes to her father and kneels down before him) — Father, father, soon must I go away from you, from home. {She cries.) Father {Draws her to his breast). 6 ©para Mother {Leads the preacher into the room, call- ing Anna's attention to the visitor) — ^Anna, please. Mr. Harden — You are honoring us. Anna (Bows to him). Preacher — God be with you. Although our dear Anna called on me yesterday to say farewell, I feel it incumbent upon me to be present at the last moment before departure, in order to extend to you God's words of hope and consolation. Mrs. Harden — We thank you most heartily. Preacher — Your daughter has merited, by her exemplary conduct, the love, admiration, and friendship of all. Anna (Lays her hand into those of the preacher) . Preacher — God's will leads to the best. (In a lower voice.) Do not increase your parents' suf- fering by an unrestrained utterance of your own feelings. Mrs. Harden — You will pardon us if we have to leave you for a few moments, as we have to attend to the last preparation for the journey. Anna, excuse yourself. Anna (Bows). (Mrs. Harden and Anna exit.) Mr. Harden (To the preacher) — May I request you to take a chair ? (Both sit down.) Mr. Harden — It is as if a piece of flesh were torn out of my heart. Preacher — But what induces you to send your child to America, dear Harden? Emva 7 Mr. Harden — My two sons live in New York. My eldest son I have not seen for more than twenty years. You understand my longings, my burning longings. I am old, too old, arid will soon not be able to follow my trade, and here I have nobody on whom I could depend. By God, I have suffered enough in my life. Of course, it is hard to think of parting from a place where one has spent his entire life, but if it be God's will, we shall follow our children, so that we may see them once more before we close our eyes forever. Is there anything more painful for gray parents than to have children and not to know them ? With joy have we cared and sacrificed our all for our chil- dren's sake; and now, when we are old, we are not alone deprived of any benefits from them, but we are not even permitted to know our own flesh and blood. Oh, it is almost unbearable to think of ! But if our Anna will be able to save money in America, this our last and only desire in life will be gratified; we will follow our children to America. Preacher — Are your sons well-to-do there? Mr. Harden (Shrugs his shotdders) — We know nothing about it; if they were rich they would have written so; they would then have sent us money. Their never mentioning anything about their living is a sure sign that they must be strug- gling. Who knows? Preacher — America is not any more the golden 8 ®?ara land it was a few decades ago. Then, when the natural resources of the land were undeveloped, people grew rich, but nowadays conditions have grown to be the same in America as anywhere in the world. The same problems that agitate Eu- rope make themselves felt over there. Economic uncertainty, as a rule, holds there full sway; in fact, the struggle for existence is in America much more intense than in Europe. People in America are exerting their entire energies in the struggle for existence. Mr. Harden — I am not unaware of all this, as I read much about the world's affairs. But what does it matter to us where we spend the few days we have to live, as long as we see our children once more? This will outweigh all disadvant- ages. (Signals of a postilion sound from afar, and gradually approaching, are heard louder and louder. ) Preacher — This is the stage going to the sta- tion. Mrs. Harden — The saddest moments have ar- rived. Now I have to part from my child. {From the street, unexpectedly, a farewell song is being played by town musicians. Young men and girls of all ages are seen ascending the stairs leading from the street into the house. They come up to the veranda.) Anna and her mother, allured by the sound of the music, enter the room. She is now dressed in a traveling cloak and holds her bonnet on her arm. Her mother carries a valise and places the latter on the floor. When the music has ceased, the stage coach has reached the house, the horses without a/re neighing, and the whip cracks. The participants in the ovation enter the room, everyone bearing flowers. Out of the crowd steps the teacher, who flrst salutes the parson, then shakes hands with Mrs. Harden, and Anally turns to Anna, addressing her. The Teacher — Before destiny, which rules us all, leads you away from the place where you have passed the sunny days of your childhood, where you have breathed the air of youthful hap- piness, accept this token of friendship from those that are here assembled to render you their last homage {he hands her an album containing photographs of all present). May Fortune scatter roses upon the path you are to tread. And when in the distant land your terrestrial days wane into age may these pictures lead your mem- ory back to this day, and to those preceding it. {Anna cries; all present are moved to tears; they overwhelm her with flowers; the young men shake her hand, while each girl in the room kisses her, saying " Good-bye.") Now follows a long, silent scene, the moments of final parting, such as are being witnessed day by day in European towns. lo ufpara Anna (Sobbing and lamenting loudly, embraces her mother for more than a minute. ) Mr. Harden {Struggling intensely with himself, silently puts his hat on.) Preacher {Witnessing the tight embrace of mother and daughter, endeavors to shorten their pain by separating them) — Go, Anna, go. Anna {Falling now on her father's breast, her sobs are becoming more vehement) — Father, father, my dearest father! The visitors, overcome by emotion, leave the room, hiding their tear-stained faces. Mrs, Harden {Takes her child again in her em- brace, and thus they walk together toward the door leading to the veranda. The teacher sup- ports the half-fainting Mrs. Harden. They all leave the room through the door to the veranda, while the sobbing and crying is heard, mingling with the sounds of the postilion, which latter grow fainter and fainter as the coach rolls into the distance. Second Scene ^ four-room Hat in a tenement house on /m the East Side of New York. The y M stage represents two rooms, as the rooms in which the poor live are not as large as stages are. Although the furniture displays poverty, there is a scrupulous cleanliness about every object. To the left is the front room, whose windows on the left open into the street. A door in the right corner, in the rear, leads into the hallway; another door, more toward the front, leads into the bedroom, which latter occupies the right part of the stage. The bedroom is dark; there is only one small window in the back wall, opening into the airshaft. The furniture consists of a cot bed only, while some clothes hang on hooks on the right wall. The front room is very poorly furnished, a small table in the center, a rocking chair, a parlor set, whose springs have succumbed to use during long year's. Between the two windows on the right hangs a looking glass, above a small closet. Some other insignificant things complete the out- fit. The floor is covered here and there with small old rugs, but is otherwise bare. The walls are poorly ornamented with printed pictorial ad- vertisements of commercial concerns. In a corner near the window stands a book 1 2 EinvB case containing works of Spencer, John Stuart Mill, Thomas Morris, Henry George, Karl Marx, Tolstoi, and Zola, etc. Ferdinand Harden and William Wallace, both young men of about 25 years of age, are sitting near the book case reading. Bertha Harden and Harry Harden are also in the room when the curtain rises. Harry (Grumblingly) — Where did you put my things to? Nothing is on hand when I want it. Bertha — Well, why don't you take care of your "things. Harry — Ain't you supposed to do it? Bertha — You do just as if everyone around you is a servant. Harry — Don't I pay? Bertha {Makes an abrupt gesture, showing the futility of continuing any conversation.) Harry {Having found the vest he was looking for he continues dressing himself, pacing com- placently to and fro.) Bertha — You are going out tonight again, are you? Harry — Yes. Bertha {Timidly) — Before you go, you will have to give me a few dollars this week, Harry. You know what expenses we had these few weeks on account of Anna. I have only a few cents left in the house, and it's only Friday. Ferdinand (To William Wallace) — Do you see? So it goes every week. When the middle of the week comes, then the money is short. Harry (To Bertha) — What do you always come to me for for money? I can't bother with it. I am paying here more than I would to strangers. Bertha — You ought to care, and take interest in your nearest relatives. Arn't you living with your own brother? It is not only for the sake of the money you pay and the equivalents^ you get that you are living here? You ought to take interest in your sick brother and your sister. But what is the use of talking to you? If you had common sense or a heart, you would . . . Harry — Oh, for heaven's sake, hang it ! I ain't going to give my money to everyone who wants it. I want to enjoy myself. Bertha — I don't want to disturb your pleas- ures; of course you can spend the few dollars you make as you please. But I tell you, it is wrong; you buy things you don't need, while George has not a decent coat on his back. Have at least some feeling on account of your sister. Do you think it is right to let her go to the shop while she is only two weeks in the country? I can't afford to keep her home. Did you notice how sad she is when she comes home in the even- ing from work? Last night I heard her sobbing while all were sleeping. Harry (Brushes his hat and whistles.) 14 Stfarfi Bertha — Then loan me two dollars at least till Saturday. Harry (Puts after some deliberation the money on the table.) Bertha (Takes it and murmurs to herself) — Pity the poor girl that will ever marry him. (She goes into the kitchen.) William (To Ferdinand) — So you will lend me this book. It must be interesting. This is the first book on social economy I am going to read. Yes, money, money seems to be the source of all evil. Ferdinand — On one hand you have excessive accumulation of wealth by comparatively few, while on the other hand you have poverty of the masses. Harry (To William) — Don't you become a socialist too ; it's enough we have one of them. William (To Harry) — Then you are no so- cialist, as your cousin? Harry — Not by a damn sight ; I am nothing. I am where I can get the most money. Ferdinand (Smiles.) William — Well, I am no socialist either ; I be- lieve in some ideas of it, but I must say there is a great deal of truth in it. I know that people are poor even in periods of prosperity, and the masses do not enjoy the advantages of the increased productivity. Harry — Rubbish ! You socialists oppose prog- ^fWtB 15 ress ; they want to divide equally — let each man be rich; such nonsense! William (To Harry) — That is your interpreta- tion of socialism. Ferdinand — Socialism is the inevitable out- come of the growth of the present system. So- cialism is not something to be adopted, but it is a state towards which industry develops. When centralization of industry has reached its climax, then all human beings will enjoy the multiplied wealth, and poverty will be abolished. Social- ism aims at the happiness and comfort of all. The change of ownership of centralized industry will then be the inevitable issue. Harry — It will never be. Ferdinand — From your limited point of view. Harry — I ain't no fool like you, anyway. Ferdinand — Ignorance and arrogance are twins. (To William) Progress was always im- peded by popular misapprehension and prejudice. Christ was crucified, Columbus ridiculed, Galileo burned. (Mrs. Harden enters.) Mrs. Harden — Politics again. You better be careful. Will, that you don't get into a scrap; whenever they argue their politics they finish with some kind of trouble. You have something more important now on your mind than politics, you have to get work first, you need a job now first of all. 1 6 S^ara Ferdinand — That is just what we are arguing about, how to have work always and to make a living without worrying about it. Mrs. Harben {To William) — If we could only do something for you, but you know we have nothing ourselves. I have a brother, though, who may be able to get you a position. He is a business man, and I think if you go to him he may get you some kind of a position. William — Do you mean your brother who used to have the factory in New Haven, with whom my mother used to work. Is he in New York now? Mrs. Harden — He is in New York since a few years. William — I remember them very well ; mother used to wash for his family. Mrs. Harden — I expect my brother to come to- night on account of seeing our new guest. You go tomorrow to him, and I am positive he will be able to do something for you. I think you better go soon after supper, lest he meets you here, as I do not wish him to know that I am giving you his address. The hell rings. Mrs. Harden leaves the room to open the door. Soott after she re-enters follomed by her husband, George Harden. George {He is lame and therefore unable to walk continuously. When he enters the room he seats ©para 1 7 himself exhaustedly in the rocking chair. He is of a wretched appearance ; his suit is time-worn and faded. His trousers are worn out on the bottom, and his hat out of shape. When he entered through the bedroom, he carried a few paper boxes, held together with a strap, and he places same on the floor; this constituting his stock of trade. After recovering his breath, he says) — Good evening (and looks with anxious expectancy through the room, and not seeing Anna, he asks) — Has Anna not come home yet? Mrs. Harden — Not yet, but she ought to come every minute. George — It is after seven already. (His voice is always pensive and betrays by its tone the suf- fering he secretly bears. ) Mrs. Harden (Her voice is always natural and unrestrained, as if she knows no sorrows, and with this, her artificial good humor, she exercises a soothing influence upon her husband) — Oh, well, she will be here soon. Sometimes the cars stop, or she may have to work a little overtime. George (Takes his coat off and rocks himself nervously in the rocking chair.) William (To George) — ^^Good evening, Mr. Harden. George — Did you get work today? Mrs. Harden (Looks during the following con- versation out of the window into the street) William — Not yet. I made an application 1 8 EtWiB yesterday as conductor on the road. I could get work, but I don't like to take anything that comes along ; I am very anxious to get a position where I could make use of my education, and not to remain a workingman, simply working without any other aim than to make a living. Mrs. Harden {Calls out of the window) — Hello. (She turns into the room and says) — The girls are coming down the street. {She leaves the room.) George — That is all well enough, to have some ambitions, but a person must be glad if he gets any kind of work. Ideals — I had ideals, too, years ago, but I tell you I changed my mind pretty quick. Work and live, that is all one can do nowadays. The merry voices of two girls sound from the kitchen. George goes toward the bedroom when Anna and Mary enter the front room. Mary is about i6 years of age; her dress is of very cheap material, but its style is a poor imita- tion of fashion, although it is torn and mended in various places, and covered with thread from the factory. Her hair is elaborately dressed, and all the luxury available is lavished upon the bon- net. She holds in her hand a dime novel and a newspaper. She is altogether a type of a New York factory girl. Anna stands with her modest dress and simple behavior in strong contrast to Mary. She has little changed in outward appearance since she has left Europe, except that her features have lost somewhat of their former brightness, and her cheeks are less red. Mary — Hello ! Anna (^Hastens into George^ s arms) — Good evening, brother. My dear Georgia! George — I thought you would be home already when I would return, so I had to wait for you all this time. Anna — And I was thinking of you all day long. (To Harry, with less affection) — Good evening, Harry. (She shakes hands with Ferdi- nand and William) — How are you? William — How is yourself. Miss Anna ? Anna — Thank you, very well. (Both girls take their hats off, and their laugh- ing and girlish giggling fills the room and com- municates itself to everyone else.) Anna. — This is the second day I am working, and soon I will get the first money I have ever earned. (All look admiringly at Anna, she being the sudden star of joy in this house. ) Mrs. Harden (Enters, carrying dishes and set- ting the table) — Now, let us have supper, chil- dren. Anna (Assists her eagerly.) Mary (Who has opened the newspaper and reads aloud) — Murder; husband shot his wife. 20 SI^arB having found her to be guilty of breach of faith ! Boo ! Awful ! Ferdinand — Is that all you have to read ? Mary — Ain't that nice? Look at that nice pic- ture; how gracefully she raises her skirt. (She goes to the looking-glass and imitates the atti- tude she has seen in the newspaper.) Ferdinand (To William) — Beautiful impres- sions for an immature girl. Ha ! ha ! Mrs. Harden — You better learn to mend your stockings. (All sit down to eat.) Mrs. Harden — You sit there, Anna. (To William) — ^Will and you, you sit next to Anna. William (To Anna) — With your permission. Anna (Blushes) — Certainly. Harry (Remains remarkably silent, knowing that he is nof well liked by the others. He reads the papers while he eats.) v Mary — Oh, and didn't we have fun on the way home. Anna got so frightened in the car. You ought to hear. Anna — I felt so dizzy, everything seemed to dance around me. We went to get our car, and so many people were rushing after the same car. Thousands pf people streamed through the streets ; oh, if I think of it ! And the cars were flying through the crowd, the people running like crazy, all pressing each other, men running and pushing aside the women. The cars, they were ®^ara 2 i crowded already and still the people pressed into them. Those that could not get into the cars were hanging outside, one holding the arms over men that were hanging themselves somehow, and, while all this was going on, the cars went along, loaded in and outside. My God! One man slipped off the car and was dragged along. I nearly fainted. And we were so tired from working and from the excitement, and we could not get a seat at all. I've never seen anything like it. Ferdinand — Here everything is in a rush. Anna — I don't know how I got home. Mary — I pushed her into the car, and she al- most lost her hat. Anna — Is that always so in America ? I won- der how people can live like that, and why they do so. George — Well, what is the use of talking? You will get used to it, too, like the others. Anna ( Yawns) — I am so tired. Mary — After supper I am going out. Mrs. Harden — No, you stay home tonight. Uncle Herbert is coming. Mary (Obstinately) — I am not going to stay home. I am going to see my feller tonight. I have made a date with him. Mrs. Harden — You stay home, I tell you. Mary — I work all day long and in the evening 22 UisnvB I shall stay home. What have I got then from life? I want to have fun, too. Mrs. Harden — You can have pleasure at home, too. Mary — Pleasure home? I wish to know what kind of pleasure I could have here; the nice piano we haven't got. I am not the only girl on the avenue; they all go out after supper and why should I not? George — Well, let her go, Alice. We can't keep her in the room after she has been working all day long. A little air will do her good, too. Mrs. Harden — But you be home by 9 o'clock. (The frugal supper has been taken.) Mrs. Harden (To William) — ^And you be here tomorrow and I will give you my brother's ad- dress. William — I am much obliged to you. So I shall go now. (He takes his hat and a book.) Mary — Are you going now? Wait; I'll come with you. (She dresses herself.) William — Goodnight, Mrs. Harden. (He shakes hands with everyone.) Mary — So long. Mary, raising her skirt as she studied it before, and William exeunt. Harry — I have to go down to the barber; ex- cuse me, Anna. (He goes.) Mrs. Harden (Speaking to herself) — And from the barber to his sports, the politicians he goes with. , j ^iwcB 23 Anna {To Mrs. Harden) — And I shall help you wash the dishes. Mrs. Harden — Oh, no, child; you worked all day ; you better rest now. Anna — Work never kills. (Both carry the dishes into the kitchen. Mrs. Harden returns once more, brushes the crumbs off the table and goes again into the kitchen.) George and Ferdinand remain alone in the room. Ferdinand (Reads, and then goes into the bed- room, lights the gas, lies down on the bed, and continues reading, sighing.) George (Goes to the table, takes his money out of his pocket, and counts it.) Mrs. Harden (Re-enters) — The landlord was here again ; he was very angry. George (Shrugs his shoulders.) Mrs. Harden (Laconically) — He will have to wait another week ; in the meantime we will look for rooms, and this way we save six weeks' rent. That's the only thing we can do. George — We are never allowed to settle down. Mrs. Harden — Have you sold much today ? George — Besides the expenses, I have about 80 cents profit. Mrs. Harden — I am running very low this week. I asked Harry to give me two dollars. Anna cost us a good deal these last weeks. Car 24 Olieara fare and money for lunch. Well, we will get through it, though, somehow. George — I am getting tired of it. (He strokes his forehead.) Mrs. Harden — The money she will earn there in the factory we can't take away from her either ; she wants to save it, she says, for her father. She has no idea that we have no money. {She takes the change from her husband, which he offers her.) Anna is coming into room. George motions his wife to be silent. Anna — I am done with washing the dishes, and now we will talk the evening away, like home. Mrs. Harden — And while you both talk I'll go down and fetch some fruit for the visitors, other- wise I have nothing in the house for them. Mrs. Harden exit. Anna (Goes to her brother, and noticing his badly torn vest, she urges him to give it to her) — Your vest is torn, too ; come, I shall mend it for you. George {Somewhat embarrassed) — No, Anna, Alice will fix it for me tomorrow. Anna — This is no work at all, and you must not wear torn clothes. {She takes his vest off, gets a needle and cotton and mends it, during the following dialogue) — Four weeks ago I was home and now I am in America. George — Father and mother must be very gray, are they? EiutB 25 Anna — Father does not look as old as mother, although he is older. Mother looks like an old grandmother, and father — George (Bites his lip, suppressing his pain. His voice becomes tremulous, he seizes her hand) — Sister ! When I look at you I can hardly believe it that I have such a dear sister. When I left home you were a little baby. Anna (Stops sewing and lays her head against her brother's shoulder, patting his cheeks) — And I knew I had a brother far away in America whom I did not know, and I could not imagine what you look like. You look just like father. George (Turns his face aside to hide from her the tears that are rolling down his cheeks. He takes his kerchief, pretends to blow his nose, but actually impes the tears away.) Anna — The parents were always worrying about you, because you wrote so seldom; father was at times very angry with you. George — See, sister, you are here now, and I may tell you. I could not write. I have gone through awful days. When I came to America I made nice money, but in 1892, when the panic was in this country, I lost all. Then I had to commence anew, and from working too hard, I fell sick. Eight years ago I was nearly dead, and I am fortunate that I am alive today. Anna — But you are not sick any more ? George — Not so much now, but I must not work 26 EmvB hard. When a person in America is able to work he is all right, he may make his living any- way, but if one is sick, then it is all over. Anna — And the parents knew nothing about it? George — Could I write it to them? The less they knew the better. Anna — But Harry, is he not earning enough money ? George — My wife got him a position with her brother. He makes nice money, eighteen dol- lars a week, but he spends most of it. He has too many friends, who live beyond their means, and you can't get him away from them. (Somebody knocks at the door leading into the hallway.') Mrs. Harden {Outside) — Open here. Anna {Opens the door.) Mrs. Harden, Mr. Harris and Grace Harris enter. Mr. Harris is about 45 years of age. His face is haggard and his hair gray. Grace is a beautiful, fascinating girl of twenty, dressed tastefully and neatly. A cap hangs loosely over her lovely hair. She is a lively and jolly girl of refinement and education. Mr. Harris — Grood evening. George — Good evening, Herbert. Good even- ing, Grace. Grace — How do you do, uncle? We met aunty just going into the house. But how dark QTsara 27 these stairs are, and so many people live in one house. Mrs. Harden — Come, Anna, I shall introduce you. This is our new sister; my brother — George; this is my niece, Grace. Grace — I am very glad. So you are from Europe. When did you arrive? Anna — Two weeks ago. Grace — You had a pleasant trip, I suppose? How do you like what you have seen of America ? Anna — Everything is so new to me. Grace — Are you going out every day seeing the sights of New York, the splendid parks and museum and the many theaters? {Anna, Mrs. Harden and George exchange glances of embarrassment.) Anna — Oh, no. I have no time for all this, I have to work and earn money. Grace — You and work? A young lady? George — Well, let us change the subject. Anna — Are there not thousands of girls work- ing? I am no exception. Mrs. Harden — Anna, show Grace the pictures and other things you brought from Europe. Anna {To Grace) — Come. {The girls embrac- ing each other go through the bedroom into the kitchen, stopping in the bedroom, where they exchange a few zvords with Ferdinand, who is still reading, but rises when the girls pass.) Ferdinand — How are you, Miss Grace ? 28 UtnxB Grace — Thank you, I am well. How are you ? Always reading? Ferdinand — Yes, reading; cherishing great aims. (They go into the kitchen. Ferdinand takes his hat, turns the light out, and goes also into the kitchen. ) Mr. Harris (Gives his sister a few dollar bills.) Mrs. Harden — Oh, we don't need any money now, we have — now — all — we — we — need. Mr. Harris — Then keep it for the future. Mrs. Harden — Have some fruit, brother. (She offers him fruit.) — How is business, now? Mr. Harris — Troubles right along. Mr. Harden — There is nothing without it. Mr. Harris — I lost a good deal of money lately. Mrs. Harden — You did ? Speculation ? Mr. Harris — Speculation ? No. Business is something awful this season. If it keeps on like this I will have to go out of business so it appears. Mrs. Harden — It will not be as bad as all that, brother? Mr. Harris — Rather than lose every cent I have. One good thing is that my life is insured. Mrs. Harden — That has nothing to do with it. Mr. Harris (Realising that he may have be- trayed some of his thoughts, he tries to obliterate the impression he thinks to have created.) — I tStwtn 29 mean that — at least — when all should be — lost — well — then I have always something for my family — to fall back on. Mrs. Harden — That is nonsense ; you can live long yet, and if you should lose your money, you, as a business man, will make it again. There are ups and downs. Mr. Harris — I hope so ; otherwise there would be no use living. Mrs. Harden — We have nothing and we live too. One gets used to it if one must. Mr. Harris (Looks at his watch.) It is eight o'clock already. As I wrote you, I have an ap- pointment here in this neighborhood ; that is why we stopped in here just for a few minutes. Helen sends her regards, and she expects Anna to visit her very soon. Will you call Grace to come ? Mrs. Harden (Calls into the kitchen) — Girls! (Both girls enter the front room.) Grace — Going already? Next time we'll stay longer, especially as I have here such a nice friend. (She puts her cap in order.) Mr. Harris — Good-night then, sister, good- night, George. Grace — Good-bye, Anna. You come and pay us a visit next Sunday, positively. Will you ? Anna — I will. They all, with the exception of George, leave the room, going into the hallway. George remains alone and lies down on the lounge. A 3D ®tar0 few seconds later, after they are heard saying on the stairs " good-bye " to the visitors, Anna and Mrs. Harden return. Anna (^Yawns') — I am so tired from working. George — You better go to bed. {Anna kisses her brother and sister-in-law good-night and leaves the room, followed by Mrs. Harden. Mrs. Harden {Returns soon, carrying a cot bed into the front room, preparing same and turns the gas low) — Go to bed, George, as soon as Mary comes home. She will be here by nine o'clock. I would not wait for Harry, though, he has the keys. {Exit.) { George alone in the room. He closes his eyes and falls into a slumber. In his half -sleep a vision appears before him in which he sees his mother in Europe lying in a cofUn, his father standing beside her, with covered face. George jumps up from his lounge, intending to hurry toward the vision, which vanishes instantly. Be- holding the reality, he continues to gaze at the place where the vision appeared.) ^woniii Art First Scene M room on the ground floor of a private /I house on the upper West side of New y M York. The scenery displays comfort and moderate wealth. Mrs. Harris sits in a rocking chair nea/r the window reading a novel. From the floor above sound the tunes of classical music, played on a piano accompanied by a female voice. Servant Girl {Enters) — Madam, a young man desires to see you. Mrs. Harris — His card. S. G. — He had none. His name is Mr. Wallace. Mrs. Harris — Wallace ? What is it about ? S. G. — He seems rather poorly dressed, but he says he wishes to see you personally. Mrs. Harris and servant girl exeunt. Mrs. Harris returns soon, showing William Wallace into the room. Mrs. Harris — You are William? I would never have recognized you. Since when are you in New York? How is your mother? William — Mother died last year. Mrs. Harris — That is too bad. Sit down, William. How did you happen to come to New York? 32 SIfarH William {Sitting) — You know, Mrs. Harris, how sickly mother used to be when she did the work in your house in New Haven. Her strength diminished from year to year, as she worked pretty hard right along. She fell sick and for nearly four months she was confined in bed. I was then the only one who earned any- thing. Of course, some charitable institutions aided us, but all this was not sufficient to strengthen my mother completely. As soon aS she became a little better, she had to go out washing again, and thus she relapsed. She grew thinner every week. She kept on working, though, until one morning — that moment I shall never forget — my youngest sister wanted to awake mother, it was pretty late, but mother did not move. Then I went over and wanted to tell her that it was late. When I touched her hand — it was cold — I understood — but my brother and sisters kept on calling : " Mother, get up." Since that day we are orphans. Mrs. Harris — Where are the others ? William — In the orphan asylum. I came last year to New York, as I thought to find here better chances to develop myself with the education I acquired by myself, but I have been unfortunate. I have only a few dollars left, and they will soon be gone, if I do not soon get a position. For this reason I thought of calling on you ; perhaps that Mr. Harris could place me somewhere. EmtB 33 Mrs. Harris — Certainly, Will, we will do all we can for you. Where are you stopping? William — I took a furnished room down town. Mrs. Harris — You stay with us, and we will take care of you. Why did you not come to us sooner ? William — I only heard lately that you were in New York. (The music upstairs has ceased. Grace is heard coming down the stairs.) Mrs. Harris — Don't be discouraged, my boy, you will be all right. Grace (Enters) — Papa is coming. I just saw him getting off the car. (Seeing William,) — Oh ! Mrs. Harris — Don't be frightened, Grace. (To William) — You know Grace, don't you? William (Growing confused on seeing her) — I remember. Mrs. Harris — Grace, you know this young man? Grace — I do not. Mrs. Harris — Will Wallace from New Haven. Grace — I know the name, but, are you Will ? William — Yes, I am; you are quite a woman. Grace — And you, too, have become a tall young man. Oh, mamma, how Will has grown since we left New Haven. Mrs. Harris — And he has become bashful, too, since then. 34 EmtB William — Can one speak while seeing the splendor . . . you . . . (Grace makes a movement revealing the fact that she has been fascinated by him.) The bell rings. Grace — Pa is coming. {A few seconds later Mr. Harris enters. He kisses his wife and takes his overcoat off. See- ing William he looks at his wife inquiringly.) Mrs. Harris — This is William Wallace, Her- bert, from New Haven. You remember his mother used to be in our employ there. He called on us a short while ago, and as he is all alone in New York, I think it is best to keep him here until he secures a good position. {To Wil- liam) — We will give you a room we have up- stairs that we are not using at present. Grace, tell the girl to show Will up-stairs. Exeunt Will and Grace. Mrs. Harris {Hums some song) — Oh, Herby, I have something very important to tell you. Just imagine, today I received a statement from Madam Dupont wherein she demands payment for a bill which we paid her a long time ago. You sent the check at that time. Mr. Harris — Madam Dupont ? Mrs. Harris — The dressmaker, I am positive she received the check for this amount, you told me twice you sent her the check.