3503 Wf CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ANNA S™GURLEY MEMORIAL BOOK FUND FOR THE PURCHASE OF BOOKS IN THE FIELD OF THE DRAMA THE GIFT OF William F. E. Gurley CLASS OF 1877 x 935 Cornell University Library PS 3503.R612W4 1910 What happened to Jones an original farce 3 1924 022 296 267 What Happened to Jones BY GEORGE H. BROADHURST SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West \5th St„ New York MRS. PARTRIDGE PRESENTS Comedy in 3 act*. By Mary Kennedy and Ruth Haw- thorne. 8 males, 6 female*. Modem eostumea. 2 interiors. Plays 2% hours. Th* characters, scenes and situations are . thoroughly up-to- dats in thia altogether delightful Ameriean comedy. To* heroin* v il a woman of tremendous energy, who manages a business—** ■be manages everything— with great sueeeas, and at home pre- side! orer the destinies of a growing son and daughter. Her struggle to give the children the opporttmitiei ahe hereelf had. misled, and the children's ultimate revolt against her Well-meant management— that is the basis of the plot. Th* son who Is cast for the part of artist and th* daughter who is to go on the stags offer numerous opportunities for the development of the comio possibilities in the theme. ' The play ia one of the most delightful, yet thought-provoking "American comedies of recent rears, and is warmly recommended: to all amateur groups, (Royalty on application.) Price, 75 Cents, IN THE NEXT ROOM Melodrama in 3 acts. By Eleanor Eobson and- Harriet Ford. 8 males, 3 females. 2 interiors. Modern costumes. PUys2%Tfflurj. t < ., > v "Phti&jjpantine h»»-|j ffig£t altars copy of an original Bool* ^»hjn*£:*li«Sfedere4;'S •hlfPlu' tp. his Hew York home from Paris. v 9&tn ir lirmsic^t^lUound to 'So fth*^ original itself, the pos- jMsion of which is o*»ffiaiLJ)y many strange people. Before tha ■ myatexy eojMsprned tqtlCepe cabinet's shipment can be cleared S, ' t?**" iterSojii meat myaterious death fooling with it and tha ppineas of many otherwise happy actors is "threatened' ' (Burns Mantle). A first-rate mystery play, comprising all the elements of suspense, curiosity, comedy and drama, "In the Next Boom" is quite easy to stage. It can be unreservedly recommended to Ugh schools and. college*, .(Boyalty, twenty-five .dollars.) Price, 76 Cents, SAMUEL FBKtfCH, 25 West 45th Street, Now York OUT Hew and .Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Erse on Bequest WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES Sin Original facte in Qfyttt 9Ltt$ BY GEORGE H. BROADHURST Copyright, 1910, by Broadhurst Brothers ALL RIGHTS RESERVED CAUTION. — Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that "What Happened to Jones," being fully protected under the copy*, right laws, of the United States of America, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Canada, and the other countries of the Copyright Union, is subject to a royalty, and anyone present- ing the play without the consent of^the owners or their authorized agents will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applica- tions for the Professional and Amateur acting rights must be made to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N, Y. New York SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHERS 25 WEST 45th STREET London SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 26 Southampton Street STRAND WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book without a valid contract for production first having been obtained from the publisher, con- fers no right or license to professionals or amateurs %o produce the play publicly or in private for gain or charity. In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance, representa- tion, production, recitation or public reading pr radio broadcasting may be given except by special arrangement with Samuel Frenchi 25 West 45th Street, New York. This play may be presented by amateurs upon pay- ment of a royalty of Twenty-Five Dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, one week before the date when the play is given. Professional royalty quoted on application to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play : "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French of New York." Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any infringement of the author's rights, as follows : "Section 4966: — Any person publicly performing or representing any dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every sub- sequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and repre- sentation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction shall be imprisoned for a period not ex- ceeding one year." — U. S. Revised Statutes : Title 60, Chap. 3. Cast of Cbaracters. Jones. Who Travels for a Hymn-book House YJSbbkeZer Goodly A Professor of Anatomy Antony Goodly, D.D Bishop of Ballarat Richard Heathekly Engaged to Marjorie Thomas Holder A Policeman William Big bee An Inmate of the Sanatorium Henry Fuller Superintendent of the Sanatorium Mrs. Goodly Ebenezer's Wife Cissy Ebenezer's Ward Mabjorie JtfrNERVA Alvina Starlight ,. , . Mrs. Goodly's Sister Helma Swedish Servant-gir! t Ebenezer's Daughters Place. — New York City. Tlmb.— The present. Hour, 7 : 15 P. M. i*he action of the play is continuous, commencing at 7;! I and continuing till end of play, Time of representation, 2 hours and thirty minutes. Cornell University Library The original of this 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/cu31924022296267 Characters. Jones.— A good-looking, well-built man of thirty eight, ■with the quick wit and ready tongue which mark the success- ful commercial traveller. Ebenkzer Goodly.— About fifty years old and looks like a man who has devoted his time to study. He is subdued in manner and speech. ■Richard Heatherly. — About twenty-four. One of the boys in a quiet way, but has suppressed every indication of it to the Goodly family, owing to their puritanical ideas. Bishop. — About fifty years old. His manner is suave and his speech is soft, with English accent and inflection. He is about the same height as Jones. Holder. — A typical New York policeman with slight Irish brogue. Bigbee. — Should resemble the Bishop physically, and in make-up. Wig fac-simile, and has three red feathers in it. His face is marked in black after the fashion in which In- dians mark theirs. Fuller. — About forty; medium height ; rather stout and wears spectacles. Mrs. Goodly. — A matronly -looking woman of about forty- eight. Her manner is decided but not too aggressive. Cissy. — About twenty -two. Knowing, but not fast nor tough. Marjorie. — About twenty. She is of a romantic disposi- tion. Manner, with Richard, shows the familiarity of an engaged girl. Minerva. — About twenty-six years old. A blue-stocking. Not the usual bespectacled pale individual, but a refined bachelor girl who parts her hair in the middle, wears a high collar, and shows, without losing any of her womanliness that she is fully capable of taking care of herself. 3 CHARACTERS. Alvtna. — About forty-five years old. Helma.— Swedish servant girl, about twenty-eight years old. Face is absolutely devoid of expression, and not once does she show a glimmer of intelligence. Costumes. Jones. A well made, but sporty looking, sack suit with a distinct pattern — part of the right tail is torn off — [Note. Jones must be careful not to let the audience see this until cue] white shirt and standing collar. Clerical suit same as bishop's, except the hat, to which he changes during first act. To facilitate this change he wears the breeches and stockinga under his trousers. Goodly. Characteristic gray jirock coat and vest; two pairs trousers to match, one pair torn at seam, about the knee; one tall gray hat on hat-rack, to be used at exit to prize-fight, and one crushed out of shape, to be worn on his return from prize-fight. Heatherly. Fashionable business suit in first act. Hat on rack. Second and third acts, Tuxedo suit. Bishop. Clerical coat ; high cut vest; knee breeches ; wide brimmed, square-topped hat, stockings and low shoes, all black ; white shirt and white standing collar. Wears Jones's first act suit in act three. Bigbee. Black tights; white shirt; low shoes and blanket similar to one used by Bishop. Holder. Policeman's uniform; bad^e and night-stick. Fuller. Sack suit. Mrs. Goodly, Cissy and Marjorie. House dresses in first act. Evening gowns in second and third acts. Minerva. Tailor-made street dress in first act. Evening gown in second and third acts. Alvina. Somewhat eccentric dress, not quite up to date. Helma. Short-skirted, character servant dress and apron , pocket in underskirt. Character hat, coat and gloves in act three. 4 PROPERTY PLOT, property plot. i sofa (back and arms) leather. 1 large armchair. 2 small chairs. 1 table 2x3, oak, with ink- stand. 1 table 2 feet square, oak. 1 piano-lamp with red shade. 1 lady's writing-desk. 1 upright piano. 1 piano-stool. 2 large palms, 5 feet high. 1 hanging hall-lamp. 1 set of dog-irons. 12 grass mats. 1 match-stand to hold box of safety matches. 1 large hall hat-rack. Physician's thermometer. 2 cloth bound books for Mrs. Goodly. 1 large, leather bound book for Goodly. 1 past-board suit box, with string. 1 admission card for prize- fight. 1 roll of bills. Locket on chain. 2 bed blankets. 1 stick black grease paint in inkstand. 2 yards black rubber elastic. 6 rugs for entrance off stage, 1 handsome table-cloth. 1 medallion. 6 fancy rags. 1 fancy onyx stand. 1 large bronze clock. 2 large bronzes. 6 small bronze ornaments. 1 curtain -pole, 4 ft., 6 in. 1 curtain on pole. 1 mantel drapery. 1 large electric call-bell. 3 pieces of music. 1 small silver salver. 6 small pot-plants. Brass fender and fire-irons. 1 pair handcuffs. Quart bowl filled with ice. 6 band-boxes. 1 big carpet-bag for Helma Glass crash. White towel. Cigarettes, cigars. Newspaper. Piece of cloth like Jones' coat. Pocket whiskey flask. Hang board in piano to prevent things falling through. Electric %iQht plot. 2 Strips, one right and one left of window, R. C. Red at opening, change green Acts 2 and 3. 4 Strips or bunches, white, at entrance, L. 2 and 3, and R. 2 and 3. 1 white strip to hang on arch over staircase, L. 3. 1 red drop-light for hanging-lamp. Lighted Acts 2 and 3. Hanging hall lamp and piano lamp lighted in Acts 2 and 8. House -lights three-quarters up ail through, WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. ACT I. Scene: — Handsomely furnished room in the homn of Ebenezee Goodly. Exits b. 2 to library; E. 3 ; l. 2 ; and to hall up stage l. Mantel with mirror between E. 2 and E. 3; table with chairs L., couch e. ; large window E. c. opening on lawn. l. o. shows entrance-hall, giving unobstructed view of the staircase. Mirror hat-rack in hall. At rise of curtain, enter Ebenezee r. 3. He carries a booh and a newspaper. He places news' paper on table i. and sits on chair. — Eben. (in chair e. of L. table) I wonder if I can work here in peace, (opens his boon) (Enter Mrs. Goodly e. 3, goes to cross up l., sees Ebenezer, comes down back of table carrying two books obviously new. She sees newspaper on table, and the sight annoys her. Points to the newspaper.) Mrs. G. Ebenezer, what is that ? — Eben. That, my dear, is a newspaper. Mrs. G. What brings it on the table? (takes paper) Eben. I placed it there. Mrs. G. You? How could you, and the dear bishop likely to come at any moment, (crosses to sofa R. Puts paper on sofa) i — Eben. (wearily) Do you think the sight of a newspaper would affect him? Mes. G. (sits on sofa e.) If he came in here and 7 8 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. found one on the table, you don't know how ashamed I should be. I may not be as intellectual as some women, but I do know how to keep my house in order, and how to take care of my husband. Eben. That is very true. Until we received the telegram stating that the bishop had arrived safely in San Francisco, you were the most considerate of wives. Since then your thoughts have all been for his comfort, not for mine. Mrs. G. Your brother, the Bishop of Ballarat, who left his home in England even before you came to this country, thirty years ago, this brother who has never seen me or either of the girls, is paying his first visit to America and to us. Now, am I to understand that you object to my doing everything I can to make him comfortable ? Eben. Certainly not. When you informed me we were to sleep in a back bedroom so that he could occupy our apartment, I did not murmur. Even when you deprived me of my study, thinking he might desire to use it, I uttered no complaint. Mrs. G. Why should you? -4 — Eben. (rises, crosses to sofa) I am a man of peace, and all I need is some quiet spot where I can prepare my lectures without being disturbed. But such are the preparations for his arrival, that I am absolutely unable to secure it. Mrs. G. If you think I am going to have the bishop find anything in disorder when he comes, you are very much mistaken, (picks up paper) So I'll take this paper and put it (they reach for it the same time) 4 — Eben. (interrupting) No, Matilda, no! I'll take care of it. (takes paper, folds it, puts it in his pocket, and goes l.) Mrs. G. Very well. But mind you don't leave it on the table again, Ebenezer. (During this scene Mrs. G. opens and shuts each onQ WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 9 of the books roughly, several times, attracting the attention of Ebenezer, who watches her curi- ously. She bends bach the covers, rubs her thumb up and down the margin of the pages, and rumples some of the leaves.) -4 Eben. (l. c.) May I inquire what you are doing? Mrs. G. (rises, crossing to r. c, e. of Eben: and showing back of book) Bead. -j Eben. (takes book and reads title on back) "The Mistakes of Darwin, and the falsity of the theory of evolution. By the Kev. Antony Goodly, D. D." (hands book back) Mrs. G. (showing other book) And that. J -Eben. (reading) "Snowdrops and Violets. A few blossoms from the poetical garden of the Kev. Antony Goodly, D. D." Mes. G. Did you think I was going to let the bishop know we hadn't one of his books in the house? (repeats Bus. with look, crosses to e., l. of table e.) I — - Eben. But why handle them in such a peculiar fashion ? Mrs. G. So he won't know I bought them to-day, of course. Eben. I see. (returns to table l. Sits) Mrs. G. You may be a great lecturer on anatomy, Ebenezer, but you haven't much common sense. (opening and closing book violently) There! There! I guess that will fix them all right, (places books on table, back of sofa. Goes to r. 2) Be careful about the newspapers. -|- — Eben. I will, my dear, I will, (seated e. of l. table. Produces cigar and strikes a match) Mrs. G. (astonished) What are you going to do? Eben. Smoke a cigar. Mrs. G. How inconsiderate! (crosses to e. of Ebenezer) Suppose the bishop objects to tobacco. Eben. Just one, Matilda. You know he may not -h- come till to-morrow. 10 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mrs. G. No, Ebenezer, not one. {takes cigar from him and crosses to door r. 2) ■A -Eben. Very well. Very well. Mrs. G. Some men are so hard to manage! (exits R. 2) -] Eben. (alone) The expectation of a guest is the death-warrant of comfort, and though' I hate to say it about my own brother, (looking around to see if Mrs. G. has gone) this is getting rather monotonous. (opens book and reads and makes notes) (Enter Marjorie r. 3, followed by Richard.) Mar. I am sorry you are compelled to go so soon, dear, (up stage c.) Eioh. (r. c, a little down from Marjorie) So am I, Marjorie, but business must be attended to, you know. Mar. Of course. But still (pouts) Rich. You don't suppose I'd surrender a minute of my time with you if I could possibly avoid it, do you? Mar. Of course not, Richard. Rich. I'm glad of that, (kiss) And now I must go. (starts toward r. 3) Mar. (up 0.) Say good-bye to papa, first. (calls) Papa! (goes down back of l. table) (Richard goes down r. c. showing annoyance.) -j — Eben. (without looking up) Well? Mar. Richard is going, (goes to Ebenezer, then to hall, takes Richard's hat and goes down to meet him as he exits) -] Eben. (l. c, rising) So early? (looks at watch) ' It's only twenty minutes past seven. Rich, (r.) Yes. But I have a most important business engagement for half past. One of our best customers will be in town for only two hours, and I've agreed to meet him at the hotel, (crosses to Ebenezer and shakes hands) Must go. Good-bye. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. JJ Eben. (rises) Good-bye, Eichard. Sorry you can't stay, (sits l. of table) (Richard up l. 3. Maejoeie meets him; hugs and kisses him: gives him his hat. Exeunt Mar- jorie and Richard to hall l. 3.) — Eben. It is no use. I can't work, (crosses to sofa R., sits) I wonder if I'll get a chance to read a minute, (takes paper out of pocket and opens it. Reads) " An Unusual Event." I wonder what that is? (reads) "It is seldom so important a social event as the visit of the Rev. Antony Goodly, D. D." There it is again ! (Closing of door heard L., as though Richard had gone. Marjorie re-enters, goes to Ebenezer and puts her arms around his neck.) Eben. What is it, dear? Mar. Nothing, papa, only, I'm so happy. -i Eben. I'm glad to hear it, Marjorie. Mar. What a lucky girl I am to have won the love of such a noble young man as Richard. He doesn't drink, nor smoke, nor swear, nor gamble, nor spend his money foolishly in any way. Eben. He does seem a model young man. Mar. And he's so fond of me, too. It just broke his heart to leave so early to-night. _ Eben. And I don't blame him. If I were court- ing a sweet girl like you— — Mar. (kisses Ebenezer) There, you old dear! Now I won't stop to bother you any more, (going toward r. 3) I know you have your lecture to pre- pare. (Exit r. 3) Eben. (on sofa, alone) Youth is the time for happiness and illusion, (takes up paper. Beads) "The Coming Battle." Battle? What nations are at war to-day? "The glove contest between Kid 12 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Haley and Solly Burns (repeat after close scrutiny) will, it is stated, positively take place to-night." A glove contest ! That's nice reading for a family news- paper ! (reads) " Both of the boys have been train- ing faithfully and a game struggle is expected." I don't see how civilized men can patronize such things. (Enter Helma from hall L. 3, humming song, carry- ing small square piece of card-board. She goes C, stands gazing at it, but continues humming.) — Eben - . I would as soon think of going to an affair of that kind (hears Helma, rises and looks at her) Stop it ! Stop it ! (up to her a step or two) Stop that singing! (Helma ceases humming.) Hel. I stop hum right away. — • Eben. And now, what do you want ? (she comes down c. to him — he b. c.) Hel. (c.) I found hum out dare, (offers card) — Eben. (b. c.) Well, what is it? Hel. Ai not know. {Door-oell rings l. Ebenezee takes card. Helma exit to hall, singing. Ebenezee watches her.) Eben. (angrily, up to L. 3 and looks off) If Dante were living to-day and had a girl like that, he wouldn't have to dream things. I'll discharge her if she doesn't stop singing, (coming down C. L.) I'll discharge her if (his eye rests on the card. He starts, then stares. Comes down l., shows astonish- ment. Reads) " Glove contest between Kid Haley and Solly Burns. Admit one." Where did she get it? (Eichaed re-enters. Hangs hat on rack. Feels in his pockets as if for something missing.) Rich, (up in hall) I know I had it. (comes c, looking on floor. A number of cigarettes fall from his -f- WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 13 pocket. He picks them up, and continues his search.) - Eben. (c.) Who could have brought it into my house? (looks round, sees Eichard. Watches him a moment. Speaks when Eichaed is at door r. 3) Have you lost anything, Bichard? Eich. (up r. c.) Yes. A — a — Eben. A what? Eich. Oh, nothing important, (comes down b. 0. of Ebenezer) Eben. (holding out card) Is this it? (Eichard starts guiltily) I see it is. Eich. (goes r.) Well, Professor, you know — you know ■ Eben. Yes, I know. You had an important en- gagement at half past seven o'clock. It just broke your heart to leave, (reproachfully) Eich. A young fellow must have some sport. Ebenezee. Of course. I had sport when I was your age. — (coming l. c.) — Eich. (up to him quick) Good ! Good for you, Professor! I thought that perhaps you — you 4- (Ebenezer stands with card in his hand at left side. Eichaed reaches down for it, and Ebenezer turns left, keeping the card just out of Eich- aed's reach. They recover, and smile at each other.) Eich. Well, I'm glad you see it in the right light. Eben. Yes, I had sport. I played croquet and went to stereopticon lectures. But I never witnessed anything like this, (holds up card) (Eichard goes r.) Rich, (r.) Then you've missed half your life. ■j — Eben. (dubiously) Eeally? Eich. That's right! (crosses to Ebenezer c.) 14 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. It's — it's Oh, you can't tell what it's like till you've seen it. 4 Eben. But it's against the law. Eioh. Prize-fights are illegal, not glove-contests. 4 Eben. What is the difference? ' Eich. The difference is mostly — chronological. J . Eben. Chronological? Rich. Yes. It's a question of time. Before the referee says " Time " it's a glove-contest ; after he says it, it's a prize-fight, j. — Eben. And this is a glove-contest? Eich. Yes, and it will be a corker, (goes r.) I've bet twenty-five dollars on the Kid, and if he doesn't put the other fellow to sleep in five rounds, I'll — I'll (stops, confused) 1 Eben. (comes c.) Well, you are a model young man. Eich. (r. c.) I suppose you think it's something awful. I tell you what you'd better do, Professor. (up to him) Come with me, and see for yourself. •J — Eben. I ! Certainly not ! The very idea ! (goes ' L. C) Eich. You ought to come in the interest of sci- ence. -J. — - Eben. (l. c.) Of science? Eich. (c.) Yes. You lecture on anatomy, and what do you know about the actual work of the muscular system? Practically nothing. You'll never appreciate it, either, till you've seen a man feint and break ground, then lead with his left, per- haps dodge a right hand swing or side-step the other fellow, only to come back at him with a ripping upper- cut. (Eiohard accompanies this description with appro- priate motions and makes the "upper-cut" at Ebenezee, who starts away.) Rich. That's when you see the muscular system. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. J5 in all its glory. I repeat, you ought to go in the in- terest of science. That's all I attend for. -i Eben. (l. c.) I never regarded it in that light. Eioh. (c.) Of course not, or with your devotion to your life's study you'd have seen one long ago. Eben. But if I should be discovered ? Eich. No fear of that. It's coming off over Mc- Mullen's stable, and I can find you a place where you'll never be seen. Eben. But if it should get to the ears of my wife, or my daughters, or the faculty ? No, no ! If s out of the question, (crosses R.) Eich. (e. c, follows Ebenezer up close, hand on Ebenezer's shoulder) But it's perfectly safe. You'll be in no more danger there than right here. Eben. Are you sure ? Eich. Certain! (holes around cautiously. Whis- pers) We've got the police fixed. -jl Eben. (not understanding) Got the police what? Eich. (trying to suppress his amazement. Takes hold of Ebenezer) It's all right. Come on. It's the chance of a life-time. Eben. I don't think I dare. Eich. But in the interest of science, (pulling Ebenezer up a little to l. 3) — Eben. In that light- Eich. (talcing Ebenezer's arm) Of course. Where is your hat? Eben. In the hall. Eich. (going for hat) I'll get it for you. (goes up L. 3 for hat) J Eben.' But I don't think (follows Eichard up) Eich. (interrupting and working toward hall) There's absolutely no danger. (Eichard puts Eben- ezer's hat on his head) You won't need any over- coat. The place is just around the corner. Eben. If I were auxe about its being perfectly safe ■h- 16 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Eich. Take my word for it. Come on. They'll be in the ring by the time we get there. - Ebbn - . But But Eich. Besides, you are doing it in the interest of science. Eben. I know, I know. But Eich. Bemember that, Professor, it is purely in the interest of science, (ad lib. until off) (Exeunt Ebenezee and Bichaed to hall. Enter Cissy k. 3. She carries two yellow tacked novels and a pack of cards, as if trying to conceal them. Looks around cautiously, then goes to piano, opens the top, and places hooks and cards in- side.) Cissy, (alone) French novels and a deck of lards! If Mrs. Goodly only knew I had them, I wonder what she'd do ? I'm just about tired of this, anyway. If I'd never known anything better, I sup- pose I'd be satisfied. But after San Francisco, dear old San Francisco, to be cooped up here makes me feel (slams keys of piano viciously three or four times) That's the way it makes me feel! (bangs keys again) (Enter Mks. Goodly e. 3.) Mes. G. (up o.) What is the matter, Cissy? Cis. I want something to break the monotony. (sits at the piano. Thumps keys) Mes. G. I am afraid it wasn't a wise move of the Professor's to send you to San Francisco for your health. Crs. (swinging around on stool) I'm sure it wasn't, if he expected me to return and live like a cloistered nun. (still seated) Mes ; G. (up o.) And yet, my daughters don't complain. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 17 (Enter Marjorie r. 3.) Cis. (rises, comes down l.) They don't know any better. Minerva is satisfied with Plato, and Spencer and Huxley, and all the other dry old philos- ophers, and Marjorie has her Eiehard. (coming down l. of table l.) Mar. (Marjorie comes down r.) And a dear, good boy he is. (at sofa. Sits) Cis. (leaning on front of table L.) They all are, before. Mrs. G. (comes lown r. 0.) Before what? Cis. (l.) Marriage. But keep your eye on the good, quiet boys after. Mar. I know that Eiehard is everything I think him to be. Cis. Then Gabriel is neglecting his business. (crosses L. c.) (Minerva enters from hall, comes down a little h. of c.) Mrs. G. Cissy! (to her l. 0.) Suppose the dear bishop heard you speak like that. Mist. I thought that perhaps the dear bishop had come. Cis. " The dear bishop ! " " The dear bishop ! " There it is again. I suppose when he does come we'll all have to get checks when we want to breathe. (crosses to table, bach of sofa) Mrs. G-. (crosses to l. front of table) And this is the girl who went to Vassar. (Minerva crosses to table l. and sits r. of it.) Cis. (picks up one of the bishop's boohs crosses to c. Reads) " Snowdrops and Violets. A few blos- soms from the poetical garden of the Rev. Antony Goodly, D. D." Doesn't that give you a sleeping draft? Min. (rises. Exclamation) What J Mrs. G. Cissy! 18 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mar. Well, I declare! (All together.) Cis. (c.) I know just the kind of man he is. He'll say, "My dear child, I hope you know your catechism. Dearest Cissy, let us have an hour of recreation together, reading Pilgrim's Progress." But if he ever comes that to me, — (replaces book on table e.) if he ever comes that to me, (crosses e. 3) well, you just watch the finish, that's all. (exit e. 3.) Mrs. G. (c.) Watch the finish! (crosses, up c. a little — Mineeva drops in chair) I never heard such extraordinary language. Mar. (r.) Speaking slightingly of Richard, too. Mrs. G. (up c.) I'm so afraid she will shock the bishop; (crosses down e. c.) and I do want us all to make a good impression when he sees us for the first time. Min. ' (crosses to r. 3) And I am so anxious to discuss his " Mistakes of Darwin " with him. He has made some really good points, but I think I can re- fute some of his theories. I hope he arrives to-night. (exit r. 3) Mar. (rises) And I wish to talk to him of Keats and Shelley, (crosses c.) and to gain from him some elucidation of the hidden mysteries of Browning. Mrs. G. (r., going to r. 2) Well, my dear, Mi- nerva may want to discuss Darwin, and you may want to talk about Browning, but what I have to do is to see that the cook has everything ready for the bishop's dinner, (exit r. 2) Mar. (takes book off table, r., and sits on end of sofa. Alone, and reading from "Snowdrops and Violets.") "Why keep your hands behind you When the work is all ahead." Isn't that beautiful I WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 19 {Enter Alvina l. 2 — Crosses to 0.) Alv. (0.) Ah, you have the dear bishop's poems, I see. Mar. I was just reading, " Why keep your hands behind you." It is sublime. Alv. (referring to dress) Don't you (swings around c.) don't you notice it? Mar. What? Oh yes, a new dress. Alv. I put it on for his sake. Do you think it it becoming ? Mar. Very. Alv. (c.) I am all in a flutter of expectation Tell me, Marjorie, tell me truly, do you think I have, changed much in the last thirty years ? Mar. Most women have. But why do you ask ? Alv. Because — because but I mustn't tell. Mar. (rises to Alvina, c, quick) Do tell me, please do, Auntie. Is it anything romantic ? Alv. Awfully ! Mar. How delightful ! Alv. I've kept the secret for five years, but I must tell some one now, and it shall be you, Marjorie, for you are romantic, like me. Mar. Yes, yes. (Both sit on sofa, Alvina l., Marjorie r.) Alv. Well, about about five years ago, th& bishop wrote to me. Mar. Did he? Alv. Yes. He said, though he had never seen me, he had heard so much about me from your father, that he couldn't help it. He asked me not to men- tion it to anyone, and — well, well — we have been cor* responding ever since, and — and — can't you guess why he is coming? Mar. No. Tell me auicMv. Alv. For me ! ! I 20 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mar. For you ! Alv. We are to be married, ar»d no one is to know until it is all over. Mar. Isn't that delicious ! (arms around Alvina) Let me kiss you. (hiss) Alv. I have all his letters, — five hundred and thirty-seven — in my room, and four years ago, he sent me this, (produces locket which hangs round her neck on a chain. She opens it) Mar. His picture? Alv. Yes. Mar. What a pity it is so small and so faded. Alv. It is enough for me. And I always keep it here, next my heart, (replaces locket. Rises and crosses to L. c.) Mar. (following Alvina) Isn't that romantic! Do let me tell Richard. He would sympathize with you so much. Alv. No, no! Not a soul. Mar. Very well. But, Auntie, I heard papa say the bishop had ordered a full suit of the latest cleri- cal cut to be made in town and sent here. Why was that? Alv. For my sake. He was afraid the Australian style might be a little old-fashioned, and he wished to woo his bride in habiliments to which even the most fastidious could, take no exception. Have they come? Mar. (r. c.) Not yet. Alv. (l. c.) I do hope they'll be here in time. Mar. You say you have his letters. Alv. Yes. Just burning with love. You should see them. Mar. I wish I could. Alv. Then you shall. Come with me, my dear, (gets to door l. 2) and I'll let you read them. Mar. Will you? It would be the greatest favor. Real love-letters from a real bishop ! Isn't that ro= jmantic? WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. zl {Exeunt Alvina and Marjoeie l. 2.) (Music. Eichard opens window, looks in — Enters, leading in Ebenezer, through window c. Ebenezer's hat is crushed down over his eyes. There is a tear on the outside of his right trous- ers leg, his face is pale, left eye discolored, and he holes as though he had had a wild time and was still terrified. Eichard, also, looks excited. Helma enters from hall and sees them enter. She exits at once. Ebenezer falls into chair, R. of table l. Eichard on arm of sofa. Music stops. Picture.) -ji >Eben. I thought you had the police fixed. Eich. We had, but you spoiled it all. _L — Eben. I spoiled it? Eich. Yes. You started the shouting that re- sulted in that riot call, (crosses to Ebenezer. Takes Ebenezer's hat and his own and hangs both 'on hat-rack) •j Eben. I didn't know I was shouting. Eich. (comes down to Ebenezer, points to tear in Ebenezer's trousers) You didn't know you were —What's that? -) Eben. That is a memento of my fall down the water-spout. I didn't climb down, I fell down. Eich. We got away safely and that's something to be thankful for. (goes r. o.) Eben. But to think that I — I — should have to crawl through a window over a livery-stable, and fall down a water-spout. Do you notice anything wrong with this eye? (indicating left eye) Eich. (crosses to him) It looks a little dis- colored. J. — Eben. I bumped it when I struck the ground. (Eichard goes up to window r. o.) j- — Eben. What would people think of me if this affair were ever discovered ? I fancy I see it in f'T' 22 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. newspapers. " The downfall of a deceitful dominie, or Professor Goodly's double life." Eich. (coming down to Ebenezeb. Enter Helma) But it won't be discovered. Nobody saw you come in, so pin up that tear and make yourself look presentable. (Eichahd takes pin from lapel of coat, kneels and pins tear. Helma comes down b.) Eben. If I were discovered I believe I should drown my sorrow in the flowing bowl. (Eichaed pricks Ebenezeb with pin. He howls.) Eich. Don't you do it. The corpse would be sure to float next morning, (repeat pin business) Hel. (b.) Vat bane matter ? (Ebenezer is badly frightened, yells and rises. He looks up, sees Helma and is relieved.) J Eben. I thought it was that detective, (fails in chair) Hel. Vat bane matter ? Eich. (rises) Nothing! Nothing! Nothing at all. (crosses to a, l. of Helma. Gives dollar to Helma) You didn't see us come in, did you ? Hel. Yas, sir. Eait trew dare, (points to win-, dow with right hand. Left hand held out to end of bus.) Eich. (c. Gives her another dollar) Now I'm sure you didn't. Hel. Yas, sir. Eait trew dare, (repeats bus. with right hand) Eich. (crosses to Ebenezer. Apart to Eben- ) ezee) I wonder how much she wants ? -T ' Eben. (offering bills) Here's fifteen dollars. Give her that. (Note. Two bills: — a ten and a five.) Bich. Five's enough, (places ten in Ebenezer's vest vocket. Goes to Helma. Gives her five) That WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 23 makes seven. Now, if anybody asks you, I want you to say you didn't see us come in. (Ebenezer rises and goes to window R. 0.) Hel. Say Ai didn't ? Yas, sir. Ai say hum. Ai say hum. (crossing to l.) Eich. All right. Mind you do. (going L., fol- lowing her) Hel. (going L.) Ai never say you come in, (at L. 2) Ai never say yo' go out, Ai never say yo' nohow. (Exit l. 2) Eioh. That's right, (crosses L.) Eben. (coming down > e. c, front of sofa) I wonder what became of that detective who followed us. Eioh. (sits in chair l.) He stopped soon after we turned the corner. Eben. (sinks on sofa) Every time his foot struck the pavement, it seemed as though a hammer struck my heart. Eich. Well, I locked the gate, so I guess we're safe enough, (jumps up with exclamation) _i- — -Eben. (hand on heart: starts) What is it? Eioh. If only I had thought to let Tiger out ! ■4~- > Eben. Why didn't you? We mustn't be too confi- dent. (Both go up, look through window) See! There's a man climbing over the gate now ! (Music) Eich. (looking through the window) So there is. And Tiger doesn't even bark, (disgustedly, down c.) I'll shoot that dog. By Jove, (quick to window) he's over, and making right for us. Hide ! Hide! (Business seeking places to hide. Ebenezer finally conceals himself under the table, and Eichard crouches behind r. end of sofa. Jones raps on window c, two or three times.) Jones, (outside, — quickly) Let me in! Let me in ! (repeat this untu Eichabd and Ebenezeb are hidden\ +~7, 24 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Pause, during which Ebenezek, under the table, pantomimes his fear and dismay, and groans. Jones. Open up! What's the matter with you? (pause) Eben. My poor wife and family ! (groan) Jones, (still outside) Open up! I've got to get in ! Eben. To think I should come to this in my old age. (groan) Jones, (outside) Oh, well, if you won't, here goes, (opens window up e. c. and enters. Looks about as though expecting to find some one; must not turn his back to audience. Music stops) Jones, (up c.) Where are you? Oh, what's the matter with you people? What are you afraid of? — Eben. This is my last hour on earth, (still under the, table) Jones. I wonder if they're gone? (comes down a, looks about. Sees Ebenezek under the table) No, there's one. Here you,— you under the table, — • come out. — Eben. Does he really see me? Jones. Well, if you won't (Jones goes to pull Ebenezek from under the table. Bus. worked up. Jones finally gets him out.) — Eben. (l. c. On knees with upraised hands) Spare me, for the sake of my wife and family. Jones, (c.) Spare you? Eben. I will give you money, more than you will make in five years as a detective. Jones, (puzzled for a second, then understands) Get up ! Get up ! I'm no deteotive. Eben. (hardly realizing that it is true) No de- tective ! (rises) Jones. I should say not. I went there for the fun of it, just the same as yon did. Say ! I want to shake hands with you. You are the red-hottest old eport that ever crawled under the gate. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 25 +- f- f- Eben. No, no! I'm no sport, {drops down i., front of chair) I'm no sport ! (Eichard, who has been watching, gets up.) Jones. You can't tell that to me. Didn't I hear you shouting, " Five hundred to fifty on the Kid " ? Eben. Did I say that? (falls in chair) Jones. Say it? You yelled it. (producing roll of money from trousers pocket) I had two hundred and fifty to put on him myself, but didn't dare to place it, owing to the way you smashed the odds. Eben. I deny it! (rises) I deny it! (loudly) I will admit that in the excitement of the moment I may have raised my voice — a little — but I will swear positively and under oath that I did not smash a single thing. Eich. (e. c, to Jones) How did you happen to come in here? Jones. When the police broke in — Eben. (interrupting, clutching heart, groans, falls in chair) Please don't. Hitherto, in my house, the police have been merely an abstract proposition. Jones. Well, then, it's this way. I'm Jones. I travel for a hymn-book house and sell playing-cards as a side line. Eich. Hymn-books and playing cards ! Eben. Together? Jones. Sure. If the town is dead, — hymn- books ; if it's alive, — playing-cards. I catch 'em com- ing and going. Eich. What are you selling here? Jones. This being the first time I've made the town, I tried hymn-books. But talk about a hard game ! Eben. Was there no demand? Jones. Demand ! I could sell more snow shovels in h — (Eichard catches him) I soon found that out, put on my side-line clothes, and — , well, vow know where I finished. 26 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Eben. At the (he makes an absurd imitation of boxing) Jones. Not a bit like it, but that's the place. (Eichakd laughs. Sits on sofa.) Jones, (to Ebenezek) I -was at the window when you were making your all-star, acrobatic descent of that water-spout. (Ebenezek groans) And say, it was a darling, (laughs) I have to laugh. I can't help it. (laughs) Eben. Don't, (hand on heart) Please don't. Jones. Didn't you hurt yourself? Eben. Only my eye, — just a little. Jones. You're lucky. When my turn came to try it, a policeman grabbed my coat-tail. I got away all right, but not before he had clipped my wings. (Turns round showing one coat-tail missing. Eich- aed rises and goes up to window. Ebenezek L. 0.) Jones, (goes k. c.) Being a stranger and not knowing where to go, I followed you. Now, I don't know who you are, nor what your business is ; but I'll back you to run a quarter against any man in the country, if you'll only train. - Eben. No ! No ! Jones. Yes ! Yes ! You don't know what a good thing you are. (slaps on back. Ebenezee winces) Why, say, you can run faster than a jack-rabbit in front of a prairie-fire. Rich, (coming down e of Jones) Then it was you were heard behind us ? Jones. Yes. You heard me and I heard the po- liceman, for he was after me good and hard. It was my race for a time, but we got together for a debate, and, at the finish, he hadn't a word to say. — Eben. What argument did you use to silence hie;? WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 37 Jones. An upper cut. (bus. of upper cut. Eben- ezer startled) Then I started again, and here I am. Eich. And where is he? Jones. I didn't stop to count him out, but if my calculations are anything like right, he's just about waking up. (Dog's baric heard bach. Picture: Eichard, Jones,, Ebenezer. Barking continues.) Jones. What's that? Eich. There's Tiger ! — Eben. Can it be the policeman ? (All go to window and looh.) Jones. It is, and there's another with him. Eben. He's trying the gate. (Barking continues.) Eich. Thank heaven, it's locked. Jones. He's going to climb it ! (grabs Ebenezer and Eichard each by an arm and down stage a little) See here, now, we're all in this together. (Jones brings Eichard and Ebenezer down c.) +-££:} ™°^ mean t (Eichard returns to window,) Jones. You've got to stand by me. If I get into trouble, you get there too. Eich. (at window up R. c) He's on the gate but the dog has him scared. — Eben. What can we do? (down to chair l.) What can we do ? Jones. Don't ask me. (down to him) Think, can't you? Eben. I can't think! I can't think! (drops in chair) 28 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Rich, (at window) Good dog, Tiger! Good Jones. He didn't see my face. Perhaps I could bluff him if he didn't have that coat-tail, (goes down k.) Enter Helma l. 3, with pasteboard suit-box. Hel. (c.) Der close fer der Baship. Jones, (r. c.) For what? Hel. (c.) Der Baship. EBen. (goes to Helma, reads address on box) For my brother, the Bishop of Ballarat. Jones. Good! Good! (takes package) Give 'em to me. (Breaks string, viciously) -I Eben. What are you going to do ? Jones. Watch me. (to Richard) Fasten that window. (Music) (Richard fastens window. Jones takes off his coat and vest, and lifts those of the Bishop from the package. Throws hat at Helma, who exits to hall with Jones' hat. Jones dons the Bishop's waistcoat, then puts on the Bishop's coat. Eben- ezer works up r. c, and bus. with Richard at window. Looking down at his trousers, Jones notices they do not match. Helma re-enters from hall. Jones says, " Now for the pants," Sees Helma. Utters an exclamation. Picks up the knee-breeches and exits into hall. Helma exits l. 2. During the scene, Ebenezer is pro- testing and frightened. Richard at window, working up scene. " Good dog. Go for him, Tiger'" After Jones' exit Richard picks up box whiph contained clothes, and hides it be* hind chair in window R. c. Bog continues bark- ing.) -|-*~"Eben. Those are my brother's clothes, (up c.) Jones. All right. I'll press them for him. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. gg (Minerva enters r. 3., carrying an open booh.) Mist. Papa, I wanted to ask you if Huxley is right in saying -j — Eben. I don't know, my dear. I don't know. (pushes Min. toward r. 3) Min. But, papa ■ Eben. Ask your mother. (Ebenezer pushes Minerva off r. 3. Marjorie enters r. 2. Eiohard sees her. Tells Ebenezer in dumb show. Ebenezer pushes Marjorie off l. 2. Barking continues. Ebenezer up c, wringing hands. Jones, in hall, " Take care of these." Throws trousers to Ebenezer, who catches them and staggers down r. to front of sofa holding trousers by waist-band. Eichard at window still working up scene. Enter Jones from hall in Bishop's suit.) Jones, (down c.) Will I do? (Dog barking ceases.) — ■ Eben. (r.) Yes, you will do, hut what will 1 do? (drops on sofa r.) Eigh. (coming down l. of Jones, who is c.) He's found out the dog can't reach him. He's over ! Jones. Who am I? Eich. The Eev. Antony Goodly, D. D., Bishop of Ballarat. Jones. Where in thunder is Ballarat? In Okla- homa? Eioh. No, no ! In Australia. Jones. Let him in. (Eichard goes toward win- dow) Wait a minute. We must get rid of these. (picks up his coat and vest; to Ebenezer) Do something with those, (points to trousers which Ebenezer still holds) 30 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Ebenezee, half-dazed, starts to put on trousers. Jones puts Ms coat and vest in piano. Takes the trousers from Ebenezee and puts them in piano.) Hold, {off, back; rattles window) Open, in the name of the law! Jones. 0. K. Open up. {struts l. Kichard opens window, comes down e., hack of sofa) {Enter Holder through window c. He comes in, holding his club as though in readiness for im- mediate action. Ebenezee still seated on sofa.) Hold, (a, breathless from running. Angrily) Where is he? Where is he? {Music stops.) Jones, {in ministerial voice and manner) My dear friend, do not raise your voice in anger. Ee- member the proverb : " A loud voice has given away many a real, good thing." Hold, {angrily) Where is the man who hit me with a billy? {bus. Ebenezer) Jones, {clenches the fist away from Holder, looks at it significantly, laughs aside, and says, "Billy." Ministerially) I presume you mean a William. Hold, (l.) I mean a billy. Jones, (c.) And what, may I ask, is a billy? (to Ebenezer) Do you know, — brother? (Ebenezer starts, Eh? and turns away.) Hold. Never mind what it is. He hit me with it, and I hear that he come in through that window. Jones. You hear that, do you ? Let me tell you a fable, my friend. Hold. I don't want fables, I want my man. Jones. This, though, has a bearing on the case. One night, in a sleeping car, a man woke another and WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 31 requested him not to snore. " How do you know I snore ? " asked the man. " I heard you," was the reply. And then the other said, "Eun away, run away. You can't believe in everything you hear." (goes l.) Hold. I can believe this. Another member of the force saw this fellow climb over the gate. He can't get away. The house is surrounded. Jones. Do you hear that, brother, the house, is surrounded. (Holder turns toward Ebenezer. Jones doses his fist and pantomimes as if to say, "I'd like to hit him, just once." Holder turns again, and Jones quickly resumes his sanctimonious smile. Eich. It's an outrage ! 4 Eben. What — what do you want the man for? (ris.es, goes to Holder. Eichard drops r.) Holder, (backing Ebenezer to sofa) What for? For attending an illegal meeting, for carrying con- cealed weapons, for assaulting an officer, for assault with a deadly weapon, for assault and battery, and for assault with intent to kill ! (Ebenezer sinks on sofa with moan. Eichard ar- ranges Ebenezer's collar and tie.) Jones. Yau won't do a thing to that fellow, will you? Hold. Not a thing! Let me get my hands on him — —(swings club violently) Jones. Would you swipe him? I mean — strike him? Hold. Would I? Jones. Yes, I see you would. But don't you know that you should love your enemies? Hold. That's all right for some people, but it don't go with the police. Eich. From what you say the man must be a regular desperado. 32 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Hold. He's one of the toughest men in the coun- try. (Ebenezeb rises) Why, he's wanted for bank-robbery in New York, for horse-stealing in Texas, and for bigamy in Montana, (turns up c. Ebenezer and Eichard stare at Jones. Jones stares at Ebenezer) Jones. Ananias, Ananias, where art thou now? That puts Ananias in second place, (goes L.) Eich. And do you suspect a prominent man like Professor Goodly of harboring such a desperate crimi- nal? Hold, (up c.) Of course I don't suspect the Professor, (comes down c.) -J Ebenezer. Well I should hope not (goes to Holder) Hold. What's that? (motion of striking with club) _ _L__— Eben. I meant that, owing to my former good conduct, you would not have the heart to thiak — to imagine — to suspect Hold. Certainly not. _| Eben. Thank you, sir. (shakes policeman's hand mechanically, then sits on sofa. Eichard to back of sofa.) Hold. The man got in when nobody was about. (Enter Helma l. 2.) Jones, (coming l. of c. a little. Holder r. c.) But the Professor hasn't wandered from his own fire- side at all this evening, have you — brother? -| -Eben. (with an effort) No. I-^I — have been in this room all the time. Hold, (c.) I want to search the house just the same, (up to l. 3) Jones, (l. o.) I'm sure we won't object, (swing- ing up c.) Our young friend there (indicates EiOH' aed) will show you over the place, won't you? Eich. (at back of sofa) I don't mind. Hold. Then come along. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 33 (Richard and Holder exeunt up stairs, Jones follows them up 0., Bbenezer rises with groan, crosses to l. table. Sits. Helma goes around bach of Ebenezer to 0.) Hel. (0., r. of Ebenezer) 0, Perfessar. Yo' bane awful waeked. -| Eben. I know it. I know it. Hel. Yo' tal lai\ Yo' say yo' not bane out to nate. Jones, (who has come down r. of her) Well, he hasn't. Hel. (c) But I say hum go out dat vay. (points to hall) Jones. Well, how much will you take to say you didn't see him go out? Hel. Ai dunno. De udder faller, he give me saven dollar to say Ai not see him come in. (Helma stands c. with extended hand. Jones Smiles; searches his pockets, finds nothing, then searches Ebenezer's pockets until he finds the ten dollar bill placed there by Richard.) Jones, (to Helma) I'll see his seven and raise him three, (gives money) Now, don't get cold feet. Hel. Cold fate ! Vat bane cold fate ? Jones. That's when you've made too much money and want to jump the game. Now he's been in all night. Hasn't he ? Hel. Yas sir. Ai naver say hum come in, ai naver say bum go out, ai naver say hum nohow. (Exits l. 2) Jones, (looks through window r. c.) The other man's there, all right. JL Ebenezer. What can we do? (rises) ' Jones, (at window) I'm going to dally with you just as long as the police are abput 34 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Re-enter Kichaed and Holder, downstairs, quickly.) Eich. I knew lie wasn't there, (goes l. of table l. Jones drops down r.) Hold. He's in the the house, somewhere, and we'll never quit till we've got him. Here ! (Holder motions Jones, Kiohard and Ebenezee with club: all c.) Hold, (produces Jones' coat-tail) Do you know what this is ? (Bus. and Picture. Jones, Eichard, and Ebenezee examine coat-tail.) Jones. Dear me! What can it be? It looks a piece of cloth. — Ebenezer. (feeling it with forefinger and thumb) It feels like a piece of cloth. Eich. Probably a sample for a suit of clothes. Hold. It's the tail of a coat. (Jones, Ebenezer and Eichaed take hold of coat- tails. Jones turns r., Ebenezer and Eichard l., with significant looks.) Jones. Not mine, I hope, (goes e.) Hold. Let me find the man that owns the other one, that's all. (going to l. 3) We'll still keep our men outside, and if he's in here, he'll never get away. We can wait, we can wait. Jones. Eemember the proverb : " The good things only come to those who hustle while they wait." (Exit Holder to hall.) Eich. (going up, watches Holdee off. To Jones up L. c.) N"ow's your chance to get away. Jones. Guess again, young man. I'm here for to-night at least. Eben. But my wife? (sits R. of table l.) How can I explain matters to her ? WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 35 Jones. The man who lives at peace with his wife never tries to explain. - Eben. Then what am I to do? (Eichakd has dropped down a little up R. of Ebenezer) Jones, (comes c.) Has it ever dawned on you that it might be possible to deceive her? Eben. What ! Lie to my wife ! Jones. Certainly not. The man who would lie to his wife is a poor, weak creature; it's so easy to fool her without it. _ Eben. But, if she were to see you, she (Enter Mrs. Goodly e. 2. Sees Jones, goes di- rectly to him. Ebenezer rises.) Mrs. G. Why, Bishop ! You did surprise us after all. (hisses Jones) — Eben. But, Matilda- Eich. (apart to Jones) Mrs. Goodly. (Eichards laughs aside. Jones is taken aback, then the humor of the situation dawns on him, and he enjoys it.) Jones, (apart to Kiohard) Watch the Bishop. My dear sister! (kisses Mrs. G.) -i Eben. (in dismay) I daren't tell her now. (gets in front of l. table) Mrs. G. How well you are looking ! I declare, I shouldn't take you to be a day over forty. Jones. It's the climate. Australia has the dam (Richard stops him) the dampest cli- mate ! (Jones and Richard exchange glances.) Mrs. G. I see. Jones. As for you you must have found the foun- tain of eternal youth. I never saw you look so well as you do this minute. (Ebenezer and Richard start.) ■+ 36 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mrs. G. But you never saw me before. -] — (Ebenezee, still in front of table, gives an exclamo motion and puts hand over discolored eye.) Jones. Yes, I did, often, — in my mind's eye. (Ebenezee and Eichaed express relief.) Jones. We've got the mind's eye down fine in Australia. (Ebenezee is the picture of despair. Eichaed, bach of table, enjoys it.) Mes. G. We are all so glad to have you with us. Look at Ebenezer. He can hardly speak for joy (drops down on line with Ebenezee) — Eben. (with a sickly smile) I'm so happy ! I'm s -o happy ! Jones. Yes. He looks tickled almost to death. Mes. G. The girls, too, and our ward, are just de- lighted, (goes r.) Jones. Are they? The dear little things. To- morrow I'll get them some peanuts and crackerjack. Mrs. G. They don't care for such things now. Eemember their ages: twenty, twenty-two, and twenty-six. , (Eichaed comes down to Jones, c.) Jones. Twenty, twenty-two, and twenty-six. (apart to Eichaed. Gives way to l. c.) That's just my gait. (Richakd laughs, goes up a little l. c. Music.) {Enter Mineeva e. 3., comes e. c.) Mes. G. (around e. of sofa to back of it. To Mineeva) The Bishop, (in Jones) This is Min- erva. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 37 Jones. Charmed to know you, Minnie. Min. I am delighted to meet you, uncle. (Jones shakes hands with her extravagantly, then kisses her. Minerva stands with her head rest- ing on Jones's right shoulder, Mrs. Goodly is beaming. Additional enjoyment for Richard. Additional dismay for Ebenezer. By-play be- tween Jones and Richard.) {Warn curtain.) Eben. (aside) This will he the death of me. (Enter Cissy l. 2, goes toward Jones.) Cis. (going to Jones) Why, uncle, (embraces Jones, who kisses her) (Enter Marjorie r. 2, crosses to Jones with an ex- clamation of pleasure. As she crosses, Rich- ard changes from laughter to apprehension.) Jones. (sees Marjorie) Don't be bashful. There's room for another. Rich, (crossing to intercept Marjorie, which he fails to do) Here ! Here ! This won't do ! (Marjorie crosses to Jones. Minerva, with head on Jones's right shoulder. Jones kisses Cissy, who stands with her head resting on his left shoulder. Richard, under his breath, utters an ejaculation of anger, tearing at hair. Ebenezer, in dismay, sinks into chair l. of table. Mrs. Goodly stands beaming. Jones smiles on the three girls and rocks gently to and fro with them in his arms.) Jones. Young man, don't interrupt the service ! QUICK CURTAIN". 38 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (SECOND PICTUEE: Jones and the Three Girls walking up stage c. Mrs. Goodly r. c, beaming on Jones. Ebenezer and Eichard at table in despair.) N. B. — The end of this act must go very quickly. Ring curtain on picture of the three girls in Jones's arms. ACT II. (Music.) Scene, same as Act I. Time, Fifteen minutes later. {At rise of curtain, enter Jones and Mrs. Goodly r. 3. Mrs. Goodly preceding.) Mrs. G. (up r. c.) I'm so glad you admire the dining-room, Bishop. Jones, (r. of Mrs. Goodly and a little down) Ife is charming, Matilda. Mrs. G. (down l. c.) And the study. How do you like that? Jones, (comes down r. c.) Nothing could pos- sibly please me more. Mrs. G. (l. c, around l. of l. table to front of it) But I'm sure it's not half so well furnished as the one where you spend your long, delightful evenings. Jones, (r. c.) Much better, I assure you. The study where I have spent my long, delightful even- ings had simply a round table with a green cloth, some plain chairs, a sideboard Mrs. G. A sideboard in a study ? Jones. Of course, (back of sofa) That is the latest thing in studies in Australia. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 39 Mrs. G. (crosses to sofa b. Sitting) Sit down, please, and tell me about the country. Jones, (c.) The country? Oh yes! (around b. of sofa. Sits r. of Mrs. Goodly) Well, you see, Australia — Australia is very hilly Mrs. G. (interrupting) Why, I thought it was flat. Jones. It is. It's flat and hilly, too, — but not in the same place, — and I was speaking of the hilly place. Mes. G. What grows there, principally? Jones. Pugilists and kangaroos. Mes. G. It must be lovely to see those cunning kangaroos hopping about. Jones. The sweetest sight in the world is to see a dear, old mother-kangaroo hopping around with her baby on her back. Mrs. G. On her back ! Why, I thought they carry their young in pouches. Jones. Not now. They used to carry them in that way, — but not now. Mes. G. How can that be ? Jones. Didn't you hear? The style in baby car- riages changed last summer. Mes. G. The style- ■ Jones, (interrupting) Yes. But let us talk of something more interesting. Mrs. G. But I thought Jones, (interrupting) Let us speak of the dear girls, for instance. Mrs. G. Well, they are more interesting to me. And you, ah, you are fond of them already. I know you are. Jones. How did you guess it ? Mrs. G. We are very proud of our daughters, — and of Cissy, though we are somewhat worried about her. I wish you would give her a little good advice. Jones. I'll do it ! I'll do it ! I make a specialty of advising young ladies of her ago. 40 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mrs. G. Thank you. I think she will listen to you. Jones. I hate to talk about myself, but if she won't, she'll be the first I've missed on the trip. (Enter Ebenezer l. 2, with book which he •places on table l. His left eye is more discolored. Jones's l. hand on his own knee.) Mrs. G. I'm sure she will. You have such a winning way with you. (places hand on Jones's.) Jones. I wish I'd had it with me last night. Lost seventeen dollars without holding a hand — (recovering himself and placing his other hand on Mrs. Goodly's) — half so good as this. (Ebenezer sees Mrs. Goodly's hand in Jones's and pantomimes for him to release it Jones grins at him and pats Mrs. Goodly's hand affection- ately. She looks up at him, and he quickly re- sumes his sanctimonious expression. Ebenezer manifests his wrath.) Mrs. G. She has been our ward since she was a little girl, but several years ago we let her go West in search of health. Jones. Well, I guess she found it all right. (Jones looks again at Ebenezer, who pantomimes more vigorously. Jones grins tantalizingly.) Mrs. G. She did. But since she returned she has seemed dissatisfied. Now, if you would talk to her, I'm sure she would ■f — (Mrs. Goodly looks up at Jones, who is laughing at Ebenezer. Following his gaze, she looks l., and sees Ebenezer pantomiming.) Mrs. G. What ia the matter with y®u, Ebenezer? WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 41 (rises, crosses 0. to Ebenezer) You ought to see a doctor. i. — (Ebenezer discontinues bus. suddenly, and Jones resumes his character.) Jones, (e. still seated) You are quite right, my dear Matilda. -f — Eben. (l. c. aside) He calls her his dear Matilda, (angry) Mrs. G. (0. to Jones) Didn't you study medi- cine years ago ? Jones. Most certainly I did. (crosses to Ebenezer) Ebenezer, let me see your tongue. i EBen. What? Jones. Let me see your tongue. ■j— - Eben. I most emphatically decline to do any- thing of the kind, (crosses to c.) Jones. How his disposition has changed ! (l. of Ebenezer) He used to be the sweetest boy. Mrs. G. (r. of Ebenezer) Ebenezer, do as the Bishop asks you. (bus. worked up) Ebenezer — Ebenezer ! (Ebenezer shows tongue, at which Jones gases with apparent solicitude.) Jones. A little further, if you please, — brother. Further still. Is that the limit ? 4— - Eben. Um-m (unable to speak, very angry) Jones. Ah, very good. Mrs. G. Is it serious ? Jones. Not yet. (to Ebenezer) Let me feel your pulse, (takes Ebenezer's wrist) I could be sure if I only had his temperature. Mrs. G. The Professor always carries a thar» mometer there, in his vest pocket. Jones. The very thing. 42 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Jones takes thermometer from Ebenezer's left pocket and puts it in Ebenezer's mouth. Jones holds Ebenezer's left wrist in his right hand.) Jones {counts aloud) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, And now, my dear Matilda, we will soon see. (takes thermometer from Ebenezer's mouth and examines it in apparent surprise) One hundred and twenty- seven. Ebenezer, you must be feeling rather hot. Ebenezer. I am, sir, I am. (very angry) Mrs. G. Look at his eye! How black it is! (Ebenezer starts lack. Jones catches him.) Jones. That's bad! That's bad! (illustrates the following oy handling Ebenezer's face) When the patelma comes in contact with the patalmis ? the cartilage presses against the calumna, which causes a rush of blood to the carputhalia, and then, (in German or English) out comes the eye. Mrs. G. But it's only one eye, the left. Jones. That's what makes it dangerous. The left eye, near the heart. If the discoloration extends from here, (the eye) to here, (the heart) brother will be measured for a golden harp. (Mrs. Goodly, with a slight scream, sinks on sofa.) — Eben. (up c.) That is absurd — ridiculous! Jones. Eeally? Then perhaps you will give us an explanation, (following up l. c. a little) Eben. I — I (coming down, almost explod- ing with rage) Mrs. G. Yes, dear, tell us. (rises) Jones. Well, tell us how you got it. -J— -Eben. Why — um — er (stops suddenly c.) Jones. (imitating Ebenezer) Why — um — er — ! Don't be nervous, brother. What we want to know is, am I right or not. Come now, speak up. Am I right or wrong? -) — Eben. You are — you axe WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 43 H — - (Ebenezeh, very much excited, goes up followed by Mrs. Goodly and Jones.) Jones. 60 on, go on ! Tell us all about it. -} Eben. You are (explodes with anger and dashes off r. 3.) Mrs. G. (up r. c, hands upraised) In all the years we have been married, I never knew him to act that way before. Jones, (leading Mrs. Goodly down c.) Don't be alarmed, Matilda. It is one of the regular symptoms. But you want to watch that eye. The blacker it gefs, the worse he is. Mrs. G. (r. c.,) I'll pay particular attention to it. (Jones drops l. Mrs. Goodly advances to him) What would you advise me to do for him? Jones, (l.) Put some cracked ice on his head, keep his feet warm, give him sage tea, and, above all, do not let him stay up late. Mrs. G. Would he be better in bed now? Jones. Much better. Mrs. G. (goes up n. c.) Then I'll see he goes there right away, (at doOr r. 3 turns) I know how to take care of my husband. (Exits r. 3) Jones, (advancing up c. a little) I can see that, Matilda, I can see that, (alone, laughing, up to r. c.) Poor Ebenezer! But he's better in bed anyway, (comes down R. behind couch) And to think that my dallying with deacons, elders, and such people, should help me to act like a Bishop and pull me out of a hole like this. But it's dry business, (searching in pocket) and I must have one, good, long, My flask is in that coat, (indicating (Jones looles about to be sure no one is watching, then goes to piano. As he lifts the top, Mr*: Goodly enters. He lets top close quickly. Jones l. of piano leans on it composedly.) Mrs. G. (at r. 3 door) You'll excuse my leaving you alone, won't you? 44 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Tones. Of course I will, (to her quickly) Mrs. G. But I'm so anxious about poor Ebenezer. Jones. Yes, poor Ebenezer. (Mrs. Goodly exits r. 3. Jones cautiously opens piano, gets pish from pocket. Crosses c. Enter Cissy down-stairs to landing, unseen by Jones. He holds up flask and says, " Friend of my youth." Pours out drink, holds up cup, says, "I need th.ee every hour." Takes a long drink with evident satisfaction and appreciation. Cissy watches him.) Jones. Ah, that's good ! Cis. (at 1st landing) Glad you think eo. What is it? Jones, (surprised, endeavors to conceal flask. Ministerially) Cold tea. (drops n.) Cis. (laughing) Cold tea! (comes down c.) Jones. I never travel without cold tea. (pats flask affectionately) Cis. (mimicking) Don't you, really? (natur- ally) I like it, too. May I? (reaches for flask) Jones. You? Oh, no! (withdraws flask) Cis. Why not? Jones. It would he too strong for you, and be- sides, you would not like the flavor. This is from Australia. Cis. I guess I could stand it. I've tried it from Kentucky. Jones. Kentucky? (advances to her) Cis. Ah, you're not so innocent as you look, even if you are a bishop. But I won't give you away. You need never be afraid of me. Jones. My dear child, I do not understand you. Cis. Of course not. Now tell me on your honor as a bishop. Is that cold tea? Jones. This is cold tea, on my honor as a bishop, (puts flash in pocket) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 45 CIS. I suppose I must believe you. (laughing and baching up c.) But just the same I think it is the kind that makes a man feel, (goes to piano, plays and sings) " Oh, what a difference in the morning." (The clothes interfere with the action of the piano. Cissy puzzled. Jones interested. Note. For this business the piano strings should be muted.) Cis. I wonder what's the matter with this piano? (plays again) " Oh, what a difference in the morn- ing." (rises, loohing at piano) There must be some- thing wrong Jones, (aside) The clothes. Cis. (going to raise top) It must he in here, (Cissy partly raises piano top. Jones pretends to choice. Cissy drops pmno top and turns quickly.) Cis. (anxiously) What's the matter? Jones. Some of the cold tea went down the wrong way. Cis. Is that all ! (sits at piano) (Jones crosses to upstage end of piano. Cissy plays, " Oh, what a difference.") Cis. (on piano stool) Did you ever hear any- thing like that? Jones. No. Did you? Cis. And it was tuned only last month. \ Cissy rises and starts to raise piano top. Jones prevents her by placing his elbow on it.) Cis. Permit me. (tries to raise piano top) Jones. Pl&isse don't bother. I care nothing for classical music snyway. Cis. But se*M investigation must be made. 46 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Jones. Then you sit down and let me make it. {starts to open top) Cis. (holding down top) No, no! (aside) The book and cards ! (Turns her lack to piano and holds down top by extending her arms backward along it. Laughs nervously at Jones. Picture) Jones. Why not ? Cis. I prefer to do it myself. So please stand over there, (takes Jones by right arm, brings him C.) and I will see what the trouble is. Jones. Oh, no ! I couldn't think of such a thing. (Jones starts to cross to piano. Cissy catches his coat-tails and holds him.) Jones. Whose move is it next? Cis. (holding on to coat) It's this way Jones (pulling from hsr) No, it's the other way. (Enter Minerva e. 3, with a sheet of music. Cissy releases Jones.) Min. I've found it at last, Cissy, (down r. c.) This, Bishop, is Sousa's latest march, (starts for piano) Let me play it for you. I'm sure you'll like it. (Jones and Cissy cross to piano, Jones to lower end. Jones makes extravagant motions, peep- ing over and around piano at Cissy, who does not comprehend. Minerva sits at piano, plays a few bars.) Min. There's something wrong with the piano. (Tries to open top) (Jones and Cissy hold down the top.) Min. What are you doing? Jones. Playing a new game from Australia. Min. A game! Jones. Yes. Peek-a-boo, Cissy, (repeats bus.) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 47 Cis. (catching on) Peek-a-boo! (imitates Jones) Jones. Better take a whirl, Minnie. It will put your blood in circulation. Cis. Yes_! Yes! Min. (rises, goes c.) I prefer another kind of amusement. Jones. Oh, be sociable, Minnie. Be sociable. Min. Pardon me, if I say you must excuse me. (goes to r. 3) And to think that the author of "The Mistakes of Darwin" could do anything so undignified ! (Exit r. 3) Cis. Well? (upper end piano) Jones. Well? (lower end piano) Cis. Shall we call this game a draw? Jones. I am willing. Cis. So am I. (Both leave piano, eying each other with suspicion. Start bach simultaneously, and hold down cover. Repeat bus. ad. lib. then both go c.) Jones. Then let us sit down and commune to- gether. Cis. About what? (sits R. of table L.) Jones. About you. (bach of l. table) I have heen asked to speak to you like a father. Have you toy sweethearts? Cis. Not one. Jones, (in chair 1. of table, quickly facing her) No? What's the matter with the boys round here? Don't they know a good thing when it comes their way? Cis. The boys here are so slow that they make New Year's calls on the Fourth of July. Jones, (aside) What a chance in this neighbor- hood for a real swift hymn-book drummer! Cis. I have absolutely no fun whatever: no danc- ing, no theatres, no card-parties Jones. Do you know anything about cards ? 48 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Gib. I should say I do. Jones, (naturally) Then let me show you some of the finest samples of (assumed) of hymn-book ad- vertisements you ever saw. Cis. I mean playing-cards: Ace— king — queen — jack — ten — you know. Jones. Pardon me. (rises) You might think I know, but I do not. (goes down l.) Of course, I may have heard of such things. Cis. You don't think there's anything wrong in playing cards, or dancing, do you, Bishop? Jones. That all depends. Cis. (rises) For instance, do you see any harm in a girl waltzing in a ball-room, even if a young man's arm is around her waist, — like this? (Hums, and waltzes around to c. Jones's feet move in time to waltz.) Jones, (l.) Talk about hard luck! (to foot) Keep still, there. Keep still. Cis. Or this? (stops waltzing and dances a few steps) Jones. It's no use. I've got to do it, just once. (Jones dances step or two. Crosses to r., catches Cissy's eye. Sinks on sofa, air of Bishop. Cissy laughing, c, pointing. Picture) Cis. (crosses to k. c.) You don't object to it, do you? Jones. Object ! I should say not Cis. (sitting leside Jones) Then won't you please tell Mrs. Goodly that there's no harm in my going to dancing-school? Jones. I don't exactly see how I can interfere. Cis. (cuddling up to Jones) But to please me, Bishop, to please me. Jones. I'd like to do it, but you see, I — I Cis. (eoaxingly) Dear, dear Bishop, won't you tell her it's all right, please — please — please — (ad lib., hisses him) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 4$ Jones, (warmly and naturally) To please you, I'd tell her any old thing. Cis. Good ! (rises, crosses to l. c.) Jones, (following) When you ask like that, I can refuse you nothing. Ask me again, (holds cheek out for her to kiss him again) Cis. Nothing? Jones. I said it, and I mean it. Cis. Then, let me sample your cold tea. (sur- prise and confusion for Jones) Remember, you said, nothing. Jones, (c.) Yes, but Cis. (l. c.) And of course a Bishop won't go back on his word. (Jones reluctantly takes out flask. Tie unscrews top and hands flask and top to Cissy. She holds up flask, and smiles at him triumphantly.) Cis. I need thee, every hour, (hands flask hack to Jones) Thank you. Jones. But you didn't ■ (Bus. of drinking) Cis. (quietly) Did you really expect me to? (Jones silent) Oh, no ! Girls say a great deal more than they mean, nowadays, (crosses n. to table) Jones. I'll remember that. Cis. (at l. end of sofa) Do you know, I thought I should hate you — that is, before I saw you. Jones. And now ? Cis. Well, now, — I think we'll be pretty good friends, don't you? Jones. You bet. I mean, most certainly we will. Cis. (back of sofa) Minerva, though, will be fearfully disappointed. She's expecting long, dry talks with you about Darwin. Jones. Darwin? Oh yes. The man who began all that monkey business. Cis. And Marjorie, dear romantic Marjorie, she is just yearning to discuss " Snowdrops and Violets." 50 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Jonis. Snowdrops and Violets! What does she think I am ? A flower-garden ? Cis. Don't pretend to misunderstand. (Cissy takes booh from table and hands it to Jones c. He examines cover of booh in surprise. En- ter Mrs. Goodly e. 3, carrying dish containing ice.) Jones. Oh, yes. But I did not expect to find a copy of this little volume here. Cis. You wouldn't have found it had you come yesterday, (crosses L.) They bought it only this morning. Mrs. G. (up c.) Cissy, how dare you ! Cis. Oh, she heard! I'd better go. (exits l. 2, laughing) Mrs. G. (coming down c.) I hope you don't pay any attention to what that foolish girl says. Jones. Certainly not. I remember the proverb: " He that believeth the words of a maid, would put faith even in a fish-story, (places booh on table l.) Mrs. G. I came to ask you if you thought this ice was chopped fine enough. It's for Ebenezer's head. Jones, (surprised) Ebenezer's head ! (recover- ing) Yes, yes. (looking into bowl) On the whole, it's all right; but you might shave down a few of those pieces over there in the north-east corner. Mrs. G. Thank you. I'll do it. He positively refuses to go to bed, but I shall insist on his using this, (exit r. 3.) Jones. That's right, (following her up) In- sist on it, Matilda, insist on it, insist on it. (up to B. 3. Comes down, laughing) Ebenezer will need a cool head to-night and it looks as if he were goi^e; to get it. That girl Cissy is mighty bright, and I'll have to be careful when she's about. Which reminds me, I'd better get rid of those clothes, (starts to WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 51 take clothes from piano; finds books and cards) I see. This is why Cissy didn't want me to open it. (replaces books and cards) And now, to taka these to my room, (takes clothes out of piano) (Jones carrying clothes, goes cautiously toward stairs. Makjoeie appears on stairs. He holds clothes behind him.) Mar. (foot of stairs) Don't go, Bishop. I want to talk to you about " Snowdrops and Violets." Jones, (down c, back to audience) You must excuse me. I have to go upstairs to see what time it is. Mar. I wish to know particularly about, "Why keep your hands behind you ? " (Bus. for Jones, whose hands are behind him.) Jones, (r. of her) It's a habit I got in Au- stralia. Mar. (l. and above him) A habit? Jones. Yes. In Australia we all have open fire- places, — and so — and so Mar. But I referred to your'beautiful poem. Jones, (working around stage to stairs) My poem ! Yes, yes ! I thought you meant, — Ha ! Ha I I thought you meant 1 thought you meant — See ? (by this time he is on first step and Marjorie is on stage r. of him) Mar. No. Jones, (on second step) Good! Mar. What? Jones, (on third step) Nothing. Mar. I don't understand. Jones, (on fourth step) Then I'll explain later. Mar. (at stairs) Oh, very well, (as Marjok* passes Jones, he keeps his face to her. She turns at foot of stairs) You won't forget? Jones, (on first landing, faces Marjory, q.uickly\ No, indeed. 52 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mar. Thank you. (goes down stage c.) Jones, (going up second flight) "Why keep your hands behind you! " (holds clothes in front of him. Exit up stairs) Mar. (alone) Isn't he the loveliest man ! (sits on sofa) (Enter Eichard l. 3. Hangs hat on rack. Catches sight of Jones.) Eich. (goes to r. c.) Marjorie, I wish to ask a favor of you. Mar. What is it, Eichard ? Eich. Promise me you will do all you can to avoid — the Bishop. Mar. Avoid the Bishop! Eich. I can't explain now, but I want you te promise. Mar. This is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of. Eich. It is strange, I admit. But when you see it in my light — (goes l.) Mar. And what light is that ? Eich. Well, just for example, you kissed him. Mar. Of course I did. Eich. Well, that was very awkward — for me. (goes c) Mar. Awkward? (rises, goes to him) Eich. Yes. You may not think it, but it was. Mar. And am I to understand that you object to my kissing him ? „ Eich. Object ! I should say I do, most emphati- cally, (goes L.) Mar. But he is my uncle. Eich. But even if he were — if he were — your uncle. Mar. It isn't a question of " If he were," — he is. Eich. Well, then, granted — granted that he is; won't you do as I ask, as a favor to me? (goes iff Marjorie) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 53 Mar. I would do anything reasonable for you, Biehard. But this is so preposterous, {goes R.) Kick. If you only understood, {following her) ..Mar. I do understand, {turns) You wish me to avoid my uncle, the Bishop of Ballarat, the author of " Snowdrops and Violets " ■ Bich. (c.) But, if he were not the author Mar. (r. c.) I'm ashamed of you, Biehard. Not satisfied with being absurdly and unreasonably jealous of the Bishop, you now accuse him of pla- giarism. Bich. I don't do anything of the kind, {goes L.) Mar. You do. Bich. I don't. Mar. I say you dc. Bich. I don't. Mar. You do. Not directly and in a manly fashion, but by insinuation and innuendo, {sits on sofa. Worlcs up scene) Bich. Come, Marjorie, don't let us quarrel. {crosses to Marjorie) Please, please avoid him, far my sake. Mar. I must decline to do anything of the kind. (Bichaed with exclamation of anger, starts for L. 3 } takes hat, pauses, puts hat bach.) Bich. {at foot of stairs) Then you refuse me the first real favor I have ever asked you. Mar. {rising) It is so ridiculous that I must refuse. Bich. {coming down l.) Eidiculous, is it? Mar. {going) Yes, Biehard, it is. Bich. It is not. Mar. It is. {stamp of foot; loth angry) (Enter Ebenezer, r. 3. He has a towel round his head and his eye is blacker.) 54 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Ebenezer, c. Marjorie, r. c. Eiohard, l. c.) Eben. What is the matter here? What is the matter ? Mar. (r.) Eiehard is actually jealous of Uncle Antony. Eich. I simply want Marjorie to keep out of his way as much as possible. Mar. What do you think of that, papa? Isn't it the height of absurdity? — • Eben. No, Marjorie. Eiehard is right. (Eioh- ard goes t. with satisfaction) The Bishop is not the kind of man you take him to be. (comes down L. c.) Eich. (crosses to c.) There! v You see! Mar. I must be dreaming, (crosses to Ebenezer) Do you realize that you are speaking of your brother, the Bishop? Eich. The Bishop, indeed. I'd like to punch his head. (Eichard crosses r., Marjorie, r. c. Ebenezer shows satisfaction. Enter Mrs. Goodly, r. 3.) Mrs. G. (c.) Punch whose head? Mar. (l. c.) The dear Bishop's. Mrs. G. Is ,- t possible! Eich. Yes, it is. And I'll do it, too, if he isn't mighty careful. (Exit r. 2) (Bell, off l.) Mrs. G. (r. c.) What has come over the men lately? Mar, I don't think Eichard can be well, (crosses ton.) Mrs. G. Probably not, just like the Professor. (looks at Ebenezer) Oh, look at his eye ! — Eben. I tell you, Matilda, there is nothing th6 matter with me. (sits on chair r. of l. tdble) Mrs. G. That's what you think. I know better. Come now, Ebenezer, won't you go to bed? WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 55 Eben. (l.) No, I won't. Mrs. G. But the Bishop said- — Eben. Oh, hang the Bishop I (jumps up ex- citedly) Mrs. G. (c.) Well, I declare! Such language before your daughter ! Mar. Papa must be ill ; I know he must. (Going to Ebenezer and sympathizing) Poor papa ! Poor dear, old papa. — Eben. (yells) Leave me alone! (Marjorie starts bach with exclamation) Don't you think I'm old enough to know whether I'm well or not? (bangs in chair r. of l. table) Mrs. G. (apart to Marjorie, drawing her away R. c.) He's a very sick man. We must humor him. (crosses to back of Ebenezer's chair, arm around him. Aloud) Of course, you're not ill, Ebenezer. We were only joking. Of course, you're not ill. (Bus. ad. lib. working up scene.) Mar. Of course not, papa. Mrs. G. Certainly not. The very idea ! Eben. (after bus.) Now what are you trying to do? Mrs. G. You were never better in your life. But won't you please go to to bed ? _i Eben. (with the calmness of desperation, rises) Matilda, if you don't wish to hear me swear for the first time in our married life (crosses to r., excitedly) don't mention the word bed to me again. (Enter Helma, l. 3.) Hel. (c.) A letter for der Perfassar. J Eben. (taking it) Thank you. (goes r. c.) (Helma crosses to r.) Hel. (whispering) Perfassar ! 11 t- 56 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Makjoeie and Mrs. Goodly bach of table. Bun, whispering about Ebenezer's condition.) - Eben. What do you want? Hel. {apart, whispering) Ai naver say yo' come in, Ai naver say yo' go out, Ai naiver say yo' nohow. Eben. (apart) Go away ! ! Hel. (at door l. 2) Ai naiver say yo' nohow. Eben. (apart) Go away! Go away! (Helma exit, l. 2.) Mas. G. (k. c.) What did she say? (coming E. c.) .. Eben. (crosses to l. table. Sits on chair r. of table) She said she never saw you come in, she 'never saw you go out, she never saw you nohow, — no, any- how, — no, nohow. Oh, what am I talking about? Mrs. G. (c.) That's just what I would like to know. Where is the letter from, Ebenezer?. f Eben. (opening letter) From the sanatorium. Mar. (r.) The sanatorium! Mes. G. (c.) One of the patients has escaped. I knew it would happen some day. ■| Eben. (crosses l. c.) Don't jump at conclusions. You've been expecting that hourly, but vainly, ever since the place was built, seven years ago. Mrs. G. This time, I know it's true. I can feel it. Eead the letter and see. \— — Eben. (reading) " I regret to say, one of Our patients escaped about half an hour ago." Mrs. G. There! There! What did I tell you? \ Eben. (getting excited) "He is perfectly harm- less, but thinks he's an Indian." •Mrs. G. " Harmless, but thinks he's an Indian ! * What sarcasm! (crosses, down R.) Eben. (very nervously) Now — now — don't get excited, Matilda, (crosses, down r.) Mrs. G. (up L.) I'm not nearly so excited ae you are. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 57 -}— — Eben. Yes, you are! Yes, you are! (up r.) Mrs. G. (c.) No, I'm not. And you must remember, excitement is very dangerous for a man as ill as you are. -) — — Eben. (yells) But tell you, I am perfectly well. (crosses down l. c.) Mrs. G. How can you say such a thing and your eye getting blacker every minute? X Note. Every time reference is made to Eben- ezer's eye he starts and puts hand to eye. t Eben. If it were not against my principles, I could say something awful. Mrs. G. Go on. Eead the letter. -j EBen. (reading very nervously and excitedly and distinctly. Marjorie crosses back of them to back of sofa, excitedly, listening) "Acting under this hallucination, he has stolen a blanket." Mrs. G. (c.) Stolen a blanket -j Eben. (reads) " So if you should happeD to see a man wrapped in a blanket, please treat him kindly and notify me." (Marjorie crosses up to window frightened, "Oh! oh ! " Mks. Goodly crosses back and forth from c. to R., and up and down stage all through this scene.) Mrs. G. (going excitedly down r.) This is what we get for not moving when a private asylum was built next door. -| — - Eben. But the man is perfectly harmless. The superintendent says so. Mrs. G. (l. c, going to Ebenezer) Yes, harm, less, but thinks he's an Indian. How simple you are. Mar. (down back of sofa) What shall we do? Mrs. G. (goes r.) A glorious reception for the Bishop, isn't it ? We must keep it from him no mat- ter what happens. 58 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mar. (going to hallway) So we must. But the others ? Mes. G. We must warn them at once. Come with me, Marjorie, (going ton. c) come with me. 4 — Eben. (following) I think I'll come, too. Mrs. G. Very well, but first see if that window is fastened. (Exeunt Mrs. Goodly and Marjorie, r. 3. X Ebenezer apprehensively approaches window, fastens it, and exits r. 3. Door-bell rings, L. Jones enters from stairs.) Jones, (alone) I hid my clothes under the bed and now I feel perfectly safe. I wonder if that policeman is still watching? (looks through window) Don't see him. (opens window and looks out) Yes, there he is. (closes window but does not lock it) If those boys ever get their hands on me, it will be worse than being run through a thrashing-machine. (at window up R. c.) (Music.) (Enter Bishop from hall followed by Helma, who goes L. of him.) Bish. (l. c, to Helma) Everything is perfectly correct, my good girl, everything is perfectly correct- (Music stops.) Jones, (up r.) I wonder who this is? (comes down r.) He looks like a package of Quaker Oats. Bish. (to Jones) How do you do? I want to see my brother. Jones. Your brother? (dropping to front of sofa) Bish. Yes. I am the Bishop of Ballarat, (crosses to l., gives Helma hat, which she hangs oh rack, then comes on L. and watches scene) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 59 Jones, (on sofa. Astounded. Aside) " Just tell them that you saw me, » And they will know the rest; Bish. (crosses lack to Jones, e. c.,) You wear the cloth, I see? Jones, (rises) Yes. I am the dean of Oska- loosa. How is business in our line in Australia? Bish. Business? Business? I remember now; everything is business in America. Hel. (comes down L. c. Beckons to Jones) Say! Jones (crosses to Helma. Bishop to n.) Well, what's the matter, Stockholm ? (Helma again beckons Jones.) Jones, (to Bishop) Please excuse me for a moment. (Bishop excuses Jones and' goes up to window.) Jones, (goes to Helma) What is it? what is it? Hel. (apart) Ai naver say hum come in — — (thumb over r. shoulder, indicating Bishop) Jones, (apart) And you'll never see him go out, Skip! (Jones runs Helma off l. 2, then turns up c. ani meets Bishop, who seems mildly astonished. Picture.) Bish. (coming down E.) I did not notify the family of the exact hour of my arrival, as I wished to give them a pleasant surprise. Jones, (l.) Well, you'll surprise 'em all right. Bish. My brother's health is good, I hope? Jones. For the present, yes. (hack of Tj. table) But I think he'll have nervous prostration »p 3. few minutes. 60 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Bish. And— and— (aside) I cannot mention Alvina; the subject is too sacred, (goes b.) Jones, (goes L., aside) What can I do with him? Will somebody please tell me what I can do with him ? Bish. (crosses to c.) Of course you won't know anything about it, but I ordered some clothes mad« and sent here. Jones, (looking at his costume) They're herej all right. Bish. Are they? Jones. Yes. I'll see you get them when you really need. them. Bish. Thank you. (aside) How I will surprise Alvina ! (goes e., in front of sofa) Eich. (Enters e. 2, goes quickly to Jones) See here, we might as well understand (sees Bishop and gazes from one to the other in amazement) Bish. (r.) Who is this young man? Jones, (i. c.) He — why he — is your valet, Frangois. Bish. My valet ! Jones. Your brother hired him especially for you- , Bish. How kind ! Eich. (l. c, apart to Jones) What fresh joke is this? Jones, (l., apart) Keep quiet ! That's the real boy. Eich. (c.) The Bishop? Great Scott! Bish. (e.) So your name is Frangois? Eich. Yes. What's yours? I mean, how ar? you? Yes, yes. My name is Frangois. Bish. Then, you are French ? Eich. On my mother's side. Jones. But he takes after his father. Bish. He speaks the language, of course? Jones, Like a native. Eich. (apart, to Jones) No, no! WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 61 Bish. Comment aimez vous ce pays ici? (Eichaed gazes at the Bishop in dismay.) Jones, (apart, to Kichard) Make a bluff! Make a bluff! Eich. Parlez vous, monsieur, avec, pomme de terre. Bish. What did he say ? Jones, (apart, to Bichard) Say it again ! Say it again! Bich. (r. c.) Parlez vous, monsieur, avec, pomme terre. Bish. (crossing to Jones, l. c.) What is he talking about? Jones. Sh — sh! (takes Bishop down stage z. Apart) It's a sad case, (takes Bishop, crosses to r. Bichard up l. c.) He's all right in English, but he's tongue-tied in French. Bish. How sad! I'll never speak to him in that language again. Jones, (r. c.) That's right, (crosses lack to L. Bichard comes down c.) Bish. (r.) Well, Frangois, before I admit any- one into my personal service, I always satisfy myself fully as to his J character. Do you swear ? Bich. Never. Bish. Drink* or smoke? Bich. Never. t Bish. Go to church? Bich. Never. (Jones utters an exclamation, calling Bichard's attention to his mistake) Yes! Yes ! Every chance I get. Jones, (going up to Bichard) Does he go to church ! Why, Bishop, (slaps Bichard on back) that boy is the champion light-weight church-attender of this country. Bisr. Beally ? Joists. He's the leader of the choir, too. Has a 62 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. magnificent voice. Francois, sing for the gentle* man. Eich. Do what? Jones, (l.) Sing a hymn for the Bishop, and sing it loud. (Bishop sits on sofa.) Rich, (to Jones, l. c.) Oh, you get out. Bish. Francois ! Francois ! You must not speak in that manner to the dean. Eich. The dean? Jones. Yes. Don't you dare to say you didn't know I was a dean. Eich. Of course, of course I knew it. Jones. Certainly you did. And now for the hymn. Eich. I can't remember any words. Jones. Then I'll loan you one of my hymn- books, (crosses to Bishop) By the way, Bish, you ought to see my samples. (Eichaed back of l. table) (At the word "Bish," the Bishop looks astonished.) Bish. (rising) Samples ! Jones, (to Bishop) Yes. What book do you prefer? I've got all sorts, sizes and shapes. Will sell on thirty, sixty, or ninety days, or give a liberal discount for cash. Come now, Bish, can't we do biz? (Brushes Bishop's shoulder; rests R. hand on Brtaop's l. shoulder) Bish. Biz, biz! I don't understand. Eich. (pulis Jones's coat) The dean is only joking. Jones, (e. c.) Don't you think for a minute I'm joking. We'll discuss quantity and terms later. (Richard crosses to front of chair, r. of l. table) Bish. Eeally. I don't know what you have been talking about, but we will discuss it later. In the meantime, I think I will go to my room and try on my new clothes, (crosses up o.) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 63 (Jones and Eichard exchange looks. Jones on sofa. Eichard in chair,) Bish. If you will please see that they are sent up to me. Jones, (r.1 I'll see about 4. I'll see about it. (Pantomime between Jones and Eichaed, indicating that Jones is wearing them.) Bish. (c.) Which way, Francois? Eich. Up the stairs, sir. (goes to bottom of stairs) Bish. (up c, to Jones) May I rely on you to keep my arrival secret for a short time ? Jones. I'll try to keep it secret for a long time. Bish. Thank you. I have the most urgent reason. Jones. It isn't a marker to mine. (Eichard starts upstairs.^ Bish. (c.) Francois. (Bishop calls Eichard down. Eichard comes to foot of stairs.) Bish. (foot of stairs) Not a word, dean, remem- ber. Jones, (rises) Not a word, Bish. Bish. (aside) Won't I surprise Alvina. (Exit upstairs) Eich. (comes down c quick) What shall I do? Jones, (r. c.) Take to him to my room and lock him in. Eich. And after that? Jones. Get him in first. Then we'll attend tc she rest, (crosses to L.J f- 84 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Exit Sichabd upstairs. Enter Ebenezer, b. 3c His eye is a shade darker,) -I Eben. (comes down c, angrily) I am a man of peace, but I wish to say right herej this has gone far enough. Jones, (l. c.) Take my advice, if there's any- thing wrong, see your wife. She knows how to take care of you, Ebenezer. | Eben. (c.) I object to your calling me Ebenezer. Jones. Now you mention it, it is rather formal. Suppose I call you Eben. — Eben. Call me what? Jones. Eben, E-b-e-n, Eben. 4 Eben. No, sir. To you I am Mr. Goodly. Jones. You might think you are, but you are not What's the matter with you, anyway? -} — Eben. (crosses to r.) As my eye keeps getting blacker my wife grows correspondingly insistent on my going to bed. Jones. And you want me to tuck you in. (crosses to Ebenezer. Takes his arm) Come on. ~l — —Eben. No, no! I want you to make some ex- ' planation that will enable me to stay up in peace. Mrs. G. (off b.) Ebenezer, Ebenezer ! Jones. Hear that? She calls you Ebenezer. Why object to me? -j Eben. She is my wife, (crosses to l., angrily) Jones, (follows him) Your wife doesn't think a bit more of you than I do. (arm around him) Mrs. G. (off r.) Ebenezer. 4 Eben. (starts up c, plaintively to Jones) Won't you please, come and say that I'm all right. I have my lecture to prepare. Jones. Then, as a favor, as a great favor, I'll ffo it up for you. -4 Eben. Thank you. Thank you. ( Mrs. G. (off r.) Ebenezer! Where are you ? WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 65 ~4— Eben. Coming, my dear, (crosses up B. 3) She's getting impatient, (coming down, meeting Jones, c.) Please, come. Jones. Remember, I wouldn't do this for any- body else. It shows how fond I am of you, Eb. It shows how fond I am of you. Jones puis arm around Ebenezer and they exeunt K. 3.' Enter Richabd from stairs carrying Bishop's coat and vest.) Rich. He wants these clothes pressed and his new ones taken to him immediately, (looks around) He's gone, (up c.) I d£m't know what to do. Jones is running this affair, so I'll hide these, then find him and get instructions. (Richabd puts clothes in piano and exit b. 2. Enter Cisst L. 3.) Cis. (alone. Coming down 0. loales around) He looks very young for his age. I wish he wasn't a bishop. I'd better get those books for fear he should look in the piano and see them, (goes to piano L.) Jones, (enter r. 3) He's all right now, (sees Cissy at piano, laughs quietly) Just see her get fooled. She thinks she's going to find something. (coming down b. c, watching Cisst, bach of sofa) (Cisst takes coat and vest from piano, examines them curiously. Jones astonished.) Jones. Do those things grow in there? Cis. (sees Jones. Comes c. holding them up) These are yours, I suppose ? Jones. I never knew I had 'em. (cross around a. of sofa to E. C.) Cis. You are the only one in the house who wears such clothes. Jones. Oh, I don't know. You may not think it, but there are others. 66 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Cis. Do you deny that they belong to you? (puts clothes on table back of sofa) Jones. Well, not exactly. Cis. (o.) Ah, then you do claim them, (crosses L. C.) Jones. No, I don't do that, either. Cis. (l. c.) That won't do. (turns) Tell me. Why did you choose a piano for a wardrobe? Jones, (e. c.) Why did you select it for a li« brary ? Cis. You looked in then, (comes to him c.) Jones. I did. (crosses down r.) Cis. Secret for secret, (up to him) You keep mine, I'll keep yours. Jones. Agreed. Cis. (r. c.) I think we might have some rare fun if you weren't (Bus, indicating long coat and sup- posed clerical calling) Jones, (r.) Yes. If I wasn't, (imitates Cissy) Cis. (up to him) I'm real sorry. Jones. Imagine how I feel, (arm round Cissy's waist) Cis. (breaks away) Come now, that won't do. (up l. c, quick) I'm no relation and you're a bishop. (exit l. 3) Jones, (in disgust, follows Cissy as she goes off, then back to c.) A bishop, (goes l.) I'm begin- ning to think this isn't such a good thing after all. I'd rather (turns, sees Alvina) (Music. Alvina, enters r. 3. Sees Jones. Stops, surprised, then clasps hands in delight and smiles.) Jones, (aside) There's a new one. There's a new one. (down l. c.) Where did they get it? Where did they get it ? Alv. (comes c.) My dear bishop WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. g? Jones. My dear. — (aside, down i. a little) Look at it. Look at it. Alv. (half aside) He called me "my dear." (down c. a little) Jones, (aside) But nobody heard me, thank heaven. Alv. (mysteriously) 'Sh. 'Sh. 'Sh. (makes circuit of stage to k. 3, to L. 3, to r. 2, as though looking for some one) We are alone? (at r. 2) Jones, (repeats bus. to l. 2, to e. 3, to L. 3, then down o.) We are. But don't blame me. Alv. (c.) Then you may kiss me. Jones. (whispers) And the lights burning (crosses E.) Never, (drops on sofa) Alv. (to him a little) I see you are very shy, Antony. Jones. I am, Cleopatra. Alv. Why call me, " Cleopatra ? " Jones. Why ? She was so beautiful. Alv. Thank you. Jones, (aside) Did you ever see a woman who wouldn't believe it? Alv. That was very pretty. But won't you please call me by my own name ? Jones. Certainly, (rises, goes to Alvina; o.) Certainly. What is it? Alv. (thinks Jones is joking) You are only teasing me. Jones. Of course I am, my dear — (aside) I'd give three dollars to know what they call it. (goes Alv. (o.) Tell me, Antony, (following him a little) did you recognize me? Jones, (c.) Eecognize you? I could recognize you with only one eye. Alv. Then I look about as you expected. Jones. You do — only more so. Alv. The letters. The letters. I know them perfectly. 68 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Jones (aside) She even knows her alphabet. Alv. (e. c.) I have it — you know — I have it, right here, next to my heart. Jones. Keep it there. It's the safest place in the Universe. Alv. (scream) There's someone coming, (goes up l. 3) Shall we let anyone see us together before it is all over? Jones. No. For heaven's sake, (crosses to b.) let's get it all over first. Alv. Then, au revoir, dear, dear Antony. (6ms. of hissing hand. Exit l. 3) Jones. Au revoir, dear, (follows Alvina up L. c.) dear — - (drops on piano Stool as if exhausted) And it was alive, too. (Enter Richaed, e. 2.) Jones, (calls Eichaed up l., points off) Who is that mysterious individual? Bich. Mrs. Goodly's sister, Alvina. (to E. 0.) Jones. Well, she's got it, right here, next her heart. Rich. Got what? Jones. I don't know. She didn't say and I thought it best not to investigate, (comes down c.) (Eichaed laughs, drops down to sofa, sits.) Jones. Did you lock him in? Rich. There was no key. But I've got his clothes m there, (indicates piano) Jones. No you haven't, (crosses to l.) Cissy found them, (points to clothes on table, b.) Rich. Did she? (rises) Jones. Yes. But I persuaded her it is all right. Rich, (takes clothes from table) Good. He WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 69 told me to take these out and get them pressed. What shall I do with them? (comes c.) Jones. Do as he told you. Take 'em out and get 'em pressed. (Richard goes up to l. 3.) Jones. (joins Eiohaed) Just a minute. Has Mrs. Goodly any other sisters? Rich. ~No. Why? (takes hat from rack) • Jones, (up o.) If she had, I was going to save myself trouble by surrendering to the police. (Exeunt Jones and Richard, l. 3. Bishop enters from stairs. Ee is wrapped in a blanket which covers him from his head to his knees. Below the knees, he wears his long gaiters and shoes.) Bish. (on stairs) Francois! Francois! Where can he be? Francois! (coming down stairs) I want to see my brother. Francois took my clothes to get them pressed, but did not return with the others. (turning L., as if searching for Francois) Fran- cois! Francois! (turns up) (Indian music.) (Enter Bigbee, through window, c. He wears blanket, and has three feathers in his hair. Ee plays the scene in a serious, though semi- burlesque way. Ee enters cautiously and looks about. The Bishop looks c, and they see each other at the same instant. They stare for a mo- ment, into each other's faces then the Bishop shrinks to l.) Big. (up r. c.) Huh! One of big chiefs people. Come. Bish. I — I want to see my brother. VQ WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Big. Me Hop-pole Jim, chief of all the Indians, Come. Bish. If it's all the same to you. I'd rather not Big. Me big chief. Come ! (Bishop approaches Bigbee in fear and trembling. Bigbee seizes Mm by the wrist, takes him down stage, a, and gazes earnestly into his face.) Big. You, Ghost-dance Charlie? Bish. (l. c.) I, Ghost-dance Charlie? Big. Yes. Bish. No ! No ! Beally you are mistaken. Big. No mistake. You Ghost-dance Charlie. (backs away r., points to floor) Dance ! Bish. (c.) But I — I can't dance. Big. Dance ! Or beware vengeance of big chief. Bish. But, really, I can't do it, don't you know (protests all through) Big. Dance! Dance! Dance! (Bishop hops a few times) Good! Good! Faster! Faster! (Bishop dances in a complete circle, and back to L.) Bish. (still hopping) I can't go faster. Big. Faster! Faster! (Bishop tries to hop er) Good! Good! Enough! (Bishop stops.) Bish. I want to see my brother, (sinks in arm- chair r. of table L.) (Bigbee looks at Bishop, appears to realize Bishop is not the real thing; sees inkwell on table; gives a grunt of satisfaction; takes grease paint from inkwell, pretending to dip his finger in ink, and marks Bishop's face same as his own; takes one feather from his own hair and puts it in the Bishop's. Bishop protesting.) Big. Now. you big chief, like me. Come. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. ?1 ^Bigbee takes Bishop by right wrist and leads Mm toward the window c.) Bish. May I ask where you are going? Big. To wigwam, to squaw, to papoose. Bish. (up c.) If it's all the same to you, I prefer to stay here. B t g. Here, (throws Bishop to E. of him) with Pale-face ? Bish. Yes. I want to see my brother. Big. Good ! (grabs Bishop by hand) You here with Pale-face, me there, (points to window) wait. When Pale-face sleep, you come, tell. Then capture heap squaw ; old squaw for you, young squaw for me. Bish. But I don't want any squaws. Big. Good! (goes to window) Big chief have all. (Music stops. Warn curtain.) (Bigbee exit through window c.) Bish. (up a, alone) What a merciful deliver- ance! (comes r.) They wrote me there was a sanatorium next door. Could I — could I have gotten into the wrong house? (crossing to L.) I want to see my brother, (e. c.) (Music.) (Bishop works toward l. 2. Enter Alvina, l. 2.) Alv. (l. c, screaming) The man who thinks iie is an Indian. Spare me ! Spare me ! (kneels) Bish. (c.) But, my good woman, I don't think I am an Indian. I am the Bishop of Ballarat. Alv. (scream) Now I know he's the man. Bish. I don't like that. I must get away from here. (Bishop goes e. 2. Enter Mabjorie, e. 2.) W WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mak. (screaming) The Indian man. Spare me! Spare me! (kneels) Bish. This is too much. I must go. (Bishop crosses to hall. Enter Helma from hall.) Hel. Der Indian faller! (kneels, up L.) Bish. If I could only get out. (Bishop goes r. 3. Enter Mrs. Goodly, e. 3.) Mrs. G. (screaming) Spare me! Spare me! (kneels, up R. C.) (Ring for curtain.) (The Bishop, thoroughly confused, runs round in a circle, gets to c, starts up. Enter Jones, l. 3.) Jones. Why, it's the Bishop. Here ! Here ! (First Picture.) (Jones starts after the Bishop. The Bishop runs upstairs closely followed by Jones who g v abs the blanket just as Bishop is about to exit. Ebenezer appears at r. 3. Bigbee appears at window R. c, with hands upraised.) (Music F. F.) QUICK CUETAIN. (Second Picture.) (Bishop, Helma, Kichard, Mrs. Gooolt, Jones, Cissy, Ebenezer, Marjorie, Alvina, Minerva, Indian.) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 73 ACT III. (Music.) Scene, Same. Time, Ten minutes later. (At rise of curtain, enter Minerva r. 2, followed oy Mrs. Goodly from r. 3, and Cissy from l. 3.) Min. Isn't this dreadful? (crosses to L. 0.) Mrs. G. What a predicament to be in. (excitedly crosses to L.) Cis. (r. c.) Don't he so frightened. Ho harm has been done yet. Mrs. G. But who knows what may happen? Suppose he should come here, now? Min. Wouldn't that be dreadful! (All scream. Minerva runs to l. 2 door. Mrs. Goodly, tack of l. table. Cissy, to r. 2 door. Enter Ebenezer quickly from stairs. Mrs. Goodly screams.) ■ Eben. (nervously) Don't be afraid, my dear. It's only I. (up l. c.) Mrs. G. (l.) Where is he? -|- — —Eben. In the Bishop's bedroom. (comes down 0.) Cis. Who is with him ? (r. c, front of sofa) 4 — Eben. The Bishop. Mrs. G. The dear Bishop alone with that man ? 4- — ■ Eben. Yes. He wouldn't let me go near him. Told me to remember that I had a wife and family. (Enter Alvina^ r. 3. All show fear and scream. ^Ebenezer drops in chair r. of l. table, Min* erva, l., Mrs. Goodly behind l. table, Alvina, r. c, Cissy on sofa.) ?4 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. . Alv. Where is he? T — Bben. Upstairs. Alv. Is he safe? Mrs. G. The question is, are we safe? Cis. He is wild and dangerous. Min. Extremely so. Alv. The Bishop? -J — Bben., Mrs. G., and Cis. No, the man ! Alv. Who cares for him? My thoughts are for the Bishop, (aside) My Bishop ! (Alvika hisses miniature rapturously. Enter Mar- jorie, r. 3. All show fear, scream. Cissy to r. 2 door, Alvina behind sofa, Ebenezer works to r. c, Mrs. Goodly works to chair r. of l. table, sits, Minerva to l. 2 door, Marjorie comes down c, on Ebenezer's r.) Mar. Has he heen hurt ? Cis. Who? Mrs. G. The man? Alv. The Bishop? Mar. No. Bichard. Ebest. Oh, Biehard is all right. (Enter Helma, l. 2, dressed in street-attire, and carrying emigrants valise, goes solemnly a, pauses a second then goes up, l. All watch her; astonished.) Hel. (waving hand) Gude day. All. (backs to audience) Whafs the matter? Hel. (up l. 3) Ai naver say hum come in, Ai never see hum go out, but yust der same, Ai yump my yob. Eben. You do what? Hel. Ai yump my yob. Cis. She means she's going to leave. Hel. Huh, huh. ILL 4- WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES 75 Mrs. G. We couldn't think of letting you go, Helma. (All go up and Iring Helma down.) f- Eben. Of course not. There — there's no dan- ger,— none whatever. Hel. Et not bane danyer. Ai got cold fate. All. What? Hel. Ai got cold fate. Ai make saventeen dollar to-day, and Ai wants to yump. Mrs. G. But you must stay. I insist on it. Alv,, Cis., and Mar. Yes, Helma, you must stay. — Eben. "We'll raise your wages. Mrs. G. To six dollars a week. Cis. There, Helma. Alv. and Mar. What do you think of that ? Hel. Sax dollar a vake? Ai gass Ai try hum once more. All. Good girl ! Hel. But der naxt faller Ai say come in here, Ai want more dan saven dollar for hum. Ai want more dan tan dollar. Ai want twenty dollar, (crosses to L. 2) Yas, sir, for der next faller, Ai want twenty dollar. Und ven Ai get hum, Ai yump anyhow. (Exit L. 2) Mrs. G. What is she talking about? Do you know, Ebenezer? — Eben. I haven't the remotest idea. (Enter Jones from stairs. All show fear.) Jones, (comes 0.) Don't be alarmed. I can ex- plain everything. All. Where is he? Jones. In my bed, and sleeping like a child. All. In bed? Mrs. G. The idea of putting such a man to bed. Jones. Why not? u 76 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mrs. G. He has just escaped from the sanatorium. Jones. Has he? All. Yes. Didn't you know? Jones. Of course, I did. But we always put them to bed in Australia. — Eben. (to Mrs. Goodly) While he is sleeping peacefully, I think I will notify the superintendent. Jones. What for? - Eben. (r. o.) So that he can come and take him back. Jones. Great! Great! There — now — there — is what I call a magnificent idea. I guess I'm the only one on earth who can thoroughly appreciate it. (cross down L.) Mrs. G. Go immediately, Ebenezer, and while you are away, I will get some more ice ready. Come, girls, (crossing to c, followed by Minerva and Marjorie) Eben. Ice ? Mrs. G. For your head. This excitement will give you a set-hack. I know it will. (Exeunt Mrs. Goodly, Minerva and Marjorie, r. 3.) Eben. (up l.) Oh, my! She has that idea again. (Exit to hall) Cis. (to Jones) I must congratulate you upon your bravery. Jones. Thank you. Cis. You're all right, even if you are a bishop. (Exit r. 3) (Jones about to follow her. Alvina who has been back of sofa, comes around r. of it to r. c.) Alv. It is really so absurd, but the man — he thinks he is the Bishop of Ballarat. Jones. And isn't he? (comes down o.) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 77 Alv. How can he be ? Jones. Then where did he get the costume? Alv. He stole it. It was part of the bed-cover- ing. Jones (astounded and looking at his clothes) Bed-covering ! Alv. Yes. He took it because he thought he was an Indian. Jones, (aside) This is the funniest Indian dress I ever saw. It looks more like William Penn. Alv. But don't let us speak of him any more. Let us sit down and talk of ourselves. (Sits on sofa, r.) Jones. What could be more pleasant than speak- ing of you ? (sits L., b. of table) Alv.. Why sit so far away? Surely it isn't fear that keeps you from me. Jones. No, it isn't fear, it's reverence — with here and there a dash of discretion and a tinge of self- respect. Alv. Why are you so cold when your letters are so ardent? Jones. Letters ? Alv. Yes, I have them all. Five hundred and thirty-seven. Two a week for five years, two months, and thirteen days. You have been so constant. Jones, (aside) If I haven't been constant, I have evidently been frequent. Alv. Do you remember that verse you wrote me in number three hundred and twenty-four ? Jones, (aside) I must be an original cuss to number 'em like that. Alv. How my heart throbbed when I read the beautiful lines : " I think of you in day-time, I think of you at night ; I think of you in darkness, I think of you in light ; I think of you in sunshine, I think of you in rain. I think of you in gladness, I think of you in pain.' 1 78 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Isn't that sublime ? Jones. It is. And the solid comfort there is in that last line : " I think of you — in pain." Alv. That lovely locket yon sent me, with your photograph inside. I have worn it all the time. Jones. My photograph ? Oh, yes ! Alv. See how I have treasured it. (coming o.) (Alvina detaches locket, opens it. Jones crosses to C. and takes it.) Jones, (aside) If I looked like that, I'd sue my father for damages. Why, it's the Bishop! He's been making love to the old girl. I must play his hand, or she'll be suspicious, (aloud, and returning locket, going to her, c.) Forgive me; forgive my seeming coldness. I only did it to try you, Allie darling. Alv. (k., on sofa) Then you love me ? Jones. Love you? I adore you with a passion too deep for words, with an intensity that puts Othello to shame, and with an ardor that makes Eomeo — look like a three spot, (sits beside Alvina on sofa) Alv. Ah, now you speak like your own dear self. Jones. I have often pictured the sweet, sweet days when we will be always together. I have seen myself returning home after a hard trip, when busi- ness had been bad, — I whistled for the dog and you met me at the gate. Together we went inside, I called for the children Alv. (scream) Why, Bishop! (half rises, he pulls her back) Jones. The neighbor's, the neighbor's children! (rises) You don't imagine I ever thought Why, Allie! Can't I call for the neighbor's children if I want to? Alv. Of course. But go on ! Go on ! WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 79 (Jones sits. Alvina places her head on his breast.) Jones. How I have yearned to feel your lovely head upon my manly breast, {plays with and disar- ranges Alvina's hair) And to play with your silken hair. For it is yours, isn't it? Alv. It is, it is. Jones. Thanks. You generally don't know the truth about these things till it's too late. Alv. I am so happy. Jones, {curling hair on his finger) You ought to be. I wouldn't do this for anybody but you. And ttow, loveliest of thy sex, which shall be the happy flay? Alv. Let us say — to-morrow. Jones Why wait till then? Alv. You can't get the license before. Jones. True! True! What a trivial thing will sometimes stand between a man and real happiness. Alv. (putting hand to head) What is the mat- ter with my hair? (rises) Jones. Not a thing. Alv. I must look a fright. I will go and arrange it. (goes to e. 2) Jones. Must you go? (rises) Alv. Only for a few minutes. - Jones. Each one will seem like a year to me. Alv. I think you are the loveliest man! (Exit e. 2) Jones. I can't tell what I think of you. (follow- ing to door) (Music.) (Enter Bishop from stairs still wearing blanket. He goes toward bach of table l.) (Music stops.) Jones, (looking off e.) If I only had six like 80 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. that ! (turning) She is really the (sees Bishop, coming quickly up o. a little) What brings you down here? Bish. I want to see my brother, (back of table L.) (Alvina re-enters. Bishop hides behind tabh L. Alvina tries to go l. Jones stops her.) Alv. (r. c.) I just wished to ask about our future home. Will it be hot there ? Jonss. (c) If it's any hotter than it is here, I know what the address will be. Alv. Let us sit down just for a minute. (Alvina goes toward chair l. again, but is stopped by Jones.) Jones. Not for a second. Alv. Why not? Jones. I couldn't stand the excitement. I have heart-failure. Alv. Poor, dear boy J He doesn't look strong. (Alvina tries to caress Jones. Ee repulses her. Bishop watches from behind table.) Alv. Why are you afraid? No one is looking. Jones. Don't be too sure. These are the days of modern journalism. Alv. You won't go away. (bus. of going and look- ing back. Goes to r. 2) Jones, (going r, with Alvina) How could I bear to leave thee? \ Alvina exits h. 2, giggling,. Bishop rises from l. of table.) Jones, (to Bishop c.) My, but you're an awful bother to me ! Bish. Who was that? Jones. That was (aside) I daren't tell bim^ WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 81 (t/Jnud) That was my sister, Mary Jane, (goes to a. 2) Bish. (i. o) I thought that perhaps it was — it was Jones. Alvina. I know. Bish. She told you? Jones. Of course. I'm her guardian. Bish. Are you? I didn't know she had one. Jones. I've read all your letters, five hundred and thirty-seven, and they are the warmest that ever came out of the box. Where did you get the asbestos note-paper ? Bish. Asbestos note-paper? I don't understand. Jones. You understand that I'm your best friend, don't you ? Bish. I think you are, but really Jones. And you know I've sent five detectives to hunt for Francois and recover your clothes ? Bish. Yes, yes ! Jones. Then take my advice and go back to your nice, warm bedroom, (arm around Bishop) Sup- pose, just suppose, Alvina should see you dressed a la Sitting Bull on the half-shell. Bish. (goes toward stairs) That would be dread- ful! Jones, (follows Bishop) I should say so. Now you go back, and to show that I'm a true friend, (up r. c. Bishop up l. c.) for fear they shouldn't catch Francois, I'll send to my house and get one of my suits for you. Bish. How kind of you. You are a friend in- deed. (Jones drops down k. c, Bishop ascends few steps, turns) I shall never forget all you have done for me to-night. (Enter Helma i. 3. Sees Bishop on stairs, comes down l. c.) Jones. You bet you won't. 83 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Bishop exits from stairs.) Hel. (comes down to l. of Jones) Ai naver say hum eome in, Ai naver say bum go out. (holds oui hand) Tventy dollar. Jones. What? Hel. Dat fallar, he cost tventy dollar. Jones. Oh, no. This is all you get for him. (Jones kisses Helma. Alvina enters b. 2, and sees action.) Alv. Bishop, what are you doing? Jones. Just offering this poor girl a little mild consolation. Wasn't I, Helma? Hel. Yas, sir. (crosses to door l. 2) Und Ai lake hum putty gude. (exit L. 2) Alv. (e. c.) If yo a have any consolation to offer, I think I am entitled to it. Jones. Certainly you are, Alvina, certainly you are. (Music.) (Jones crosses to Alvina e. She stands with lips up turned. After business of covering eyes with hand and making two or three attempts, he kisses her. He places his arm about her waist and they exeunt E. 2. Enter Bigbee through window c, Big. Where ghost-dance Charlie? Big chief wait. Charlie not come. (Bigbee goes l., looking about. Jones re-entera h backing in.) Jones. A few more experiences like this * (Jones turns e. Bigbee turns l. c. They see each, other simultaneously. Jones mistakes Bigbes for Bishop.) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 83 Jones, (crosses to Bigbee, r. of l. table) Look here, Bishop, I thought I told you not to come down. Big. Me no bishop. Me big chief. Jones. Tut, tut! tut, tut! (around up side of table to Bigbee, forcing him L. c.) Back you ga now! Back you go! (points to stairs) Big. Me Hop-pole Jim, chief of all Indians. Jones. Yes, you're an Indian all right. Big. Want Ghost-dance Charlie. Go on war path. Drive foe into sea. Jones. Fine ! Pine ! For a man in your business you are simply great! Big. To-night, (cross to B a ) camp on trail of Pale-face; to-morrow, capture heap squaw. Charlie have none. All for me. Good ! Good ! Jones. Do be sensible, and I tell you what I'll do. Go back to your nice warm bed-room, like a good fellow, and, after a while, I'll let you see your brother* (tries to drag him up) Big. No! No! (breaks away) Jones, (up c.) Think of the impression you would make on Alvina. Big. Enough! Enough! (cross to l.) Want Charlie! Jones. See here, (down to him) I don't want to be cross with you. You know I'm the best friend you have in the world. Big. No! No! Jones. Well you may not know it, but I am. So go up-stairs, and, for heaven's sake, shed a few of those tail-feathers, (takes feather, throws it on floor) Big. (angrily) Stop ! Stop ! Me on war-path ! (Bigbee crosses e., begins to chant and dance. Bishop appears on stairs.) Jones. Quit it ! Quit it ! Bish. I want to see my brother, (on stairs) 84 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Jones. Well, then, if you won't (Jones takes hold of Bigbee, who struggles. Jones finally overpowers him. Pushes him into b. 2, closing door. Bishop at foot of stairs watch- ing.) Bish. I believe I am in the wrong place, (at foot of stairs) (Alvina, screaming, enters B. 2, and exits E. 3. Bigbee tries to re-enter, hut Jones closes door. Mbs. Goodly enters e. 3. She sees Bishop and screams. Bishop hastily exits upstairs.) Jones, (e.) What's the matter ? (Mbs. Goodly comes down l.) Mes. G. I saw him, there, on the stairs. Jones. Saw whom? Mrs. G. The man ! The Indian man ! Jones, (at door n. 2) You're .dreaming. I've got him in here. Mrs. G. (o.) No, no! I saw him! I saw him! Jones, (c.) Wake up! Wake up! (snaps fin- gers) I just put him in this room. Come and see for yourself, (goes to Mrs. Goodly) Mes. G. I'm afraid. Jones. Come on, he shan't hurt you. (Jones takes Mes. Goodly toward door r. 2. Jones opens it slightly. She looks in. Bishop re- appears on stairs, as if looking for a chance to escape. Jones holding door with right hand, and smiling at Mrs. Goodly's mistake, turns l.) Jones, (going e. c.) That's the trouble with these women, they see things. They see WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 85 (As Jones starts to turn, the Bishop turns to go back. Jones sees him as he disappears, and ia astounded.) Jones, (c.) Is he in there? Mrs. G. Yes. Jones. Then I've got 'em, too. Mrs. G. Got what? Jones, (c.) Indians, (Enter Ebenezer and Fuller from hall.) — Eben. (down L. o.) Where is he? Where is he? Jones, I wouldn't bet a cent on it, but I think he's in there, (points r. 2) (Mrs. Goodly, around r. of couch to back of it.) Ful. I'll soon fix him. (crossing to r.) Jones, (c.) Who are yon? Ful. The superintendent of the sanatorium. Don't be afraid. I can handle him. (exits R. 2.) Jones. ' (aside) This is where I get rid of the Bishop, (crosses to L. 2. Opens door and looks in) Ful. (outside n. 2) Come on, now, come on. (noise) Jones. He's coming like a lamb. (Fuller re-enters with Bigbee, who is entirely sub- dued, much to the astonishment of Jones, and goes c. with him.) Jones, (to Fuller) You know your business. Ful. I know this fellow, anyway. I've handled him every day for three years. Jones. What? Ful. Every day for three years. Jones. And you identify Mm? Ful. If I had my eyes shu^ I could; tell him by the feel. Jones, You're too good for me. He's yours. 86 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Ful. Come on, here, (drags Bigbee up c.) Mrs. G. (crosses to c.) Don't be hard on the poor . man. -j Eben. After all, he doesn't understand what he's doing. , Jones If he does understand it, he has a most remarkable sense of humor. Ful. I'll treat him right. We never hurt our patients, (jerhs Bigbee viciously) Come along. Good-night, everybody. -j— Eb E e S N G '} Good-night. (Exeunt Fuller and Bigbee to hall.) Jones, (goes up to hall, calling after Fuller) Treat him kindly for my sake, won't you ? Ful. (off) Yes. Jones. That's right! That's right! Ful. (off) Come on here! (Music stops.) (Closing of door heard L.) 1 Mrs. G. (r.) Thank goodness he has gone and no one has been hurt, (crosses to e.) (Jones drops down l. c.) -f— Eben. (l.) What a night this has been. Mrs. G. Entirely too much for you, Ebenezer. Jones. Quite right, Matilda. Eben. But there is nothing the matter with me. (crosses to r., to Jones) and you know it. Mrs. G. You must forgive him, Bishop, he is not himself. Come, Ebenezer. "p- Eben. But I protest. Mrs. G. I know how to take care of you. Come along. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. gy (Exeunt Mrs. Goodly and Ebenezer e. 2.) Jones, (alone, up to window, quick, looks through window) Still on guard. It's a lucky thing I'm the orJy one who knows, (down l. c.) (Enter Marjorie r. 3.) Mar. (r. c.) Now, Bishop, we can talk about poetry, as you promised. Jones, (l. c.) Can we? Mar. Yes. Won't you please recite, "That is 1 pve " ? Jones. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. Mar. Thank you. Jones. But the fact is, I never even heard of it Mar. You are the author. Jones. Am I ? Mar. Yes. Jones. Of course, of course I am. But I dash off so many of those little things that I forget all about them. Mar. I shall never forget it. "A wave-thought travels o'er the sea, A mystic sense of vague unrest. A blood-red sun sinks o'er the lea, An eagle swoops down on her nest, And that is love." How beautiful ! Jones. Yes. (crosses, drops in chair r. of u table) Mar. How unique ! Jones. Yes. Mar. What does it mean ? Jones. You can search me. That is, I do not know. Mar. But you wrote it. Jones. You must be wildly original to expect a poet of to-day to understand -what he writes. 8g WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Mar. But if he doesn't understand it, who can? Jones. Nobody. That's the beauty of it. No- body understands it, and so everybody says it's great. Mar. But your other poems. Jones. Don't mention them. I'm so shy that every time you speak about me, I begin to get nervous. Mar^ {sitting on sofa) Then let us talk of Browning. Jones. Browning? (rises, crosses to her) Oh, yes. Old Pete, who used to play for Louisville. Mar. No, no ! Jones. Yes, yes! Louisville! (sits l. of her) When I get in that class, I know what I'm talking about. Mar. I referred to the poet Browning. Jones. Let us drop this poetry business, and get a little nearer home. Who is this young man, Eich- ard, I met ? Mar. Don't you know? (Marjorie plays with engagement ring until she at- tracts Jones's attention to it.) Jones. Engaged ? Mar. Yes. Jones. Then I must congratulate you. (Eichard enters r. 3, up c. Sees Marjorie and Jones, and is evidently displeased.) Mar. We are to be married soon. And — what a splendid idea— you shall marry us. Jones. Shall I? (rises) I'd do most anything for you and Eichard, but I draw the line at that. (Eichard comes down r., crosses. Marjory see? him.) Mar. (rises) I have a positive inspiration, Eich- ard. (crosses to c.) The Bishop shall officiate at our wedding. (Jones rises, crosses up r. to window) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 89 Rich. Yes, that is an inspiration. Mar. You don't seem to enthuse over it. Eich. Because it is impossible and absurd. Mae. Indeed ! Eich. Besides, I requested you as a personal favor to me to avoid him. Mar. And I declined to do it. Eich. Do you still decline? Mar. Most assuredly, (crosses l.) Jones, (coming down between them. Richard l., Jones c, Mahjorie r.) Come now, children, no quarreling. Eich. This is my affair, not yours. Keep out of it. (Jones gets e., lack of Marjoeie.) Mar. I will not permit you to address my uncle in that manner. Eich. Oh, damn your uncle ! (goes L.) Mar. Eichard! (to him) Eich. I didn't mean that, Marjorie, really, I didn't. Mar. But you said it. You must apologize to him. Jones, (r.) That isn't necessary, (aside) She ought to hear some of my customers talk to me. Mar. I insist. Eich. Marjorie, I will apologize to you in the most sincere and humble manner. But to him — no ! Mar. You have insulted the Bishop, my relative, in my father's house, and in my presence. Unless you do as I request, you must take the consequences. (crosses r.) Eich. Which are? (Marjorie takes off engagement ring and offers it to Eichard.) Jones, (crosses to c.) See here, (follows Mar- 90 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. jorie, h. Eichaed drops l.) This won't do. Ifc won't do for a minute. Mar. (k.) I am determined. Jones. Come here, both of yon. If any trouble came to you on my account, I should never forgive myself. Mae. But he insulted you. Jones. He didn't. He was a little hasty. Weren't you, Eiehard? Rich. Yes. Jones. There. Mar. But he wishes me to avoid you. Jones. In which he is perfectly right. Mar. You say that, too ? Jones. Yes, I say it. Now give me the ring. (Marjorie hands ring to Jones. He gives it to Eichaed.) Jones, (to Mae joeie) Hold out your iefi "nand, (Maejobie extends left hand) Jones, (to Eichaed) PuJ it -oack on her finger. {Eiohaed crosses to MAaroftf. Jones drops l. Rich« aed c, Marjokie r. Richard replaces ring on Marjorie's finger.) Jones. And now, kiss and make up. Marjorie, (pause) don't disobey your uncle. (Marjorie turns to Richard. He "kisses her. Mar- jorie exits quickly e. 3.) Eich. (crosses r., then turns, takes Jones's hand) You're a jolly good fellow, after all. (exit r. 3) Jones, (alone) I wonder what the Bishop's opinion is about that, (crosses to E.) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 91 (Bishop enters from stairs. He wears the suit, in- cluding the coat with one tail, which Jones wore on his first entrance. Jones, (r.) When I think of him, and the night he'll have, I feel like the biggest rascal unhung. (turning up stage e. c.) Of course I'll get him out in the morning, but — -—(sees Bishop) Well, who are you ? Bish. (l. c.) No wonder you don't recognize me in these clothes. I found them under the bed. Jones. But how did you get out of the sana- torium ? Bish. I? Jones. Yes. Bish. I knew it! I knew there was something wrong. Believe me, my dear friend, I was never in a sanatorium in my life. Jones. But I saw him take you there. You in- sisted on doing a war-dance. I locked you in that room, and the superintendent came and took you away. Bish. (l. c.) No, no ! That was the other man. Jones. I've got some fellow in that sanatorium, but I'll be hanged if I know who it is. Bish. It is the man who said I was Ghost-dance Charlie, and who wanted me — me — to help capture squaws. Jones. Well, what are you going to do now ? Bish. I want to see my brother, (goes l.) Jones, (follows him, quickly) You can't do it. Matilda is busy putting ice on his head. Do you care to see Alvina? Bish. Looking like this ? Of course not. I think I'll go away from here, (starts for hall.) Jones, (after Bishop and swinging him bach) And I think you'll have to think again. Bish. Would you detain me by force? Jones. Certainly not. Come here, (swings 92 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Bishop around and up to window) Look there. What do you see ? Bish. A policeman, apparently waiting for some one. (Bishop starts to go out at window. Jones pulls him away and swings him down c.) Jones. Don't show yourself like that. He is waiting for you. Bish. For me! For what reason can he want me? Jones. I don't know. This is a free country, and so they lock men up without giving reasons. Bish. I ought never to have come. What had I better do? Jones. Go back. Keep shady, and leave the rest to me — your best friend. Bish. (going upstairs) I suppose I must. But if Alvina only knew what she has caused me Jones. Don't worry about that. Think of the good time coming. (Jones to window, looks) (Enter Helma l. 2, sees Bishop, goes quickly to L. o.) Bish. Oh, my! Such a night as I have had! Such a night, such a night! (exit up-stairs) Hel. (at foot of stairs, to Jones) Say, ware yo' gat all dem fallers? Jones, (up R. c.) I don't get 'em. They just materialize, and then fade away. (Enter Minerva r. 3. Exit Helma l. 3.) Min. (up e.) If you have a few moments to spare, Bishop, I should like to discuss "The Mis- takes of Darwin." Jones. Haven't time, (to up l. c, looks up- WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 93 stairs} Too busy thinking about the errors of An- tony, (aside) He's likely to come down any minute. Min. (goes down to sofa, sits) At least tell me what you think of Spencer's definition of evolution. You remember, he says, " Evolution is an integration of matter and concomitant dissipation of motion, dur- ing which the matter passes from an indefinite, in- coherent homogeneity to a definite, coherent homo- geneity, and during which time the retained motion undergoes a parallel transformation." Jones. My idea exactly, (walking to stairs) I wonder if he'll come dawn, I wonder if he'll come down. (Bell off l.) Mist. Pardon me, but are you agitated? Jones. No, I am constructing poetry, (down 0., then up to stairs L 2) "I wonder if he'll come down." Min. Under those circumstances, (cross up to E. 3) I would not interrupt the current of your thoughts for any consideration. Jones. Much obliged, (up r. c.) (Exit Minerva, r. 3.) (Music.) Jones. I'm glad she's gone, (up r. 0., looks 01$ of window) Hold, (off) Out of the way, girl. How dare you obstruct the police ? (Enter Holder and Helma from Jvall. Holder pushes Helma aside and dashes up the stairs with elub drawn.) Hel. (up< l. 0.) Ef dat faller yosile me again, Ai yust yolt hum on de yaw. (Exit 1. 3) 94 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Jones. What's the matter now? (creates down b.) (Sounds of struggling heard above stairs. Holder, dragging the Bishop, who is hand- cuffed. Holder drags Bishop to c, turns him so that his lack is to the amdience, and points to the solitary coat-tail triumphantly.) Hold, (club drawn and raised) My man! (Music stops.") (The situation dawns on Jones who sits on sofa a., and laughs uproariously.) Jones. Your man ! Yes, yes ! Hold. Sure. Isn't he wearing that coat? (around l. of him, Bishop, o.) Jones, (laughing) Of course he is. (aside, laughing) The poor Bishop. He'd have been bet- ter off in the sanatorium. Bish. (o.) But I found the coat. Hold, (l.) I suppose you found the trousers and vest as well? Bish. Yes, I found them all. Hold. You'll have to do better than that. Bish. Please tell me one thing; who do you think I am? Hold. You are the man who went to the fight, climbed down the waterspout, ran away, and when I got to you, hit me with a billy. Bish. But, my good man, (down to Holder, l. c.) I never went to a fight; I couldn't climb down a water-spout; I didn't run away; and I do not know what a billy is. Hold, (to Jones) Did you ever hear the beat of that ? And I could identify him among a million. Jones. There couldn't be any mistake? Hold. Mistake! We never make 'em. Beside*. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 95 (whirls Bishop, l.) look at the clothes. (Holder, C.) They fit him like a glove. Bish. (l. c.) But this gentleman Hold. That'll do. Don't try to intimidate my witness, (jams him in L. chair) Let's see what we can find. (Holder puts his hand in the Bishop's pocket, and produces a roll of bills exhibited by Jones in Act I. He gazes at it longingly. Jones sees Holder take bills from the Bishop, rises and instinctively puts his hand in his own pocket. His face expresses his discomfiture.) Jones, (aside, pointing to money in Holder's hand) Mine ! Mine ! Hold, (to Jones) Did you ever see a roll like that? . Jones. I did once, but I don't suppose I ever shall again. Hold, (to Bishop) Where did you get this? Bish. I found it in the clothes. Hold. Then it isn't yours ? Bish. No. Hold. You heard him. ( to Jones) Jones. I did, and I think he speaks the truth. Hold. Good I (starts to put money in his own pocket) Jones. Here, here! What are you going to do? (Holder winks knowingly, and puts money in his pocket,) Jones. That's all right for you, but where do I come in? Hold. You? You don't need money. And I have a wife and family. Bish. (rises) But I protest. Hold. That'll do now, (shaking club, Bishop drops lack to chair) that'll do ! ^ 96 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Bish. At least let me know what the charge is against me. (rises, comes c.) Hold. Eesisting arrest, assault and battery, as- sault with intent to kill, assault with a deadly weapon, assaulting an officer, carrying concealed weapons, highway robbery and burglary. Bish. (collapses) I want to see my brother. (Holder rushes Bishop off l. 3. Jones follows to L. 3. Enter Ebenezee, b. 3, followed by Cissy, who hides behind window curtains and watches scene.) Eben. (holes off l. 3, to Jones) Who — who was that? (comes down e. c.) Jones. The dear Bishop. -J- — Eben. My brother! (goes r.) Good heavens. (sinks on sofa E.) Jones, (comes down c.) Yes, he's going to have an elegant time. One continuous round of pleasure. (Ebenezee jumps up and starts to l. 3. Jones de- tains him.) Jones, (l.) Where are you going? Eben. (r.) To save my brother. Jones, (r.) When you have saved him, what happens to Jones? (brings Ebenezee down) -J . Eben. I don't know, and I don't care. Jones. That's where we differ. I don't know, and I do care. Eben. How do I know what they will do to him? (goes l.) Jones. How do I know what they will do to me? (c.) Eben. Do you think I am heartless enough to allow him to spend the night in jail ? Jones. And do you think I am heartless enough to allow m« to spend the night in jail? 4- .|_! D 4-' WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. gy — Eben. I have had enough of this deception. I shall tell everything, (bangs l. table and starts r.) Jones. Oh, no you won't. (Cissy watches. Jones forcibly detains Ebenezer. Enter Mrs. Goodly, r. 2.) Mrs. G. (r. 2) Now, what's the matter? (Jones turns Ebenezer round to o. Jones, l., Mrs. Goodly, r.) Jones (l.) Look at his eye. It's an awful case. I believe he thinks I'm not his brother. — Eben. You're not ! You're not ! Jones. What did I tell you ? He'll be violent in a minute. Mrs. G. Poor Ebenezer! Poor Ebenezer! — Eben. Don't poor Ebenezer me. I'm going to the police-station. (Starts for L. 3') Mrs. G. To the police-station ! Jones, (holding Ebenezer) One of the regular symptoms. They always want to go to the police- station. Mrs. G. Don't let him go. Don't let him go. Jones, (c.) Anything to please you, Matilda. (detains Ebenezer) Eben. But they have put the Bishop in jail, and he is an impostor Jones. Eegular symptom. They always think I am an impostor. j Eben. So you are. So you are. If I only had the physical strength, I would thrash you. Yes, sir, I would thrash you. Jones. I told you he'd get violent. I shall have to handle this case on the Australian system. 4 Eben. Australia ! Ha, ha ! Ha, ha ! Why you, you never even saw Australia. Jones. Hear that? Ha, ha! Ha, ha! Now 98 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. there can be no mistake. I think I'll take his temp« . erature. ■j Eben. (trying to get away) You will not, sir. Ton will not. Mrs. G. (crying) My poor husband ! My poor husband ! (drops on sofa crying) J — Eben. Matilda, Matilda! What are you crying ' for? Mrs. G. How sad ! How sad ! He asks me what I am crying for. -j Eben. And do you think— (crosses to her. Jones drops t.) do you think that what he says is true? Mrs. G. He asks me if I think it's true. How sad, how sad ! _1 Eben. Oh, this would make a saint discard his halo, and swear till Beelzebub blushed with shame. Damn! Mrs. G. (rises) How sad, how sad! Jones. The first thing in a case of this kind is < to get the patient to bed. (goes to Ebenezer c.) —j — - Eben. (gets away, goes extreme L. Mrs. Goodly and Jones follow him) But I'm not going to bed. Jones, (takes Ebenezer's arm) Oh* but you are! Eben. I'm not! I'm not! I'm not! Jones. Oh, but you are. Come along, (drag- ging Ebenezer) Mrs. G. It's all for your good, Ebenezer, it's all for your good! (Mrs. Goodly takes Ebenezer's arm, and she and Jones leads him to r. 3, where they all exeunt, _}^ Ebenezer protesting violently. Cissy comes down e. o.) Cis. I wonder what this means ? Can it be— can it be — I believe it is. (loolcs off r. o) Marjorie has taken his place, and back he comes. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 99 (Cissy steps into window-recess. 'Re-enter Jones.) Jones, (calling off b. 3) All he needs is sleep. Don't leave him a minute till he gets some, (com- ing down L.) Now, where do I stand? The police won't believe the Bishop, and the family won't be- lieve Ebenezer. (turning up and indicating window) If that other policeman is gone, perhaps I (turns up E. c.) (Cissy steps out and confronts Jones. She, up k. c. Jones, l. c.) Cis. (up E. c.) What is your little game? Jones, (l. c, ministerially) Game, my dear? Cis. That's the word, (down e. c.) You are no more the Bishop of Ballarat, than I am. Jones. What put such an idea into your head? Cis. Several things. Do Australian bishops gen- erally carry flasks of "cold tea?" Do they dance fancy steps, (does so) and above all, do they speak with an American accent? Jones. You are a very clever young lady, but you are wrong, (crosses to e.) Cis. Am I? We'll see. In what province is Ballarat? (coming down c.) Jones. I never was good on geography, (sits on sofa) Cis. Indeed! In what ship did you make the voyage ? Jones. My memory is so bad ! Cis. Perhaps you can remember how many chil- dren you have. Jones. Beally, I can't. I'm so forgetful about little things. Cis. You'd have no difficulty in remembering if you were the Bishop of Ballarat. He hasn't any. Come, now, I ask you again, what is your little 100 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Jones, (drops his ministerial manner, rises) Well, the fact is, the Professor allowed me to assume this costume to help me out of a scrape with the police. Cis. The police! (goes l.) Jones, (goes c.) Yes, hut take my word for it, there was nothing wrong. Cis. I'm sure of that, or Mr. Goodly wouldn't have helped you. Jones. Well, the real Bishop came, and they've got him. Cis. What do you intend to do ? Jones. I was going to get away; now, (goes to her) I'm going to stay a while and talk to you. Cis. To me? Jones. Yes. You said you thought we'd be good friends. I hope we'll he something more, (about to put his arm about her waist) Cis. Why, Bishop, (whirls out of his arms to E.) Jones. No, not " Bishop," — Jones. Cis. Jones? What Jones? (cross B.) Jones. Just Jones, (advances e. o.) No mat- ter what trouble may come of my adventure to- night, I shall always be glad it happened, because it has made me acquainted with you. (Enter Alvina, e. 3.) and has given me a chance to tell Alv. (interrupting, comes down l. of him) May I speak with you a moment, Bishop ? Jones. Go away! Go away! Can't you see I'm busy? (takes Cissy, e., Jones on l. of her) Alv. You ought never to be too busy to speak with your affianced wife, (goes l.) Johbb. My } affianced wife. Jones, (goes to Alvina) I've had enough ot tbis. The idea of my promising to marry you ! Yon WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. JQ1 couldn't even be a sister to me. You'd have to be a mother. Alv. How dare you, sir ! Jones. Don't be angry, my dear old lady. Alv. Old lady! (backs Jones to sofa, he over on it) Old lady! I would have you understand, sir, that I am seven years younger than you are. Jones. Then all I can say, is, (sitting up on sofa) you must have lived an awful fast life. I am only thirty-eight. Alv. Thirty-eight! Thirty-eight! (goes L.) And the talk about the vanity of women. Cis. You forget — Bishop — you are three years older than Mr. Goodly. Alv. (l.) Perhaps you will deny that? Per- haps you will deny sending me a locket containing your photograph. Jones, (o., up quickly) If you have a photo- graph of mine, produce it and claim your victim. Alv. (unfastens locket) Here it is. Jones. Don't care to see it. Show it to Cissy. She shall be the referee, and I won't dispute the decision, (crosses to extreme L.) (Alvina, o., hands locket to Cissy, h.) Cis. (aside) I'll surprise him. (aloud) Though somewhat faded, this is still an excellent likeness of you, Bishop. Alv. (c.) There! Jones, (crossing to Cissy, e.) Of me? Cis. (crosses l. c.) See for yourself, (hands locket to Jones. Alvtna down l.) Jones, (looking in locket) Don't scare me like that again. Cis. (r., laughing) I was only joking. It cer« tainly is some other man. Alv. (l.) Another man! Jones, (c.) Of course. 102 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Alv. Then who can it be? Jones, (looking at picture) I've seen that face It's quite familiar. Yeg, now I know who it is. Cis. and Alv. Who is it? Jones. This is the photograph of the dean, my assistant. Alv. The dean! Cis. (laughing) Your assistant! (returns locket to Alvina) Jones, (o.) Alas, yes, (to Alvina) While tell- ing him of my troubles some time ago, I chanced to mention our little romance of days gone by. I no- ticed it impressed him deeply, but I never imagined he would do anything like this. (Door-bell rings l.) Alv. Then all this time I have been mistaken. I am in love with the wrong man. (drops in chair L. of l. table) Jones. Yes, most women are. (l. c.) Alv. How can I be revenged ? Jones. Marry him. Alv. I have a better plan, (rises) I will sue him for a breach of promise, (Jones crosses b.) and you can hold back his salary, (crosses L.) (Enter Holder with Bishop from hall. Helma follows.) Hold. This fellow has told the captain such a straight story, he sent me back to investigate. Jones, (e., apart to Cissy) That's the Bishop. I've got to look out. Alv. (l.) But why bring the man here? Hold. Because I got him here ! Bish. Yes, he got me here. But I do assure you all, I have committed no offense whatever. ( as if about to preach a sermon) Hold. You say somebody stole your clothes ? WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 103 Bish. My valet. If we could only find him, I eould prove everything. (Enter Richaed and Maejobie, b. 3.) Bish. Ah, there he is. x Come here immediately, Francois. Alv., Mae. and Cis. Francois! (Maejobie up e. c.) Rich, (coming down e. of Bishop who is o.) I haven't the remotest idea as to who you are, sir, but if you are addressing your remarks to me, per- mit me to inform you that my name is Richard Heatherly. Bish. Don't believe him. He is my valet, Fran- cois. He stole my clothes. All. Ridiculous ! (Richaed joins Maejobie up E. 0.) Bish. No, is isn't. It's the truth. Ask the dean, (indicates Jones) Jones. How dare you call me a dean? Bish. Why, aren't you? Jones. No, sir. I am the Bishop of Ballarat. Bish. What ! Oh, my ! Oh, no, no, dean. I'm the Bishop of Ballarat ; you are the dean of Oskaloosa. Jones. Rubbish ! Rubbish ! Hold. You — a bishop ? (Helma has gradually dropped down.) Bish. (sees Helma) Ask the servant. She saw me come in. Hel. (holes toward Jones. He signals " 20 " with his hands) Ai naver say hum come in, (crosses to e. of Bishop in front of him) Ai naver say hum go out. (to Jones) Twenty dollar. (Helma drops hack of sofa) Jones. That ought to satisfy you s officer. Hold. It does. Come along. 104 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. (Holder turns to Bishop to lead him away. Alvina rushes to him and turns him round again. She takes out her locket and looks from the photograph to the Bishop. Then she screams.) * Bish. Go away. You annoy me. Alv. (to Jones) 'Tis he ! 'Tis he ! Jones. It is, it is ! And I wish it wasn't. Alv. (l. c.) He is the dean, your assistant, (to the Bishop) Do you know who lam? Bish. You're his sister, Mary Jane. Alv. No, sir. I am Miss Alvina Starlight. Bish. Alvina! At last! At last! (reaches out hand to Alvina. She repulses him) Alv. Don't come near me, villain, (drops l.) How dare you write to me in his name, (points to Jones) Bish. What! (crosses to her) Jones, (crosses to Bishop. Aside to Cissy) Watch me. (crosses to c. Holder back of l. table) How dare you write to her in my name? I have shielded you as long as possible. How dare you take advantage of this lady's innocence, how dare you use my name to gain her affections, how dare you come here masquerading as me. Bish. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! (drops in chair e. of L. table) Jones, (melodramatically over him) And to think that you, whom I loved and trusted like a brother, should pay me with such base ingratitude. It is too much, too much, (crosses to Cissy, r.) Cis. Don't take it to heart so, Bishop, (apart) You are a marvel ! Jones. Watch me. (crosses to Bishop) I have forgiven you many things in the past, but this, I can- not overlook. I reduce you from Dean to Curate. I revoke your leave of absence. Your start for Australia to-morrow, (crosses to R.) WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. 105 Bish. (to Holder, rising) Take me awayi Take me away ! Charge me with anything only take me away, (starts up c.) (Enter Mrs. Goodly and Minerva r. 3.) Mar. Where is father? Mrs. G. Past asleep. (Mrs. Goodly and Minerva r. Marjorie and Eichard up l. Enter Ebenezer, r. 3, dressed as though he had made a hasty toilet.) t -Eben. You thought he was asleep, but he wasn't, (To Bishop) Poor, dear, wretched man, can you ever forgive me ? Jones. Look at his eye ! Look at his eye ! (Bus. for Ebenez) Bish. (to Holder) Take me away, take me Kvay! (starts up) -f — -Eben. (c.) Don't you recognize me, Antony? I am your brother Tbenezer. Bish. ^f you are, (down to Ebenezer, eagerly) I want to see you. 4 Eben. Dwj't you remember when I fished you out of the mCl-pond? Don't you remember the pearl-handled pocket-knife I gave you? Bish. How man\ blades did it contain? • Eben. Five. Bish. Correct. I believe you are my brother. (shakes Ebenezer's hutna!) ^- Eben. I am, I am. Yoa have all been deceived. This is the Bishop of Ballarat. Mrs. G. (r. o.) My poor husband, his mind is wandering. Jones, (apart to Cissy) I jrish it was. j /Eben. (l. c.) Eichard, you k^ow about this. Eich. (coming down c.) You see — you see- J fr„ Eben. Tell the truth or you shall never be my son-in-law. 106 WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. Rich, (aside) It's bound to come out sometime. (aloud) Well then, you see, this gentleman is the Bishop of Ballarat. All. What! (Richard and Ebenezer go up c. Ebenezer as if scolding Richard, Marjorie joins them.) Jones (apart to Cissy) I know what I get out of this, bread, water and the lock-step, three times a day. Alv. (going to Bishop) And to think I called you a villain. Bish. And to think I called you Mary Jane. Alv. and Bish. Can you ever forgive me ? (they embrace, drop down L.) Hold, (coming down a little, c. To Jones) If he is the Bishop, who are you? Jones. That's a nice question from a man who's had handcuffs on the Bishop of Ballarat. We'll sue him, won't we, Bishop? We'll sue him for fifty thousand dollars damages for fake arrest, (crossing to Holder, c.) Bish. Anything you say, dean, anything you say. Hold. (r. c.) But that was all a mistake. Jones. And the money you took out of his pocket. I suppose that was a mistake, too. Hold. I was only taking care of it for him. (offers money to Bishop) Jones, (taking money) Now I'll do it. (puts money in pocket) You've got yourself into a nice scrape. Hold. Gentlemen, couldn't you let the matter drop? I've a wife and family. All Ladies. Poor fellow ! Jones. Tor the sake of the family, I think we will. (Jones crosses to Cissy who meets him front of sofa. Helma around r. of sofa to extreme r.) Hold. Thank you, sir. WHAT HAPPENED TO JONES. ^7 (Holder exits L. 3, absolutely dejected, dragging club after him. Jones crosses l. a, Marjorie joins Minerva at fireplace.) Mrs. G. (comes L. c.) But I insist on an ex- planation, (to Jones) Where did you get these clothes, and what brings you in my house ? Jones. Madam, the truth is always simple (crosses to r. c.) (Warn Curtain.) Rich, and Eben. (shake hands c.) This is where our troubles begin, (go up) Jones. I have long loved this young lady, (indicates Cissy) but have never been able to speak with her. Learning from the paper that the Bishop was expected, I secured this costume thinking it might give me a chance to tell her of my devotion. All. What impudence ! (Minerva to back of sofa r. Marjorie and Rich« Ard join her.) Jones. She has promised to allow me to call. Cis. Who has? Jones. You have, haven't you? Cis. Why yes, of course, (croses to ToNBg) Jones, (to Mrs. Goodly) With your eon. sent • Mrs. G. (interrupting) But I don't even kno« you. Rich. I know he's a good fellow. Hel. (down r.) And gave me tan dollar. Bish. And he is a friend of mine. 4 Eben. And travels for a hymn-book house ' JEbenezer drops, down lack of table L.) Jones. And my name is Jones. (Music.) QUICK CURTAIN. DADDY LONG-LEGS A charming comedy in 4 acts. By Jean Webster. The full cast calls for 6 males, 7 females and 6 orphans, bnt the play, by the easy doubling of some of the characters, may be played by 4 males, 4 females and 3 orphans. The orphans appear only in the first act and may be played by small girls of any age. Four easy interior scenes* Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. Many readers of current fiction will recall Jean Webster's "Daddy I«ong-Legs." Miss Webster dramatized her story and it was preseited at the Gaiety Theatre in -New York, under Henry Miller's direction, with Ruth Ghatterton in the principal rdle. "Daddy Long-Legs" tells the story of Judy, a pretty little drudge in a bleak New England orphanage. One day, a visiting trustee becomes interested in Judy and decides to give her a chance. She does not know the name of her benefactor, but simply calls him Daddy Long-Legs, and writes him letters brim- ming over with fun and affection. From the Foundling's Home she goes to a fashionable college for girls and there develops the romance that constitutes much of the play's charm. The New York Times reviewer, on the morning after the Broadway pro- duction, wrote the following: "If you will take your pencil and write down, one below the other, the words delightful, charming, sweet, beautiful and entertaining, and then draw a line and add them up, the answer will be 'Daddy Long-Legs. 1 To that result you might even add brilliant, pathetic and humorous, but the answer even then would be just what it was before — the play which Miss Jean Webster has made from her book, 'Daddy Long- Legs,' and which was presented at the Gaiety last night. To attempt to describe the simplicity and beauty of 'Daddy Long- Legs' would be like attempting to describe the first breath of Spring after an exceedingly tiresome and hard Winter." "Daddy Long-Legs" enjoyed a two-years' run in New York, and was then toured for over three years. It is now published in play form for the first time. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR A comedy in 4 acts. By James Forbes. 3 males, 10 females. 2 interiors. Modern costumes. Plays a full evening. An absorbing play of modern American family life. "The Famous Mrs. Fair" is concerned with a strenuous lady who returns from overseas to lecture, and consequently neglects her daughter, who is just saved in time from disaster. Acted with great success by Blanche Bates and Henry Miller. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New Tort City Vev and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Reo,uej* NOT SO LONG AGO Comedy in a Prologue, 3 acts, and Epilogue. By Arthur Richman. 5 males, 7 females. 2 interiors, 1 exterior. Costumes, 1876. Plays a full evening. Arthur Richman has constructed his play around the Cinderella legend. The playwright has shown great wisdom in his choice of material, for he has cleverly crossed the Cinderella theme with a strain of Romeo and Juliet. Mr. Richman places hifl young lovers in the picturesque New York of forty years ago. This time Cinderella is a seamstress in the home of a social climber, who may have been the first of her kind, though we doubt it. She is interested sentimentally in the son of this house. Her father, learning of her infatuation for the young man without learning also that it is imaginary on the young girl's part, starts out to discover his intentions. He is a poor inventor. The mother of the youth, ambitious chiefly for her children, shud- ders at the thought of marriage for her son with a sewing-girl. But the Prince contrives to put the slipper on the right foot, and the end is happiness. The play is quaint and agreeable and the three acts are rich in the charm of love and youth. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. THE LOTTERY MAN Comedy in 3 acts, by Eida Johnson Young. 4 males, S females. 3 easy interiors. Costumes, modern. Plays 2% hours. In "The Lottery Man" Rida Johnson Young has seized upon a custom of some newspapers to increase their circulation by clever schemes. Mrs. Young has made the central figure in her famous comedy a newspaper reporter, Jack Wright. Wright owes his employer money, and he agrees to turn in one of the most sensational scoops the paper has ever known. His idea is to conduct a lottery, with himself as the prize. The lottery is an- nounced. Thousands of old maids buy coupons. Meantime Wright falls in love with a charming girl. Naturally he fears that he may be won by someone else and starts to get as many tickets as his limited means will permit. Finally the last day is an- nounced. The winning number is 1323, and is held by Lizzie, an old maid, in the household of the newspaper owner. Lizzie refuses to give up. It is discovered, however, that she has stolen the ticket. With this clue, the reporter threatens her with arrest. Of course the coupon is surrendered and Wright gets the girl of his choice. Produced at the Bijou Theater, New York, with great success. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request POLLYANNA "The glad play," in 3 acts. By Catherine Chisho'lra Cashing. Based on. the novel by Eleanor H. Porter. 5 males, 6 females. 2 interiors. Costumes, modern. Plays 2% hours. The story has to do with the experiences of an orphan girl who is thrust, unwelcome, into the home of a maiden aunt. In spite of the tribulations that beset her life she manages to find something to be glad about, and brings light into sunless lives. Finally, Pollyanna straightens out the lore affairs of her elders, and last, but not least, finds happiness for herself in the heart of Jimmy. "Pollyanna" is a glad play and one which is bound to give one a better appreciation of people and the world. It reflects the humor, tenderness and humanity that gave the story such, wonderful popularity among young and old. Produced at the Hudson Theatre, New Tort, and for two sea- sons on tour, by George C. Tyler, with Helen Hayes in the part of "Pollyanna." (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. THE CHARM SCHOOL A comedy in 3 acts. By Alice Duer Miller and Robert Hilton. 6 males, 10 females, (may be played by 5 males and 8 females). Any number of school girls may be used in the ensembles. Scenes, 2 interiors. Modern costumes. Plays 2% hours. The story of "The Charm School" is familiar to Mrs. Miller's readers. It relates the adventures of a handsome young auto- mobile salesman, scarcely out of his 'teens, who, upon inheriting a girls' boarding-school from a maiden aunt, insists on running it himself, according to his own ideas, chief of which is, by the way, that the dominant feature in the education of the young girls of to-day should be CHARM. The situations that arise are teeming with humor— clean, wholesome humor. In the end the young man gives up the school, and promises to wait until the most precocious of his pupils reaches a marriageable age. The play has the freshness of youth, the inspiration of an extravagant hut novel idea, the charm of originality, and the promise of whole* some, sanely amusing, pleasant entertainment. We strongly rec- ommend it for high school production. It was first produced at the Bijou Theatre, New York, then toured the country. Two companies are now playing it in England. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. SAMUEL FRENCH, 86 West *5«i Street, New York Orcy Hew and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request ARE YOU A MASON? Farce in S acts. By Leo Ditrichstein. 7 males, 1 fe- males. Modern costumes. Plays 2% hours. 1 interior. "Are Ton a Mason?" is one of those delightful farces like "Charley's Aunt" that are always fresh. "A mother and a daughter," says the critic of the New York Utrald, "had hus- bands who account for absences from the joint- household on frequent evenings, falsely pretending to .be Masons. The men da not know each other's duplicity, and each tells Mb wife ef kaving advanced to -leadership in his lodge. The older Woman was so well pleased with her husband's supposed distinction, in the order that she made him promise to put up the name of a visiting friend for membership. Further perplexity over the principal liar arose when a suitor for his second' daughter's hand proved to be a real Mason. ... To toll the story- of the play . would require volumes, its complications are so numerous. . X$ is n house of cards. One card wrongly placed and the whole thing would collapse. But it stands, an- example of remarkable in- " genuity. Yon wonder at the end ef the first act how the fun can be kept up on such a slender foundation. But it continues and grows to the last curtain." One of the most hilariously amusing farces ever written, especially suited to schools and. Masonic Lodges. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents, KEMPY -&?!$<■ 'A delightful comedy in 3 aeta. By J. C. Nugent and Elliott Nugent. 4 males, 4 females. 1 interior throughout. Cfostiumes, modern. Plays ,2% hours, j^ No wonder ' 'Eempy" has been such a tremendous hit in New- York, Chicago — wherever it has played. It snaps with wit and humor of the most delightful kind. It's electric. It's small- town folk perfectly pictured. Full ef types of varied sorts, each one done to a turn and served with zestful sauce. An ideal entertainment for amusement purposes. The story is about a high- falutin' daughter who in it 'fit of pique marries the young plumber-! architect, who comes to fix the water pipes, just because he "understands" her, having read her book and having sworn to marry the authoress.. But in that story lies all the humor that kept the audience laughing every seeond of every act. Of course there are lots ef ramifications, each of which bears its own brand of laughter-making potentials. But the plot and the story are not the main things. There is, for instance, the work of the company. The fun growing out of this family mixup .is lively and clean. (Royalty, twenty-five, dollars.) . . •, Price^ 75 Cents. SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West *5th Street, New York City Wew and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Hailed Flee on Request FRENCH'S Standard Library Edition George M. Cohen Augustus Thomee Winchall Smith William Gillette Frank Creren Owaa Devia Auatin Strong A. A. Milne Harriet Ford Paul Green James Montgomery Edward Cbilda Caipantai Arthur Richman Philip Barry Gaorga Middleton Channing Pollock Gaorga Kaufman Martin FlaTin Victor Mapea Kate Dougbu Wiggin Rida Johnson Young Margaret Mayo Roi Cooper Megrue Jean Webster George Broedhurat George Hobart Frederick S. latum Madeline Lucette Rylcy Fred Ballard Percy MecKay* Willard Mack Jerome K. Jerome R. C. Carton Mark Swan Rachel Cromer* W. W. Jacobs Enut Denny Kenyon Nicholeon Aaron Hoomen H. V. Eamond Edgar Selwyu Laurence Houeman Iarael Zangwill Walter Hackett A. E. Thome* Bdne Ferber Justin Huntley McCarthy John Henry Mean John B. Stepleton Frederick Lonsdale Bryon Ongley Rex Beech Paul Armairong Include* Play* by George Kelly Booth Tarkington George Ada J. C. and Elliott Nugent J. Hartley Manner* Barry Connera Edith Edit Harold Brighouae Heney J. O'Higgin* Clare Kummer James Forbes William C. DeMUl* Louia N. Parker Anthony Hope Lewie Beech Guy Bolton Edward E. Roe* Marc Connelly Frederick Paulding Lynn Starling Joiephine Preaton Paebody Catherine Chiaholm Cubing Clyde Fitch Earl Den Bigger* Thomaa Broedhurat Charlea Klein Bayard Veiller C. Haddon Ch Richard Harding Deal* Cosmo Gordon-Lennox Grace L. Fumiai Martha Morton Robert Houaum Cerliale Moore Salisbury field Leo Dietrichtstein Harry Jame* Smith Eden Phillpotti Sir Arthur Coram Doyle Brandon Tynan Clayton Hamilton Edward Sheldon Richard Genthony Jullie Lippman Paul Dickey Frank Bacon Thompson Buchanan Edward Paulton Adelaide Matthewa William Cary Duncan A. E. W. Moon H. A. DuSouchet French'* International Copyrighted Edition contain* play*, comedie* and farca* of international reputation; alio recent professional nicccwe* by famotu American and English Author*. Send a four-cent (tamp for our new catalogue describing thotunnd* of play*. SAMUEL FRENCH Oldest Play Publiaher in the World 25 West 45th Street NEW YORK CITY