jp 5 649 T28 5 !? >- CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF Cornell University Dept. of Theatre Arts No. CCOXLVIII. FRENCH'S MINOR DRAMA. Cgi Seeling (ftrilion. IS WHICH? A COMEDIETTA IN ONE ACT, BT S. THEY RE SMITH. PRICE 25 CENTS ' New York: SAMUEL FRENCH Publisher 25 West 4Sth Street London : SAMUEL FRENCH. Lt4 26 Southampton Street Strand, W.C.2 _ J MRS. WIGGS OF THE .> Mr. H. Leioh. PADDLES [an Oil and Colourman).^ Mr. C. Parry. -' aftc wards Miss Kate BishuK BEltTHA.. . . .. .~ Miss Bromley. MRS. M ILLS ( Capper'i old Servant) ._ Mrs. Stephens. ANNIE .. « _ .• •"■{... afU'wards Oiil h«/ij MODERN COSTUME. WHICH IS WHICH? Scene.— ^n A-tisft Studio, A door L. ; folding doon atback, c; a throne r.c; unframed pictures and sketchei all about the room ; pieces of old armour, one or f«"0 swords ; casts; standing' on tiirane, chair with a piece of drapery thrown over it. Enter Mrs. Mills, with a duster in her h^nd, Paddles following, door c. Mrs. M. It's really no good your waiting, Mr. Paddles. Paddles^ oil and colourman. Mrs. M. Mr. Paddles, you see Mr. Capper is not come into his studio yet, and till he does he never sees nobody. You must call again. Paddles. Calh again, mum I call again I I do nothing but call again. I pass my whole existence calling again, like at — like a echo. Mrs. M. I know nothing about echoes, Mr. Paddles, I only know it's no good your waiting here. You're interrupting me dreadful, and I so tell you. I want to get this room a little cleaner, and what chance is there of doing that as long as you're in it ? Perhaps- you may see him if you call later, but he don't like to lie inter- fered with in a morning. Shall you keep him long? Paddles. Tliat's as he pleases. It don't take long to pay money, though an unconscionable long time to get it Mrs. M. Oh ! then you want Paddles. I want my bill paying. Mrs. M. Very well, I'll mention it to Mr. Ca.ppec (dusting various things in the room) * WHICH IS WHICH? Paddlkb. It's seven ponnd three and fourpence farthing, but he needn't mind the farthing, tell him. Mrs. M. lie won't mind the farthing, bless yout You may trust him for that. Paddles. Mciy I ? I've trusted him too long for all of it, but— well, mura, I've got to go a short distance farther and I'll call as I return. Mrs. M. Very good ; you can do so if yon like. Paddles. I shall expect Mr. Capper to have the money ready for me by then, mum. Mrs. M. Very well ; you ean expect so if you please. {talting drapery off chair) Paddlhs. And if it's not ready— now mind, if it's not ready this time Mks. M. You can call again, {shaking it in Paddles' direction) Paddles. No, blest if T do; I've called too often as it is. Mrs. M. So Mr. Cayiper thinks, {folding it up) Paddles. Coming time after time in this way is simplj A nuisance. Mrs. M. There ! his very words. Paddles. This is the last chance I'll give him. If ha don't pay to day I'll county-court him — tell him that — I'll county-court him as sure as a gun. Exit, C. Mrs. M. I'll not forget, (proceeding with her dusting) An ill-mannered fellow (glancing after him) — frightening a female by introducing fire-arms into his conversation in that way. He's a low-bred one, I know ; has no more patience with Mr. Robert, who being an artist naturally can't pay his bills, thaj* he would with a common council man or a lord maj70i. Poor Master Robert I Oh, dear, dear 1 What a state of dust everything is in. Tut, tut I But he always was a dirty man — from a child. Dear, dear I (turning the easel shar/jli/ round, and in so doing knocking off the picture) There ! My goodness I If I haven't thrown it down, (picking it up) Oh ! what a smudge! Whatever will he say r (setting it on easel) He'll be dreadfully angry. (attempting to restore it with the duster) Oh ! that only makes it worse. There goes the other eye. I'll never touch his pictures again. There 1 he's com.ing now. What ghall 1 — (turning easel with itifacc to the waU^ "WHICH 18 WHICH? 6 Enter Capper, door u Capper. Now then, what have you been doing in thii ■tudio, eh ? You've never dusted it ? Mrs. M. You may well say " Never dusted it," sir, indeed. It wanted it awful. Capper. What 1 You have? Bless my soul! How often have I told you to touch nothing in this room. Mills 1 ' Mrs. M, (tnancBuvring to keep herself between Capper and the easel) But it was so dirty, sir I Capper. Dirty I There be oflF with you I Go Rnd flap that pestilent rag of yours in some other room than this. Be oflF, do I Here I Stop I Confound— Where'a my drapery, eh ? Where's my drapery? Mrs. M. Drapery, sir? Capper. Yes, of course. Where is it? The dress that was on that chair, eh ? The drapery that I've been painting for the last three days in my " Venus and Adonis" l)icture ? Mrs. M. Oh, tkat, sir! I dusted it, vaA— {holding it out to him) Capper. Dusted again I Gad I I believe you'd dust a bin of port wine, and sweep up one's ancestors. Dusted I Why, you sacrilegious old female, if you were to see an angel you'd pluck his wings to make a feather brush — I swear you would. Don't answer me, but be oflf. You'd black the sandals of the Apollo with " Day and Martin ;" you scrub an Old Miister as if you were an Academician; you'd sand-paper the Pyramids; you'd — you'd — {she runs off) furniture polish the multiplication table; you'd — Plague take her I Three days' work spoiled ! — just my luck! An old hag with a mania for cleaning everything, except herself, {trying to re-arrange the drapery) Jove ! yes ; she's wonderfully unselfish in that respect; never thinks of herself for a moment. Pah I it's no use. Let me see, how did it come? {turning picture round) Strike me speechless I she has diisted Venus ! I won't bear this. No, hang it ! I will not bear this. Mills 1 {ringing bell violently) Mills I con- found yoa I Mills I That woman would stick at nothing ; 8 WHICH IS WHICH? can't keep her hands ofiF the Immortals themselves, who, •f course, hare no connection with dust at all. Mills I Enter Mrs. MiLrs, delicately, a. Oh, here you are. Look there I Do you see? Look there I you — picture's spoiled^ you know 1 Picture'^ spoiled I You've rubbed Mks. M. Oh, if you please, sir, Mr. Paddles called this morning to gay that if you didn't pay bis bill in the course of the day he'd county-court you — as sure as a gun. Gaffer. Mr. Paddles be shot ! Look at this, I say. Mrs. M. And I forgot to mention, sir, that themilkraan said if yott could conveniently settle Caffeb. Hang the milkman ! Tell hitn it's- not con- venient — or tell hiin I'll settle-- it with the water rates when they come rouiuL But hold your tongue and listen to me. You see what you've done. Now I won't endure it any Mrs. M. The baker's Tery words, sir, this blessed morning. " I won't endoor it," says he ; and went on so violent, gestikylating and actually kicking: his own bread basket in his anger that I shut the door in his face. Capper. Then now shut the door in your own face, and let your tongue " play the fool nowhere but in 's own house," do you hear ? — or Mrs. M. In fact it's the same with all the tradesmen now — ^as for the chimney-sweep I really- don't like to meet him, he looks so black. Capper. Confound the tradesmen ! Dotining for money ia part of their business. Look at this. Mrs. M. [turning modestly away) You'll excuse me, sir. Capper, Ah I you may well blush for it; Mrs; M. Blush for it ! I should thiuk bo. (mtk U glance at it) No clothes indeed 1 The impudent thing. Capper. What do you say?- Do you see? Mrs. Mi Yes, sir, I don't think it at all proper. Capper. What? Mrs. M. Painting them pictures. I think it's himmoral. Cappei. (astonished) You think it's — why^ you ugly WHICH 18 WHICH? T Mb3. M. I beg jom pardon. Master Bobert ; no uglier than you are. {angrily) Capper. Ha! ha I Why, yoo old fool^— . Mrs. M. {angrily/) What do you mean, sir ? No older than you are. Capper. Oh, come I and according to your own account you knew me a considerable time before I was bom. Mrs. M. Yes, I did — [a sob) — and I never thought, Master Kobert — (a sob) — that you'd have called your old nurse a f-fool. {weeping) Capper, (to himself) Ha, ha! I'm done, of course. One's certain to get the worst of it in a squabble with a woman. Here, I say. Mills I There! Never mind, I didn't mean to wound your feelings — 'pon my word I didn't. But I must really begin to worli. Now, keep that duster quiet ; and just fetch me the letters I left on the breakfast table, will you? I've never looked at them yet. {shi goes through folding doors c.) Ten o'clock ! I must set to work, indeed ; though what the dickens is the good of my painting when no one will buy my pictures ? {she returns, and hands him the letters) Thanks I Now be ofiT, there's a good soul. Exit Mrs. Mills, c, stealthily passing her duster omt a table a* she gees. One, two, three, {turning over letters) Gad I I shiver at letters, now ; but I suppose I had better open them. (irritably) Confound them 1 They must be opened, {on the point of opening one) No, hang it ; that is a lawyer's hillet doux, I'll swear. We'll keep that for a bonne iouche at last. Here, I say, though, this one looks like a lady's hand, {opening it hastily) Ugh I " Per account rendered June, '67." — June, '67 1 What a memory they must have. I can't think how they recollect these little things such a confounded time. I'd quite forgotten it, 1 declare ; and— and I shouldn't wonder if I forgot it again. — "With thanks for past favonra." Oh, I dare say ; I wish they'd discover « pleasanter way of showing their gratitude. And what is this? {opening another) " If the enclosed account is not settled immediately, Jorrocks, Spankdoodle, Son, and Jorrocks, will feel it aecessary to put the matter into: the bands of their 8 WHICH 18 WHICH? lawyers without further delay." Gael ! (a$ if appaTted at such ingratitude) Men who have had my custom for years. But there we go-; each step brings us lower. Now for the climax I They talked of the devil, and here no doubt he appears, {opening third letter) I say, what's this ? This ain't a lawyer's letter. Why, it's from Joe Graytown. {reading it hastily) 'Um, 'um, 'urn, hallo I 'um, 'um, 'um, I say, 'um, 'um, 'una. Well, now that's uncommon jolly of him — uncommon jolly of Joe, upon my word it is. 'Um, 'um — " going as surgeon to a Government Expedition bound for the Arctic Kegions on an enquiry into the character of the Flora in the imme- diate vicinity of the North Pole." — Umph ! Queer notion. Who on earth expects to find flowers up there ? Oh, Government Expedition; ah, that explains it — " They are very hard up for an artist to accompany the expedition. Will you come? It will be a fine oppor- tunity for observing nature under a perfectly new aspect." — Ay, no doubt, under perfectly new snow every morning. •— " If you will apply or authorise me to do so, they will jump at you." — {reflectively) Fancy Ijeing jumped at by Government. — " Capital pay, everything found, splendid companions," — 'um, 'um — " and we shan't be away more than— four years." — {startled) Oh, I say I — "barring accidents." — {aghast) Oh, the dickens.— "We want a real sharp fellow liie yourself.'' — {after a pause) He's an amusing chap, is Joe. — " Sharp as a needle since we are pointing to the north." — Ha, ha! — "It will be the very place for you, as painters always look out for a north aspect, you know." — What a facetious dog he is ! 'Um, 'um. — "From yours, ever, J. Graytown. P.S. Bring heaps of white paint with you ; the other colours are comparatively unimportant. PP.S. With the excep- tion of black, of course, for it is night fer nine months of every year. Reply by return as we start in a fortnight." A fortnight! Impossible! Out of the question! A fortnight to prepare for a four years' winter and possible accidents ! {getting out paper and ink) No ; if I had had rather more time to prepare I might have (Postman's knock, L.) Oh, that confounded postman again ! Gad, if I trent to the North Pok I should escape that pestilent WKICH 18 WHICH? 8 postman at any rate. But four years ! {sits and writes') " My dear Joe, a thousaad thanks for thinking of me for this Arctic business, but " Enter Mbs. Mills, c, with a letter — a duster in her right hand. Mrs. M. a letter, sir. Capper, (taking it) Thanks! {as she passes her duster over the corner of the tcAle) Now then ; you're dustiug agaiu I Mrs. M. No, I'm not, nr. What do you mean, Mr. Robert. Exit, 0., passing her duster over a chair as she leaves. Capper, (while opening letter) " A thousand thanks for thinking of me for this Arctic business, but — {his eye falls on letter — he stares — then continues writing) — but I accept your offer without a moment's hesitation. Please make the application for me at once, and believe me—" {as he folds and directs it) A lawyer s letter at last, by Jove 1 {calla^ Mills I Flight's my only chance 1 {calls) Mills I Door opens and Gargle enter$, e. Herat {without turning) Post this at once, will you ? {hold- tng it out behind him and glancing at law -letter) Well. Why don't you take it ? {turning and jumping up quickly) You're dusting something, {perceives Gargle) Oh I 'pon my word, I beg pardon — I thought it was — why, bless my soull — am I mistaken, or — Uncle Gaigle? (tossing letter on table and going towards him) Gargle. Well, Bob, you've not forgotten me in spite of my ten years of Continental sojourn, eh ? I wouldn't let her announce me, but took the liberty of walking straight up. And how are you, my boy? You look blooming enough at any rate. Capper. Do I, sir? Then my appearance belies me terribly, for nothing could be seedier than my present condition, {solemnly) Uncle Gargle, you see before you a ruined man. I'm in the last stage of embarrassment. Gargle. I'm sorry to hear it. Bob. Whom do yon •we this money to? Give me the kistory of yom embarrassment. Id WHICH II WHICH f Cappek. The history of my embarrassment is a history in sevB'ral books — bang it I Whom do I owe it to ? All my tradesmen. Gargle. Yes, yes ; but what is the amount ? Capcbk. Well, m, I— in fact, you see, a freedom from care is so necessary in the cultivation of the arts that I make it a point never to burden my mind irith any troubla- 8ome details. Gargle. Oh, indeed, Bob — ^your creditors scarcely look at the matter in the same philosophical fashion, I should Bay, eh ? Capper. Well no, sir; they write pretty regularly, to say the truth, but it doesn't answer — neither do I. Garslk. Ah ! and what, pray, are the assets? Capper. Sir? Gargt.g. How much can yon muster to release j. But he sayshs can't wait any longer. €apper. Very well, then show him out. Mrs. M. No, but Mr. Hubert, sir, he says ■ Capper. I don't care what he says. You see Fm engaged, don't you? Get him away somehow. Tell him I'ni' enge^gedw^ngaged with, the Governor of' the Bank of England, if you like. Get rid of him somehow. Dust Itim out or somethi'ng.. Exit Mrs. AIii.LS, o., after passing her duster over Gargle's hat the virong way. Gargle. Well, Bob, what's your decision , Capper. Oh, yes, sir! I'll do it. I'll marry anything the shape of money. Only tell me her name. Gargle. Name li Miss Pestle. Capper. Pestle 1 Pestle I Why, she's you r - Oabolk. She was left to my guardianship when yvtj 12 WHICH IS WHICH? 7^«ng. You must remember her, I'm sure. Miss Pesfle, She has a nice fortune of her own. and as I take a great interest in you, Bob, I don't see why you should not have the money as well as another. Miss Pestle, recollect, (ffoing) CAifEK. I remember her, of course. I shall know her again, trust me. Little girl about that high. Gakgle. {coldly) Yes, but she's higher than that now. Capper. Of course she is. Of course; Puffy, I used to call her— don't you recollect ? And she used to call me Cobby. Puffy I Gad, I shall be rejoiced to see her Rgain. Little girl, ten years old. I recollect — Ha, ha! Gargle, [severely) But she's older than that now. Capper. Ha, ha! Of course she is. Know her again ! I should know her among a thousand : little short sleeves with pink ribbons in 'em, and a pink sash, and little short petticoats just down to there, and Gargle, {angrily) But, confound it, sir, she wears them longer than that now. Don't be a fool, Bob; let's have no false sentiment about it. You're in want of money ; she has got more than she knows what to do with. That's reason enough fo' your marrying, {pausing) By the way, you had better lose no time in coming to the poii\^, as we leave for the awrth to-morrow morning for a •tay of three months. Capper. To-mnrrow morning? (aside) And before they return I sliall have left for the — North for a stay of four years, {aloud) But, hang it, sir, I can scarcely pro- pose to her at tiie first interview. Gargle. Can't you? And why not, pray? You've known her ever since she was born. What would the fellow have ? You don't require ft longer acquamtance than that, I suppose ? Capper. Well, but, sir, she mayn't be as prepared to like me as I nm to like her. Gargle. Oh, don't you be afraid. She retained a ridiculously affectionate recollection of you ; and when we were in Italy never saw a picture without wondering whether Bob could paint like that, or what Bob would gite to be there; and it was Bob this and Bob that and Bob t'other, till I was sick of your VMY •auie. sir. VHIOH IS WHICH? 13 Cappeil Thank yoo, lir; I am eKoeedingly iorry that Garslb. Oh! a fig tor your apologies. Marry her, and I'll forgive you. I'll send her for— iih I for you to iqake a sketch of her for me. I'll send her at once ; and if I don't see you again before we leave, why — good-bye, Bob. Doh t come down. Good-bye. Exit, door L. Capper, {looking after him) Stingy brute 1 Instead ol behaving like a man and a brother — I mean an uncle — and ransoming me out of hand, he advises me to sell myself for good and all. I hate the thought of marrying for money. But no— hang it I this is not marrying for money. By Jove 1 now I come to think of it I've been in love with that girl all my life, {affectionately) Pufify, PuflFyl I declare I have. And though perhaps I have been unconscious even to myself of this for some time, yet that proves nothing, for love •* Grows like the summer grass, fastest by night. Unseen but crescive in his faculty." And that is my case all over. My love has grown like the summer grass ; so, hang it all, let's cut the crop now the time's arrived, and make hay while the sun shines ; for this perpetual dunning is no longer to be borne — and as for four years in the Arctic Regions in search of an impossible Flora! — 'gad, we shall spend our time in •Inging to the Esquimaux, " Shepherds, tell us true, have you seen your Flora pass this way." (a knock at the door) Gome in. En^ Faddlei, a Oh I Mr. — Mr. Paddles, I think. No, nothing to-day, Mr. Paddles, thank you. Paddles. You mistake the purpose of my call, sir. I lOuk the liberty of stepping up, Mr. Capper Capper. Yes, I'm glad you see the matter in its right light. It was a liberty, Mr. Paddles. Paddles. I am sorry you think so, sir; but I came fo( my money. Ca ppeb. Ah i you relieve me. I was afraid you came for mine. ti WHICH IS WHICH T Pa-ddifs. Money owing, allow me to remind yon, rfr, belongs to the creditor — not the debtor I Capper. No doubt you're right. At any rate, in the present instance; I can take my oath [feelingiinhispockett)^ that it doesn't belong to the debtor. Paddles. The money you owe me is in-' reality mine, and I've a right to demand it when I want it. I want it now, as I owe it to my landlord, and must pay it to- morrow morning; Capper. Indeed 1 So this money, after all, belongs, od your own showing, to your landlord — does not belong to yon at all ! Now, what the dickens have I to do with your tomdlord ? Paddles. What, sir ! If a no good talking. I must ktve this money, or I' can't pay my bills 1 Capper. Gan't pay your bills? Paddles. No, sir, I can't! Capfbb. You can't I And yet yon have the face to come to me and insist upon my doing what you confess yonr inability to do yourself! Is t)iis rea&onable now ? Paddles. I don't want to argue, sjr. Capper. Neither do I — neither do II Paddles. What. I want is money ! Capper. Sq do I — most confoundedly! Paddles. I want money, I repeat ! Capper. Exactly what I'm always repeating — lut I never get it I Paddles, {violently) But I intend to get mine before I go. Capper. Ah, but the best intentions sometimes go for •othing. Paddles. And if I don't^ Capper. Yes— I'm realiy curious as to the alternative, Paddles. I'll put you in the Court. Capper. Ah! (rising) Good morning! Paddles. I'll put you in the Court as sure as you're bom, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Capper. Perhaps; but I was born to blush unseen, so — {knock) Gad! there's a knock. That must be Miss Pestle, surely. I must get him out. {to him) That's all settled,, then. I knew that we should understand each VBICH IS WHICH? U •tber Ijefore we bad done. This way; t^is way oat. [opening door r.) You'U put me in the Court? Yes, and present me yourself, ivon't you ? {aside) By Jove ! there's the rustle of a diessJ [aloud) So good of youl— Come along. Exit with Paddles, l., who is speechless with indignation. Am they go out hy side door, Mrs. Mills enters through folding doors conducting Annie und Bektua* Mrs. M. What name shall I say, please ? Bertha. Miss Pestle. Mrs, M. Duly Miss Pestle? Bertha. If you say Miss Pestle it will he quite enongli. Exit Mi-.s. JLlls, u Annie, My dear Eertha, why not say both names ? S3e will think it so strange. Bertha. What will he think stran^re? Annie. Why finding two people hore, TV'heii he only expected one. Bertha. But, Annie, yon surely don't suppose that Mr. Capper expects Miss Pestle to come and call upon him stn by herself, do you? He'd think that strange, if )rou like. Annie, I don't see why he should. I shouldn't If I were a man. Besides, Bertha, 1 believe he won't %no-w which of us is which 1 Bertha. Not? Oh, Annie, I've such an idea: let as try whether he will or not. Annie. Try? How? Bertha, Why, leave him to Bud it out for himself. Throw no light upon the matter at all. Let him-^what do they call it ? — evolve it from his o\yn inner conscious- Bess, you know. Annie. No, no, Bertha I Bertha. Yes, yes, you must, to oblige me — come, you wilL There 1 hark 1 there's a door banned. He's coming. What grand fun I Look at this picture. What is it^ I wonder. Ento" Capper, lightly, l.— S« stops suddenly, Cappeb. {aside) Two of 'em! Flushed a brace, by George] Well, but— hang it alll — which la If WHICH IS WHICH* Bertha, {the Girls have their backs to him and art looking at picture) I think it's flome one between Soylla and Charybdis. Capper, {aside) I think it is, indeed, (calling through door M « loud whisper) Here, Mills 1 Mills 1 Enter Mrs. Mills, door i.. Capper. Which is which ? Which is Miss Pestle, eh? Mrs. M. Don't know, sir. They said if I said Miss Pestle it would do for both. Capper. Did they? By Jove, it's done for me as well. Well, but, what is the other ^ne'i name — which- ever is the other ? Mrs. M. I can't say. sir. Capper. Then you can go, Milli Exk Mrs. Mills, ft Old idiot I 'Pon my word, this is excessively nasty. How the dickens am I to tell her that her image has never been effaced from my heart when I don't know her :igain when I see her? Well, it will be easy enough to tind out. Here goes. Annie. I'll tell you what I think it is: ifs the Judg- ment of Paris — only wlieve's Venus ? Capper. (o««de) By Jove I I should be at no loss where to look for Venus. An uncommonly pretty girl, [advari' cing) Will you let me explain? {the Gikls turn and bow — Capper hows) It is intended to illustrate the lines, " How happy could I be with either were t'other dear charmer away," and if it is a success — [aside) — ^the picture is, «B the papers say, a worthy reflex of the painter's mmdi. \ pulls easel round slightly, and, while doing so, speaks without looking at either Girl) May I hope that yoii like it. Miss Pestle? {listening eagerly for the answet Both. Oh yes. Capper, {aside) One at a time, pleaNb Bertha. It's very pretty. Capper, {aside) This is she. {turning to her^ Annie, {in a voic? of deep admiration) It's charming. Capper, {aside) No, this is she. {in a soft voice turning towards her) And no one's praise could be so deiighfi^ as Bebtha. Charming is no word for iti WHICH IB WHICH f IT Capper, (aside) Stay. I'm wrong, (in a soft voice to Bertha) The labour of years is more than repaid by ap- proval from such lips as Annie. ( pointing to another picture') Dear me, what a lovely face! Exactly like one of Lawrence's. Capper, [asidt) H'm 1 First impressions are truest it seems. This is she. {in a soft, voice to Annie) Do you think it so lovely ? Ah, it is a reflected beauty that shines upon the picture now, and gives it^^ Bertha, {suddenly) Oh, dearl Capper. Eh? Bertha. A Eaffaelle, surely, [pointing to another) An original KaSaelle. Capper, {aside) Second thoughts arc best after all. This is she. {aloud, in a soft voice to Bertha) Not a RafFaelle. No, "A poor thing, but mine own." You look with too favourable an eye at it. Ah ! how have I longed for the moment when I might show these efforts of my brush to her — the thought of whom Annie, {aside) This will never do. {aloud) Surely, Mr. Capper, I have seen that picture somewhere ? {indica- ting picture) Now, where ? It is so pleasant wandering about a treasure chamber of this kind, and having the genius of the place at one's elbow ready to explain everything. Oh ! it must be a delightful thing to be an artist. Is it not now ? Capper, {meaningly) Yes, now it is indeed. Bertha. And such an artist, who is sortain as possible to reach the top of the tree. Cappeb. Well, perhaps, {aside) iot I'm decidedly up it already. Annie, {looking roundt^ Such eharming conceptions! (Capper turns to her) Bertha. Such felicitous execution! (Capper fern* to Aer) Annie. Such beautiful colour 1 (Capper to her) Bertha. Such splendid drawing I (Capper /o Aar) Annie. Oh! it's delightful ! (Capper to Aer) Bertha. It is a privilege indeed I (Capper to her) Capper, {aside) Well, J haven't a notion which is she. But — this is pleasant enough, but— h» jg it I — there'a mn time to lose. I must find out which of them is 18 WaiCB IS WHICH? Amnib. But that piotura ! It's « copy from «ome Old Master, I suppose. Now, wheve have I seen it? Behihv. Wait. Somewhere abroad, I'm sure. C/ piEB. {aside) Now, then, if the other has not been abroad Annie. Yes, abroad somewhere. Capper, {nside) She has, though. Bertha. 'Stapj somewhere in Italy. Capper, {aside) Now I have them, theyVe never boffc been to Annie. I know, Rome. Capper, (aside) Done again, (turns away) Bkktha. I think not, dear; isn't it Florence? Annie. No, love, it's Rome, I'm I thought that if you would sit - Annie.. Enow, eh?- Cappeb. [much embarrassed) You now, lia, ha!, {asidci, tutsmitg away) Go.iifound! that old Gargle for leaving me in the dark in this way. Oh, if our positions were only reversed ; if I were the uncle and he the nephew, wouldn't I cut him off with a shilling! [turning, and struck suddenly with the pretty position into. wMeh, the Gjrls had fmllen) Ob, capital! Don't move, pray; that will do admirably. I'll just put it iu as rapidly as I can on this small, canvas, (i&egiming' to. sketch) It's a delicious posi- tion, so easy and natural. Bertha. May we speak ? Capper, fiy all means. However good their- position I could not expect two ladies to sit for an hour without speakiagi of course. B'liRTHA. Tliat would not be easy certainly, Cappeb. And I'm sure it would not be natural. Annie. I don't see that it wo,uld: be.- either difficult Of upnaturaL Mr. Capper thinks, of course, that a woman 20 WHICH la WHICH? must be talking, and can't keep a secret, and all that nonsense. Capper. Faraon me ! I think thit a woman can keep a secret, confoundedly tight 1 {aside) When »he doesn't know that it is a secret. Annie. Well, I've a good mind not to open my mouth till the sitting's over, to prove it to you. Capper. What 1 won't you answer if I aak you questions ? Annie. If you do, I shall answer as literally as possible; ao you may begin your catechLsm as soon as you like. Capper, {aside) That's a good notion, {aloud) Ua, ha.1 catechism you eall it, eh? Suppose I begin regularly catechism-fashion then. What is your name ? Ha, ha 1 {watching eagerly) Annie, {promptly) N. or M. Bertha, {aside to her) Well done. Caffek. {aside) Hang it! {aloud) Fa, lia! that's no answer, {aside) The little witch I I declare she'd puzzle an Old Bailey Lawyer, {the Girls whisper, and smile) Bertha. Do you think I am much changed since you •aw me last, Mr. Capper? Capper, {startled and staring at them) £hl I beg pardon. Bertha. Do yon think I am much altered? Should you have known your old friend again i* Capper, {aside) There, the murder's out! {aloud) Know you again, Miss Pestle! — {aside) Hang! I wish it had been the other one. {aloud) Known you again ! I should have known you anywhere — anywhere, (aside) How utterly changed she is. Annie. But, like all true geniuses, Mr. Capper makes no parade of his knowledge. Bertha. You've not forgotten Be, then, all this long time I've been in Italy? • Capper. Forgotten you, Miss Pestle! I should not have forgotten you if you had been all the time at the Antipodes, {aside) Never saw anybody so altered, {aloud} Do you think I could forget what I have had by heart for years ? What makes you think so ? Have my eyaa played the traitors to my heart ? WHIOK n WHICH? 21 Annik. Oh, dear, no, Mr. Capper, your Vft* were honest enough. They betrayed no recognition at all, I assure you. But I beg pardon, I'm afraid my tfclking Euust interrupt you sadly, Mr. Capper. Capper. On the contrary, it helps me. T always get on better when I work fo music, (aside) Hang itl Why did I not say that to the heiress? Bertha. There, my dear, what are you going to do for that? Annie. If Mr. Capper will let me get up, I'll make • curtsey. Cafpbr. No, no ; don't more, pray — unless I'm tiring you. If you are tired Annie. I'm not at all tired, indeed. I could sit ai long as you wanted me, I'm sure. Capper. Then you could sit for ever, {aside) There I go again. Bertha, [aside) i think I'd belter get out of the way. Capper, [aside] What a fool I am I I keep saying these things to the wrong one. I must say something pointed to Miss Pestle — something warm, (aloud) Did you— hem ! — did you like the Sunny South, Miss Pestle? Bertha. Oh yes, it was so bright. and cheerfuL £ng« land seemg such a gloomy place alter it. Caffeb. Ah! (aside) Hate a woman who slights her native country, [aloud) I suppose that we are scarcely as well oflf for sunshine Bertha. Oh, the sun that you get here is not the real sun, I assure you. The true sun never leaves dear Italy. Your sunlight is merely ^ Annie. Sunlight adulterated for importation to England, •h, my dear ? Well, for my part I prefer the adulteration. Gaffes. Ha, ha, ha I [aside) Give me a girl who'll stand up for her country — even to its weather. That's something like patriotism. Bertha. And as if England were not bad enough, we are to go still farther north to-morrow. Oh, dear t Scotland for three months — just fancy that. Capper, [aside) What is that to the North Pole foi four years? Just fancy that, [aloud) Ah I you '4<>^.'t like Scotland? 22 WHICH » WHICH? Bebtha. Oh not I wish thea-^wcre not snch a place on the map. I should like to scratch it out, I declare. CapfevR^ Ab-t but that's not; to be dons. If scratching would do it, the natiives would have had it out long since-. And do you go too, Miss Bingham? Annie. Yes, Mr. Capper. Capper. And with the same pleasant anticipations? Annie. CMi, n<^ I am very fond of Scotland, Capper. Happy Scotland I Bertha, (aside) I shall retire; I'm ia the way, eTidently. (aloud) 0-o-ohl Annie. What is the matter, dear? Capper. Are you ill, Miss Pestle? What's the matter? Bertha. Oh, my — my foot's asleep ; I must ritie ; my foot's asleep, {rising, and limping about) Annie. But you'll spoil the- picture^ Bertha. Oh 1 I can't help that. Capper. Well, is the foot awalie now ? Bertha. Oh, no, no 1 (limping af-^nt) Capper. Regular ease of somnaiiibulism, then? Bertha, (coming round till aht get* in sight 9f tht picture) Well, I never I Annie. What's th« matter now ? Gaffer. Eh? anything wrong? Bbrtha. Wrong? Why, I declare, he has never clone • hit of me. He has devoted himself entirely to yon, and has expressed me by one — two — three lines as it l were a triangle. (Annie maUea a gesture of delight) Capper. I'm sure) I beg a thousand pardons Bertha. Oh, don't attempt to apologise, Mr. Capper. Three lines I Yes I Now> do I bear any resemblance to a triangle— do I ? Annie. Well, my dear, I think that in your present frame of mind two lines, if properly arranged', (crosses her fingers) would represent you very fairly without any necessity for a third. Beri^ha. Ah, you may laugh; but if you'd been treated as if you were a proposition of Euclid, you wouldn't take it so (quietly. Pray, put the letters at all laf corner*, Mr. Capper, ead make a perfect probleia of me. WHICH II WHICH? S3 Amtce. My dear, ydvt are n perfect problam already without the necessity for any letter^ What makes you BO cross ? Mr. Capper must paint one at once. GAffER, I assure you, Miss Pestle, I was just coming to you when Bertha. Oh, of course. But it doesn't matter. If it is impossible to paint two people at once I may as well go. Annie. But, my dea f ' ■ Capper. Nay, Miss Pestle, consider the picture^ praj. Bememher that I've not put you in at all. Annie, (aside) No, but you've put her out, apparently, « great deaL (filoud) Tkea ii you go, I suppose I must go too. CappSr. Oh nd, Miss Bingham, I beg that you'll re- main at any rate. Half-an-hour more will be invaluable. You've no botion what a capital position you are in. Bertha, {aside) Neither have you. t{aloud) There is BO necessity for you to (go,-my dear. I'll oall for you again directly, so wait here till I come. Good morning, Mr. Oapper ; or rather, au rmoir to you both. No^ pray don't come down^ I can see myself ott perfectly weiL Capper. Oh, you must really permit me 1 (^^emtg door and foliotoing her out, c.) Annie. What does Beitha mean by this ? She was not really angry; it was all put on. I fancy she thinks — yes, I'm SDire she thinks '-I know what flhe thinks. That is whj she left so suddenly. Be-enter CAirest, tU Well, has she persi&ted in going ? Oapper. Yes, she departed inexorable. Put lier best foot forwards, the wakeful one, and was gone, {resuming his palette very thfoushtfidly) By Jove, I was never so surprised in my life. Annie. As at what? Cai^es. Why, at Miss Pestle. I never saw any one so altered, and for the worse too. Annie. Oh I Mr. Capper, she is considered very prettyj Do you mean to say you don't think so ? Capper. Well — nothing extraordina^. 24 WHICH IS WHICH? Annie. WI17, what would you have f Her eyes »re splendid, and then wljat a complexion I I am sure she must be all your fancy painted her. Capper. I don't know about that {half aside) — I suspect there was mors paint laid on than ever came from fancy's palette. Annie. And I should liVe to know where you'd see such hair as that again. Did you not notice it ? It is hair that the more you look at it the more you admire it It really grows upon you. Capper, (half aside) Ah, but does it really grow upon her? That's the question, {aloud) Oh I I dare say she is all very well, but you should have seen her when she was eight or nine years old. Annie, {with affected indifference) Was the child m pretty ? Capper. Pretty! she was the most perfect little angel that ever appeared was Puffy Pestle — Puffy I used to call her you know ; and she used to call me Cobby — angelical for Bobby. Gad! how she is gone off. Those pretty children often do; take their beauty as they do the measles — have it young and get it over. I could not have believed it was she. Annie. It was curious that you recognised her then. Capper, (consciously) Very, very — (frankly) if I had recognised her; but to tell you the honest truth, Miss Bingham, I should not have known her from Adam — except for the drapery of course. Annie. There 1 I knew you didn't. Yob didn't know whether she was Miss Pestle or I — did you now ? Capper. Nov in the least. I only knew which I should have liked it to have been, (aside) I say, take care— take care. Annie. Well, she is a sweet girl, and he will be a fortunate man who marries her. Capper. Why, it's not so very much, is it? Annie. Really, Mr. Capper 1 But the Arts must be a very lucrative profession if you can speak of her fortune in that slighting manner. Capper. Lucrative I The Arts I Street-sweeping ii eoining compared to it. Ah, Miss Bingham, you don't WHICH IS WHICH? 25 know what a hard ungrateful life it is. Poring orer » picture till you get almost colour blind : working yonr fingers till — till you might play the banes without tha aid of other instruments than those which Nature has provided, and all for the wages of a scullery-maid. Annie. You can't be serious, Mr. Capper 1 Surely, it'a a noble profession. Think of the Emperor Charlei picking up Titian's paint brush. Capper. Ay, ay, but those days are gone by. Swells won't take us up now, much less our brushes. But, pray forgive me for troubling you with complaints of this kind. Annie, (aside) Can he be in want of money, poor fellow? (aloud) They don't trouble me, indeed, except »n your account. Capper, (aside) What perfect sympathy I That's just how they trouble me. Gad, if I don't keep in mind that she is a poor relation, I shall — hem I (aloud) You are very good ; I'm sorry to hear that you are going away so soon. You leave for the North to-morrow, I think you said. Ah, I'm thinking of going to the North myself for a — hem ! for a time. Annie. Indeed 1 whereabouts, if it's a fair question? We are going to Perthshire. Do you go so fai as that? Capper. Yes, farther than that. Annie. Dear me I Up to the very top? Capper, Yes, up to the very top. Annie. Oh, Mr. Capper, I envy yon. Capper. Do you ? (aside) Well, that view of i* nerer occurred to me before. Annie. They say tha climate is delicious up there — so bracing. Capper. Ah ! bracing, I've no doubt; but ratlier cold. Annie. Oh I nothing to speak of, and then the scenery is splendid. Capper. Of course; though there's perhaps a slight tendency to sameness of colour ; but what else could be expected up there ? Annie, (startled) Where? Cappek. At the Ncnth Pole, (sweetly) Dida't I Bay tb* North Pole ? Ah I I thought I did. 26 WHICH U WHICH f Annie, (mi a disturbed voice) No, yon never mentioned the North Pole. Gracious, Mr. Capper I What are you going to that dreadful plaes for ? Capper, [aside) I declare there is a tone of interest in her voice, that —oh ! if she weren't a poor relation — or if I weren't. Annie. Do tell me, Mr. Capper, what on earth takes you up there ? Capper. Well, y«u see, Fm going after the — in fact — Flora of Annie. Floral Oh I I beg pardon. I'm afraid I have been indiscreet. But perhaps I am to congratulate yon. Capi'Er. Quite the contrary, aocording to my idea. I think 3^ou misunderstood me. Oar purpose is to investi> gate tiie Flora of the regions in the vicinity of the North Pole. The expedition is botanical, not matrimonial. Annie. Botanical 1 [evidenlly relieved) You don't mean to say you are going to look for flowers op there. Ha, ha 1 What do you expect to find ? Snowdrops, I suppose ; and Esquimaux dog roses I Why what a set of frozen-out gardeners you w.ll be I Does the Expedi- tion start from Hanwell, may I ask ? Capper. Hanwell I {with importance) Government Expedition, I assure you ; capital pay ; everything found ; and only away for four years or so, unless delayed by Bome trifling accident peculiar to those regions. Annie, {with real distreu m her voice) Four years! Four — what madness! Capper, {aside) If she continues that tone I shall be an engaged man before five minutes are over ; I shall, indeed, and that will be madness if you like. Annie. What csrn induce you to go upon such a wild- goose chase as this, Mr. Capper? Capper, {aside) She can't get the matrimonial notion out of her head, {aloud) What induces me? I'm — I'm obliged to. Annie. Where's the necessity V Capper. Here. Annie. HereF Cappbb. Yesj yon see I've strong hopes, if I accont. WHICH IS WHICH f 27 psny tins expedition, to discover a North-wesf plissage by which to avoid — my creditors ! Ha, ha ! Annib. Creditors ! Then ytiu're in debtl {;recoUectingi herself) I bega thousand- pardons for- Cappke. (impetuously) For wbatl For letting, m« feel that the most charming of her siftx can take an interest in such a fel'ow as me. (aside) Now what am I saying? (alvud) 1 am mosi grateful for your sympathy, -my dear Miss Bingham, but pray don't distress yourself for troubles of mine. I carry my poverty very tasily, believe me ; I disfiibute its inconveniences among t my trade.'men, and so secure a fair and equal division' of labour. Th^y've felt it more than I up to the piesent time, I assure you. Annie. But you don't know how grieved I am. Capper. Grieved ! on my account ! When to shield you from the slightest sorrow T would — (aside) It's no good I can't help it. Poor relation or not, it's all up with me. Annie. Can nothing persuade you to give up this wild project ? Cappeh. I only know of one thing that will. Annie. And what is that ? Capper. You tell me to stay. (kneeling with one knee on the throne and taking her hand — she does not answer) Enter Mrs. Mills, c. Mrs. M. Mr. Gargle and Miss Bingham I Unter Gargle and Bertha, o. Capper. Miss Bingham] (jumping up) You mean Misa Pestle. Gargle. Well, Bob, how have you and Miss Pestle been amusing yourself, eh 7 Capper. Miss Pestle ! you mean Gargle. Miss Bingham and I are naturally curious to know. Capper, Miss Bingham ! you mean Gargle. Have you found it possible to propose on a first interview, eh 1 Bertha. May I wish you joy, Miss Pestle, my dear t Capper. Miss Pestle again I Why — what does thii n WHICB tS WHICH t mean ? Iwi't that Miss — ? Will no one explain f— Mil isn't thst— ? Which is which? (to Bertha) Aren't you Miss Pestle V and (to Annie) aren't you — {as a lighthreakt in upon him) Bless my soull why— Puflyl {opening ha mrms) ■' ■ ^ / • Annie. Cobby! (emlrace) Capper. By Jove, what t piece of Inckl Why, if I Sladn't let my heart run away with me, I should have— — Oh, happy chance, when Love and Interest strov* Which should be guide, that left the task to Lovi, While Interest led, the fortune all my care, Twixt this and that 1 blundered in the snare ; But Love^disdaiiiing thoughts of poor or rich- Love led me right, and whispertd Wuicu was Whicb! MRS. WIGGS OF THE CABBAGE PATCH Dramatization in 3 acts, by Anne Crawford Flexner from the novel by Alice Hegan Kice. 15 males, 11 females. 1 interior, 1 exterior. Costumes modern and rustic. Plays a full evening, A capital dramatization of the ever-beloved Mrs. Wiggs and her friends, people who have entered the hearts and minds of a nation. Mrs. Schultz and Lovey Mary, the pessimistic Miss Hazy and the others need no new introduction. Here is characteriza- tion, humor, pathos, and what is best and most appealing in modern American life. The amateur acting rights are reserved for the present in all cities and towns where there are stock companies. Royalty will be quoted on application for those cities and towns where it may be presented by amateurs. Price, 75 Cents. THE FOUR-FLUSHER Comedy in 3 acts. By Caasar Dunn. 8 males, 5 females. 2 interiors. Modern costumes. Plays 2% hours. A comedy of hustling American youth, "The Four-Flusher* ' is one of those clean and bright plays which reveal the most appeal* Ing characteristics of our native types. Here is an amusing story of a young shoe clerk who through cleverness, personality, and plenty of wholesome faith in himself, becomes a millionaire. The play is best described as "breezy." It is full of human touches» and develops a most interesting story. It may be whole-heartedly recommended to high schools. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price^ 75 Cents. PALS FIRST Comedy in a prologue and 3 acta. By Lee Wilson Dodd. 3 males, 3 females. 1 interior, 1 exterior. Modern cos- tumes. Plays 2y2 hours. Based on the successful novel of the same name by F. P. Elliott, "Pals First" is a decidedly picturesque mystery play. Danny and the Dominie, a pair of tramps, enter a mansion and persuade the servants and friends that they belong there. They are not altogether wrong, though it requires the intervention of a judge, two detectives, a villain and an attractive girl to un- tangle the complications. A most ingenious play, well adapted to performance by high schools and colleges. (Royalty, twentj- five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents, SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New Yotfc City Out New Descriptive Catalogue Sent Fc«e on Bequest KICK IN Play in 4 acts. By Willard Mack. 7 males, 5 femalcR S interiors. Modern coBtmnes. Plays 2% hours. "Kick In" ia the latest ot the very few available mystery plays. Like "Within the Law," "Seven Keys to Baldpate," "The Tnirteenth Chair," and "In the Next Eoom," it is one of those thrillers which are accurately described as "not having B dull moment in it from beginning to end." It is a play with all the ingredients of popularity, not at all difficult to set or to act; the plot carries it along, and the situations are built with that skill and knowledge of the theatre for which Willard Mack is known. An ideal mystery melodrama, for high schools and eoUeges. (Eoyalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Genta. TILLY OF BLOOMSBURY ("Happy-Go-Lueky.") A comedy in 3 acts. By Ian Hay. 9 males, 7 females. 2 interior scenes. Modern flress. Plays a full evening. Into an aristocratic family comes Tilly, lovable and youthful, with ideas and manners which greatly upset the circle. Tilly is so frankly honest that she makes no secret ot her tre- mendous aifection for the young son of the family; this brings her iiito many diffioulties. But her troubles have a joyous end in charmingly blended scenes of sentiment and humor. This comedy presents an opportunity for fine acting, handsome stage setting?. And beautiful costuming, (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 OentSj BILLY Faree-eomedy in 3 acts. By George- Cameron. 10 males, 5 females. (A few minor male parts can be doubled, mak" ing the east 7 males, 5 females.) 1 exterior. Costimaes, ajodem. Plays 2^4: hours. The action of the play takes place on. the S, S. "Florida," bound for Havana. The story has to do with the disappearance of a set of false toeth, which creates endless complications among- passengera and crew, and furnishes two and a quarter- hours of the heartiest laughter. One of the funniest comedies produced in the last dozen years on the American stage is, "Billy" (some- times called "Billy's Tombstones"), in which the late Sidney Drew achieved a hit in New York and later toured the country EBveral times. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents, SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45di Street, New York G^ Out New Descriptive Catalogue Sent Free on Reoucu ON THE HIRING LINE Comedy in 3 acts, by Harvey O'Higgins and Harriet Pord. 5 males, 4 females. Inteiioi ihioughout. Costumes, modern. Plays 2% hours. Sherman Fessendeu, unable io induce servants to remain foi any reasonable length of time at his home, hits upon the novel expedient of engaging detectives to serve as domestics. His second vrife, an actress, weary oi the country and longing for Broadway, has succeeded in discouraging every other cook and butler against remaining long at the house, believing that by sir doing she will win her husband to her theory that country life is dead. So she is deeply disappointed when she finds she cannot discourage the new servants. The sleuths, believing they had been called to report on the actions of those living with the Fessendens, proceeded to warn Mr. Fessenden that his wife has been receiving love-notes from Steve Mark, an actor friend, and that his daughter has bees planning to elope with a thief. One sleuth causes an uproar in the house, making a mess of the situations he has witnessed. Mr. Fessenden, however, has learned a lesson and is quite willing to leave the servant problem to his wife thereafter. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cent?. A FULL HOUSE A farcical comedy in 3 acts. By Fred Jackson. 7 males, 7 females. One interior scene. Modern costumes. Time, 2^ hours. Imagine a reckless and wealthy youth who writes ardent love letters to a designing chorus girl, an attorney brother- in-law who steals the letters and then gets his hand-bag mixed up with the grip of a burglar who has just stolen a valuable necklace from the mother of the indiscreet youth, and the efforts of the crook to recover his plunder, as incidents la the story of a play in which the swiftness of the actios never halts for an instant. Not only are the situations scream- ingly funny but the lines themselves hold a fund of humor at bU time*^. This newest and cleverest of all farces was written by Fred Jackson, the well-known short-story writer, and ifl backed up by the prestige of an impressive New York success and the promise of unlimited fun presented in the most attrac- tive form. A cleaner, cleverer farce has not been seen for many a long day. "A Full House" is a house full of laughs. (Royalty, iwenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 4SJh Street, New York City Cui Naw Descriptive Catalosue Seni Free OQ Recm««t DADDY LONG-LEGS A charming comedy in 4 acts. By Jean "Webster. The full cast calls for 6 males, 7 females and 6 orphans, but 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 iirst 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 reeall Jean "Webster's "Baddy Long-Legs." Miss Webster dramatized her story and it vras presented at the Gaiety Theatre in New York, under Henry fifiller's direction, with Buth Chatterton in the principal r61e, ' 'Daddy Long-Legs" tells the story of Judy, a pretty little drudge in a bleak New England orphanage. One day, a visiting tru8.tee 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 Mm letters brim- ming over with fun and affection. From the Foundling's Home ehe 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 bo 'Daddy Long-Legs.' 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. 8 interiors. Modern costumes. Plays a full evening. An absorbing play of modem American family life. "Tlio Famous Mrs. Fair" is concerned with a strenuous lady who returns from overseas to lecture, and consequently neglects her daujrhter, who is just saved in time from disaster. 4.cted with great success by Blanche Bates and Henry Miller. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. SAMUEL FRENCH, 23 West 45 th Street, New York City Our New Pesccipiive Catalogue Sent Free on Reguest NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH Comedj in 3 acta. Bj James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. Modern costumes. 2 interiors. Plays 2% hours. Is it possible to tell the absointe truth — even for twenty-four hours? It is — at least Bob Bennett, the hero of "Xothing but the Truth," accomplished the feat. The bet he made with his partners, his friends, and his fiancSe — these are the incidents in Williani Collier's tremendous comedy hit. "Nothing but the Truth' ' can be whole-heartedly recommended as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies of which this country can boast. (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Frioe, tSOentt. SEVENTEEN 'K comedy of youth, in 4 acts. By Booth Tatkington. 8 males, 6 females. 1 exterior, 2 interior Scenes. Oostmnes,' modem. Flays 2^ hours. It is the tragedy of William Sylvanus Baxter thai he has ceased to be sixteen and is not yet eighteen. Baby, child, boy, youth and grown-up are definite phenomena. The world knows them and lias learned to put up with them. Seventeen is not an age, it is a diseaso. In its turbulent bosom the leavings of a boy are at war with the beginnings of a man. In his heart, William Sylvanus Baxter knows all the tortures and delights of love; he is capable of any of the heroisms of his heroic sex. But he is still sent on the most humiliating errands by his mother, and depends upon his father for the last nickel of spending money. Silly Bill fell in love with Lolo, the Baby-Tblk Lady, a vapid if amiable I little flirt. To woo her in a manner worthy of himself (and incidentally of her) he stole his father's evening clothes. When his wooings became a nuisance to the neighborhood, his mother stole the clothes back, and had them altered to fit tha middle-aged form of her husband, thereby keeping William at home in the evening. But when it came to the BabyTaPc Lady's good-bye dance, not to be present was unendurable. How WUlianl Sylvanus again got the dress suit, and how as he was wearing it at the party tha pegra servant, Genesis, disclosed the fact that the proud garment was in reality his father's, are some of the elements in this charming comedy of youth. "Seventeen" is a story of youth, love and summer time. It is a work of exquisite human sympathy and delicious humor. Fro- dnced by Stuart Walker at the Booth Theatre, New York, it en- joyed a run of four years in New York and on the road. Strongly Jiecommehded for High School production, (Royalty^' twenty-five dollars.) ' Price, 75 Oenfs. SAMUEL FRENCH, 23 West 45d« Street, New York Qty Our New Descriptive Catalogue Sent Free on Request COME OUT OF THE KITClrtP A chaiming comedy in 3 aets. Adapted by A. B. ^^100^^ from the story of the same name by Alice Duer Miller.' 6 males, S females. 3 interior scenes. Costumei, modenb; Plays 2^l honrs. The story of "Come Ont of the Eitcken" is written aTonnd ■ Yirginia family' of the old aristocracy, by the name of Dainf field, who, finding themselves temporarily embarraased, decide rent their magnificent home to a rich Yankee, One of the ei ditions of the lease by the well-to-do New Englander atipnlki that a competent staff of white servants shonld be engafad I his sojourn at the stately home. This servant question preMi practically insarmoantable difficulties, and one of the danghtaJN of the family conceives the mad-cap idea that she, her sister an) their two brothers shall act as the domestic staff for the wealtb] Tankee. Olivia Daingerfield, who is the ringleader in the mer scheme, adopts the cognomen of Jane Allen, and elects to presi over the destinies of the kitchen. Her sister; Elizabeth, is a], pointed housemaid. Eer elder brother, Paul, is the batler, anil Charley, the youngest of the group, is appointed to the position o] bootboy. When Burton Crane arrives from the North, aoeon- panied by Mrs. Faulkner, her daughter, and Crane's attorney,. Tucker, they find the staff of servants to possess so many methods^ of behavior out of the ordinary that amusing complications begiili|| to arise Immediately. Olivia's charm and beauty impress Orans| above everything else, and the merry story continues through i^ maze of delightful ineidents until the real identity of the heroitt<|| is finally disclosed. But not until Crane has professed his Iov«| for his charming cook, and the play ends with the brightes Frioa, 76 0« SAMUEL FRBNCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York Otf Out New Desctiptiv* Cstalogiw Sent Free on Requeit Cornell University Library PR 5649.T28W5 Which is whlch?A comedietta in one act, b 3 1924 013 563 360