1069 Wo CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. 'B7\MnR'3 Edition' • or Pl7\y.5 m My Brother's Keeper Price, 15 Cents THE AMAZONS ^'^o^^'^"^^"^^- seven males, Ave &maies. Ul4 aiuaii aia (jogtmnea^ modern; scenery, not diiaoult. Plays a f aB evening, THE CABINET MINISTER SeT.rres.reCo:i:S! Boenety, three Interiors. Plays a full evening. DANDT DICK ^"'^"^ ^ Three Acts, Seven males, fonr females. Costumes, modem ; scenery, two interiors. PlayE two hours and a hali, TRK AAV lADII OTIPT Comedy in Pour Acts. Pour males ten lUC UAI UVaV VUCA fg^igj Costumes, modem ; scenery. two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. HIC HnnCR IN nDDPD Comedy in Four Acts. Nine males, fonC mS UUU9C la VKUGH females. Costumes, modem j scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening THF HflRRT HORSF ^""^^y ^ Three Acts. Ten males, five lllli llvwill llVUiJU fa„mieg_ cogtnjnes, modern; scenery easy. Plays two hours and a hall IRIS I)'<'°^^P1t^'^°*'B- Seven males, seven females. Costumes, modem | scenery, three Interiors. Plays a full evening. LADT RODNTIVIIL ^^^ *" ^°^" '^***' -^^ht males, seven fe- M4AVI IfVU 1 VM4 jjj^gg^ Costumes, modem; scenery, four in- teriors, not easyr Plays a full evening I FTTY •'-*'*™* *" Pour Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five fe- ^ males. Costumes, modem; scenery complicated. Flays a full eveningc Sent prepaid on receipt of price by Salter l^» rBaUt & Compant HOo 5 Hamilton Place, Boston. Massachusetts MY BROTHER'S KEEPEft j| Sraina, m ThreB i^cm BT THE AUTHOB OF "Better than Gold," "Our Folks," "The Flower of the Tamily," "En-' listed for the War," " My Brother's Keeper," " The Little B.own Jug," "Above the Clouds," " One Hundred Tears Ago," "Among the Breakers/* "Bread on the Waters," "Down by the Sea," "Once on a Time," " The liast Loaf ," "Stand by the Flag," "The Tempter," "A Mysterious Dis- appearance," "Paddle Your Own Canoe," "A Drop too Much," "A Little More Cider," "A Thorn Among the Roses," "Never Say Die," "Seeing the Elephant," "The Boston Dip," "The Duchess of Dublin," " Thirty Minutes for Eefreshments," "We're all TBCtotalers," "A Close Shave," "A Public Benefactor," "A Sea of Troubles," "A Tender Attachment," "Coals of Fire," "Freedom of the Press," "Shall Our Mothers Vote?" ** Gentleman of the Jury," "Humors of the Strike," ''My Uncle tho Captain," "New Brooms Sweep Clean," "The Great Elixir," "The Hy- pochondriac," "The Man with the Demijohn," "The Runaways," "The Thief of Time," " Wanted, a Male Cook," "A love of a Bonnet," "A Precious Pickle," "No Cure No Pay," "The Champion of Her Sex," "The Greatest Plague in Life," " The Grecian Bend," "The Red Chignon," "Using the Weed," '-Lightheart's Pilgrimage," "The Revolt of tho Bees," "The Sculptor's Triumph," "The Tournament of Idylcourt," "The Warof the Roses," " An Original Idea," "Bonbons," "Capuletta," "Santa Clans' Frolics," "Snow-Bound," "The Merry Christmas of th« Old Woman who Lived in a Shoe," "The Pedler of Very Nice," "Tho Seven Ages," " Too Late for the Train," " The Visions of Freedom," "Rebecca's Triumph," "Comrades," "Past Redemption," "Nerada,** "Messmates," &c., &c. BOSTON /^a^^/vf.^^>^^j'^^ THE BRAf INfi-ROOM STAGE : A SERIES OF ORIGINAL DRAMAS, COMEDIES, FARCES AND ENTERTAINMENTS FOR AMATEUR THEATRICALS AND SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS GEORGE M. BAKER. ILLUSTRATED. CONTAINING DI7 Brother's Keeper. Gentlemen of the Joy. The Revolt of the Bees. The Seven Ages. A Tender Attachment The Boston Dip. Among the Breakers. The Dnohess of Dnblla Entered, according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1872, by GEORGE M. BAKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington. Copyright, igoo, by Emily F. Baker (in renewal). Cornell University Library PS 1059.B16M9 1900 My brother's keeper :a drama In three a 3 1924 021 988 500 MY BROTHEH'S KEEPER A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. CHAEACTBB8. Abel Benton, Merchant. ti*^'it' Matthbw AllenJ^ Jfii iAiaHyf BiOBABD CASME8,%hig Cleilu. 'cM'iX -y^^ Cbables Bentoij^ I K-0 Job Latton (Scraps), a Bag-pickm. y- "' ^ '^^ . Obaob Benton, Abel's daughter. J^X*/i/. fJaXO JiX Rachel Allen, Matthew's sister. "JI^lA.^ i4'^ "" '^'t-*--' Betset Benton, Abel's sister/ SJtmkmJ^^x^j , ' "'?^J^A■lUM COSTUMES. Abel Benton. Bine coat, white vest, white necktie, dart pants, gray wig, side whiskers. Matthew Allen and Richabd Cabnes. Act 1 and 2, Business suits. Act 3, Erening dress. Job Latton. Act 1, Bagged coat fastened at the waist with a rope, rough iron-gray wig, cough beard, dark pants, large boots unblacked, dark necktie, old hat. Act 2, Black panti and coat, white vest, white necktie, hair and beard trimmed. The dress should be good but slouchy. G94IL** B^XTOR. Act If Park pants, white shirt, a large w«t ? t tnr BB0THER9 KEEPEK. lundierchicf thrown loosely about his neck, boots in hia han4 and coat over his arm, socks on his feet, hair dripping wet Sprinkle the clothes with bits of isinglass for a general soused appearance; change to Base Ball suit, with the letter O on breast. Act 2, Business suit. Act 3, Neat evening dress. Qbaoe Bentok. Act 1, Fashionable summer dress, with shawl an j hat. Act 3, White evening dress, rich and tasty. SicHBL Allek. Acts 1 and 2, Neat and pretty street dress. Act 3, White. Betset Benton. Act 1, Black silk dress, scant, old-fasliioned shawl and hat, gray front of hair. Act 8, Black silk dress, white bertha, front, and cap. A-OT 1. Scene. — Abel Bekion's counting-room. Desk against wall, B. Desk against wall, L. Writing table, C, with drawer opening at lack. Chairs before desks, B. and L. Chair r. of table. Lounge behind table, a. On desks inkstands, pens, paper, &c. The entrances are from b. and l. : that on the r. is from the ware- house and the street ; that on the L. leads to Abel Ben- ton's private room. Richabs Cabnes discovered seated at desk, l. Bichard. 56 — 65 — 72 — 81 — 90. Figures, figures, figures ! I'm heartily tired of this drudgery, day after day, casting up columns that add no sum total to my earthly happiness. If one could be as lucky as our head centre, Abel Benton, patience would indeed be a virtue. But he's one in a thousand. First a rag-picker, « searcher in cast-out heaps of rubbish for scraps of paper, rags, old junk, anything that by accumulation could pro« 4aoe a few pennies with which to keep soul and body mr bbothzb's ebzfkb. 9 together ; then, by the usual stages of honeet industry, rising to the more honorable position of peddler, proprietor of a small junk shop, general speculator in paper stock, Bnd now gathering rags from every quarter of the globe, supplying almost every paper-mill in the country ; with an income sufficient to glut the appetite of the most luxu- rious, and a name A 1 on the street ; while I, with a rich and stingy old father, am forced to drudge in the counting-room of this opulent rag-picker for a meagre salary, keep myself, and grow rich on expectativ>n. O, it's a funny world — 7 — 16 — 21 — a remarkiibly fa- cetious old globe — 32 — 37 — 4-1. Hallo ; who'» there ? Enter Scraps, b., with a basket. In all Mb scenes Ms eyes cure roving about the stage, and in, this Ad he pick* up scraps of rags and paper, which should be l^ abofU for that purpose. Scraps. Eh, hey 1 {Puts Ms hand to Ms left tax with this word, always.) O, if you please, Mr. Games , here'a my ticket from the warehouse ; twenty-five cents — white, all white, four pounds and a quarter — just tweaty-fiva cents. Hey, Mr. Games. Rich. (taJees ticket, and gives ScBAPS scrip from desk). Twenty-five cents ; and is that the extent of your day*! pickings, Scraps? Scraps. Hey? Yes, that's all. Pickings is hard, Mr. Games. Bick. O, you'll never amass a fortune at this rate. Look a/' the shining example of successful rag-picking at the head of our house, and stir your stumps a little mor* lirely, Scraps. IB IfT bboxher's keefeb. Serapt. Hey? Stir my stumps ? O, no, can't do it I've got the gout with too high living. Ha, ha I high living ! I think I'll retire, and live on my fortune ; ha, ha 1 my fortune ! That's good ; that's exceedingly good. Bich. You're an old sinner, Scraps. Now I've no doubt you have a snug sum stowed away in one of our banks. Scraps. Hey ? Bich. You'll cut up rich one of these days. In which of our banks do you deposit ? Scraps. Cut up pranks, at my time of life — no, no. Bich. (rises, crosses, looks off, B., then comes down B. of SCEAPs). Now, look here. Scraps ; you're not so deaf as you appear. I happen to want a hundred dollars Lend it to me. I'll pay you ten per cent. ; the banks only give you six. Let me have a loan — Scraps. Hey? Let you alone? I can't hear, you know. You're on the wrong side. Bich. (angrily crosses to L., pushing ScBAFS bach as he passes). Bah I you old fool I None so deaf as those who won't hear. (Sits at desk.) Scraps (pointing l.). Is Mr. Benton in there, Mr. Games ? Bich. Yes, he's in there, and very busy settling his last year's business. Not to be disturbed. Scraps. O, he's a rich un, he is, and once he was as mean and dirty a rag-picker as I am. We were chummies then, we were ; ha, ha I not very chummy now — not very. He was a chap what saved his money ; mine went as fast as it came. He took to books ; I took to billiards. He loved study ; I loved sport. And u; bbotbeb's kbepkb. 11 «o the road in which we picked parted ote day ; ha crawled up hill, and I down. Now he's a looting off over his vast possessions from the top of the hill, and I'm picking away in the mud, far, far below. Let thia bo a warning to you, Mr. Games. Bich. Warning to me? What do you mcAB? Scraps. O, you know what I mean. You're fond of billiards, and theatres, and — the tiger — you know you are ; and I know it too, for I've watched you many a night. Now Abel Benton don't like this. Here are you and Mr. Matthew Allen, equally trusted. He delights in books, you in billiards ; and depend upon it both of these, like everything else about here, will be weighed on Abel Benton's scales, and, when they do, billiards wUl kick the beam. Bich, You miserable street grubber, do you dare to threaten me ? Leave the room at once. Scraps. Yes, billiards is mighty captivating. Bich. (seizing a ruler, and approaching Scbaps, t'^« backs to B.). Clear out, you croaking vagrant. Scraps. But it takes money, Mr. Games, it tak«s money. Bich. Fool, take that I (Baises the rider. Enter fuickly, E., Matthew.) Matthew (steps between, and arrests Dick's arm). Easy, Dick, easy. Scraps' head is not thick, and the ruler ii very thin. Don't spoil either. Bich. Insolent old fooll Were I master here, he should never show his ugly face in this place. ( Ooes to desk, L.) Mai. Then Fm very glad yon're not, Dick. Scraps 12 HT BBOTHES'S KEEFEB. b a very worthy old fellow. Since you and I have beeo clerks for Mr. Benton, daily, winter and summer he ha» dropped in upon ur, and I, for one, should miss him Scraps. Thank you, Mr. Allen. Jiich. O, you've found your ears, have you. Scraps. I haven't but one, Mr. Carnes ; the other's stopped, and I'm glad of it, for a poor old chap like me gets many a hard word flung at him, that can't touch the heart-strings when there's a closed door between. I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Allen. Mr. Carnes wanted to put me out, but, bless you, I don't mind it. Fm never put out, never ; and mark me, I shan't be the one put out here — no, no. (Exit, h.) Bich. The meddling old scamp I Mat. Dick, you seem out of sorts to-day. What is the trouble between you and Scraps ? Bich. Nothing you can mend. Any news of the Elmyra ? Mat. She has just been telegraphed. Bich. Any private signals? Mat. Yes, English rags, full freight, consigned to Abel Benton. Bich. Of course — low market, high prices, and just in the nick of time the Elmyra sails into Abel Ben- ton's pocket with a cargo of five thousand dollars in gold. The old scrub I Mat. And who is old scrub ? Bich. The governor, the head centre, Abel Benton, of course. Mat. Gently, Dick, gently. Ho deserves more re- •pect. He has been a kind master to you and me. HT bbotheb's eeefeb. 18 JSich. Well, he ought to have made money enough Jfy this time to retire and give us a chance. Now, here'i the case of the Elmyra. You foretold a short market ; you proposed sending an agent across the water. Toui advice was taken ; it has proved a success : yours was the vecture ; to you should come the profits. Mat. Dick, you are unreasonable. Listen : that ship sailing into port reminds me that seven years ago I stood on the deck of a vessel sailing into this same port. Com- ing to this country from old England, a lad of fourteen, leaving behind me the fresh-tufted grave of my mother, the only protector I had in the world, my only compauioa my sister, four years younger. Dick, you have father and mother, rich and powerful friends, everything about you comfortable and pleasant. Tou never knew what it is to cry with hunger, to shiver with cold, as I did in the old country ; you never stood, as I stood then, on the deck of a vessel with not a cent in my pocket, knowing not what awaited me amid the domes and spires of the city we were nearing fast. If you had, Dick, if you had suffered all this, and then felt upon your shoulder the hand which fell upon mine as I leaped ashore, looked into the kindly face that I looked into, you would strain every faculty of your being to serve the interests of so kind a benefactor as Abel Benton. Bich. Benefactor, indeed ! I tell you, Matt, you think too little of yourself. Benton is shrewd. I've no doubt he read in your face, at first sight, the energy and spirit by which he has profited. You've given him hard work for every dollar expended. Mat. Then, there's my sister. He has been like a 14 KT brotheb's kegfes. father to her. She is treated in his house as a daughter every wish gratified, almost spoiled by his indulg,ence. Bich. "Well, he doesn't spoil us by indnlgence. Hi» old-fashioced notions put double work upon us. He won't have a safe, but requires one of us to sleep here every night. It's very lucky nothing has ever disap- appeared from the warehouse, for I believe he would dis- charge us on mere suspicion. Mat. He's an odd man, Dick, and no one can tell to what his whims may lead ; but with clear consciences, and determination to do our best, we need not fear hia changing humors. {Sits at desk, e.) Charley (outside, r.). Old rags ! old rags ! {Enter, B.) Here you are, now, a prime lot, a little damaged by salt water. Who bids ? Going, going. Mat. Why, Charley, where did you come from? Chas. (tahes handkerchief off his neck, and wrings out the water). The bottom of the sea. " The sea, the sea, the boundless sea." I'm a river god, a mermaid, — Charley Benton as a live mermaid ; his first appearance on any stage. Mat. Come, Charley, be sober. Chas. Sober I Do you know where I've been ? I've been in the depths of sobriety — at the bottom of the bay. I can lead you to the spot where the flounders are thick- est, lor I've floundered among them ; where the smelts congregate, for I've smelt 'em ; where the rock is in the cradle of the deep, for I went straight for it — red hot. Bich, You've been overboard. Ghas, Considering my present humid appear&ncei that was not a very remarkable guess. Kx bbothbb's kebpza. 15 Mat. And you are wet through. Chas. Thank you ; that's a very dry remark. Any nnore interesting news? Mat. If you don't change your clothes »t once you'll He laid up for a month. Chas. Thank you ; any fnol could tell me that ; but don't trouble yourself; I've a dry suit in the loft. Mat. But what sent you overboard ? Chas. My love of business I was hurrying down the wharf to catch sight of the Elmyra, and — somebody'* been shortening that wharf, for, before I knew it, I was in the briny, and bound for the bottom. Sich. You lummux, walked overboard? Chas. Exactly; clamoring for help, which did not urive until I'd been down clamming at the bottom. Mai. "Well, run and change your clothes. Chas. My base ball uniform is up stairs, and if I can keep out of the governor's way, I'm all right. Mum, boys, for he's down on the manly sport. He knows noth- ing of the glories of the base ball field, and if he finds me in that rig I shall catch it. {Exit, b.) Bich. Clumsy chap. Served him right. Mat. Hold on, Dick. There's the faintest shadow of a mystery here. Charley may have accidentally walked overboard, but he took precious good care to remove his boots first. Did you notice ? They were as dry as mine. You'll find there is more in this than appears on the faca •fit. Bich. Matt, you're always finding exouses for him. Mat. Ami? Well, it's because he's a noble-hearted fellow. If he's not a driving businesi man, it's becaoM 1£ wr B&oixms's kskibb. ae has a rich father, and does not feel the nefd of exefi tion. It's time Mr. Benton was informed of the arrival of the Elmyra. Where away to-night, Dick ? Bich. The usual round : a little hilliards, a peep into the theatres, and a good time generally. Will you go with me ? Mat. No, I thank you, Dick. It's my night on guard here, and, besides, I don't fancy your sport. Ah, Dick, it's a pity you're so fond of it. If Mr. Benton should get »n inkling of your predilections, 'twould go hard with you. Have a care, old boy, have a care. (Exit, l.) Bich. (at desk, i.). Have a care, indeed! Preach away, parson. Tou fancy you are feathering your nest by the remarkably moral life you lead. Bah ! With all my love for sport, I can hold my place in old Benton's warehouse. He trusts me as fully as he does you ; con- fides to me as important business as he does to you. 1 have the advantage in being the oldest, and shrewdness enough to keep my pleasures from being noticed by the head centre. But I'd like to see you. Matt Allen, taken down a peg, and if ever I have the chance, you shall b« brought to your level, depend upon it. ( Writes.) Enter Scbaps, cautiously, r. Scraps (aside). I've been hunting everywhere foi Master Charley. O, he's a sly one. Hullo ! there's Mr. Games again. Ho, ho! he'd break my head, would he? he'd turn me out, would he? We shall see. It's tim» Abel Benton knew the snake he is wanning. O, I'D (ewurd him for his kindnets. Vt B&OtHEB's KSEfEtt. If Enter Chablet, b., in hose ball dress. Snatches tie &(!» ketfrom Scbafs, and covers his head mth it. Scraps. Help ! murder I help ! {Extricating himself from lasTcet.) Hallo, Master Charley I Up to your old tricks, hey? Ghas. Tricks, indeed I I was only filling your basket with what it so much needs — old rags, old rags. Scraps. Now — now — now — you're a funny dog, Master Charley. But, my eyes, how fine you're rigged I Going sojering, hey? Chas, Sojering? No. This is the emblematic costumo of the Gooseneck Base Ball Club. Ain't it gay, red hot. Bich. Bed hot ! It will be well warmed if the gor- emor catches you. Chas. But I don't mean he shall. When he takes the field, " I'm out on the fly." Ah, Dick, you should join us. If s glorious sport. Bich. Bah ! it's so fatiguing and so dirty I Chas. It may be for you, lily fingers. You'd rather spend your time in a smoky billiard room. But for me, give me the firee air, the green field, strong, tough fellows striving for the mastery, every muscle alive with health, sharp eyes, eager hands, quick legs, the Atrike, the run, the caitch. O, if s glorious I Hey, Scraps? Scraps. O, yes. How much do you get for it? Chas. O, pshaw. Scraps ! don't be mercenary. Get fame, glory. {TaJces a small leather case from his pocket, and opens it.) Look at that. Thaf s what we get for it There's a badge to be presented to Bob Dyke, our pitcher, this evening, as a slight token of the Qoosenecks' appre> i II Itt Ba0THSB''8 KEKPlCa. ciation of his yaluable services. And Fm to make tht presentation speecli. Ain't it gay? Scraps. Well, 'tis handsome. And you to make a speech? I declare, I should like to hear you make • speech. Ghas. Would you? Then you shall. Tou shall be ihe pitcher, not exactly the figure, but you'll do for a re- hearsal now. You stand there. (Places him in c, and ■joes down, E.) Ahem ! ahem ! Renowned pitcher — Scraps. Hey? Gha^. Now what's the matter with you? Scraps. Why, you're on the wrong side. Ghas. (crossing to I..). All right. I forgot the imped- inent. Now then. Renowned — 0, stand up; present a dignified aspect. Scraps. Hey? Me present. I thought you was a going to do that. Ghas. O, you're a muff. Stand up ; throw out youi chest. There, that's oetter. Now. Renowned pitcher I champion of the ball field, model of muscular manliness — O, hold up your head, will you ? Scraps. How can I hear if I hold up my head? Ghas. Shut up ! Paragon of perfect proportions, po- litest of peripatetic pitchers, how much we owe thee I Scraps. Not a cent. Mr. Games settled — Ghas. Shut up ! As we look back to the glorious victories achieved on Potter's field, we see thy noble form animated with a spirit bold and daring — Scraps. Hey? Spirits? 'Pon my word I never drank a drop ; and as for swearing — Oha$. Shut up I In tne front of battle, winning ie< UT brothbb's keeceb. It nown for tiio Goosenecks. We would express our grati> tude ; and it devolves upon me, the humble instrument of our victorious nine, to present you this slight token of our appreciation of your valuable services. Take it, prize it for the giver's sake ; take it, wear it over your noble heart. {Enter, l., Mb. Bentok, followed by Matthew AnEN.) Take it — Mr, Benton {takes badge). Thank you, and once in my possession I shall preserve it; depend upon that, Charley Benton. Chas. {crosses to E.). The governor. Foul ball. Scraps. Is that all, Charley? Mr, B. So, sir, in spite of my repeated warnings, I find you tricked out in a garb I have forbidden, making « fool of yourself when you should be attending to busi- ness. Shame, shame, Charles! I thought you were more of a man. Chas. Yes, sir, it's a mistake ; I — I — I know itfs wrong, but I tumbled overboard a while ago, and as I «ras very dry — no, wet — I — Mr. B. Tumbled overboard? Chas, Yes, accidentally — not on purpose — walked overboard. Scraps. Don't you believe it, Abel Benton ; don't you believe it. It's a lie ; a downright lie. Chas. Scraps, I'll break your head. Scraps. Hey? You're on the wrong side. O, I know him, Abel Benton, I know him, the smooth-tongued villain, and I'll expose his wickedness too. Mr. B. Well, Job, what do you know? Boravi. I know all about it. It's the comiooa '«lk to HT BBOTHEB's KES7EB. on tlie whaif; and if I have but one eu; that's wills open. Ohcu. Scraps, if you say another word — Scraps. Hey ? — O, you're on the -wrong side. O, he's a deep one. An hour ago he was on the wharf — this scoundrel. Walking coolly down the wharf. Just before him was a little ragged, dirty girl — Ghas. Scraps, Scraps, your life's in danger. Scraps. Hey? — You're on the wrong side. Creeping along, picking up chips, and this rogue, this scamp, clo84i behind her. She reached the end of the wharf — Chas. Scraps, another word, and I'll strike — Scraps. Hey? — You're on the wrong side, I tell yon. — Her foot slipped, and over she went ; and this villain, this cold-blooded villain — Mr. B. Looked coolly on. Scraps, Cool, — his boots were off in a second, and over he went, seized the child, and held her head above water until they were both drawn out. Look at him I look at the calm, cool, calculating villain. O, he's • deep one. Mr. B. Charles, is this true ? Chas. I'm sorry to say it is, sir. Mr. B. Sorry ! Charley, my boy, you're a noble — Hem ! yes, sir, you have disobeyed my orders, and I shall ■ee that yon are punished. As for this trinket, FU take care of it (^Unlocks drawer in table, c, depfsits the case, and then locks drawer.) Here it is safe, but you see it no more. (ExU, l.) Chas. Out on the badge. Scraps, I've a great mipi to pommd you. HT BROTHERS KEEPER. 21 Mat. No you won't, Charley, for h«'s defended you. Give me your hand. You're an honor to the house. Scraps. "Wliat did I tell you? Villany is alwayi found out, always. Ghas. O, rU be eren with you, Scraps. Scraps. Hey ? — You're on the wrong side. Ghas. We've had quite enough of your interference ; BO go. Scraps. Yes, I'll go down on the wharf, and hunt up more of your crimes. O, you're a sly one; deceive your father, hey ! walk overboard, hey ! Ha, ha ! you'll catch it. Ha, ha 1 (At door, r.) I say, Charley, red hot, red hot ! {Exit, R.) Mat. Dick, here's Foley's invoice. You copy that, and I'll take Dixon's. They must both go by next mail. {Sits at desk, r.) Bich. {at desk, L.). All right. Matt. Ghas. {sits on table, c). " I saw it but a moment but methinks I don't see it now." The renowned pitch er's badge has gone into the governor's drawer, and how the renowned pitcher is to get it, and how the subscribei is to present it to the renowned pitcher, are questions of vital importance, in fact, red hot. The governor won'* give it up ; but I must have it. - Bachel {outside, R.). Goodness gracious, I shall die, I know I shall. Betsey {outside, R.). Do behave yourself, Rachel Allen. I declare, you mortify me to death. Bachd. Can't go another step. {Enters, r., with her armsfuU of bundles. She drops them in a heap on tht Moor, B., and/aUa on her knees.) It's no ose. It's that 21 KT BBOT&ES'S KEEPER. last cson't stand gawking at me. S'pose he never saw a «roman afore. Jest like 'em ; they're all alike. Ghas. (looking off, r.). Why, he isn't looking at yon, Aunt Betsey. Betsey. I tell you he is. I know he is. You can't Jool me. Ghas. No, he's not looking at you, for the very good reason that he's blind. It's only old Foley. Bachel. O, Aunt Betsey ! Ha, ha, ha I what blind derotion I Betsey {sitting in chair E. of table). Well, I never I Rachel Allen, Where's your dignity? Get up from that floor directly. Ghas. What's all this ? Where have you been? Bachel. Been shopping ; and O, my, didn't we make a commotion I There's nothing but bare shelves and bare counters in every dry goods store from the Park to the Square. Betsey. Goodness gracious! hear that child talk. And there's all my things a being ruined on this dirty floor CJuu. Spicks up btmdles, and places ihern on table). Whose are these things? Bachel. They're all mine, except the five largest; those are Aunt Bet8e3r's. Chas. And there's only six in the lot. That's a very modest way of letting me know that you've been loaded down with Aunt Betsey's purchases. Why not have them sent home ? Betsey, Young man, mind your business. When I go shopping I mean to have just what I buy, and nothing else. Them air counter chaps air dreadful spry and smilin, but they can't deceive Betsey Benton. Never 1 Chas. But, Aunt Betsey, 'tis too much for Shellie'a little arms. Betsey. Young man, mind your business. When I was a gal I had to work, and I mean everybody round me shall, if I can make work for 'em. Chas. Now look here, Aunt Betsey ; you and I will have a falling out one of these days, if you don't treat Shellie better. Betsey, Highty-tity, young man I Mind your busi ness. She ain't a goin to be brought up to a life of idla< ness, I tell you. Bachel. O, now, don't quarrel about me. Why, there's brother Matt. (Grosses, b., and puts her hand on his shoulder,) Well, brother Money Grub, how's trade ? Mat. Ah, Sunshine I The Elmyra's come. Trade is looking up. Bachel. O, I'm so glad. I wish I was a man. Ii must be 80 grand to make money. *4 n bbotheb's keef£k. Ghas. Why, you're avaricious, Shcllie. Rachel. No, I'm not, Charley. I want the inonej with which to buy richer treasures — the poor man's blessing and the sufferer's smile. Mat. Ah, Shellie, if we could only think so after we (acquire riches 1 But where have you been ? liachd. Been shopping ; and, don't you think. Aunt Betsey was nearly run over. O, such fun ! Betsey. Fun ! fun I Well, I never ! I'm most dead with fright, and that young one calls it fun ! Rachel. Yes, we were just crossing the main street, when somebody called out, " Look out, there ! " And of course we looked out, and there was a running horsa almost upon us. I ga-ve one leap and landed on the side- walk, but Aunt Betsey she just stood in the street, and flourished her parasol, when a ragged individual rushed between her and the horse, caught her up in his arms, and placed her on the sidewalk. O, she did look so funny, with her arms flying about like a windmill, and screaming like a locomotive. Betsey. "Well, I never ! And you stood on the side- walk and laughed — absolutely laughed. I never was so mortified in my life. Rachel. Ha, ha, ha ! I couldn't help it, you did look BO in the arms of your preserver. Betsey. Eachel Allen, I'm petrified ! Where on airth 10 your dignity I Mat. 'Twas a very serious matter. And who was the brave man who rescued you ? Betsey. How should I know? While I was looking fiir B dollar to give him, he slipped off. m brothxb's keefxb. i8 Ohas. I should think he would. A dollar fur saviag your life. (Aside.) O, it's too much, Betsey. Where's your father ? Ckas. In his office, Aunt Betsey. Betsey. Well, Rachel, you pick up the bundles. IT! just speak to him, and then we must be getting home. {Exit, L.) Rachel. Why, how queer you're dressed, Charley I Is that your working suit ? Chas. Well, no — yes, it is one of my working suits. Rachel. What does the letter G stand for? Rich. Stands for Goose, Shellie. Rachel. Ha, ha, ha ! How very appropriate 1 Mat. 'Tis very appropriate, Shellie, but it doesn't stand for goose. It's the initial of Great, and, placed where it now is, it fitly represents the great heart beneath it. Charley wears that dress at this time, Shellie, because he has just saved a little girl from drowning at the risk of his own life. Rachel. Thaf s just like him. He's always doing something brave. {Goes up and takes his hand.) O, Charley, I shall love you just as long as I live. Chas. Will you, though, Shellie ? Then let me tell you that I shall ask that — I am — that you are — Rachel. Why, what's the matter, Charley? Chas. Well — I was going to say — that I — that I am — Unter Betset, l. Betsey, Now, Bachel, get your bundles, and we'll ifo. Chat. Once for all. Aunt Betsey, I teU you I will > ^ have it. She shall not carry those bundles. M KT BaOtHEB'S KSBPSB. Lehey- I Bay she shall. Young man, mind your bufli* Bess. Chas. So I will ; and it's my business to relieve the weaker sex of their cares when I can. I'll just take po8« session of the bundles, and bring them up to-night. Betsey. Young man, I insist — Chas. Now, look here. Aunt Betsey; don't get me mad ; for when I get angry I alw^s run and jump off the wharf — and I don't go alone. Betsey. Good gracious ! Do you mean to say yoa would throw me overboard ? Chas. I'm afraid I should if I got mad. Betsey. Come, Eachel, let's go. That youth is on the broad road going to destruction. Come. {Exit, B.) Rachel. Good by. I'm coming back with Grace when she comes for her father. O, Charley, for shame I Threatening to throw Aunt Betsey overboard I {Exit, E.) Chas. Of all the aggravating creatures, Aunt Betsey is a little ahead. Why don't she get married? She's old enough. She's no earthly use in our house, except to fret and worry, and interfere in all my little arrange- ments. (Enter Sobafs, b.) Hullo ! you back again? Scraps. Hey? yes. I've a little business with youi father. I say. Master Charley, who's that lady I just met? Chas. Lady? The young one or the old one ? Scraps. The tall, fine-looking lady. {Pointing, B.) There, that one. Chas. Fine looking! {Aside.) Scraps is smitten. ^Aloud.) That's Aunt Betsey, father's sister. Did yaq ayer see her before ? m bbotheb's keefss. i? Scraps Hey ? No — yes — yes — once. Chas. You did! Where? Scraps. Now, now, Charley, none of that You're on flie wrong side. Chas. (aside). He's smitten, red hotl Rv Jove, an idea. Scraps is rich. Why can't I make a match be- tween them? Dress him up, and start him courting Aunt Betsey. That's one way to get rid of her. {Aloud.) Ah, Scraps, you sly dog, I thought you'd met before. She often speaks of you. Scraps. Often speaks of me ? Chas. Yes, thinks you are not what you seem. No- bility beneath the ragged covering, soul shines through his shaggy eyebrows, and all that sort of thing. O, she's romantic. Scraps. Often speaks of me ? Well, that's singular. Chas. Now's your chance, Scraps. Dress up ; put on a bold air ; you've got the money. " Woo her aa the lion woos his bride ; " and she'll fall into your arms. Scraps. Yes. Well, I'll think about it; I'll think about it. Enter Me. Benton, l. Mr. B. This note, Richard, must be in Captain Bax~ ter^s hbuds at once. Rich. Yes, sir. I'll despatch a messenger immedi ately. {Exit, e.) Mr. B. Matthew, the Spooner Mills are short of Btock. We can get our own price for the Elmyra'a cargo. Mat. Then I'd better run up in the morning. Mr. B. I think you had. Take the iirst train. Ton 18 at BBOTHEB^S KEEFKB. san return in the evening. By the way, who Bleeps heM to-night ? Mat. 'Tig my watch, sir. Mr, B. That's bad. You cannot catch the early tradn. Mat. O, yes, if Charley can come down at six. Mr. B. No ; I'll relieve you myself. Mat, All right, sir ; I'U make my arrangements bO wrdingly. (Exit,, b.) Mr. B. Charles, go into my office. I've a few word* Tor you. Chaa. Yes, air. {Aside.) "Words that bum — red not 1 {Exit, L.) Mr. B. Well, Job, old friend, how wags the world with you ? Scraps. Hey? 0, well, Abel; well. I pick up edough to keep soul and body together, and now and theo a dollar for a rainy day. Mr. B. Why will you persist in this vagabond life? You would be a valuable man to me in the warehouse. I have often urged you to take a place here. Scraps. I kuow it, Abel ; but I like to be my own master. Here I should be cramped. Regular hours and regular work — Not for me, Abel ; not for me. Mr. B. I don't like to see an old friend creeping jibout the streets, picking rags from the gutter like a ragrant. Look at me. The old life is almost blotted »ut of memory. I have made my way to a respectabla position, while you, who started in life with me, still iSiug to the old existence. It's too bad, J^b. Scraps, No, Abel, not too bad, for it's the life I Iotb, KT BROTHEB'S K£EPEB. 29 Ton were ambitious to rise in the world ; to get money, You have been successful, and your old friend rejoices in your prosperity. But all your wealth requires much care. You are anxious, uneasy. There are hard lines iii your face. The failure of one of your speculations wunld go near to break your heart. While I manage to Bciape, " here a little, and there a little," roa>ii about, iook and laugh at the follies of the world, watcL the struggles and triumphs of busy men, and speculate, with- out risk, on the rise and fall of stocks. Mr. B, That's very ragged philosophy. Job. Scraps. Hey? Philosophy? No, that's freedom, and freedom gives one so much time for observation to ac- quire knowledge. Why, Abel, I know more about your business than you do. With all your wealth, you are at the mercy of your clerks. Mr, B. My clerks are models of industry, energy, and honesty. Scraps, All of them? Mr, B, Yes ; I would not have in my employ one hour a young man whom I could not trust fully. Scraps, Blind, Abel, blind. I know better. Fve seen one of your clerks at the gaming-table night after night. I have seen him enter places where no honest man should go. I have seen this, Abel. I'm a little duU of ear, but I've a sharp eye. Mr. B, One of my clerks. Job ? Which one ? Scraps. Hey ? — Now, you're on the wrong side. Abel Benton, find out yourself. I will watch, but yov must trap the game. Ur. £. Is it my < son? I tremble while I ask iU M itT brotheb's kebpsb. Scraps. What, Charley? No, no; he's the Boul of honor. Mr.B. Isit — Scraps. No, no ; fair play, Abel. I've set you on the Izack. I shall do no more. Mr. B. Very well, I will watch, and if I have the faintest suspicion I will act. My clerks ! Job, if I did not know you so well, I should doubt you, and not them. Scraps. O, I'm all right. Now for a little business. I had a scare last night, Abel. Somebody broke into my room, seized me by the throat, and demanded money ; but I had strength enough to throw him off, and rouse my neighbors. He escaped ; my money was safe ; but it must be put in a safer place. {Produces small hag.) Here is a hundred dollars, all in gold. You, Abel, must take care of it. Mr. B. Certainly. (^Tahes hag, goes to table, c, sit$ and ivrites.) I shall not count it ; your word is enough. It shall be well taken care of. Here's your receipt. (^Oives receipt.) The money shall go in here. (Open* the drawer in tahle where he has placed the hadge, and locks U.) Scraps. What 1 Leave my money there after what I told you? Mr. B. For that very reason. You have directed suspicion to one of my clerks. Your money should be the bait to catch the Eogue. Hush ! No more. Here ii my daughter. Enter GsiCE, E. Cfrace (p.). Good afternoon, father. Are yon ready to escort me home ? Bnr bbotheb's ke£feb. 81 Mr. B. (l.). In a few moments, Grace. This is an old friend of mine, Job Layton, Qrace. One I have longed to see. (Grosses to Scbafs, R., and takes his hand. — Scraps confused.) My father often speaks of you, his old friend. Why don't you come and see us ? You shall be heartily welcome, and I will do my best to entertain you. Scraps. Lord bless you, pretty one, your father and I parted company years ago — he to go up, I to stick in the mud. I go to your house? Why, your servanti would slam the door in my face. Grace. No, no, Mr. Layton, nobody is driven from our door. There's an easy-chair waiting for you, and if you will come you shall find yourself with true friends. Now promise me you will come. Scraps. Yes, yes, some time I will come. {Turns to door, B.) Good by. (Aside.) She's a darling. Ah, Abel may well be proud of such a daughter. And I, — I might have had a daughter to hang about my neck, to brighten my home, instead of being a lonely, ragged scavenger. O, Job, Job, I begin to doubt you. Freedom is all very well, but the chain which a loving child throws about a father makes slavery worth enduring. Bah, Job ! You a philosopher 1 More likely an old fool — an old fool. (Exit, E.) Mr. B. Grace, if that man survives me, look to it that he never suffers. When I was poor he was my best friend. Many a time in our rag-picking days he hai robbed his basket to fill mine. Under that old coat there's B true heart. He must never suffer. Qrace. Never, if I can help it, father. Charley i| very fond of him. Where is Charley, father? $2 KT bbotheb's kekpeb. Mr. B. In disgrace. Waiting in my room for the le* ture he so richly deserves. Grace. Why, what has he been doing ? Mr. B. Jumping overboard to save a drowning child. I could forgive that, but he's rigged himself in that out* Iftwed sporting suit, for which he shall be well lectured. Enter Dice, b. Rich. Good afternoon, Miss Benton. (Bows, and crosses to desk, L.) Chrace. Good afternoon, Mr. Games. Enter Matthew, b. Mat. Ah, Miss Grace I You are early. Gfrace. Matthew, I'm glad to meet yon. {Shakes hands toith him.) Yes, I've come to carry father off. Enter Kachel, b. Bachel. There, I've torn my dress with one of thosa dirty bales. I declare, I can't see the use of having so many rags about. Mr. B. To turn into money, Shellie. Bachel. HalLo, Uncle Abe ! Out of your den ? Come, get your hat. We'v€ come to lead you home. Mr. B. I'll be ready soon. By the by, young gentle- men, I have placed a hundred dollars in geld in the uppei drawer of that table for safe keeping. It belongs to Job Layton. Mat. A hundred dollars ? Isn't that an unsafe placa for so large a sum ? Mr. B. Not while I have honest derkii. I sWl b* KT bbotheb'b eeepeb. 8) »ery glad to see you at my home to morrow evening. Tou will retTirn in ample time, Matthew. Tou will meet there my partner. All. Your partner ! Mr. B. Yes, I am getting old, and h»ye decided to take a partner — a young and active man. You will have an opportunity to make his acquaintance before ho enters upon his duties. {Exit, l.) Grace. Now he's going to scold Charley. But not if I can help it. I've prevented it before, and I'U try it again. (Exit, l.) Mat. {sits at his desk). A partner! A young and active man ! Who can it be? Rachel {coraes down and leans over his chair). Whafg the matter, brother? Mat. Thinking, Sunshine, thinking. We must all do that, you know. Rachel, Well, then, teU me your thoughts. My brother should have no secrets from his keeper. That's the bargain, Matthew. Mat. A new master is to step in here, Shellie — here, where, for seven years, we have worked so wel together — the old master and his clerks. A man with new ideas, perhaps tyrannical, to upset the old smooth order of things. What says my keeper to that? Rachel. She says, Think on, brother. Think of the good old man who laid his hand on your shoulder so kindly when you were a stranger in a strange land ; who has been your steadfast friend from that hour to this, and say, Let new masters come ; while the oM master lives I have faith that he will never desert ma 84 HT bbotheb's keepeb. Mat. Bight, my keeper, right. Do what he majr. I will believe he loves and trusts me. Enter Chablet, l. Chas. Well, I'm out on that. After roosting on a high stool for nearly half an hour, anxiously expecting a storm, that dear sister of mine drops in just as tha: clouds begin to gather, and all's sunshine. Hallo, Shel- ' lie I You here again ? Bachel. Yes, Charley. Come, pick up the bundles, and start the caravan. Ghae. But we must wait for Grace. Rachel. Then let's take a stroll down the wharf. I want to see the place where you walked overboard. Ghas. Yes, where I put my foot in it. I can lead you to it. It's a delightful spot, so cool and retired. Come along. {Exeunt Ghas. and Rachel, k.) Rich. Well, Matt. Mat. Well, Dick. Rich. What are you going to do about it — the new partner ? Mat. Accept the new order of things, and work as diligently as ever. Rich. Matt Allen, you're a fool ! There should be no partner in this concern except you or me. The head centre cannot want capital. Perhaps this is a surprise for one of us. Mat. Surprise? That's not his way of doing busi> aess, Dick. Think of our staid, sober old master per- petrating a joke! I couldn't imagine it. No, it's aQ eutsi4er, — who, I cannot guess, Mr BSOtBEB*S KSBfS*. Sft Bich. I have a strong suspicion, Mat, that yrm are the ntan. You have a strong friend beside the throne. Mat. A strong Mend? Who do you mean? Bich. Grace Benton. It needs no very sharp eye? to see that she looks upon you with favor. Always a smile, a pleasant word, for you. She listens as though you were an oracle when you speak, and blushes when your step is heard. All sure signs. Don't be a fool, Mat. She's a rich catch. Be bold, and she is yours. Mat. (rising, indignantly). Silence, Dick Games I Another word and I shall forget that we are friends, and chastise you for your insolence. Do you think me 80 base as to take advantage of the kindness that seeks to make me forget my humble position? so mean as to betray the trust reposed in me by my emplayer? Grace Benton is too high in social position for me to dare approach her as a suppliant for her hand or heart. Dick, I believe I am an honest man. I look upon a for tune-hunter as no better than a thief snatching at the treasures of another ; and rather than have this imputa tion cast at me I'd leave this place forever. Bich. But, Mat, if she loves — Mat. silence 1 Another word and we are enemies. {Sits, E.) Bich. (aside). High and mighty! Chastise rae for my insolence ! Well, two can play at that game. An honest man, indeed I He's too honest. He has no sus- picion that the new partner is himself. I have. And he's to step above me. I'd like to thwart the head cen< IM. If he could be made to suspect Mat I But how! 86 MT bbothub's keepeb. Ah, the drawer ! Scraps's hundred dollars ! The head centre has the key, but it's not the only key that opens. The key of Mat's desk fits that lock. I know, for I'v* tried it. It's his watch to-night. I've an idea. (^Bises, puts on his hat, and crosses, E.) Mat, don't get angry. You deserve the partnership, and you deserve the girl. It's a pity you can't have both. Good night. — {Aside, at door, K.) An honest man ! I've known a fortune to be lost in a single night, and why not a character. Mat Allen, this night I'll play for yours. (^Exit, k.) Mat. She looks upon me with favor. She, the bright being that I have worshipped afar off, as men look upon treasures far beyond their reach. What could he mean ? Have I betrayed myself? Does he know how madly I love her? No, no ; never by word, look, or act have I betrayed my secret. Ah, Grace, Grace ! glorious, unat tainable ; the idol of a cultivated circle, with a throng of admirers about you, your fortune is a safeguard against the approach of the humble worshipper — (Grace enters, adiHinces across stage, and leans on his chair, listening) — who would die to show his devotion. Tear by year this love has grown upon me, and now 'tis almost too strong to prisou in my heart. But I will be strong. I know 'tis an honest love, that could boldly speak were all tha barriers of wealth and station removed. But this can never be ; so to my heart alone, as to a sacred shrine, 111 go to worship you, my glorious Grace. Grace. Dreaming the happy hours away, Matthew ? Mat. (rises in confusion). What — Grace — why — bow — what — I beg your pardon. Did you speak? Oraee. Why, blesa me, Matthew, what's the matter! MT bbother's kbefks. 87 [lave I interrupted some desperate plot, or some dreBO of love? You really look friglitened. Mat. Do I ? Well, it's very natural. — No, I don't mean thai. Does your ikilior want me ? Grace. No ; but I do. Now, compose yourself, and we will talk business. Do you know what day to-mor- row is? Mat. Why, it's Wednesday — isn't it? Grace. Isn't it ! What a bright business man. T«- morrow is the anniversary of a very important event. Mat. Tour birthday ? Grace. O, that's not important. To-morrow is the anniversary of the entrance of Matthew Allen into busi- ness life. Mat. And you remember this ? Grace. Indeed I do, for 'twas the beginning of a very happy life for all of us. 'Twas then I formed a dear friendship, which has continued until this day. Mat. Ah, Grace, it is so kind of you to say it, — you, who are so exalted in society, to confess friendship for a poor man. Grace. Poor man ! 1 confess no such thing. The friendship, I admit, is with a brave fellow, who has bat- tled night and day to serve the man who once befriended him ; rich in honest worth, noble in every manly accom- plishment ; a man with a strong arm and a quick biain, who has the right to seek and claim the highest station, it woo and win the highest lady in the land. Mat. Grace, Grace ! This to me? Orace. To you, Matthew, for you are the man. Tc^ Borrow my father makes choice of a partner. W^q, it i| M UT BEOTHEr's K£E1'E£. I do not know. He has kept his secret e% en from ia« I know not what changes may be made, but you, Mat< thew, must leave this place. Mat. I leave this place ? You know not what yon say. I cannot do it. Grace. Not do it? Why not? Mat. Because I love you, Grace. I have hidden it BO deep that I thought 'twould never escape me. But I must speak. I love you, Grace, dearly, madly, I know. Let me stay here. I will still be diligent in business. I care not who may come to lord it here ; only let me be near you. Grace. No, Matthew, you must go. Do you think I will allow you, my friend, to be supplanted in this place by a stranger. No, Matthew, you have energy and tal- ent. Build for yourself. Imitate the example of your master, and take a partner. Mat. A partner, Grace ? You know not what you say. Where could I find a partner with capital, for that is what I should need ? Grace. O, I'll find one for you, never fear ; one who will join you in any enterprise — strong, brave, true. Mat. Where will you find me such a partner? Grace. Here, Matthew, here, with a capital of ear- nest, true love. I will be your partner. Mat. Am I dreaming ? You, Grace, you ? Grace. Yes, I ; the woman you have loved so long. Ah, Matthew I we cannot hide it. Try all we may, it speaks in the flush of the cheek, the gleam of the eye, the trembling speech. You have told me that you loved ue, and I — I — Well, I am your partner, you know, liatthew. HT brother's KE£P£R. 81 Mat. Dear, dear Grace 1 My partner for life? Grace. For Iffe, Matthew- Mat. Then on this hand — Grace. No, no, Matthew. The head of the new house should have higher aspirations. Mat. Grace, you're an angel ! {Puts his arm aboni her waist, and kisses her lips. — Erder, L., Bentok, with his hat and cane; r., Charley and Bachel. — Gbacb and Matthew separate, look down, confused.) Mr. B. {aside). So, so ; signed, sealed, and delir- ered. Good, good. Rachd, It's a match, Charley. Did you hear tnat smack ? Chas. Do you think I'm dea£ 'Twas red hot, Shellie, red hot I CURTAIN. Act 2. Sgeite. — Same as in Act 1. Dark, Candlt btiming on table, c. Matthew seated at l. of it, his hand on Rachel's shoulder. She sits on a box at his feet, her arm resting upon his knee. Mat. And so, Shellie, you have stolen away from your cheerful home, with me to keep vigil in this gloomy place. Rachel. Yes, brother. Uncle Abe was busy at his books, Charley had gone out, and Aunt Betsey was nod- ding over her knitting, so I just put on my hat and shawl, icamperea off, and here I am, to spend an hour with 40 ut bkotheb's keepbs. Mat. Ever thoughtful, Sunshine. Ton well knew your bright face would light up the old countiag-rcom, u it has every dark scene in my life. Ah, sister mine, how dreary the last seven years would have been without you to comfort and console. Rachel. Seven years ! Why so it is, and to-mcrrow, to-morrow is the day we celebrate. I declare, I'd almost forgotten it. It seems but yesterday that we stood be- side the death-bed of our mother. Poor mother I how she must rejoice at our prosperity, for I feel her presence always. Mai. Yes, sister ; ever near us. Dark was the life journey of the best of mothers. Heaven guard us from thought or act that might disturb her peace or sully the brightness of her pure spirit. Rachel. Amen to that, brother. Dear mother ! Can I ever forget her last night upon earth. I was alone with her. She called me to her. The light fast fading from her eyes, her face white as the pillow on which she rested, her thin, white hand feebly sought to gmsp mine ; but still the sweet, patient smile was there, " Shellie," she said, — dear, dear mother ! — "I am going — going to sleep. No more toil, no more trouble for me. 'Twill be a long, refreshing sleep. I must not repine, yet 'tis hard to leave you to battle with the world. And the other, — my boy, your brother, — 0, Shellie, temptations will be around him. He must work for you both. Let him always feel the sunshine of a sister's love. Be his helper, his counsellor, his keeper. Sacrifice the dearest wish of your heart, if you can save him from the cold world's cruel snares." — Dear, dear mother] 'Weep*.) Ki brother's KEEPKB. 4\ Mat. Nay, nay, sister, do not weep. She is an angel ftow. Nobly have yon fulfilled her last request. Erer near me, ever thoughtful of my comfort, ever consoler of my dark hours, how much I owe to you. Ah, Sunshine, 'tis the strong arm that clears the path, but 'tis the gentle hand that points the way, revives the failing strength, and heals the sting>ing wounds. You have indeed been my keeper. Now dry your eyes, for I want your advice. You know we are to have no secrets from each other. Rachel. That's the compact. Have you a secret ? Mat. Yes, indeed ; an important one. I'm in love. Rachel. O, that's no secret. Mai. Indeed, sharp eyes ! Well, I've another, then. I'm engaged. Wish me joy, sister. Grrace Benton, the rich, beautiful, charming Grace Benton, has promised to be my wife. Rachel. Well, I declare ! And I suppose you want my consent. Mat. Your consent? Rachel. Certainly, sir. Am I not yonr guardian? Very well, sir ; you shall have it. Bring her to me, and I will place my hand on your heads, and " bless you, my children," in the moai approved manner. O, I'm so glad ! But, stop ! she has a lather. Mat. I am aware of that. Now what shall I dof Gro to him, confess my love, and ask his consent, or run away with her? Rachel. Both, of course — that is, one at a time. Ask his consent. If he declines the honos of an alliancb, elope. (Knock outside, r.) Good gradousl What'» ti«t? IS HT bbotqeb's kxefkb. Mat. It sounded very much like a knock. Perhapi a message ; perhaps some one for you. (Knock repeated.) At any rate, I'll soon find out. (Rises ; takes the candle.) Keep quiet. Sunshine. I'll be back in a minute. (Exit, b.) Bachel (sits in chair L. of table). No secrets from each other, and I haven't told him mine. Come here on pur- pose too. For I'm in love — engaged. Charley Benton has promised to be my wife — no, my husband. Shall I ask his father's consent, or run away with him. Dear Charley ! he's such a queer fellow. I wonder if a young lady ever had a proposal from a man with his arms fuU of dry goods before. It all happened as we were going home to-night. " Shellie," said he, "dear Shellie!" And then he squeezed my arm, and dropped a bundle. " Plague take these bundles. — Shellie, I love you I " Another squeeze, and away went another bundle. I thought I should have died with laughter. Enter Matthew, b. Mat. (places candle on talle). A note for me, Shellie. Bachel. A note ? From whom ? Mat. That's just what I'm going to find out. (Opent note.) Hallo I from Charley ! Bachel. From Charley Benton ? Mat. Yes. (Reads.) " Dear Mat : I'm in trouble. If you don't want me locked up for the night, come t« Murphy's billiard-hall and rescue the subscriber, Charley Benton." "What does this mean ? Bachel. Charley in trouble? O, Mat, go at oucc ! Mat, I cannot, Shellie. 'Twould cost me my si!',!?.- oii? Hark 1 Steps ! and coining tliis way ! 'Tis act hh tread ; 'tis stealtliy, creeping ! What shall I do ? It may be a burglar. 0, heavens ! I'll blow out the light • (Bloioa ciU light.) Who can it be? 0, I wish Mat was here ! What will become of me ? I'm shivering with fear. Let me hide somewhere. (Grouches at end of lounge, L.) Nearer, nearer I I can hear my heart beai. Enter RiCHABD, stealthily, K. Bich. So, so I I've tricked the faithful watchman. The bait took, and he's off on a bootless errand. Well planned, my boy. Now for the key. ( Creeps to desk, r.) Bachel. Somebody's creeping about the room ! Heaven protect me ! Bich. (takes key from lock). All right. Now for the gold. (Passes to table, c.) Here's the drawer. The key fits. Open sesame I (Opens drawer.) Here's Scraps' shiners. (Takes out bag, locks drawer, creeps hack to desk, E., and places key as before.) Successful burglary I The gold is in my possession. Mat Allen will be suspected, and the partnership blown sky high for the present. (At door, e.) I must be off. He'll see the trick, and be back — but too late, too late ! The treasure's flown. (Exii, e.) Bachel (comes forward). Gone ! 'Twas a burglar. The drawer has been robbed, — robbed in Mat's absence, — and I, who should have protected it with my life, skulked in a corner like a coward. What shall I do? O, brother, did I counsel you wrong? I'll pursue him lutil help appears, then have him secured. Yes, 'tis tiu xs brotheb's keepeb. 49 only course left. (Creeps to door, b.) Hark I Gra- cious heaveas, he is returning for more booty 1 Shall 1 raise an alarm ? No, no ; who could hear me ? 'Twould be but the signal for my own destruction. O, Mat, Mat, why don't you come? (Creeps back to hiding-plaoef l.) Enter Chiblet, b., toith arms oviatretched. Walk* against table, c. Chas. O, crackee I ( Creeps down, B. Walks against desk, B.) O, Gemini I Well, this is a hard road to travel I I never could have believed it, never. Our Mat deserting his post — for it must have been him I saw Isaving the warehouse. Now where can he have gone ? It's very lucky I had my key, or my little plot to secure the pitcher's badge would have been a dead failure. Ah, ha, my good father, I do hate to thwart your plans, but what's a feUow to do that has to present a badge, and has no badge to present? So I'm going to avail myself of your key, which I quite accidentally found in your pocket, to open your drawer and secure the badge. I wish Mat was here, for I could very easily have de- fended my action; but this looks very like burglary. However, the renowned pitcher must not be disappointed. So here goes. (Goes to table, c, unlocks drawer, takes out badge, locks drawer.) There you are, my beauty, to make glad the heart of Bob Dyke. Now for the Goosenecks. (Grosses to R. of table.) Might as well have a smoke as I go down. (Puts cigar in hit moiUh.) Wonder if I can find a match. (Searches foekets.) Baehd. What is he doing now? O, if I could but (6 HI bbotheb's S£epe:b. secure the viilaiu ! If 1 couid but get a look &t hia faoe, that I might know him again ! {^Creeps up to table, bach "U corner, leans forward anxiously.) Chas. I've found one. {Draws match across table.) Rachel. Ah, he strikes a light. Courage, Shellie, courage. Ghaa. All right. ( When the match is well lighted, brings it up to his cigar. It illumines his face.) Rachel. Gracious heavens ! Charley Benton ! (FalU on lounge.) Chas. What's that ? Rats ! rats I (Flings booh, l.) " Dead for a ducat." QUICK CURTAIN, Act 3. Scene. — Parlor in Abel Benton's house. Lounge, L. H. corner. Table, c, back. Arm-chair on rollers k. of table. Arm-chair on rollers. &. o. Chair against vmll, near r. entrance. Rachel discovered lying on lounge with her face buried in her handker- chief. Rachel (raising her head and throwing her handkerchief across the room). There, I'm just goiug to put an end to this business. All day loug I've been lying round, making myself wretched, and crying until my eyes aolis for a miserable — 1 was just goiug to say thief. WeK, he is a thief. He robbed his father's drawer, that's cer- tain. I saw him myself. Charley Bentou — my Chan lejr ' — 0, dear 1 wherc's my handkerchief? Ko, I ^vau'i Ht BtlOtH&It'a KSEPEB. 4? drop another tear. He isn't worth it. And I, like a little fool, instead of telling Mat all about it, mast needs lie to shield him. I hadn't the heart to tell my brother, when he asked me if anything had happened, — for he hado't found Charley, — that Charley had been there. My Charley ! — Where's my handkerchief? No, I won't cry. I will keep his secret, but I won't shed another tear. I wonder what he took. Uncle Abe is awful sober, but he says nothing about a robbery, and Charley — I've taken precious good care to keep out of his way — I'll have nothing to say to him. It's most time for Mat to be back. I dread the meeting. How can I look him in the face after deceiving him so ? Enter Chablby, b. Chas. Ah, Shellie, I've caught you at last. Now, you coquettish puss, explain the meaning of this avoid ance of me for a whole day. Rachel (rising). Mr. Benton. CAos. Hallo 1 That's not my name. It's plain Charley. Rachel. Then, plain Charley, you will oblige me by keeping your distance, by calling me Miss Allen, and by •voiding me, as I shall endeavor to avoid you, in future. Gha*. Why, Shellie, what's the matter? Last night you told me that you loved me. Rachel, Last night I thought you worthy of any KToman's love. I have found out my mistake. Uhas. But, Shellie, I am ail in the dark, Rachel- I was ; but a ray of light, just the gleam of i natch, haa wonderfully dispelled the darkness in which M mr BSOTBEK'S KJSKPSB. I was enreloped. You understand — a match. Heaca" forth we are strangers. {Exit, l.) Ghas. A match. It's the worst match ever I took a hand in. What does she mean ? Does she mean tht match we made last night? Is she going to throw it off without a trial? I don't like this, for I love her dearly. For her sake, last night, after the presentation, I with drew from the Gooseneck Nine. I must know the cause of this sudden change. It's some of Aunt Betsey's work, perhaps. But I'll know. She's too dear a girl to give np without a struggle. Enter Sobaps, b., in full evening dress, with his hatket under his arm. Scraps. Here I am, Charley, in full regimentals. Ghas. Scraps, old fellow ! — I beg your pardou, — Job Layton, Esq. Well, weU, it's astonishing what good clothes can accomplish. But you don't want that basket. Scraps. Hey ? Ghas. You don't want that basket. It's out of place. Scraps. Well, I don't know about that. There's nothing like having an eye to business. {Picks vf Rachel's handkerchief, and puts it in the basket.') Ghas. Put it in the hall. Sink the shop here. Scraps. Just as you say. {Exit, e.) Ghas. He's a splendid old chap. Now if we could only make Aunt Betsey believe so ! He's just the man to make her a good husband. I think if we could talus her by surprise she might accept Scraps, for I don't be, lieve she ever had an offer. There's nothing like being Ut BBOtUtJl'8 &Kli:l>£tt. a quick in these matters ; so I'll bring them together at o&ce. Enter Scsaps, b. Scrapa. There, I've put it up stairs wiih my old togs. Now, what next? ChoB. Scraps, you have often said that any favor I might ask of you would be freely granted. Scraps. To be sure I have ; and I say it again. CImb. All right. Then I ask you to marry. Scraps. Hey? You're on the wrong side. Chas. You're on the wrong side of matrimony, and the sooner you change your position the better. I've found a wife for you. Follow my instructions and you will be a happy man. Scraps. Marry II? 0, come, Charley, none of your jokes. Who'd marry me — an old rag-picker ? Ghas. A poor old rag-picker — with forty thousand dollars. Scraps. Hush I Do you want to ruin me ? Chas. I know where you deposit. Scraps. Well, don't teU all you know. Who's the Udy? Chas. Aunt Betsey, the lady you saw at the office. O, Scraps, you'd make a splendid uncle. Scraps. O, but this is all nonsense. She doesn't know me ; I've never met her ; we're total strangers ; it's absurd, ridiculous. I'm going home. Chas. No, you're not ; you're going to meet Aunt Betsey to-night ; and take my advice, Scraps, propose at once. There's nothing pleases a woman so well as U uergetic lover. 4 6d Itr BBOtdXtt's KSEPES. S-^aps. But, Charley, I don't know how. Ghas. It's easy enough. Tell her you've long ad mired her ; you have heard of her sweet disposition, her amiable qualities. Scraps. But I can't, Charley. I should be suie to make a mess of it. Chas. O, it's easy enough. Here's the programme ! [ introduce you — " Miss Benton, Mr. Layton, a gentle- man who has called on particular business." I leave you alone. You bow, ; offer her a chair ; take one yourself, A short pause. You speak. " Madam, 'tis a beautiful evening." She answers, " Delightful, sir." Then you, with a sigh, — don't forget that, — " But this trait of Nature is not confined to the weather alone. Some women " — emphasize the some — " resemble it." She sighs, blushes, and says, " Ah me." You speak quick. " You have unconsciously spoken my thoughts. 'Tis you, indeed," — clasp your hands, — " on whom my thoughts are fixed. Why have you so long remained single? Your attractive appearance, your graceful carriage, your classic face, your coal-black hair — " Scraps. Hold on, Charley. That's too much. The beautiful evening, and ah me, and the sighs, are all very well, but the carriages, the coals, and all that, are too much. Chas. 0, these are merely complimentary epithets. You can number them : one, attractive appearance ; two, graceful carriage ; three, classic face ; four, coal-black hair ; five, amiable temper. Scraps {comiting his fingers). One, attractive appear- mce ; two, graceful carriage, — all ri^t, I'll keep tallj oa my fingers. What next? irr BEOT lEB'b itKKFUfc. 51 Ghat, The rest you must leave to inspiration foi here she comes. Tell her you adore her, and thjom yourself on your knees, b(vn[ her to bestow her hand — Here she is. Scraps. But, Charley, I shall make a mess, I kncnr ] ihaU. Enter Fetset, k. Betsey. Well, I never. There's that front door staud' ing wide open, and the coal bin just as full as it can be, too, and Abel away at this t'.rae of night, and Mr. John- eon standin in his front yard h smokin a nasty pipe. If there's anything I detest, it*! a pipe. When Abel had them gas pipes put in, I told him jest how it would he, though what that's got to do with smokin tobacco the Lord only knows. Why, here's Charley, and a strange man, too. Wonder if he wipe(' his feet. Ghas. Good evening. Aunt .Betsey. This is my friend, my wealthy friend. Miss Bentoi , Mr. Job Layton. Betsey. How do you do, Mr. Job Laytoa ? 'Pears to me I've heard one of them names »fore. Layton ! Why, bless me, there was a family of LivLoas lived right oppo- site us — poor as puddock, too. Any relation of that tribe? Ghas. O, no ; Mr. Layton is der cended from a very aristocratic family, of very ancient o-igin. Betsey. Biblical, pr'aps. There wrs a Layton in my family Bible. — No, 'twan't, nuther ; 'twas Job, the maa who had so many blisters. Pr'aps he wis one of your fiuoily. O&oa. Aunt Betsey, Mr. I^ayton bar f '^ty 'Irli »«** Si KT bbothsb's eeefeb. matter to bring to your attention. He wishes to consaH you on a subject that lies near his heart. Betsey. What's the matter with him? Hope 'tain'l neurology or rheumatics. That's always fatal when it kffects the heart. What's his symptoms ? Chas. I'll leave him to explain. Treat him kindly, for he is one of the best of men. Betsey. Is he? Well, so are they all, till they're found out. There was Judith Higborn's husband. Why, folks thought butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, he was 80 meek, till Judith sent him one day to the milliner for her bunnet, and that was the last ever seen of the hus- band, or the milliner, or the bunnet. Spring bunnet, toO| wuth ten dollars. Chas. Well, listen to his complaint, and remember he has my recommendation as an excellent husband. (ExU, E.) Betsey {aside). Husband? Whose, I wonder? He don't look very bright. Well, Mr. Layton, what's your symptoms? (Scraps hows, wheels chair down from c, and hows, motioning Bexset to he seated.) Thaok you. (Sits.) Well, he's perlite, anyhow. (Scbaps goes to b., wheels down chair E. of Betset.) What a draft from (hat door I Guess I'll take the other chair. (Moves int* ihair placed hy Scbaps.) Scraps. Hey? She's on the wrong side. That won't Jo. I can't hear a word. {Passes hehind Betsey, take* the chair at her L., and wheels it round to her b.) Betsey. Law sakes, you needn't have troubled your« iel£ {Moves to the other chair.) That was just as com- ftrtable, just as comfortable. JIT BROTHER S KEEFJa. 5S Berapf (loohing al her). It's no use. I can'i hear a word there. (/« about to move the vacant chair, an he- fore.) Betsey. What ails the man ? Stop ! stop I Sit down. (Scraps looks at her, ihen sits.) Something the matte? mth his heart ? I should think 'twas his head. Now, then, what's the symptoms ? Scram. I can't hear a word. (A short pause. — They look at each other.) Madam, it's a delightful evening. Betsey. Delightful evening ! The man's a lunatic : I know it. Why, it's raining cats and dogs. The mrd is twelve inches deep. It's horrid, horrid ! Scraps (aside). Don't hear a word. (Aloud.) But this freak of nature is not confined to the weather alone < tome women are just like it. Betsey. Now, what does he mean by that? Sam* women are hoiTid I Does he mean mo ? Scraps (aside). She spoke, but I heard nothing. (Aloud.) Yes, you have unconsciously gpoken my thought 'Tis you, indeed. Bttsey. What ? O, the miiu's a lunatic ; he cer« tainly is. He ouglit to be put in a strait thimajig aJt once. Scrap* (aside). What comes next? Siugle, singlo. (Aloud.) No wonder you have remained single m long. Belaey. The sarcastic wretcn. f'crapa (aside). So far, so good. Now then. (Cottntt kia fingers.) One, appearance — (Aloud.) Your vf^i Vkble appearance — M HT bbother's keepee. BeUey. 0, the wretch I And he old enough to be jbJ father. Scraps (counts his fingers. — Aside). Two, form — (Aloud.) Your antique form — Betsey. O, I'd like lO strangle him I Scraps (counting. — Aside). Three, face — (Alottd.) If bur coal-black face — Betsey. O, Charley Benton, you shall pay for thi». Scraps (counting. — Aside). Four, hair — (Aloud.) Tour more antique hair — Betsey. The man's a fool. Scraps (counting. — Aside). Five, temper — (Aloud.) Your versatile temper — Betsey. Stop, stop, I say I You've said quite enough. (Bises.) Scraps. Hey? (Aside.) What next? (Aloud.) f ou are dying for me, or I am for you, it don't make much difference. (Falls on his knees.) Behold me at your feet. Bestow upon me your hand. — " If ever I cease to love — " Betsey. I will ; there. (Boxes his ears, first right, tiieti left.) There I You're a fool, or a lunatic. If you ever show your face here again I'll scratch your eyes out, you mean, contemptible old ragamuffin. You jest make yourself scarce, or I'll have the police after you. Come here again, and I'll have a boiler of hot water ready, and use it, too. Venerable, indeed 1 You old idiot ! (Exit, R.) Scraps. Evidently not a success. Well, I'm glad of il. I've made a fool of myself to please the boy. 1 don't know what she said, but I'm ou the wrcng aid«. Enter Mr. Benton, e. Mr B. Ah, Job, you're the very man 1 wanted. Bat how's this ? Here in my house, and dressed so line I What is the meaning of this ? Scraps. O, it's one of Charley's jokes. He wanted to bring me out in society. (Aside.) And he has, with a vengeance. Mr. B. Well, I'm glad to see you. But listen. Tour money is gone. Scraps. Has it? Well, Tm not surprised. Mr, B. You will be whea you learn who took it> 'Twas Matthew Allen. Scraps. You're mistaken. 'Twas the other. Mr. B. What other? Scraps. Richard Games. Mr. B. No, Job, 'twas Matthew. Of that 1 am sure. He was left in charge of the ofQce. He was seen in Mur* phy's billiard-room at nine o'clock. I'm sure. When I found the money gone this morning, I put a detective upon his track. There can be no mistake. It is Mat- thew Allen. Scraps. 1 don't believe it. If forty detectives were on his track, if a thousand circumstances conspired to point out Matthew Allen as the thief, I would doubt all but his honesty. Mr. B. Bah 1 Job, you're too credulous. He haa been false to his trust. Against my express orders, he left my store last night ; and should he ever return, I will discharge him from my employ. Scraps Don't be hasty, Abel. Give the lad a chsnoSi a it! B&01H£B'b k££P^. He has served you well. Even if be were guilly, yon should be mercifuL Mr. B. Merciful to a thief? How do I know but what he has robbed me before? No, he shall be pno- ished. Scraps. Bah I You'll have to beg his pardon for sus- pecting him. Abel, keep cool. Wait till the real thief shows his hand. Mr. B. He has shown it now. No, no, Job, you like the Ind, and would save him if you could ; but depend upon it {Eiiter Rachel, e.) the thief who stole your money was Matthew Allen. (Exit, l.) Rachel. O, what do I hear? Matthew suspected I No, no, it cannot be. Mr. Layton (comes down E. of ScKAPs), what did he say? What did he say ? Whom does he suspect? Scraps (aside). His sister 1 'Twould break her heart. (Alqud.) Hey? You're on the wrong side. (Grosses to E.) I'll go and change this toggery, for I don't feel easy. (Exit, e.) Bachel. Brother Mat suspected 1 O, I never thought of that. But I can clear him, I can clear him. But how? By denouncing Charley, my Charley, that I love so dearly? O, I can never do that. Perhaps he wanted the money for some special service. Perhaps — 0, why should I try to excuse so base a deed? O, would that 1 were dead ! If I betray Charley, his father will drive nim from the house, and I should never see him again. And, spite of his crime, I love him so dearly I But my brother I He must not suffer for the crime of another, nor will he, for they have no proof. And Charley ; b« would curse me should I betray him. 0, what shall 1 do ! {Falls on her knees hy sofa.) O, mother, saluted mother 1 if you watch over your child, guide hnr in this dark hour. (Buries her head in sofa, weepipg.) Enter Righabb, b. Bich. Ah, Shellie! at your devotious. (Bauhsl rises suddenly.) Don't let me disturb you. Where are all the good people ? Bachel. Good evening, Mr. Carues. Take a seat. Grace and my aunt will soon appear. Bidi. Thank you. {Sits l. of table. Baohel on lounge.) Has Mat returned yet? Bachel. No, we are expecting him every moment. I am sorry he could not arrive sooner. Bich. {aside). So am I. I expected to find his coat banging in the hall. Old Scraps's money-bag is heavy in my pocket and on my conscience. I must get it dis- posed of somewhere about Mat's wardrobe. {Aloud.) Where's Charley, Shellie? Bachel. I don't know. Enter Cha^8I.et, b. Chaa. Nor does she care, Dick. I'm glad to see yon. Do you feel better, Shellie ? Bachel {turns her hack). No, I don't feel better. Chas. Then we must get Aunt Betsey to prescribe for you. {Enter Betsey.) Here, Aunt Betsey, ia another patient for you. Come, Shellie, tell her youi iymptoms. Betseif. Symptoms 1 Well, if they're anything lik« S8 KT BBOTHE&'B KSSnCB. those of the last patient you found for me, I prescribe a lunatic asylum at once. How do you do, Mr. Games ? Bich. Good evening, Miss Benton. How becomingly you are dressed this evening I Your stately person — Betsey. Now don't you be a fool. I've heard enough allusion to my personal appearance this evening already to make me sick. {Sits b. of table.) Chaa. (aside). Hullo I Scraps must have made a failure. {Aloud.) Did you comfort my friend, Mr. Layton, Aunt Betsey ? Betsey. You just bring him here again, that's all. Enter Gbacb, l. Orace. Shellie, Shellie, Matthew's come. I heard his Btep on the walk — and I should know it — {Stops confused.) Why, I didn't know we had company. Good evening, Mr. Carnes. Bich. Good evening, Miss Bentou. Grace {aside). Tiresome thing! Just spoiled my meeting Matthew in the haU. {Aloud.) Shellie, why don't you run and meet Matthew ? Bachel. My head aches fearfully. {Aside.) How can I meet him? Betsey. Laud sakes \ He knows the way from cellar to garret. Enter Matthew, b., with coat on his arm, tohich he throws across chair, b. Mat. Ah, here you all are. Home again, as you see, Orace {running to him). Matthew, welcome I Mat. Thank you, my dear {patue), dear frieod. {TaJce» her hand.) Kl BEOTnER's KSEPSE 51 Chace. Well, what success? Mai. The best of success. The cargo of the Elm^Ta is sold. {Enter Mr. Bexton, l.) Good evening, Mr. Bentou. I was just telling your daughter my mission wm Biicces.iful, The cargo of the Elmyra has been taken. Mr. B. Indeed. Do you know of anything else that has been taken, Mr. Allen? Mat (surprised). Mr. Allen ? To what do you allude, Mr. Benton ? Mr, B. Matthew Allen, as you well know, I am a man of very few words. Last night you were left in charge of my warehouse. During the ni^Lt a bag of gold, placed in a drawer for safe keepiar;, was abstracted. Where is it? Mat. A bag of gold, belonging Vj Job Layton, stolen ? know nothing about it. Rachel {aside). Why dou't Charley speak? {CuAUr LEY is in conversation, with. AuMr Betset.) Mr. B. This is strange. You were left in charge of the warehouse. Did you leavj it during the night? Mat. I did. Mr. B. Vv'here did you goi' Mat. Th;it, sir, I cannot teU. I received a note late in the evening from a friend, calling upon me as a friend to assist hiin. That is all I ciu say. It remains for aim to clear the mystery. liackel (aside). O, why don't Charley speak? One word from him, and Matthew is cl'ar. Mr. B. So, sir, you cannot clea* the mystery ; but J can. You left that place to go ti Murphy'a billiard- rwtm. You were seen there. This money wm left in 60 sr jRtvrHXB sEKrsrK. your charge. You alone were responsible for it ; and I charge you with the thefl. Mat. Mr. Benton 1 Grace. Father I Machel (aside). And there Charley sits as cool as a yillain. Why don't he speak? Mr. B. Yes, Matthew Allea, I have trusted you fully. I have believed in your truth and honesty ; but the very fact that you quitted that store is proof positive of your guUt. Mat. Mr. Benton, all I have in the world I owe to you. I believe I have not been ungrateful for your kind- ness. Had I done the base deed of which you accuse me, I could not look you in the face, as I do now, and pronounce your charge false. Bachel (jumping wp.) Charley Benton, do you hear ? Why don't you speak ? Ghas. I beg your pardon, Shellie. What's broke' I've been having a talk with Aunt Betsey. Rachel. Mat, my brother Matthew, is accused of theft — by your father, too. Gh(u. That's a serious matter. I gay, father, wh?; is it? Mr. B. Nothing that should be made public. Mat- thew AUen is about to quit my service disgraced. Mat. Disgraced ? Mr. B. Yes, disgraced I Everything is against you — your absence from the store, the empty drawer, iha siissing mouey-bag — Ghas. (aside). Drawer, store, money-bag I (Alotid.) I My, Shellie, what'a all this? Sackel. And 70U aak me ? Shame, shnmo, Charlej BentoQ. Gha». Well, confound it ! If you won't tell me what it's all about, you'll excuse me if 1 don't interfere. {Be- tires up.) Mr. B. (to Matthew). There is not one circumgt&nc« in your favor. Grace. Father, you are wrong. There are a thousand : his good, true life ; his zeal in your service ; his care for his Bister ; — all stand out to shield him from suspicion. Mr. B. You, Grace, defend him? Orace. With my life, if need be. 1 know him to be eo good, 80 true, so noble, that when you turn him from your door, my arm shall be around him, and my voice Bball whisper in his ear, " Whither thou goest I go." Mat. Dear, dear Grace ! Bachd (aside). Must I learn my duty from her. Mr. B. Never ! No daughter of mine shall link her fate with a felon — a thief ! Orace. A thief? 'Tis false I Bachd. Ay, false, false ! And 1 can prove it. All. You, Shellie? (Aunt Betset cornea down, l. Situations : Matthew, b., Grace, r. c, RACtiEi-, c, Mr. Benton, l. c. Aunt Betsey, l., Charley and Richard bach by the table, looking on.) Bachd. Yes, I ; for I was in the couuting-room when that money was taken. My brother is guiltless. Ha was called to help a friend, as he tells you. I was left alone. I heard a step ; blew out the caudle. The thief entered, opened the drawer in the table, moved awnjr and then returned and made a second attempt. I was ■« frightened that I did not tell my brother. 62 itr bbotheb's TO-nnstt. Mat. That was wrong, Shellie. Rachel. I know it, brotlier. I have deceired you, and am no more worthy to be called your keeper. But YOM shall be cleared. ( With feeling.) Uncle Abe, sup- pose a young girl had a brother, whom she loved very dearly ; a brother, whom she had told her dying mother, should never suflfer, when any sacrifice could be made on her part. Suppose she also had a lover, whom she loved very dearly, — very, very dearly, — and she were called upon to sacrifice one or the other, who had committed £ crime, what should you advise to do ? Mr. B. Save the innocent — if it broke her heart. Rachel. Right, Uncle Abe ; you are right, sir. Lis- ten, then. Last night, when that thief came in for tba second time, I was on the alert. After he had accom* plished his purpose, he struck a match, and as he held it up to light a cigar, I saw his face. Mat. Hia face, Shellie ? Did you know him ? Rachel. Know him? (Throws herself into Ms arms.y Too well, too well. 'Twas him. {Pointing.) Charley Benton. All. Charley Benton I (All fall lack, showing Ciiab- ixt coolly seated on the table with his arms folded.) Ghas. Well, what of it? I was in the store last night, did open the the drawer, and take from it — Mr. B. The bag of gold? Ghas. (coming down.) No, sir, the pitcher's badge, which you so unceremoniously locked up for me. Mr. B. But the money ? Chas. I know nothing about it. There was ncD* (here wlien I took the badge, that's certain. MT bkother's keepeb. M Mat. So, Charley, your note to me was a blind to get ine from the store. Ghoi. What note? I sent no note. Hang it, what a mysterious time you are having here ! Who's the rob" ber, anyhow? Mat, I received a note signed with the name of Char' ley Benton. Here it is. I thought it my duty to leav* the store, as I had left my sister in charge. Ghas. And Shellie caught the thief? Rachel. Stop, Charley. Did you take the badge the first or second time you entered the room ? Ghaa. Hang it, Shellie, are you beginning to be suspicious ? I entered the store but once. Rachel. And found nothing in the drawer but the badge? Ghat. Not a thing. . Rachel. Then there was another Rich, {aside). I wish I was well rid of this bag. There's Mat's coat in the chair. I can easily slip it into the pocket, and then I'm safe. Mr. R. Yes, there was another ; and that other youf brother. Grace. Still suspicious, father. Mr. R. Still suspicious ; and, until the thief is found, you, Matthew Allen, are suspended from service. Mat, This is very hard, Mr. Benton. Mr. R. You should not have left that store had fifty notes been sent you. Had the building been in flamei you should not iiave disobeyed my orders. Rich, {who has crept over to chair, s. Aside). NoW| tbm, to fasten bis guilt, 64 tm seoitheb'? kkkpeb Mat. Very well, sir. I have tried to do my duty, If I have failed, my heart, my conscience acquit me of blame or guilt. Bich. (takes money-hag from his breast pocket. Asidty All right. Now, then. {About to place it in MattheW*! coat pockH. Scraps enters suddenly, e., in his old cot' twrrie, his basket in both hands.) Scraps. Hey? (Molds out basket. Bichabo startt hack, and drops the bag into basket.) You're on the wrong side, Mr. Games, the Wrong side. Mr. B. Job Layton, what are you doing? Scraps. Recovering my money. Here it is. (Gome* down, c.) Here is the money (showing basket), and here the thief. (Seizing Bichabd by wrist.) Mr. B. Richard Games ? You are mistaken, Job. Scraps. Now don't be a fool, Abel. I knew when 1 placed that money in your hands it would be found in the possession of Richard Carhes. He's a notorious gambler ; that I know. He frequents Murphy's billiard-rooms ; he was there last night ; wrote a note to Matthew Allen, and sent it to the store last night ; then entered the store with a false key — O, I know him 1 I've proof enough that he committed this theft to put him in prison, and he knows it. Hey, Mr. Games ? Mr. B. Richard Games, what have you to say ? Bich. Nothing : if you take the word of that raga- muffin, I am a thief; but this little affair was arranged for an entirely different purpose. It has failed, and I am the loser. I am a gentleman's son ; my father will make all losses good. As for the business, I have grown tired of it, and want a change ; so, with your permission, I will HT BBOIHES'S KZEPEB. 65 throw up my situation. If I am wanted, you will find me at home. I shall not run away. Good evening, Mr. Benton ; good evening, all. (^At door, b.) A cursed stupid mess I've made of it. (Exit, b.) Scraps. Well, that's cool. Chas. Decidedly. Shall I stop him, father? Mr. B. No ; let him go. If he feels one half tk« shame I feel for my share in this business, he is suffi- ciently punished. (Grosses to Matthew.) Matthew, I beg your pardon. I have been hasty. Knowing your worth, I should have cut my tongue out ere I made the charge I did. Mat. Let it pass, Mr. Benton. Circumstances were against me. I should not have left your store ; and the fear of compromising your son kept me silent. Mr. B. And you (to Chablet), what have you to say for yoK7 share in this ? Uhfu. Me? Well, I like that! It strikes me Tm ae martyr — suspected of being a thief, and by Shellie, too. Bachtl. O Charley, forgive me. I thought I was right. It was my brother — Ghas. O, well, if a brother is to stand between you and me, the sooner I claim the privileges of a husband '.he better. Betsey. Shellie, that man in the ragged coat ! Bless my soul, if s him — the man that saved me from the run- away horse. Hachel. Why, so it is. Strange I should not havi recognized him. Betsey. Who is he? What's his name? 4 i8 HI bbotheb's kjeefeb. Chat. Why, don't you know ' That's Job Lajrton, Lsq. Betsey. "What, the lunatic? Well, if I'd hate known he was my preserver — Mr. Layton, Mr. Layton? Scraps, Hey? You're on the wrong side. ^Tmns h is back to her.) Chas, It's no use, Aunt Betsey. You've lost year chance. Orace. And now, father, where is the new p2rtner you were to present this evening ? Mr. B. He is here. {Places his hand on Matthett's thoulder.) Matthew Allen, for your long service, for your true, earnest zeal, for your honesty and value, I offer you a partnership. Mat. Me? O, Mr. Benton, you are my best friend, but I cannot accept. Mr. B. Not accept ? Mat. No, sir, for I have already formed a partner- ehip with another — this dear girl. Grace. Yes, father, we have formed a partnership for Ufe. Mr. B. I see ; and, though I have not been asKed, i will give my consent. Have your partner, but he must also be mine, under the firm of Abel Benton & Son. Ghas. Well, it strikes me I shall be left out in the CJld. Mr, B. Your turn shall come next, with Matthew's cunsent. Mat, Anything you wish, sir. Racktl, But what's to become of me? Ohm. Now dou't you &et about that, Shellla, Grraa UT SKOtHEft's &£1CP£E. 6? (s going into the new firm. Let's you aud 1 form an o~ pOBitiou. Bachd. And so Miss Grace is to usurp ray placa, Well, I suppose I must bear it. Scraps. Shellie, that scamp of a Charley wants a keeper. I know him. He's a rascal — jumps into th« water, you know. Marry him, and watch him. Bachel. What do you say, Uncle Abe ? Mr. B. You hare my full consent. Rachel. And you, brother Mat? Mai. I know no One more worthy of my dear sister than Charley Benton. Bachd. There's my hand, Charley. And as I have tried to be true to my brother, so may I be true to you. If I have failed in my duty there, it was for love of you. Mat. Nay, nay. Sunshine ; you have been ever true The happiness of this hour I owe to you alone. Bachel, Say, rather, to our dear, trusty, watchful old rag-picker. Scraps. Hey? You're on the wrong side. Earthly friends may do much to guide and guard each other, but Justice, Love, and Truth are servants of a higher Power, who, in the darkest hour, is ever the gure, safe, reliani keeper. Disposition of Characters. 1. Gkacx. c. SCKAPS, Chablet. I. MAmntw. Kachei.. Ua. BsHTOs. Bktski ^titt, 50 €tnt0 €a^ THE MAfilSTRATE ^'""'^ '" "^^^^ -^o^s. IVelTe male«, four females. Costumes, modem; scenery, sU Interior. Flays two hours and a half. THE NOTORIODS MRS. EBBSMITP ^.'r* ,*" I°7 T' Ei,;^ maleSjiiTe females. Costumes, modem ; scenery, all Interiors PL- ys a full evening. THF PROFT IfiATF P1^7''>Fo''i''^<>^^ .jeren males, Ave temales. lull Li ir gggngjy^ three interiors, rather elaborate; costumes, modem. Plays a full evening. THP CrH nni MKTDF^C Farce in Three Acts. Klne males, seven tUE ;)LUVUl,9 females. Costumes, modem; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. THE SECOND MRS. TANQDERAY '^^^iTult.'^o: tomes, modem ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. SWppT I ATFNDFR comedy in Three Acts. Seven males, four .JTfl^lii IfATUllFLU fgj^igg Scene,asingleinterior; costumes, modem. Plays a full evening. THF TIIWFS Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven, females. Scene, a single interior; costtmies, modem. Plays a full evening. THF WFAKFR ^X comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, eight 1 UIv n liaiLlia JUA fgm^jgg Costtunes, modem ; scenery, two Interiors. Plays a full evening. A WIFE WITHOOT A SMILE ^a^.^^""^,,^;: modem ; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. Sent prepaid on receipt of price by Salter 1^. "Bafeer & Company Ko. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston^ Massachusetts CJe 3a^illiam Wwcvtxt CDttion of Paps AS YftH 1 11 S IT Comedy in Fiye Acts, Thirteen males, four AJ IvU iflA-W 11 females. Costumes, picturesqiTe ; scenery, va- ried. Plays a fall evening. n Kin IF Brama in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Cos- vAlTllLfl^li tumes, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. INAOMAff ^'*y '"^ ^^^ Acts. Thirteen males, three females.; IHUUBIAIV Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. MAPV '^TFTAWT Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- iuAlVl iJlUiini males, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the .period ■; scenery, varied and elahorate. Plays a full evening. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE k"a«?e!i;^X:.coI?urs': ipUjturesq.iie ;- scenery varied. JPlays a full evening. , , PirHFl IFIl ^^y^" Five Acts. Fifteen males, two females. Scen^' BjWlLiLilhv QYj elaborate ; costumes of the period. Plays a lull, evening. TffP WIVATS Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. 1 UC HI T AhO gcenery varied ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER ^^iX^ ffiLH^k.^'^^ ried ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. TWELFTH NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL f^^^,^J!Z three females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. Sent prepaid on receipt of price by Salter !^. OBafier s. Company No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts *. 4. PARKHILL «. COog PRINTCRB. DOSTON. U.S.A. — Syracuse, N.V. Stockton, Calif. DATE DUE mc^ 2wr^ 1 j 1 1 \ CAVLORD PftlNTED IN U.S.A. ^^-^'^^^^