i38aiBSSi«afflWi iili lll «M IMIM i ll8 t MS8ai^^ a.ri. THE GIFT OF •l.,.W.,..oi:]un ijsrm . Sitotg H...3(.^=^S1.. ... . .. uifSJi].. Cornell University Library PS 3515.E565W3 The wastrel hoard a drama of the greater 3 1924 022 471 415 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022471415 THE WASTREL HOARD All rights reserved. The Wastrel Hoard A DRAMA OF THE GREATER LOVE by Frank Hendrick Of the New York Bar, First Ricardo Prize Fellow in Harvard Univertity Author of "Railway Control by Commission," "The Power to Regulate Corporations and Commerce," "The Common Law of the United States/' "Policies, Reaction, and the Constitution," "The Contribution of American Women TO the Work of Lincoln," "The Adequate Man," Etc., Etc. "There is that in the least of mortals which is God.' PURITAN PLAY COMPANY New York 1916 COFYRICHT, 191ff, BY FRANK HENDRICK, all rights reserved Set Up and Elkctrotyped. Published April, 1916. This play has been copyrighted and published in the United States and Great Britain. All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian. All acting rights, both professional and amateur, are reserved, in the United States, Great Britain, and all coun- tries of the Copyright Union, by Frank Hendrick. Per- formances forbidden and right of representation reserved. Piracy or infringement will be prosecuted in accordance with penalties provided by the United States Statutes. Sec. 4966. — Any person publicly performing or representing any dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been ob- tained, without the consent of the proprietor of the said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs or assigns, shall be liable for dam- ages therefor, such damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to the Court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year.— U. S. Revised Statutes, Title 60, Chapter 3. Persons desiring to read this play professionally or in public should first apply to the author. "That is the most perfect popular government where the least injury done to the meanest individual is considered as an insult on the whole constitution." Solon. "The end of the history of the world is the formation of the most perfect state constitution." Kant's Pkoject of Perpetual Peace. "My Country — is the World! My Countrymen — all Mankind." William Lloyd Garrison. "We hold these truths to he self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed hy their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these, are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." The Declaration of Independence. Were half the power that fills the world with terror. Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals and forts. Longfellow. "You may build your Capitol of granite and pile it as high as the Rocky Mountains; if it is founded on or mixed up with iniquity, the pulse of a girl will in time beat it down." Wendell Phillips. EUGENE NOBLE FOSS Apostle of National Prohibition of the Liquor TraflSc and Worker for National Americanism The wisest liberal American statesman of his time Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts Three times elected without reference to partisanship Upon the two principles of "Public Control of Public Property" and "International Reciprocity" Who, in his annual message to the Legislature, in January, 1913, expressed, in defiance of the violent and almost overwhelming protests of the interested, prejudiced, and uninformed, the following prophetic, wise, and lofty sentiment: "I recommend that the Legislature memorialize the Congress to open the Panama Canal free of tolls to the ships of all nations as a gift of the United States to the cause of commercial freedom and an earnest of our purpose to lead in the movement for true international reciprocity and the abandonment of the policy of retaliation. The cost of international strain and strife is out of all proportion to any possible advantage; the possible benefits of international generosity are too great to be measured." THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. Maby Flint, an American girl. John Mosse, a United States Senator. Mbs. Mobsb, his wife. Alice Morse, their daughter. Russell Tuenbe, a lawyer. Foster Bullaed, a lobbyist. Samuel Flint, Mary's father. Victor Chance, a young multi-millionaire. Robert Thobbubn, his attorney. Mbs. Havobbbb, a suffragette, and Victor's aunt. Noeah, a maid. Katy, a servant. James, a servant. Hugo Gulp, telegraph operator at The Hague Tribunal. Sir Richard Dexter, British member of the Tribunal. Monsieur Ledoux, the French member. Baron Liebig von Speidel, the Oerman member. Count Pskov, the Russian member. Mr. Wells, the American member. Mb. Spencer-Pbyce, the British agent. COBTEIGHT, a Secret Service man. Musicians, Guests, Servants, Pages, Attendants, and Spectators. SYNOPSIS OF SCENES. ACT I. Music room of Senator Morse's residence in Nero York City. TIME: January, 1912, at half past six in the evening. ACT II. Same as Act I. TIME: Fifteen minutes after the close of Act I. ACT III. Palace of Peace at The Hague. TIME: June 28th, 1914, O't eleven in the morning. ACT IV. Same as Act III. TIME: Immediately after the close of Act III. ACT V. Senator Morse's library. TIME: July fyth, 191i, at eleven in the morning. ACT I. Before the rising of the curtain, the orchestra plays selections from Tosca, the "Tavan" arrangement, with emphasis upon and recurrence to the grand air "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore." i j "V I I ^ i i' i '^Tp" ' I r^ I H 1 1^ ' 1 Til . «t d*or • ttt Pis . si dn- mo " n. Van end mo . b1o> theso tuan I Urol lbr» rum fi 'd mat ma - lead a>m>fqa eitvaJ Cm maKjur^ H - n tm ev-er hem harm-ed a Ur-tng; be-iogl The poor and db-fmiM* Z. 7^ ii|rr f » | ff p fi |Pp|| 1^ fHOT . tt «B - St •fw co^ nob'bi^-iu - Ai'- i. fym^ vifii.otit mndlMr, bjr steoUh I horn aid - cd. W. BULTfT-KINOSTan PROLOGUE. Here's to Motherhood i Woman's salvation, happiness, and avatar, Source of humanity, heaven, and eternity, Man's inheritance from all the past So greater than the richest hoard That none with it can man aiford, Lest hoard not man shall everlast, Surviving in a dead posterity, Lacklustered as a fallen star. Then- Here's to Motherhood I THE WASTREL HOARD ACT I. The curtain rises on the music room of the residence of United States Senator John Morse on upper Fifth Ave- nue, in New York City. Left and right are doora, both opening inward. Stage divided from right to left hy wall which is open from right centre to left centre, disclosing a banquet room. This door is off the centre and to the left, right and left being indicated from the players' viewpoint. The banquet room is upon a higher level, and is reached by four steps. The steps are carpeted with the dark green velvet car- pet which covers the floor of the music room. Heavy draperies, drawn together, shut off from view the banquet room, until, a few moments after the rising of the curtain, they are drawn aside. There is a door in the centre of the back of the banquet room, leading into the library. There is ''distance" between the front of the stage and this door. It is half-past six in the even- ing of a clear moonlight night in January. At the right, occupying a part of the right of the back, is a deep, circular, bow window, equivalent almost to an alcove. About the window is a window-seat. Outside, window- boxes, planted with wintergreen plants, are visible. Through this window may be distinguished the tops of trees in Central Park and the outlines of the coping of the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. During the first, second, and fifth acts, the sound of the traffic of taxi-cabs, motor cars, and 'buses penetrates from without. In the corner at the left is a table with a tele- phone and an electric lamp upon it, and a high-backed wooden chair before it. In the centre is a circular divan. At the right, near the large bow window, is a baby grand piano, open, with a stack of sheet music 10 THE WASTREL HOARD. lying upon it. The piano faces so that the player's back is turned to the audience. This corner contains chairs and stands for a small string orchestra and is screened and half concealed by palms and potted plants. In front of these plants is a sofa. This decoration is so arranged that by removing one object the person seated at the piano is brought into view of the audience. The hinges of the doors at either side of the stage are on the line of the palms. When the musicians make their en- trance they enter by the door at right. The entrance of guests or others from the left is preceded by the sound of an electric elevator. The necessary sound of the elevator returning to its station after the entrance of characters is not indicated in the stage directions. The music room is not lighted. Moonlight falls through the tow window upon the decoration in the music room. As the curtain rises and a little before, just after the theatre orchestra has ceased playing, a soprano voice is heard, accompanied by the piano, in runs, trills, and warming-up exercises. Seated at the piano, but not visible to the audience, is Mary Flint, a very pretty girl of twenty-two. As she sings, the draperies of the door leading to the banquet room are drawn aside and two servants, James and Katy, are seen placing small American flags at each place at the dining table. The banquet room is dimly lighted. Moonlight falls upon the table. The servants listen to the singing from time to time and exchange glances of appreciation. The door of the opposite side of the stage opens and Russell TtJRNEBj a man of thirty, enters and takes a few steps into the room. Throughout the play, Russell is re- served and self-contained. He gives the impression of the silent man of few words, of turbulent spirit, under practiced repression, overcome by bashfulness, and made gentle by much chastening, of impulsiveness checked by shyness, but of indomitable purpose and latent power. TEE WASTREL HOARD. 11 In the soft speech 0/ Russell and of Mary the acute ear will detect the inheritarice of New England. Russell does not note the presence of the servants. Mary does not observe Russell^s entrance. One of the servants stealthily approaches the other, places his hand to his mouth, and whispers into the other's ear, at the same time nodding toward Russell. Russell^ perceiving that he is unnoticed hy MaeYj stops and listens as she iegins to sing, "Absent," by Metcalf and Glen. She sings: ABSENT. , Aodaaie molto. Jew tCdTSAltlJfS YOVKQ eiBin JOHN W METCALE m I ' I • I • III II; M p i , Soi])e-tiinee,be-tireea long 1 'ii'fj J J L I . ^ ehad-ows 00 ,t the "^ grass i r «F F f F i The . lit . le cm .. aot . And some-tiffles. io tbe twi . ligbtgloom, a. ^ m \ : ij |f p IT I f J ^ ^'\ {Tbe _ tall trees wbia- per, wbis . per heart to eresa ^ Copyright, 1899, by Arthur P. Schmidt Used by permissioa 12 THE WA8TBEL HOARD. Suddenly Mary stops and bursts into tears, bows her head in a manner indicating dejection, and sobs. The SERVANTS are all attention, and are ready to appear sym- pathetic if observed. Rising from the piano, Mary notes for the first time the presence of the servants, comes out and takes a feic steps into the room. She is dressed in white. It is noticeable that her gown, though simple and effective, is not of the raging fashion. Mary is of that figure which makes an American girl who is neither short nor tall, slim nor stout, seem dynamic and dauntless. She appears to be struggling against depres- sion. Russell. I heard your voice. Mary. [Looking up in pleased surprise, but speaking with a polite reserve born of consciousness of the pres- ence of the servants.] How do you do? How is the Pacific Canal fight going? [The servants, at the sound of voices, complete their work hurriedly.] EussELL. Quite nicely, thank you. [Mary glances at the servants to apprise Etjsseix of their presence, and continues to speak with re- straint and for their benefit. A chime clock in the library back of the banquet room is heard to strike once for the half-hour. A moment later a smaller clock strikes twice for the half -hour.] Mary. Are you going to have a square deal in Washing- ton or leave it to The Hague? [The departure of the servants by a side door, not visible, leading from the banquet room, is indi- cated by the sound of closing the door.] EusSELL. The Hague! If my old friend Hugo Van Deventer is there, look out for a square deal ! De Groot ! Mary. [Assured that the servants have gone.] Russell ' THE WASTREL HOARD. 13 Russell. [Restraining an impulse to show affection.] Mary ! Maey. You have been away three days. [A clock in a room above, larger, it seems, strikes twice for the half hour.] Russell. I'm glad to get back. Mary. How did you know you would find me here to- night? Russell. I didn't. I asked the maid if I was the first arrival. She said you had gone upstairs. [A very loud chime, of the hall clock on the floor telow, is heard to strike once.] Maby. I left Alice dressing. I came down here because I was lonesome — then I wanted to be alone — and play Russell. And sing? Maey. My dream is of acting. Russell. Sing tonight. An angel may appear. Maey. There will be a devil. Russell. It's not the Senator. [Maey goes up to the table and around to a seat facing the audience, picks up a place-card, and, returning, hands it to Russell.] Maey. The author of my being ! Russell. Who? Mary. Father! Little red school mates ! Real chnmsl Russell. I thought it was a friendship through their wives. Maey. That, too, but — well — mother tried just her level best with father — but he wore her out — and — she has had to give in. Russell. That brings you closer to her — and to Alice. Maey. Daughters chums at college. Russell. And in the big city. Maey. In altered circumstances. [Maey sits down on the sofa at the end near the piano. Russell remains stand- 14 THE WASTREL HOARD. .] One day six months ago, I started to drag myself afoot np Fifth Avenue KussBLL. For exercise ! Maky. For want of carfare — after a whole day of man- agers' offices, with nothing to eat, I was going home — to that quaint Dutch settlement called Harlem — to cook for myself — a beef stew — with some of the ingredients miss- ing — when Alice in her auto 'fairly whisked me home with her, and, right in that room, I sat down to the best dinner I ever ate. Russell. That's Alice. Mary. I kept wishing it for all whose heads were ach- ing with hunger as mine had been. [Maky becomes thoughtful; Russell studies her.] Russell. [Sitting down beside Mary.] That was yott. Maey. I can't forget that dinner. [Mary smiles.] I had received a letter from mother that morning. She urged me to eat regularly. [Mary smiles sadly.] If mother only knew! [Mary looks into Russell's eyes.] I have a con- stant craving for food now which makes me feel for every poor devil I see. It is an awful thought that lack of food for only a few hours makes even a strong man ill. What must it be to see one's children hunger ! Russell. [Talcing Mary's hands.] One touch of hunger makes the whole world kin. Mary. [Closing her eyes and repeating dreamily, as if in an echo] " — the whole world kin!" [Mary opens her eyes and starts as if aioakened.] Hunger! My hunger! [Expressively.] No. It is deeper than that [After a moment of searching gase into Russell's eyes, Mary turns her head away, as if in thought, then arouses herself, looks at Russell, and then makes a resolve to change the subject] Alice Morse [Mary disengages her hands and rises] has certainly been a friend. Russell. [Rising.] In need! THE WASTREL HOARD. 15 Mary. IWistfully.] Now I have you. EussELL. And though you live at the Junior League yourself, you have a plan to right the world's wrongs in the settlement. Philosophy for wage-earners ! They need it ! Marx. I wanted to help at father's mills. He wanted me to marry, a very rich, and very reputable, and very old person — to assure my "great happiness !" EusSBLL. Did he? Mary. Yes. He wanted to make sure of my future — to weight me down. When life is such a wonderful thing ! Yet the world holds it so lightly. Just think, three hun- dred thousand needless deaths of infants in this country every year. EussBLL. Father will approve your plan. [Mary dis- plays annoyance, walks nervously toward the banquet room, and examines the seating arrangement. Eussbll follows /ler.] It will be a good recognition scene when you meet. [Eussbll replaces the card and stands at the table. Mary and Eussbll talk across the table as Mary moves about.'^ Mary. Not exactly Lear and his dear child, Cordelia. You know my father does not approve of me. Eussbll. That can't be true. Mary. He thinks me not entirely — ^rational. Eussbll. Anybody would applaud your helping . Mary. My father holds as nothing the honor, comfort, and fate of a sex, a class, or a race that is not his own. That indifference is his weapon. Eussbll. That's a double-edged sword. Mary. And I told him there are no natural barriers be- tween human beings, and that I didn't recognize artificial ones. / disapproved of his idea of aristocracy. At bottom we are all alike. Americans are a composite — a neutral race ! Our wheels within wheels should be broken ; nature has none ; she just enfolds us all in one great circumference ! Eussbll. That's beautiful ! One great /eZ^oeship ! 16 THE WASTREL HOARD. Maet. But he's a professional Americau. And I dared to express disapproval of his kind of Americanism. Russell. Humanity is not yet a cosmopolitan senti- ment It is parochial — ^like the tariff, a local issue. Maby. That shouldn't make Americans provincial. Good Americans distrust professionals of any race. They hold oflE and stand apart, they don't join in, they resist good influences, they flock by themselves, they don't get together, they don't assimilate. I said to father : "I have united in me every strain of western civilization. How do you expect me to harbor prejudices — or tolerate them?" I quoted Paul to him : "There can be neither Jew nor Greek, there can be neither bond nor free, there can be no male and female; for ye are all one man in Christ Jesus." EussELL. And that made him mad ! Like all our peo- ple, you can be nothing but an American. In every one of us is the blood of millions of ancestors. Mary. And that before he married mother, he hadn't a cent himself. Money is quickly gained and lost. BussELL. H'm ! But what's once in the blood doesn't come out. It may be assumed everything is in everybody. Maby. Is that hopeful — or otherwise? Russell. Hopeful — ^very ! If it wasn't good blood, it wouldn't be here. It is heir of all the ages. Maby. I've known some people who felt themselves the heirs of a million earls. Russell. If they were they wouldn't be alive to tell it. Only three generations are required to make a man into a gentleman; thereafter the decline is progressive. Social aristocracy is like a hill of potatoes. The best part of it is underground. The gentleman who said America is not a fit country for a gentleman to live in was right ! Mary. Then, perhaps, I am perfectly well-born, after all. Father hadn't any religion either. Russell. That can be acquired — and abandoned. Maby. And now, as for having me sing, his choice would be from Moody and Sankey. TEE WASTREL HOARD. 17 Russell. He is — religious! Maby. Two things would bring father to New York — a political convention or a religious revival — and whichever he attends, he thinks it is the other. He's a silver-tongued orator and an exhorter combined. But before politicians he talks nothing but church, and in meeting he talks noth* ing but politics. BussELL. That's not unusual. Religion and politics now have the same object. Maby. What is that? r Russell. Politics. [Maby gives Russell a questioning look.] Mary. Politics I That is only a name! I've always wondered what this vile tissue of petty trick and intrigue was concealing. Religion and politics — the bubbling caul- dron — always a crime-breeding mixture! Russell. [Avoiding the issue.] The Senator's dinners are not prayer meetings. Maby. Then the reason for your presence is purely political? Russell. No, politically pure. [By this time they have come together in front of the table. Maby looks up at Russell quickly as if to take advantage of a long-awaited opening.] Maby. Not if Foster BuUard Russell. [Without conviction and attempting to con- ceal nervousness.] Why, Bullard doesn't need me. He likes me. Maby. That doesn't sound like you. Russell. He saw me the day I was born — in the hos- pital. Maby. Now he has an object! I am sure of it, Russell. Well, everybody wants our ships exempt from Canal tolls. Maby. "Everybody," perhaps, doesn't understand it. 18 THE WASTREL HOARD. Why didn't Bullard become a doctor and let public affairs alone? KussELL. He told me once. I asked him when I was planning my own career. [Kussell speaks in a manner to be identified later as that of Bullaed.] "My father was a physician," he said, "and would have me one. I finished and qualified and was ready to step into a Beacon Hill practice, provided with select, even elite, patients to start upon, but I couldn't stand the domestic strain; I was near to mother; we had lived the Bible through together from cover to cover; by it, she judged father; Calvinist and Unitarian ; she hadn't softened ; I sided with her, and then, to preserve peace, left religion behind and came — to New York. Here my fate consigned me to obstetrics, and I saw in the birth of little children the alpha and omega of revealed religion and that all the rest was a pious fraud. I saw too many little creatures lost and, not being averse to occasional making of angels but not being just fond of it as a steady thing, I gave up my profession in order to reform it. I conceived the notion that private practice is wrong and left medicine for politics, in order to reform both. My idea was that it is as necessary for the public as for the individual that the individual should have good health and that if nobody could secure better treatment than anybody, everybody would soon have everything it is good for anybody to have. Poverty is the greatest foe to health, and I couldn't cure poverty by treating individuals. I couldn't even cure my own. That — I mean my poverty — lost me something else — I'll tell you what some day — and reform seemed hopeless. I made out soon that what ailed everything was politics and at about the same time I found that politics was an ailment I had, too. By the time I gave up trying to cure poverty by politics, my last — illusion — was gone. I then discerned that health is mental and moral as well as physical and that almost no one possessed it — and least of all myself. And I knew politics; where others dabbled, I dived. The community as a whole I TEE WASTREL HOARD. 19 found morbid and / left it — to its fate !" That is how he advised me not to take up medicine, but to study law, and, to show good faith, he took up law himself at the same time. He really put me, in the law, where I am to-day. Mary. And in politics! He is not attempting a cure by that route ! He meant himself, not politics, was failing ! EussBLL. Oh, BuUard is all right. He watched and warded a poor youngster for thirty years. [Russell picka up the card at the second place from that of Maey^s father and shows it to Maby.] He's not so bad. You'll see. You'll meet him here tonight. He only wants a square deal for the interests he represents. Maky. The old story. If to help me you've had to work with them KussELL. [Turning the edge of her thrust as if lightly.] Well — somebody had to Maey. But Russell. And / wanted to. Maey. [Turning away from him and starting to walk to front of the stage.] I keep thinking there is something wrong about it all. I don't like this Pacific business. I have had many talks with Senator Morse. He has told me Russell. [Cutting in on her speech as if unwilling to hear, and looking down at another place-card.] Poster Bullard knows young Chance, too. Maey. [Pretending not to have heard him.] — ^that this canal completes for the first time a direct water-path across the world. Russell. [Looking down at another card.] Is it to meet the suffrage leader? Maey, The Canal? Russell. Victor Chance? Maey. No. Mrs. Havorbee is his aunt. It is Alice. Russell. He was here that day I first saw you. Maey. Do you know him? Russell. Bullard says we met under his care our first 20 THE WASTREL HOARD. day apart from our parents. You know BuUard says hi» name [Raising the place-card] is on my certificate. Mary. [With covert interesf] Did you ever examine the record? RussBLL. No. Besides, they are secret. The law forbids disclosure — except to parents. The law takes notice of the fact that the world is a natural busybody. [Thoughtfully. ] What it doesn't know, hurts nobody. [Mart hesitates a moment and seems to weigh thi$ information and to determine to change the sub- ject.] Masy. Had you and Victor Chance never met in the meantime? Russell. Our paths parted then and there. Each was returned to his respective mother. Mary. But in thirty years ! Russell. Caste! Mary. You both went to college. That brings boys to- gether. Russell. Study was of his life a thing apart. Mary. It was your whole existence, wasn't it? Russell. I doubt if he knew ten men outside of Keys. Mary. That secret society business is carried pretty far at Yale. Russell. And, of course, living for and on free scholar- ships at Harvard, I was worlds removed from his set. Mary. But that shouldn't continue afterward. Russell. It is worse. That is what it's for. I was further away than ever. He took the high road and I took the low road. Mary. Why didn't you speak of it that day? Russell. Most improper! And I thought he admired you. Mary. Baby ! He has too many millions Russell. There you have it. But Bullard had my picture taken on my second birthday and gave it to me in THE WASTREL HOARD. 21 this locket. [Bussbll takes a locket from his watch-chain, opens it, and hands it to Maey.] Bullard didn't grow away from me! Maby. What a glorious child ! Give it to me ! Russell. But you would never accept jewelry. Maby. But this is my gem, isn't it? BussELL. If you will accept it. [BussELL helps Maby to place the locket upon a chain she wears about her neck.] Maby. [Examining the locket.] July 4th, 1881. And two American boys ! Both free and equal! But orphans ! But you two boys are now once more where you started, both orphans. Your parents and "Golden" Chance and his sweet wife — all dead! BussELL. Bullard makes me forget that. Maby. By absorbing your talent and Chance's money. Benevolent assimilation like this Pacific business ! Russell. You — are not — to blame — for that! [Russell replaces Bullabd's card and followa Maby. His attitude is playful and Maby assumes the same manner. They come down into the music room, walking side "by side, facing the audience.] Maby. I — thought — I — had to have — things to wear. Russell. Or give up. Maby. And obey my father ! Russell. Perhaps you don't go at him right. Maby. He wounded my pride. That is the worst hurt ! RusseJll. Pride can be made an inexpensive luxury. There is a saving pride as well as that which "goeth before a fall." Maby. He refused to support my ambition. He gave ten thousand dollars to the church, just to prove that it wasn't mean. "By the ever-living God," he shouted, "not a dollar will I contribute to send my daughter into danger." He's wonderful when he gets fired up like that. He's great- est when he has [Maby imitates; she comes a step forward 22 THE WASTREL HOARD. raises her right arm in gesticulation, turns on Eussbll and addresses him as her audience] "the whole country march- ing onward to the time of 'Hail Columbia' and the tune of 'Home, Sweet Home.' " [Lowering her voice.] He's the handsomest and the hardest man I ever saw. EussELL. He is your father. It must be wonderful to have one's parents living! I scarcely remember my par- ents. A father Mart. Mine was my king — until he tried to rule me. Russell. [Baffled, but trying to appear sympathetic.] He thinks your purpose frivolous. Mart. A father who thinks is lost. Eussbll. And if he doesn't? Mary. On the one occasion when father demonstrated real affection for me, I almost swooned with delight. I had to buy my freedom. I taught in Sunday School, played the organ, led the singing, and sang solos for a whole season of revival, and did everything about the church but preach the sermons, as the price of permission to come to New York to study for the stage. Father feared local criticism and tried to back out, so I had to run away. And now I'm not going home until I have justified myself. Eussbll. Beware of the fixed idea. Mart. [With an air of finality.] A good idea can't be too fixed. [She sita down on the sofa.] Father would be the first to boast of my success. He says he denies me money now so that he may leave me well provided for when he's gone. Great Heavens ! Why must so many fly through life with a broken wing! The man can't underetand what it means. [Mabt buries her face in h^r hands. Bussbll sit» doum on the sofa, beside Maby.] Russell. What does it mean? Mary. It means that daughters like me have essentials in common with all the disinherited of the earth — we are thwarted of our ambitions, our lives, our — possibilities — THE WASTREL HOARD. 23 just to please those who have had theirs. Father met a girl once, when he took me, as a half -grown girl, to inspect Galloway Hall, where Alice and I were to go, as our mothers had before us — and this girl's mother, too. [Rus- sell evinces increasing interest.] And he forever after held her up to me as a model. She had no parents ; they had both died young — both from the heart, I believe mother said. Father knew them, too. He couldn't under- stand that I was the opposite of their girl in everything, and couldn't pattern myself upon her. She was sweet but inanimate and her skin was like alabaster. She seemed to me all surface — that appeals to father — it does to most men — and, without really knowing the girl, just from father's praise and my notion she wasn't — true,' — a real — flesh-and-blood — live girl, I grew up resenting and almost hating the very name of Laura Lord, [Russell starts upon hearing the name; Mary does not take note] and wishing fervently that she might be transported to a better world than this, to be a model for the other angels. Russell. Please him now. Be diplomatic. Be a singer. [Mary looks up and smiles at Russell.] Mary. Melba? I say, Duse. The New York climate isn't favorable for American singers. I would have my heart only upon the very highest ! Think of the disappoint- ment ! What's the use of trying ! Besides, I prefer acting. Consciousness of tragic situations dominates me. Russell. But there's acting in music. Sometimes the singer seems radiant with light and fairly dissolves into the meaning. Mary. [Kindled.] Always with our lovely Brenstedt! Then all nature seems a temple that is within us, alight with living pillars, where wondrous rainbow flashes, sound- ing as from watch-towers of the world's experience, enter the dark recesses of our being, lay bare our hearts, bring out the hidden motives of the soul, and light up for us, as if for our inward eye, the whole panorama of human life. 24 TEE WASTREL HOARD. 1 sometimes feel that if I am — ever — stirred to the depths, this great power to act in music may come to me. RussBLL. Isn't it worth while to move toward that ob- ject? Mabt. a bird must hop before it learns to soar. [Be^ coming thoughtful.'^ Miss Chrysalis comes before Madame Butterfly. KussELL. But even when a bird is walking, we know it has wings. Maey. [Coining out of her reverie.] I've had a hard time to get where I am today, and I'm not going to give it up. Please, tell me that you think I will succeed. Russell. The first thing I ever told you was that I be- lieved in you. Maby. But you wanted to encourage me. Being an understudy is not inspiring. Russell. The world's work is done by understudies. If it wasn't for the working under-secretaries nothing would go right. It's the big bugs that make the big blun- ders. Every important interest depends upon the man just below the man higher up. He prepares to do that man's work — by always doing it. Maby. What about that man? Russell. He is not a man. He is only money. He is the underwriter. Maby. I see it, now! He's the politics! You work for money — ^you think for money — you write for others to Russell. You mustn't talk like that. [The telephone rings. Russell goes to answer it. He turns on the electric lamp. Maby watches him, walks to him, at the telephone, and returns to her seat before the end, always thoughtful.] Hello. Yes, Mr. Bullard. This is Russell. Calling me? Didn't you think I was in Washington? Your informa- tion service is certainly perfect. Every agency in the world retained? Oh! Not to find out anything? For others? Yours is adequate for you, all right. Well, I finished my work there; it was useless to wait around — I did what 11 THE WASTREL HOARD. 25 went for. I took up the Pacific argument with Count Al' berg, weht over the new documents and the list of members under German influence. We went over the whole Bitua- tion and decided how to proceed. I called at the Baldwin- Smythes' and left the papers with the social secretary. I then gave each of the other Ambassadors the ar- gument agreed upon, and two to the Papal delegate, one for use with Catholics from the Continent, and one for Irish-Americans. I hammered the argument home in each case. What's that? Oh, "trifles make perfection." Well, I was thorough enough. We manu- factured original news dispatches from every capital in Europe for every day in the next thirty. Boiler-plate? — Yes ! — ^A month's supply for a hundred million people ! — Patent insides — that's it! — ^Yes! — For the heads of the dear public ! I arranged for more press matter than can be used in a month. I had it translated for the foreign press into twenty-seven languages for papers reaching one-half of the voting population of the United States, with head-lines for those under subsidy — Divide and rule? — Yes. — That seems to be the idea. — ^And I saw to the mailing of data to every educator on our list with in- structions to those under retainer. If it had been neces- sary to stay longer, I should have done so. — ^All right — I'll be here. — Good-bye ! [Kussbll puts up receiver, walks hack to the sofa, holding his chin in his right hand.] He said it would be all right. He always says that. He is a sort of fatalist. [Sitting down beside Maex.J Yet, he ap- peared displeased because I came back. Maey. But it won't be all right. Things are never right unless people make them right. [Maey rises; Eussbll follows suit] Rtjsshll. What ! Maey. I want to know who's behind Bullard. Who is underwriting him? Russell. I never asked him. 26 THE WASTREL HOARD. Mart. I'm going to find out. There is something wicked going on and you are helping. I know you are working in the dark, but you shouldn't be willing to. You have been understudy long enough. After what you have done all by yourself, you ought to be ashamed to accept money to stay outside— in the lobby. Be yourself, go into the fight, and try to be a leader ! [Mary sits down; Russell sits heside her.] Russell. Your leading man? Is that an aspiration? JiAEY. No. The country's leading man. Put some heart into American citizenship. Take that dash out. Russell. Dash? — H'm! — The snobbish hyphen! — Or, perhaps, the alien? They all keep people apart ! Mary. Both ! Russell. But — the feminist hyphen? [Half pleading, half mocking, half offering.] Don't be heartless, Mary. [Mary^s eyes flash with a suddenly acquired reso- lution.] Mary. I do not intend to marry ! Russell. Every girl If there were no marriages there'd be no race. Mary. That doesn't follow. The modern girl's great impulse is to become the best she is fit for. Russell. A tadpole or a tyrant could make the same plea. They are — equally — divine and immortal. [With tremendous seriousness.] 1 wish you were out of it all. Mary. Freed through marriage? [Rising] Emanci- pated as a daughter only "to dwindle into a wife !" [Rus- sell rises.] I am independent now. I'm directing my own affairs — and some of yours, too. Russell. Tou should let me depend upon my own ef- forts Mary. Stand on your own feet. Quit Bullard. Russell. I can't quit until the Pacific Bill is passed. Mary. Why, that very measure should bring you to the people's side. Give Bullard his answer tonight! THE WASTREL HOARD. 27 EussELL. And you? Where does the stage fit in this scheme? Maby. Well, you haven't understood me yet. Yon think my desire to act is merely vanity. Russell. What else is there in it? Mary. Why, patriotism — downright patriotism — in the stage, as it interests me. I see not the individual but ag- gregate humanity, and I see acted language as the breath of life. I would make the stage communicate images of social life. I've always lived in an atmosphere of politics and public questions, voiceless, yet never heard any matter considered from a point of view a girl could accept. It's that I wish to express. I am sure there is need for it. The human nature that is now mirrored — in a dirty mirror, that reflects only the surface dimly — as cheap and vulgar and revolting, is not what is deep within us. The reflection should light up and mirror in rays that the impure cannot withstand. The stage is the only place where a woman's individuality is recognized, and where she can really be her bigger self. The stage should reflect the girl's vision. It is the only open avenue for a woman who would be a leader of public opinion. Russell. I don't see that. Maby. If there hadn't been actors, there wouldn't have been any Shakespeare, would there? Or any other of the great plays? There never was a great play that didn't sound the depths of human suffering and in defiance of all else argue the divine cause of humanity. The playwright must write for the players who can vitalize his play and make him really see his people and hear his written words made flesh and blood and thus get his message over to the public. The woman's message never has been, but must be expressed. Stage women who see and feel the times may inspire our drama and, thus, guide the public. Isn't that wielding personal power? Isn't that what your own under- writers pay for? What other excuse for existence has the theatre of a great nation than to express national aspira- 28 THE WASTREL HOARD. tions! I don't see the goal clearly yet, hnt— [Closing her eyes as if in delight] I have had my vision and I'm groping toward the light. [Maey opens her eyes and looks at Rus- sell. She pauses as if confronted with a choice between the vision she has just recalled and another. Russhle studies her with awakened interest. Mary gives a sign of having made her choice. Russell seems crestfallen. Maby proceeds with an air of being resolute.] I'll keep on until I find it. But I'll not sell out the public as the men do. [Mary speaks more softly.] Art can never be selfish. The dramatic form is the supreme test of a social idea, and its best vehicle. The theatre should be made so useful that all the churches could be closed and turned into playhouses for the public good. "On the level" patriotic preaching hasn't been a monologue since the time of Aeschylus — twenty-four hundred years ago. Perhaps — if I make a success on the stage — I'll [Mary walks to the piano and sits down. Russell follows and stands near her, bending over the pia/no at the curve and facing the audience. In getting to this position he arranges the decoration 80 that Mary becomes visible to the audience. As she sings, in turning to look up at Russell, from time to time, she half faces the audience.] Russell. [Eagerly.] Will you? Maey. [Half seriously, half coquettishly.] Work for the other thing. [She gives him a look of tenderness.] At any rate, you have made me feel — that I must keep up my music, too. Russell. [Standing with eyes intent upon her, as if slowly absorbing her thought.] What a big woman you are, and what a blind fool I've been ! I ought to be ashamed of myself. Maey. You're a dear. [She runs over the first bars of "0 Belle Nuit," and sings to throw off hisgase.] THE WASTREL HOARD. 29 Lovely night, oh, night of love, Smile down on our caresses. Night more lovely than the day, Lovely night of love. Time flies on without return, And carries our embraces. Far from this most happy hour, To come again nevermore. Soft summer-night breeze, Fold us in with your kisses. The balm of your breath On our foreheads let play. Lovely night, oh, night of love. Smile down on our caresses. Night more lovely than the day, O lovely night of love. Russell. You're always like that to me. Maey. It's your own work ! [She observes that he is again hz a spell,] You came into my life in the harmony of my favorite theme — from Schumann's Sonata in F sharp minor. Fate put you on my telephone, while I was playing it in a dream. I saw a rushing waterfall and heard the tinkling sound of water falling from a great height. Intermiuo. Lento, alia kitrta, no pompoM> g^^^U^ [Mart plays the theme, the eight bars and the first three bars and the first note of the fourth re- peated.'] The bell rang at the high note and I saw you standing 30 THE WASTREL HOARD. on the edge of the precipice and almost heard your voice before I awoke. It was one of Fate's splendid blunders. My heart opened to you, and to a new world at the sound of your voice. [She unconsciously runs over "Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix," from "Samson and Delilah."] Russell. When we met a moment in the hall down- stairs here next day, I knew your voice. Maet. And I yours. And you had remembered that wrong number. I did dream true ! BussELL. And I called it again. [Mary sings at first softly, then louder. Russell arouses himself, walks around so as to stand be- side her, comes gradually into the singing, and they end together.] Mabt. My heart expands at thy loved voice, As flowers at dawn of day ; Bpeak on and make my soul rejoice And all my fears allay. Tell me once more that thou hast come To bless Delilah's love ; And never more will from her roam. Answer — my love — my love. Joys — more than heaven above Await our happy love, [Singing together.] Mart. Samson ! Samson ! I love thee ! Russell. Delilah ! Delilah ! I love thee ! [Maey rises from the piano.] Russell. [He draws her to him, and exclaims.] You're not a girl. [Alice appears at the left of the "banquet room and walks to the edge of the stairs. Her gown is pure THE WASTREL HOARD. 31 white and, in the dim light, she comes upon the scene as if an apparition. As she sees Russell and Maey she stops suddenly, confused, and as if not knowing what to think or do. She walks backward quickly, looking toward Eussell and Maey only to see that she is not observed, and disappears at the left side of the banquet room.] Rtjssbll. [Softly, in a very human tone.] You're a goddess ! Mary. [Not resisting.] I'm not. [Russell embraces her.] Oh! [Maey struggles.] Oh! [The telephone rings.] Oh! — Oh! — [The telephone rings.] Oh!! [Mary disengages herself from, Uvs&'ell's embrace.] Oh!!! You shouldn't have kissed me like that. You haven't since then. [Mary shuts her eyes and shudders.] You must promise not to. Russell. I do promise. It's three months since — ^that — seashore — summer night. Mary. And you have been good. Russell. That was my last glass of wine. Mary. And my first and last. And — ^you've seen me almost every day. You've been so good to me. Russell. I can't bear to think of all this ending. [The telephone rings. Maey and RussBLL start to- ward the telephone.] Maey. I'd better answer. [She takes the telephone and listens. Turning to Russell. J It's Alice Morse. [Pointing to the door.] No, wait. Be quiet. Don't breathe. [Maey sits down before the telephone; Russell stands near, watch- ing her and listening. The door at right, near the piano, opens, and Bullaed half enters, but withdratvs before he is observed, and holds the door ajar so that he may listen and be seen by the audience. His apparent desire is to know when to enter after the telephone call is finished. Maey and Russell have their backs turned. Bullaed is carrying 32 THE WASTREL HOARD. his overcoat on his arm and his hat, walking stick, and gloves in his hand. He gives a slight indication of being intoxicated. To telephone.] Hello! Is that you, Alice? Yes. This is Mary. — No, I'll come up to you. There isn't anyone down here yet. You heard the piano? — Of course, I was playing and singing. — Yes, that was Mr. Turner. He was just passing through and stopped a moment to join in. He said he thought you might be here. No. Don't come down. — I think he went downstairs — to the parlor. Of course, I'm not avoiding you. Oh, I know you look wonder- ful. Will you? You're a sweetheart. Yes, dear. Good-bye. Good-bye. [Mary pauses a moment in thought and then turns around quickly to face Russell. ] Russell. You're a born diplomat. Literally honest! You ought to be sent abroad to lie for your country. Maby. [Not noticing what he has said, Mary speaks as if her tongue were thick and dry.] If it kills me to tell [Mary bows her head. Bullard assumes the attitude of unwillingness to hear and closes the door. He has not seen Mary or Russell, but has heard their voices. Mary looks up at Russell.] For years we two girls hadn't an un- shared thought. And — now — if I, why not she! — If there is anything between you two — she must know from me. Russell. But there isn't, and never can be. Mary. You came here! [Thinking.] Victor! Russell. Senator Morse pressed me to. And I hoped he would you. My wish was gratified. Mary. [As if satisfied.] I haven't any jealousy in me. Russell. I have. [Drawing his hand across his fore- head.] You are spared evil dreams. Mart. And Alice has — and every other woman. Russell. [Taking "ULaky'^ right hand.] 7 have waited for you to bring love into my life. I can't let you go now. [Mary withdraws her hand.] THE WASTREL HOARD. 33 Maey. There might be a reason — if I told you. Russell. [Not catching her meaning.] You would say that every reason existed. Love is a higher reason. I have tried to resist. But the higher wisdom prevailed. It seems to me now the most natural thing in the world. I feel that you belong to me. Mary. That's why I can't tell you. Russell. What? [Maey rises and faces Russell.] Maky. That I do Russell. You mean ? [She speaks calmly and tenderly.] Maey. Love without marriage is better than marriage without love. Russell. If you knew Maey. Ifj/ottknew Russell. My marriage- Mary. [Startled.] What marriage? Russell. You should have known that ten years ago I married without love. Maey. It isn't true ! Tell me it isn't true ! Russell. [Penitently.] It has taken me too long to tell you that it is. After four years we separated. Maey. [Hopefully awaiting the sequel.] Yes ! Russell. [Conscious of disappointing her.] There are two little girls. The mother has been wasting away from [As if 'brooding.] A deep personal sorrow struck across — her — life. Mary. [Sadly.] Why didn't you tell me? Russell. I kept trying Mary. [Sitting down before the table and resting her arm upon the back of the chair and bowing her head.] Why didn't somebody tell me? Russell. We have scarcely given occasion. Maey. There couldn't have been a chance ! 34 THE WASTREL HOARD. [Russell hends over Maey.] Russell. It has been a miracle. This has all grown upon me. It went on from the first day we met and then it was too late. There is a side — I felt I hadn't the right to tell. — If you had known, you would not have let me help you. And soon I could not let anybody say that you had known. The problem was too much for me. I kept think- ing of life without you, and I was afraid. I wanted to help you from a distance, but — I was so thoughtless — I kept right on! [Maby looks up at Russell.] Maey. Perhaps, I might not have been strong enough. There's something carrying me onward, too. I am trying not to make it hard. Perhaps — we — ^love one another — ^be- cause we — are — weak. Russell. To know you and then to lose you! Maey. It is I who should say that. Many a night have I gone down on my knees and thanked the God who sent you to me that you had come into my life. Yours was the first great sympathy. Russell. But you can't now ? Maey. Now, more than ever. When you came I was starving for honest companionship in this great city. But you have meant more. To have had the true love of such a man as you and to have but one man in my life and that the right one — ^no woman could ask more. Russell. You're so good to tell me that. Maey. [Very sadly.] But I must go away, Russell. Russell. You don't mean that! Maey. Yes — [Rising] — I mean just that. [Looking him squarely in the eyes, remaining silent a moment, and then speaking slowly. Her mouth seems to twitch a moment iefore the utterance of sound.] I won't see you again, and I won't accept anything from you. Whether the other woman has lost you or not, is not for me to judge. No matter who she is or what she may have done, I should THE WASTREL HOARD. 35 never knowingly have taken away her slightest chance, and — [shuddering] — whatever the cost — I'll not do it now. I asked no questions and I made the mistake — ^just exactly as father said I should. I love you. I have never loved anyone else, and now I never can. You are everything to me, — more than you can know. And I can't give you up. But Russell. You needn't. And soon we may let the world know Let them talk who would! Mary. Now the world must never know — ^the nat- ural, destructive busybodies [Becomes dramatic] And I can't care what they would think. Let them have their proprieties and their dull domesticity — the hum- drum, inexorable staleness of the unoscapable sex-thrall of contiguous lives — which they call happiness, those who are willing to pay the price. I have loved — I have not lost. I have felt and now I can make others feel. I have been inspired and now I can inspire. I'll commence noto with you, and from that I'll grow and broaden. I can be thank- ful that I am a witless girl no longer — I have lived, and I shall suffer — as only a woman can — and then I shall know how to bring tears to my own and others' eyes, tears of joy, and love, and sympathy. I'll stir a common heartbeat of the people. [Becomes natural.] Perhaps — [The door at the left opens and Bullard is seen. He appears to recog- nise the voice he had heard. at the door at the right, and to realise that his wandering search has only brought him to the other side of the wrong room] — it will be music after all, and Europe, too. It begins to seem — [Bullaed draws the door closed and disappears] — necessary and natural and best. Why do you always get your way? [The sound of the elevator indicates that it is descending from the floor above.] Thus to attain the self -loss that is art! Rus- sell, dear, I believe there's something good in all this. [She runs out at door at right. Russell stands and stares. The door at the left opens.] 36 fEiJ WASTREL HOARD. Russell. [As if awakening from a dream. ] Mary ! [Enter Senator Morse and Mrs. Morse from door at left. They are old-fashioned Yankees who have risen to leadership by remaining Yankees a/nd keeping their feet on tlie ground. They have seen Mary without Mary or Russell knowing. They exchange glances, agreeing upon ignoring what they have seen. Senator Morse goes to a wall button and turns on the lights. They act as if only the turning on of the lights had disclosed Russell's presence. Russell starts in surprise at the lights and turns around to learn the cause. ] Senator Morse. Hello, Russell. Glad to see you. Russell. How do you do, Senator. I hope you are well, Mrs. Morse? Mrs. Morse. How have you been? Always saving the nation, I suppose. Senator Morse. Saving the nation from the attacks of the people, I'm afraid. That's a common occupation, now- adays. Too common. Russell. We put it this way, that the people need to be saved from their public servants. Senator Morse. That's the way Bullard puts it, no doubt. Alice said you were down here with Mary. . Russell. Yes. Senator Morse. A fine girl, that. Strong character, good family. Mrs. Morse. We can't see enough of her — but she's been keeping away from us these three months. Senator Morse. I've known Sam Flint for fifty years. And, as a boy, I knew the father — old Deacon Phineas Flint — he takes after. Sam's a psalm-singing Progressive, but a splendid fellow. You'll like him, and I think he'll like you. Typically American ! Uncle Sam — we call him. Russell. Yes. I should like him. THE WASTREL HOARD. 37 Mrs. Moese. And Mary's mother is such a dear. [Smil- ing.] She's a sort of cousin of mine. EussELL. [Smiling in response.] That explains it. Mbs. Morse. Thank you. She's been an invalid these last few years. Mary's got quite away from her — and — Sam hasn't been much of a mother to Mary. Russell. Naturally. Mrs. Moese. What Mary needs is the influence of a strong man; some one stronger than she. Senator Morse. I'm afraid such men are rare. Mrs. Morse. She ought to marry and settle down. I've told her so, often — but she doesn't seem to care for anyone. Senator Morse. She'll come out all right. Get to know her well, Eussell, she's a tonic. Just what you need. Russell. Come now, Senator, am I so heavy as all that? Senator Morse. Well, you let your troubles bother you too much. You've been honorable about it all. The world doesn't ask you to mope around all your life. Mrs. Morse. You have forgiven her. Russell. When she came to me six years ago — [The chimes in the library strike once for the third quarter] — and asked me to forgive her, I said that no act of any wom- an ever depended on a man's mercy for its justfication. I believed that then ; I know it now. [The small clock in the library strikes three times for the quarter hour.] Mrs. Morse. But you pardoned — the lie — the decep- tion Russell. That was not for me to do. Senator Morse. It has been a severe discipline for you. Russell. Until a man has learned to suffer for a woman, he has not proved himself her equal. Mas. Morse. You could help that girl. She needs friends, especially your kind. 38 THE WASTREL HOARD. [The clock above strikes three times.] Russell. We all need friends. Senator Moese. And she'd do you a lot of good. Your present situation is unnatural; few men could stand up under it — without a wrenching of character and a warping of their very souls. [The clock below strikes once.] Mrs. Morse. I'll warrant she'd take you away from Foster Bullard. Russell. And my income? — their income? Senator Morse. That's Bullard's bait. I've seen him ruin many a promising man with his money. He has au- thority to draw on his principals for any amount without notice — on the remotest chance of benefit to them. Most of his victims and accomplices are unconscious that they are working for him. He gets people to use corrupt money without suspicion as to its source. Mrs. Morse. He's a bad influence. Everybody knows it, but nobody dares to cut him. Russell. He's a very agreeable man. Mrs. Morse. That kind all are. By irresistibly se- ductive courtesies — they conceal the — cloven hoof. [Mrs. Morse goes to examine the seating arrange- ments. Russell talks at first as if to both Mrs. Morse and Senator Morse, but gradually becomes engrossed in his talk to Senator Morse. J Senator Morse. He knows something about every- body, — who is anybody. Mrs. Morse. He is good looking — [Smiling] — resem- bles you. Russell. Thank you ! Mrs. Morse. But that gives him no right to ruin you. Senator Morse. He knows something about everybody. That's how he gets in. He keeps a card catalogue of every heir to more than fiftv thousand dollars. THE WASTREL HOARD. 39 EussBLii. He knows something about everything, and he has brains. He began his law studies at fifty. That spells purpose. Senator Mokse. No doubt about that. It was he who taught Merwin to cultivate heirs, ally them to his system, and hand them paper in exchange for their legacies. His organization is as perfect as that of the lost-heir grafters. He's really the King of Confidence Men. Russell. I am sorry I asked you to invite him. Senator Morse. It just suits my plan. To conciliate me he'll talk. I've wished for a long time to get the real Bullard to show himself to you — the man of brains who sins against the light. Russell. You have me here — because I haven't brains. Senator Morse. Nonsense, my boy. My belief in you is absolute. Russell. I appreciate that from you. It is enough in itself to make a man. Senator Morse. All a good many folks want is just believing in them. Russell. But some require a good deal? Senator Morse. Not you. In your case it is not only my good will; it is my judgment of you. Bullard knows well enough you have brains, but I have you here often be- cause you have character. Russell. Don't the two go together? Senator Morse. Not in most people. Crooked wisdom is the commonest kind. Brainy men often don't know enough to go straight. Russell. They haven't that quality of brains. Senator Morse. Well, that's the only kind worth hav- ing. Some day people will stop praising the sharp and worthless man just because he gets away with it. You can prove your quality by breaking with Bullard. He's the creator of the worst thing in America — the religion of the pocket-book — esprit de corps among the rich. 40 THE WASTREL HOARD. Russell. Yet some days, when he is moody, he goes on as if the rich man was to him a fiend incarnate. f Senator Moksb. One crossed him many years ago. Russell. Money? Senator Morse. A woman. Bullard would have made her great. They were both from Boston — a thing no native ever got over during his natural life — and each had an obsession. He gave up everything to follow her to New York. She was the one generous passion of his life. Russell. Did they quarrel? Senator Morse. For the moment — and in a fit of pique — he believed she would be great and — well, she thought, I suppose, he expected too much faith from her. Russell. The other man — was rich? Senator Morse. Immensely. Sweet Lily Earle — a beautiful creature — he could dictate to the theatre — and, he could gratify at once her great ambition. Russell. To lead — to star — the most gripping of pas- sions — and — Senator Morse. Well — Chance came upon her like a cyclone ; the newfound friend married her the day they met- Russell. That was sudden! A whirlwind courtship! Senator Morse. She was a singer — a poor girl. Chance made her suddenly rich and permanently miserable. I remember it well. It was just after our marriage — in October of 1880. I was trying the famous Harward mur- der case, and young Dr. Bullard was to be a witness, but he was so rattled, I couldn't put him on. A few days later, I learned the reason, when I went with Mrs. Morse to Haverly's Fifth Avenue Theatre to see Sweet Lily Earle in Anna E. Dickinson's great hit, "An American Girl." There, in a box, resplendent, sat Chance, master of the ceremonies. In the box opposite, were General Garfield and "Chet" Arthur, Republican candidates for Russell. You say "chance". Do you mean ? Senator Morse. I mean Victor's father. Russell. I've never heard Bullard speak of that! THE WASTREL HOARD. 41 Senatoe Morse, You never will. His rage for a time was terrible, but — well — time softens every grief — and she has been dead — [Eussell's look darkens] — many years. EussELL. But it's certain he still lives on that memory. Senatoe Morse. To me his reckless course attests the depth of his attachment. It has stirred up his real self. EussELL. You are right. Since I met — well, you know, at college I got to know the sons of the rich pretty well in a certain way. I tutored a good many, among them some crown prices of the money power. One in particular was sent to me by his father to be taught to write. At twenty Junior could scarcely write his own name legibly. In the next room to me was a boy who in winter had to sit upon a table with the gas lighted so as to study without freezing. Senator Morse. The hard student's a success, I'll bet. EussELL. He's a fine bank clerk now — with neither cap- ital nor a union card — a member of the great American framed-up cultured middle class, whose learning and fine traditions profit them only to sharpen the sense of their own helplessness. Senator Morse. Well, the pampered pet is a failure. EussELL. Again the old order changeth. "Three gen- erations from shirt-sleeves to shirt-sleeves" is a worn-out adage, and should be decently buried. My pupil's signa- ture is good for millions any day and he passes on the credit of business houses aggregating billions. Senator Morse. One more guess — inherited qualities. Eussell. In a way. The failure's father pioneered in the West. The other's harvested in Wall Street. Equality ! This 'rah! 'rah! and haw! haw! business is all right for boys, but it dulls our sense of true values and it has spread to all classes and all ages. Our so-called wholesome he- roics are about the same as heroin and have the same effect — to breed fatalists and foster barbarians. I am begin- ning to feel that it contains a great menace. Senator Morse. It is still possible in this country of 42 THE WASTREL HOARD. opportunity for a poor boy to rise by sheer ability to great wealth and power. Russell. That possibility doesn't encourage the suc- cessful to let the boys who inherit that ability start with that chance. Our people overlook that luminous circum- stance ! Mrs. Moese. Our people are very intelligent, I think. They always vote right at elections. Russell. Elections ! Why, all the fool voters get now at elections is a rain-check for the next election. Senator Morse. Well, all can't be political philoso- phers. "We cannot all be masters !" Russell. Why not ! The needs of the poor are the best guide to public policy. [Mrs. Morse turns to the others and listens.] Senator Morse. But the hungry man can't think. Mrs. Morse. And the well-fed man won't. Russell. But there's the great middle class, to whom thought is more than mere food and drink. It's time for everybody to think when the greatest criminal still unhung can buy a national convention, own a national government, control a great church, debauch the press, poison the wells of knowledge by private retainers to university teachers, dominate the courts and prosecuting attorneys so as to keep himself out of the penitentiary — protect his thefts of pub- lic property, insure fabulous dividends and interest on stolen stocks and bonds, oppress all who oppose him, and, in order to overturn an inconvenient principle of law or government, reduce the whole fabric of private, social, and international justice to a useless and chaotic mass of false precedent, conflict, waste, and positive injustice. Senator Morse. Business men don't care for justice; what they want is results. Russell. When one man is suffered to imagine himself superior to the rest, that is the result they'll get. Mrs. Morse. That's a serious indictment, Russell. THE WASTREL HOARD. 43 Russell. Such men make life for most people a pretty serious thing, and people would better realize what they are working against. I know any number of brilliant men of forty, who have done the hardest kind of well-directed hon- est work for twenty years, who, just because they won't sell out, can't keep up a respectable home for their small families. [Senator Mobse shakes his head as if not caring to dissent.] Mrs. Morse. You've left out the good side. EussELL. I don't see it — only the other side. It's Bul- lard's bitterness, not his zeal, that seems to work in me. / wish I could afford to break away from him. But / have my duty to others. I've had to sell out ! Senator Morse. Take the jump ; I'll see you don't lose by it. I'll help you. Russell. I confess I dislike to hurt his feelings. Senator Morse. Bless my soul, he hasn't any feeling. Mrs. Morse. John's an older man than you are, Rus- sell. His judgment is good in such matters. On moral questions he is almost clairvoyant ! Russell. I don't like to break suddenly. The Pacific bill is the most important matter he ever had. Senator Morse. That's the only way. The longer you cook and coddle an uncertainty, the stronger it gets. The biggest thing a man can do is to realize he's in a tight place and to break loose without delay. Russell. It doesn't seem fair to Bullard. He depends on me absolutely. Senator Morse. Ifs the only fair way. Let him know where you stand. This Pacific business is sure to create a scandal and perhaps a war. To have that Canal freely used not only by our ships but by those of all nations will be a matter of life and death to the struggling masses of the next generation. When political matters are dealt with, the mind must take in the future. Bullard's Bill is 44 THE WASTREL HOARD. an attempt to fix the System on the American people and on the world for the next hundred years. That is why I'm op- posing the Bill so strenuously. I want to make my position clear. Transportation is the power to bring people closer ! Mrs. Morse. John is right, Russell. He usually sees over other men's heads. Russell. But / can't think of Bullard as a vicious man. Senator Morse. Bullard, my dear boy, is but an epi- sode in the cycle of vice. Men and women indulge in habits, like the use of tobacco and strong drink and drugs, heady, pernicious things, which lead from one vice to an- other and consume the fruits of land that might grow bread. Men and women drink because drink enables them to indulge their comic sense in the face of their own tragedy and to forget the sense of false inequality of our times, and the people on the other end of the equation are glad to let them forget it. And behold ! — upon the profits of this in- dulgence arises a new financial dynasty, which invests its surplus in railroads and other things, including govern- ment — which it controls with the aid of vice and its pur- veyors — or, if need be, by war. They poison humanity ! Russell. So, it isn't being vicious we need to avoid, but just the being episodes. Senator Morse. Yes, Russell, society is like a complex chemical compound in which no one ingredient is all- powerful. It isn't big causes which make things go wrong. It's all the little elements, the little things we do and don't do. [Russell begins to ponder what is heing said in gen- eral terms, and appears to he talcing it home to himself.^ When a boy has once learned that there is nothing smart in taking a drink that he doesn't want, he has taken a long step on the road to real manhood. When a man has once got the habit of seeing every woman who comes under his influence with his own mother's arm about her waist, he has already adopted the principal chapter in the code of the real gentleman ; when a poor man has once learned the superior comfort of going hungry to being sated on com- THE WASTREL HOARD. 45 promising money, he has gone far toward establishing his real respectability ; and when a rich man has once learned that satisfaction over his own money -safety in the midst of the want of others can only exist in a filthy mind, he is already in serious danger of becoming a member of really decent society. Mes. Moese. And when those things happen, society as a whole will have taken a great leap forward. [EussELL seems ready to surrender before this ad- vice. Sbnatok Mouse comes up to him and places his right hand on Eussell^s shoulder.] EussELL. We do neglect chemistry — mental, moral, so- cial, and commercial — a fundamental error, as De. Bxtl- LAED himself says — and society is nothing without a com- mon philosophy based upon scientific fact. Sbnatoe Moese. We had a son once, and he would have been just your age. [EussELL appears overcome hy a sense of the depth and the worth of the friendship of Senatoe Moese and Mes. Moese for him.] EussELL. I'll speak to Bullard tonight. Sbnatoe Moese. We'll see that you get a chance. EussBLL. I'll try to have it over with. [Enter Musicians from right. They tune up and commence playing, and continue when appropri- ate up to the end of the act.] Sbnatoe Moesb. Here is Bullard now. [Enter Bullaed from left, without overcoat and hat. BuLLAED is a drinking man. The audience is apprised of that fact hy the swagger of his speech, that of a Yanlcee provincialized hy the me- tropolis, the tenor of his remarks, and hy appar- ently insignificant mannerisms which gradually develop until their significance hecomes manifest hy his indulgence at table. He poses as a cynic, hut allows to he seen thn sentimentalist fighting 4C THE WASTREL BOARD. grimly up the heights upon the inept staff of the materialist.] BULLAED. Good evening, Senator. Senator Moese. Good evening, Mr. BuUard. We were just speaking of BuLLAKD. — The devil ! — Your humble servant? Mrs. Morse. [Disconcerted, but trying to set matters right.] It was very nice of you to come. Now we can dis- cuss public questions. BuLLAED. It was very nice of you to ask me to come. Russell, my boy ! How are you? Russell. Good evening, Mr. Bullard. [Russell goalies to the sofa, sits down, and watches the other three, who are standing.] Bullard. Public questions, Mrs. Morse, are very com- mon topics. Mrs. Morse. Why, then, is it difficult to treat common topics in a proper way? Bullard. It always is. That's the rarest faculty. And there are none but common things ! Senator Moese. No public question ever gets settled without your help, eh, Bullard? Bullard. No public question ever gets settled, Sen- ator. Senator Morse. Until it is settled right. Bullard. I stand pat on my version. The two-party fsee-saw was designed for that — by the politicians. To re- move the classic issues would be t^* kill the goose — the pub- lic goose — which lays the golden eggs. Senator Morse. You stand pat from force of habit? Bullard. No, respect for facts. When I see a cold, hard fact, I always take my hat off to it. That habit hai saved me a lot of trouble in my day. Senator Morse. And made you a lot of money. Bullard. For me and my clients. Mrs. Morse. Money ^sn't everything, Mr. Bullard. THE WASTREL HOARD. 47 BuLLAED. If it was it wouldn't be money ; it wouldn't get you anything. Money, money — Mrs. Morse, is what gets you everything. Mbs. Mobsb. Not everything, Mr. Bullard. Men may be upright without money. BuLLAED. [Assuming the ingratiating manner of hi* class and making a show of "talking from the inside" and of being above concealment with his hearers.] I haven't heard that lately. The average man would rather be in right than upright. It's hard to be both at the same time. Now, I attended the First Panel of the Sheriff's Jury at four o'clock today. Not one of the panel but is a millionaire and every one of them bent on escaping ordinary jury duty at any price. The Sheriff gets more than the President in fees alone — and all the job-holders in proportion. Well, our newest multi-millionaire, your young friend Chance, was welcomed to this panel by Peter Merwin himself. Mr. Merwin slapped the boy on the back and dubbed him "Youthful" and the jurors cried out, "iJoth members of this Club!" Sbnatob Mobsb. 'xhe boy's just been admitted to the Unity Club, too. BuLLAED. Excuse me. Senator — ^we are both members — ^but I'd as soon belong to the Grand Central Station ! Mes. Mobsb. Mr. Merwin said a fine thing the other day — he would rather loan money on a man's character than on government bonds. BuLLAED. Mr. Merwin — ^believe me — never had the choice. He deals exclusively with the fellows that have the securities. By the way, he has induced "Sir Youthful" to take hold of the financial end of this so-called reform campaign. Sbnatoe Mobsb. It is the new Educational Foundation against BuLLAED. — ^Against the ancient literary foundation known as the Tammany Society. 48 THE WASTREL HOARD. Senator Morse. Well, Youthful's father left several millions in securities, that Merwin BuLLARD. Handed to him — and wouldn't lend a dol- lar on. The greatest bait this goldfish in his blinding bowl ever nibbled at was a secret process for making gold from Bea-water. How characteristic! How many of the tribe wish to do that in one way or another! — to owr the sea and through it have no less than everything for their own. [Orinning.] If the wastrel had lived, we'd have had — the whole fortune in that paper. Merwin has bales of it — still undigested. Unfortunately, Chance never cared to run for office. He was one sucker that never bit. But he did love paper.' There are too few like him ! Introduce a bill. Sen- ator, requiring securities that a donkey can eat. Stock should be fed as well as watered. Mrs. Morse. The name Chance is on the list of victims in every society broker's failure. BuLLARD. They're all outposts for Merwin. The Street is his camp. Chance, that is, fortune, is their Creator ! Senator Morse. Merwin's wards are widows and orphans ! He is a patron of religion. Mrs. Morse. And Mr. Merwin has done a lot for the t'ountry. Senator Morse. And the country has done a lot for Mr. Merwin. Bullard. And Mr. Merwin has done the country for a lot — but he gives it — a salve for the conscience. It'll be all right. Senator Morse. You know, Bullard, that Merwin proposed to Mrs. Morse at the time I did. She accepted me because he was rich and everything he has done in spite of his money has been brought to my notice as a sort of re- minder that she may have made a mistake. Bullard. [Sadly.] A rare tribute to you both ! Mrs. Morse. He [LooJcing toward the "bow window] has done much for fine arts in America Bullard. Mine is the real fine art of America. [Makes THE WASTREL HOARD. 49 sig-n of handling money.] Mr. Merwin is its chief patron. He holds art as he holds stocks — for the market. Mes. Morsh. He puts them in public museums. BuLLARD. Yes. The public houses them, exempts them from taxation, and advertises them — and [During this conversation, RussBLii has ieen looking on, lost in thought. Toward the end he forgets himself, rises, puts hie right fist to his mouth, the thumbnail touching the lips, the index finger along the upper lip, comes up to the group, hut stares into space, as if alone.] — and — ^knocks them down — [diminuendo] at a rich profit.. [Bullard ends Ms sentence almost inaudihly as he suddenly notices Russell, is disconcerted, arrests his speech, and turns to Russell and speaks to him as if brought suddenly to knowledge of his state of mind.] Why so quiet, Russell? [Russell is aroused with a start, turns for a refuge in his confusion, notices Alice and Mary, who have entered, and speaks, as if to all, as Mary and Alice enter.] Russell. Here are the girls. Bullard. Charming ! Mrs. Morse. Meet Miss Flint and my daughter, Mr. Bullard. Bullard. [Appears fascinated by Ma^y.] Charmed! Alice. How do you do? Mary. [Resenting an engaging look.] How do you do? [Mary drops her handkerchief, with malice, to make Bullard bend. Bullard picks it up and in handing it to Mary sniffs appreciatevly at the perfume. Mary reaches for the handkerchief and, to affront Bullard, half catches at it.] Mrs. Morse. Miss Flint is the daughter of the Senator's oldest friend. [Bullard shows that he has felt repulsed by Maey and attempts to retreat in graciousness to Mrs. Morse.} 50 THE WASTREL HOARD. BuLLAED. I congratulate her; that makes you her Mend. In this soulless metropolis — the undertow — on this — seashore — is Mrs. Morse. We are the ones to be congratulated. She is as accomplished as she is beautiful. We hope to hear her at the Opera some day. [BuLLARD attempts to cover his retreat in patroniz- ing graciousness to Mary.] BuLLARD. Wonderful ! [Bullard studies Mary^s features closely, measures her from tip to toe in a guarded way, and checks an exclamation which would denote a discovery.] Mary. [Coldly.] Nonsense! j [Bullard shotcs that he feels that his mash has been penetrated. He assumes the attitude of challenge and defiance.] Bullard. Don't be too sure. It'll be all right. [To himself, musing, setting his right hand on his chin — and to Russell.] Where? — The telephone I — The voice! [Bul- lard takes Russell aside to right. Mrs. Morse and Sen- ator Morse direct and attempt to keep Mary and Alice away from Russell and Bullard. J" Charmer! So, that's the girl? Russell. What do you mean? Bullard. So that's why you have been so distracted and haven't been able to get down to business? Russell. Do you mean to Bullard. Oh, I am blessed with good eyesight. It's as plain as Don't / know the signs? A child Russell. That's no excuse for seeing things. Bullard. It doesn't take a physician — any knowing woman could see [Victor and Mrs. Havorbee enter. The first person Victor greets is Mary^ shaking her hand with marked cordiality and covert admiration.] THE WASTREL HOARD. 51 BuLLARD. [Noting the attitude of Victor.] Good God! My boy! [With conscious ambiguity.] Is Chance wedging into this match, too ! EussELL. [Showing that, in his preoccupation with the ordeal before him, he has not understood Bullard's insin- uation.] Mr. Bullard, I am obliged to tell you [BuLLAKD raises a warning hamd to arrest the speech of Russell and to call his attention to the entrance of Victor and Mrs. Havorbeb. The speech and manner of Victor and Mrs. Havorbee disclose the superb detachment of ultra-smart Manhattanites. Victor does not deign to conceal, even in attempted dalliance with Mari, his atti- tude toward Alice of a suitor confident of his merits and assured of success. Mary, on the other hand, shows that she is embarrassed by the double necessity of appearing, on the one hand, to encourage Victor without hurting Alice, and otherwise to disarm suspicion of the nature of her interest in Russell, and, on the other hand, to give her attention to the talk of Bullard and EussBLL, so as, when necessity and opportunity combine, to shoot quick glances of intelligence and moral support to Russell.] Victor. [To Mary. J How charming you look! Blooming as a rose and sweet — as a — Madonna ! Mary. [WitJi a nervous laugh.] I am glad you think so! Victor. [Unembarrassed, to Alice.] 'It is quite true. Eh! Isn't it? Alice. [Offering her hand to Victor.] How do you do? Victor. Oh ! Yes. How do you do ! Eh ! Bullard. [Nudging UvssvuAj and nodding.] You see! Russell. [Glowering at Bvllard.] Well! 52 THE WASTREL HOARD. [Mrs. Morse and Senator Morse take in the situa- tion between Eussell and Bullard and take Mrs. Havorbee^ Victor, Alice, and Mary in charge.] Mrs. Morse. It was so good of you to come, Mrs. Havorbee. Senator Morse. How do you do, Mrs. Havorbee. How do you do, Victor. Mrs. Morse. Let me show you the Americana I spoke to you about. Are you young people coming? [Victor, Alice, and Mart trail slowly after Mrs. Morse, Senator Morse and Mrs. Havorbee ; when they have reached the dining-room, Mary halts Victor and Alice.] Mary. [To Victor and Alice.] Doesn't the table look sweet! Victor. [To Mary.] Doesn't it? Alice. [Turning to Mary and her hack to Victor.] It's a question of — appetite ! Mrs. Morse. [Observing the lagging.] All right, if you are not coming. [Mrs. Morse, Senator Morse, and Mrs. Havorbbb go out at the right of the banquet room. Mary, Victor, and Alice move about the banquet room examining the table and talking. All three are fidgety, for distinct reasons. Victor affects a slouch and a general air of nonchalance. From time to time, he draws out alternately a jeweled gold cigarette case and a gold lighter, and, in handling them, discloses his devotion to eigor rettes, his restiveness at not being able to smoke, and a general demeanor indicative of not knowing what to do with himself. Alice watches Mm with an apparent desire to take him in hand, and with concern at Marv's lightness and nervousness. Mary has eyes and attention for Alice, for Vie- THE WASTREL HOARD. 53 TOE, for EussELL and Bullard, and for the return of the Others. Bullakd and Russell, each for a different reason, proceed in their talk as if desirous of getting something said before the Others return.] BuLLARD. What's the matter, my boy? I haven't hurt your feelings, have I? Russell. We'll leave my feelings out of it. I wish to discuss business. Bullard. I can't — I'm too fond of you. Besides, that isn't business. This Pacific matter is good for three years. You'll need to be footloose. This bill will be the entering wedge. After we carry Congress we'll have to get The Hague Tribunal. Certain nations must be prevented by its decree from denying our power to discriminate. That will require big money and rare cleverness. Once the power is conceded to discriminate in tolls, we'll have Congress make them so high our rivals can't pay them. Russell. An international hold-up. That means war. Bullard. Only with England. Land power against the sea. Russell. And Japan and China. The Japs are ripe for a fight for space to multiply. Bullard. It's war or The Hague. The continent of Europe's with us in either event. And if we decide we need Mexico, it is war — war with Japan, anyway. Russell. But the people Bullard. Our people will rise to the bait. The yellow newspapers will declare war and they'll be doing my work as usual. Every American who is dissatified with his op- portunities is spoiling for a chance in Mexico. We'll bring the whole thing on at once. Editors are our hired men ! Russell. But the treaty — the Hay-Pauncefote Treaty ! Bullard. A little scrap of paper can just start the blaze we want. That's what treaties are made for. You never hear of them except 54 THE WASTREL HOARD. Russell. But the powers of Europe are balanced — France and Russia are with England. BULLAED. So they all think. Not against us. That's the idea. We'll break that combination. England must be dethroned as the leader. Russell. We can't lead. Our entire foreign policy is based on Britain's control of the sea. BuLLAED. That's what must be changed. To control commerce we've got to place the American people under a new leadership, a real leadership. Russell. What justification can there be? It was England that gave us an American Canal — ^by abrogating the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty— ours to build as and where we liked, to own, control and govern, on the sole condition of its being always neutral and free for the passage of the ships of all nations on equal terms, except that if we get into a war with any nation, we can shut its ships out and take care of ourselves. What justification ? BuLLAED. The usual one — high financial necessity. We've got to control the railroads from coast to coast to the South of us and keep Canada out of the Canal. Our railroads will then get the business away from the Canal, and keep the power, through their monopoly of coastwise ships, to charge whatever rates they please, and that'll give us control of the sea as well — a world monopoly at last. Then industries come in, then empire, then — the reward. [Russell appears to attempt to grasp Bullaed's idea.] Russell. But American registry and the flag ! BuLLAED. Are purely and simply matters, in peace and war, of insurance and taxation. Russell. But your own bill prohibits railroads from owning ships. BuLLAED. My boy, you are too innocent! You don't suppose we let our enemies manage the opposition to us! We oppose ourselves and nowadays we often appear in THE WASTREL HOARD. 55 frantic opposition to what we really want. We put that life preserver for water competition in for the time being to conceal our real purpose — to get the power to discrim- inate. Once we have that we have everything. Then we'll monopolize water transportation, too. We'll never give up this fight. We have underwritten every profitable industry in the country Russell. Including the canning industry ! BuLLARD. What do you mean? Russell. Well, you can the press, the stage, the drama, the publishers, and the pulpit. Even the liquor interests restrict the press and control the movies. That's your very policy. Bullaed. Only as a necessary incident. Otherwise we care nothing for them. We've killed public co-operation and private competition deader than a doornail. Russell. You do indeed control American lives from before the cradle almost to beyond the grave. BULLARD. Yes. Russell. Well, you have made death so easy, you ought to make burial free. It is a police function, anyway. Bullaed. As a doctor I saw that the facts of mortality would, if known, tell the whole story of social crime. The coroner is the crown of the political arch. If you sur- render when the undertaker comes in you might as well be the corpse. We've got to protect what we have and head off the come-back ; we are the middleman in all things and the ultimate distributors in most, but transportation is the keystone of the industrial arch. The natural geo- graphical advantage and our monopoly of coastwise trade don't help us. It's the political power to discriminate we want. Next we'll extend the exemption to all American ships and for all ports in the world. And then we'll raise the rates for the ships outside the combine. Once we con- trol transportation, we control commerce, and naval and commercial bases. The control of industry is the next step, and then the last man and the last dollar, a great, world 56 THE WASTREL HOARD. empire. Let me tell you something! If our people learn how their railroad stock and bonds are created and held, they'll riot. We've got to get real power soon or never. Now for the entering wedge and then — and then — [Exult- ant] — it will keep us busy until we retire having these high tolls maintained. This question has come and it has come to stay ; it will not down as long as men and nations have ambitions ! [BvssEhh stands lost in thought.] You agree to forget your feelings for this girl and I'll make proper reparation for her and EussELL. [Again "becoming attentive.] What do you mean, reparation? [Kussell catches sight of Victor, AucB, and Mary, and receives a furtive glance from Mary hespeaking an attack upon the plan agreed upon.] Well ! Mary. [In a hurst of forced laughter.] Why, Victor! You mustn't say such things ! Victor. Pardon me. Eh ! Alice. [Troubled.] Not again. [The conversation of Mary, Victor, and Alice con- tinues in a low tone and Russell gives his un- divided attention to Bullard again.] BuLLARD. Well — [Noting the diversion and balking ai explicitness.] — I'll double your retainer right now, Bussell. That's no inducement. BuLLARD. Why not? Russell. Double nothing is nothing. ' Bullard. What do you mean? Russell. I haven't any retainer. Bullard. Why, it's ten thousand a year. That's some- thing to start on. Then you get a reminder, then a refresh- er, then a sweetener, then a sustainer, and then your fee. The law is a good profession, and the mysterious paymas- ter makes a good client. Russell. Retainer! [Disparagingly.] H'm! Bullard. Well, it's no crime to pay your lawyer or THE WASTREL HOARD. 57 your broker, though a good many dishonest people seem to think it is. Those who do pay deserve loyalty. Russell. Yes, but I've stopped. BxjLLAED. That's right, and you're starting over at twice the salary. It'll be all right. KussELL. On the contrary. I am giving up back salary. BuLLARD. You'll have to furnish a diagram for that joke. Russell. In the past year I have received from you ten thousand dollars as a retainer and twelve thousand dol- lars in fees. I haven't used a penny of it. I've that amount and a little more saved up. BuLLARD. You needn't tell me that. We own all the banks, and we know every transaction of every individual who interests us. Russell. And that knowledge is power. BuLLARD. Absolute power. Now, you interest me very much, you see. Mary. [In another diplomatic outburst.] Rich men always fall back on their money and never on their man- hood. [BuLLARD pauses a moment and Russell gives a moment to thought.] Victor. [Patronizingly to MjiSY.] TSot alwaysl Alice. [Disturhed.] Too often! Victor. [In a lower tone, to Alice and Mary.] It's a common weakness. [BuLLARD fixes a challenging gaze upon Russell which Russell returns.] Russell. The spider's web ! You'll receive a certified check tomorrow for what you have paid me. You say that you know it will be good. BuLLARD. You're not going to quit, are you? Russell. That's it exactly. I am going to quit. BuLLARD. But you can't do that. This Pacific Bill isn't passed yet by a good deal. 58 THE WASTREL HOARD. Russell. I'm willing to pay the price. I'm giving it all back. BULLABD. Not all Eussia^L. What do you mean? BtiLLAED. How about your profits in underwritings I put you in on? Russell. I took the risk. Things went down soon enough. They do now. Every time they go up, those clever Teutons unload. Everyone suffers from that risk. Bullaed. Yes, just the same risk as my friends in Congress. But there wasn't any risk on their flyers. We were jockeying the dividends. That's why I put them in, Russell. I'm glad you told me. I'll give that back, too. Bullaed. It isn't so simple as that. We've trusted the whole thing to you. Russell. Am I not free? Does your hold-up include me? Bullaed. You can't turn around on people. You have our secrets. Russell. Under the seal of professional privilege. Bullaed. Which the courts no longer respect in mat- ters of this kind. Russell. Well, you have my word. Bullaed. And you've slipped a moral cog. Russell. No. I've just caught one. Lawyers should be punished for their part in their clients' villainy. / might have been disbarred. Bullaed. Impossible. You are a member of the Bar Association. Russell. But I'm becoming honest. I'll resign. Bullaed. No man trusts a reformed lobbyist. He's only fit for an expert State's witness. Russell. I'm not dealing with every man. I'm dealing with you. Do you mean to say you don't trust me? Bullaed. I have trusted you. Aren't you going back on me? You're a lawyer. You're going to continue to THE WASTREL HOARD. 59 practice. You'll be retained for what you know, facts as well as law. Russell. You needn't fear. The door is closed upon the past. Nobody'U learn anything from me. It's nothing to be proud of and I'll not be heard boasting. [Russell turns aside — looks upwards and mutters as if in despair.] Stealing from humanity ! Not a hundred years ago society would hang a man by law just for stealing a sheep from another man. And now humanity submits — and society goes on producing its own disease and crime. Society protects private property even to selective imprisonment for debt but never selects for punishment wholesale theft of public property. Bullabd. What's that ! [Russell remains silent, BuL- LAED bites his lips, pauses, then proceeds.] Many a lawyer would like to be able to say to prospective clients he had served our interests. A man seldom knows when he's well off — until he's worse off ! [Mrs. Moesb^ Senator Moese^ and Mrs. Havorbee come into the banquet room from the right.] Mrs. Havorbee. [Her eyes happen to rest upon Vic- toe^ Alice, o»d Mary.] Splendid! And very interesting ! Russell. I shall have only one client, hereafter. [Flint enters. Mrs. Morse and Senator Morsb hurry to take possession of him.] Flint. [Effusively.] Well. How do you do! Mrs. Morse. This is a pleasure ! Senator Morse. Come in, Sam, and meet my friends. [Alice, followed by Victor and Mrs. Havorbee, come forward to greet Flint. Alice kisses Flint on the cheek. Flint beams on Mrs. Havorbee and shakes hands with Victor.] Alice. Well, Uncle Sam. You are more attractive than ever 60 THE WASTREL HOARD. Flint. [Turning the compliment to Mrs. Havoebbh.] It is being with you young folks. Alice. This is Me. Chance's aunt, Mrs. Havorbeb. Flint. I shouldn't have believed it. Mrs. Havorbbe. We'll say Victor is my nephew. Victor. As a woman thinks ! [All laugh at Victor's wit, move backward, under Mrs. Morse's steering, and drop into more subdued conversation. Bullaed, who has dis- creetly poAised, resumes.^ BuLLARD. Retained already? [Victor notes that Mary has remained out of view of Flint^ in the banquet room, studying alter- nately Russell and the spating arrangement, and goes back to Mary.] Russell. Not yet. BuLLARD. The new client makes up what you pay back. There's an agreement. Russell. None whatever. The new client doesn't know I'm coming. BuLLARD. You're taking a chance, my boy. Who is it? Perhaps I can tell you about them. It'll be all tight. Russell. You don't know this client. You wouldn't understand them. BULLARD. Who is it? It'll be Russell. The American people. BuLLARD. A United States attorney! But they prac- tice privately! — And to great advantage. [Russell holds his retort poised.] But we have the right men in those places now. We don't need you there. Russell. You won't have me there. When I said peo- ple, I meant it ! [Alice rejoins Mary and Victor in the ba/nquet room. BuLLARD takes note and nods to Russell. Mrs. Morse and Senator Morse appear very much occupied in keeping the attention of Mrs. Havor- bbe and Flint from Bullard and Russell. From THE WASTREL HOARD. 61 time to time Flint hursts into laughter, evidently in appreciation of his own sallies. Shortly after, as if in echo, Maey^ still out of view of Flint, burst into strategic hollow laughter. The atten- tion of Flint is each time arrested, hut he comes hack quickly to his own field of conquest. At each hurst of laughter, Eussbll gives increasing signs of nerves and fear of ca/using Bullaed to raise his voice.] Bullaed. Not that! Eussbll. Yes. Just that! [Eussbll turns away from Bullaed^ hut Bullaed follows him ahout, keeping up a running fire of conversation, and gradually getting his attention.] Bullaed. My boy! Are you crazy? Come, give up this affair. I know it's hard. Be a Don Quixote, if you like. That's not fatal. But don't wreck your life on the myth of service to society. There's no such thing as organ- ized society. Can't you see that you weren't born to be its victim or its slave? The bottom of the treadmill is no place for you. You didn't select poverty for your birth- right. Society allowed it to be wished upon you. Now is your chance to come into your own. Don't make it impossi- ble for me to help you. Every child born is its parents' hostage to so-called society for their good behavior — [Flint laughs]^-lo\it what hostage does society give them or you? What insurance is there for paternity, that the commonest crime is its prevention? [Maet la/ughs.] What does good behavior get anybody nowadays? There are only individ- uals in this world and society is organized against them. There never was an individual so good that society wouldn't turn on him and crucify him without a pang. Don't be ahead of your time ! That's treason ! Harvey's theory of the circulation of the blood was considered so ridiculous that for ten years not a single patient consulted 62 THE WASTREL HOARD. him. ]s!ot the circulation of money ! "Put money in thy purse !" Don't waste your fine scorn of the idealist upon the one thing which enables a man today to cherish his ideals. Qet the money that will shelter you from the penalties of being without. [Flint laughs.] Society imprisons God's poor, who, with or without fault, or for just cause given by society itself, get on the wrong side of the law and find all the virtuous forces of society leagued against them — [Mary laughs.] — in what should be clinics with specific wards for specific complaints, but in their terrible reality are such mephitic, disease-and-degradation-spread- ing Bastilles that those that know them would rather be dead than go there — to be persecuted, grafted on, victimized, and starved by degrees — morally and phys- ically — until they become moral lepers and parasites. [BuLLAED tugs at his collar, as if to relieve pressure.] And even the innocent, sent to these places and buried alive through society's mistake — without questioning whether their deficiencies be not evidence of their guilt- lessness — [Flint laughs.] — and its own guilt — society has neither the heart, the character, nor the self-respect to compensate for the false accusation and the unjust punishment. And the innocent women and children suffer eternally from the moment organized society knocks — [Mary la/ughs.] — at the breadwinner's door. And no- body's safe from the knock at the door. The surrender of the public functions of lawyers, including those of prosecuting attorneys, for purposes of protection and private blackmail and coercion, has become a fixed Amer- ican custom. The struggle is always unequal. [Flint laughs.] When I consider what kind of men dare to judge other men, I am appalled, and I shudder! It is the man in power who determines who shall go and for how long. Justice, or what goes by that name, is openly bought and sold in the United States. A less serious cause, the sale of indulgences, brought about the Reformation, and no THE WASTREL HOARD. 63 greater cause, the unjust conviction of Jean Galas, was made, by Voltaire, the cause of the French Eevolution. [Maey laughs and turns from Alice to Victok and furtively shoots a glance at Russell.] Mary. For heaven's sake, say something — Victor ! EussBLL. Well, American law is so mixed up that no- body really knows it and few know that. The two big causes for the breakdown of justice, the uneven distribu- tion of wealth and the private control of public prop- erty, are just the things which should call forth courageous, constructive jurists. [With a glance at Victoe, Alice^ and Maey.] But even the mob admires money. It is tangible and they can understand it — ^but brains — they can't. So what's the use ! States' rights, extra courts, no nation, but just politics, gTaft, inefficiency, chaos, nothing, America I BuLLAED. Correct. And organized society, as at pres- ent constituted, commits crimes that defy the imagination and make the blood run cold, with its dupes worshipping it all the while as holy. [Flint laughs.] Modern society is probably the weakest and the crudest thing in existence. [Maey laughs.] If civilized society were a body that could be strung up by the neck, it wouldn't survive meeting the first pair of real men with a rope. And it won't be better until it's stronger, or stronger until it is better. Power on its present foundations is weakness itself. Come, now! I understand you as nobody else ever can, and we can help one another. [Maey laughs.] You've been in politics long enough to know that no man in public office owes the public anything. I'll give you time to get over this — give you a trip to Europe, fees and expenses. I can't get on without you. I can get the grafters myself. I've got to have you to get the honest members, accelerate public opinion, and put brains in the heads of some and tongues in the mouths of others. If I get anybody else, he'll think of nothing but to get my job for himself. Besides, you 64 THE WASTREL HOARD. have the confidence of the one universally honored United States Senator. His daughter Mary. [Laughs.] Preposterous, Victor ! Money always keeps the better manhood down ! KussELL. [Showing resentment and as if regretting the attention he has given Bullard.] You've said enough ! This conference is at an end. Bullard. Not quite yet. Did this girl tell you to break with me? [Flint catches sight of Mary a/nd starts toward her. She turns her hack and Flint stops and watches her. Mrs. Morse comes to the rescue.] Mrs. Morse. John has some new bits of Americana. He wishes you to see them. Flint. [Enthusiastically, forgetting that he has a daughter. His speech is that of the self-conscious, precious Yankee.] Of course. I want to see them. [Mrs. Morse and Flint go to side of banquet room, followed by Senator Morse and Mrs. E[avorbee_, who beckon to Victor^ Alice, and Mary. Bullard notes that he and Russell are to be alone and speaks with increased emphasis. Mary remains behind the Others^ out of view, and listens.] Russell. This matter is between you and me; we're both guests here. Bullard. Let the girl go abroad to study. Russell. I refuse to discuss the matter further. Bullard. You've told your side of it. Russell. There isn't any other. Bullard. How about Mrs. Turner and the girls? Russell. Why are you so interested in children? You never had any of your own. Bullard. The difference between the love of one's own children only and the love of others' children, too, is the difference between the past and the future of the human race. / have tried to be a big brother to you. THE WASTREL HOARD. 65 [BuLLAED reaches for his watch chain and looks down at a locket thereon, the mate to the one EussBLL gave to Mary. He notes then for the first time that the locket is missing from Rus- sma/s chain.] RusSBLii. I appreciate that, but my family is my own affair. BuLLABD. Hard times are coming. Russell. Don't talk hard times to me. It's been hard times for me ever since I was born — and for most other people, too. How do you know hard times are coming? If your underwriters keep on withdrawing the credit of small enterprises and keep on sending gold back to Europe for military establishments, they'll feel hard times themselves, and they'll be lucky if the structure they erect on other people's misfortunes doesn't tumble upon their own heads. BuLLABD. But you needn't risk the welfare of your family. Children are young but once. [The chime clock in the library is heard striking seven times.] Russell. Yes — and a man is young but once. The best Time lets him keep is his good name. If he gives his children that [The smaller clocJe strikes seven times.] BULLARD. To have done nothing for children but to bring them into the world is to have done nothing indeed ! To a man the privilege of guiding his children is the breath of life. That should be every grown man's worry. Russell. I've done it. BULLAED. But the instinct quickens and grows from the first doll to the last grandchild. [The larger clock, in a room above, strikes seven times.] Russell. I know my duty. 66 THE WASTREL HOARD. [The orchestra commences to play "The Serenade," by Franz Drdla, the violins predominating with muted strings. The music continues until after the fall of the curtain.] THE WASTREL HOARD. 67 BuLLARD. I'll let Mrs. Turner judge. When I tell her about the other — singing girl ! EUSSELL. If any man brings sorrow into the life of the woman who has been my wife, by God, I'll kill him. And now, I'm through. [The very loud chime, of the hall clock on the floor below, is heard to strike seven times.'\ BuLLABD. I've urged you to give up the other woman. Remember that, thanks to yon, I'm on the inside with the Morses now. I notice you are not wearing your locket ! [Mrs. Morse, Senator Morse, Flint, Mrs. Havor- BBE, Alice, and Victoe come into the banquet room and Mary keeps ahead of them.] Russell. The race of men who spy upon the weakness of their neighbors in order to get in upon them and to profit by their knowledge are the nearest thing to rats that God allows to exist in human form. BuLLAED. [Pats Russell on the shoulder.] You'll meet many human rats, my boy, as you get older. It'll be all right. Come, we're attracting attention. We'll talk it over tomorrow. Russell. It will be as I say. I'm through. BuLLARD. All right, my boy. It will be all right. [BuLLARD joins the others. Mary joins Russbll.] Mary. I'm proud of you. It was wonderful. You'll not be sorry. Russell. Not if you are pleased. I feel stronger al- ready, as if I could accomplish anything. Mary. So you can. We both can. But we must start all over again. You start your campaign here. I'll do Europe. I'll beat Bullard if I have to go to The Hague to do it — and if they hang me afterward ! [Mary makes a strategic retreat from Russell.] Flint. [Ecstatically, to Mes. Moesb.] Some of these 68 THE WASTREL HOARD. bits are priceless. Mary Dyer [Dramatically'], the 'Quaker girl, an apostle of peace, in defiance to the Puritan Hang- men! Two hundred and fifty odd years ago! That Dutch print is wonderful. [Turning to Mary in a matter-of-fact way.] Hello, daughter, I am glad to see you here. [Russell avoids Flint and joins Victor, Alice, Senator Morse, and Bullard in the banquet room.] Mary. I am glad to 6e — here. [Mrs. Morse leaves Mary and Flint together and joins the others.] Flint. I had a shock today. I happened to learn the address of little Laura Lord and I called. Mary. Well ? Flint. A strange coincidence! I hadn't seen her for years — to speak to. Mary. [Grimly.] I have often heard you speak of her — a paragon ! Flint. It was pitiable — her condition — and she seemed miserable, like one doomed. Mary. I am sorry. Flint. You must go to see her. Mary. I shall. Flint. She lives at the Lynnthorpe. She's tied, it seems, to a worthless fellow — who married her — some years ago — without love, just to keep her from the stage. He's named — Turner — Russell Turner. Mary. [Steadying herself and turning away as if to look toward the banquet room, she hesitates a moment, then turns toward her father and, seeming ready to sink to the floor, makes an effort to speak to Flint ; her eyes are half- closed, and her voice is almost ina/udihle.] They seem leady to sit down. [As the guests make their way to the table the cur- tain falls.] Curtain. ACT. II. ACT II. The scene is the same as in ACT I, except that the outer line of the stage is almost parallel with tJie outer line of the doors on either side of the stage. The banquet room is thus brought into the foreground. During the time that has elapsed, the principal courses of the din- ner have been passed. The orchestra has been heard playing behind the curtain. As the curtain rises slowly, animated conversation appears to be in progress and all the guests are seen at their places, at table; Senator Morse at head, facing the audience; Mrs. Morse at foot; on either side of Senator Morse are Flint and Bullard ; at Mrs. Morsels right sits Mary ; at left sits Russell ; next to Mary^ at right, sits Victor; next to Eussell^ at left, sits Mrs. Havor- bbe; next to Victor^ at right, sits Alice. The orchestra is just finishing "The Prologue" from I Pagliacci.] Mrs. Morse. I'm coming to see you when you play, Mary. Alice. Mary says she'll never play unless someone chloroforms one of the principals. Mary. [With a forced laugh.] I never saw such healthy women. Victor. A likely understudy is a great invigorator to the rest of the company. Eh ! Mrs. Morse. Mary ought to have a part where she can sing a song. [Bullard suddenly looks at Mary. His attention becomes fixed upon the locket. He looks down at the one he carries on his watch-chain and discloses that he has discovered that they match and that he is nettled. Victor attempts to give an imita- tion of Mary singing the grand air from Tosca.] 71 12 THE WA8TBEL HOARD. ViCTOB. "Vissi d'arte — vissi d'amore! I never did nothing to nobody !" I am quite a singer myself ! Eh ! BuLLAED. [To ViOTOE.] We will keep your secret! ViCTOE. What secret? BuLLAED. That you are a singer. ViCTOE. [Curtly} Oh! Thanks! BuLLAED. Is there any other? ViCTOE. Not that I know of. [Maey frowns furtively at ViCXOE. Bullaed turns to Flint.] Bullaed. Your daughter is on the stage, Mr. Flint? ViCTOE. It's a play called "Life." There's a fatal fas- cination about playing at life. Eh! Maet. [With a diplomatic chuckle.] It is deadly! Flint. [Brooking the interruption with marked resig- nation.] I am sorry to say she is. [Nervous, to change the subject.] That was a great speech of yours, Senator, on the Pacific Canal Bill. We've got to keep our treaties. The world's peace rests on treaties. We can't afford to endanger that. Sovereignty has duties as well as rights. Bullaed. [Giving Maey a look of confident chal- lenge.] Lucky it isn't the movies! The stage must be in an awful pucker when that form of entertainment can get a footing I Sbnatoe Moese. It's a serious matter. We must neu- tralize that Canal so that any nation that fights us there must fight the world. Bullaed. Very serious. Senator, when you're sched- uled to hold a brief before The Hague Tribunal against your speech. If we pass our bill, you'll surely be chosen. Senatoe Moese. Do you think so? I've declared my- self against the BUI. Bullaed. You've advised and defended many a man you wouldn't admit you believed in. Senatoe Moese. But that's as a lawyer. Bullaed. It lent your prestige. That's why you were retained. THE WASTREL HOARD. 73 Senator Morse. A lawyer can't choose his clients — and live. Besides, the questions are not quite the same. One question is that of power and expediency. At The Hague we argue technical questions of law. BuLLARD. "Consistency is the mark of greatness," Sen- ator. Senator Morse. And "the bugbear of small minds," Bullard. Flint. That's one on you, Bullard. Bullard. It looks that way. Senator Morse. No offense intended. Bullard. None taken, I assure you. Give them some of that sauce at The Hague. It'll be all right. Senator Morse. It's a far cry to The Hague. You haven't passed your bill yet. Bullard. But we will, this session or next. The ques- tion is one of those that will keep nations in conflict until it unites them forever in peace. We'll soon be at The Hague. Senator Morse. If you ever do, you'll have to be there to feed me the argument on your side. Bullard. All nature is an appetite of some sort ! Mrs. Havorbbb. Why are you not drinking your wine, Mr. Flint. It is good. Flint. My dear lady, I am a manufacturer ; I now em- ploy more than five thousand men ; and almost every night for thirty years, one or more women with one child in arms and another, perhaps, tugging at the skirt, rang my door- bell to ask me to reinstate a husband who had lost Mb place through drink. [Looking at Mary.] I shall hold that an evil day when I or mine take the first glass of wine. Mrs. Havorbeb. Dear me, you are serious. Flint. Sufficiently so even to recommend my serious- ness to you. As a public-spirited woman, I should think you might consider giving an example — [Looking at Vic- TORj who is toying with a glassi — of total abstinence. Mrs. Havorbee. Oh, dear me, no — I couldn't think of 74 THE WASTREL HOARD. it. I have neither— [Looking at Flint]— husband, nor— [Looking at Mary] — chick nor child. Oh, no. I couldn't give up my cocktail ! — Not at my time of life ! Mrs. Morse. You are, indeed, unfortunate. No mother- woman, who has prepared a child for the world and desires to prepare the world for her child, would feed it habits or countenance women drinking or smoking cigarettes. BuLLARD. It is regrettable, Mr. Flint, you hadn't — [Looking at Mary] — a son to turn your work over to. Flint. If I had, I probably shouldn't. It seems to be less than one generation from shirtsleeves to the wrist- watch. I have seen few sons qualifying for big jobs. Mrs. Morse. [She has suspended her interruption dur- ing that of BuLLARD.J No mother could say that, Mrs. Havorbee. It is just as I always say. Better have a Court of Mothers at The Hague — that'll at least assure peace. BuLLARD. You must be there. Mrs. Morse. There ought to be an American woman there to look after you. Eussell, you should go. [Bullabd squirms.] You have a friend there. [Maey looks up as if in inquiry.] Eussell. [Furtively.] He is a very good friend. [Mary appears satisfied. Bullahd hastens to change the subject.] Bullard. By the way. Senator, you were not at the Opera Directors' meeting today. Senator Morse. I've been rather neglectful lately. The Peace Society met. You discussed opera in English. I'm sorry I wasn't present. Victor. A very stormy meeting — the Krupp gunman's Briinnhilde against the made in America maid. [Mary feigns appreciative laughter which rings hol- low.] Bullard. What do you think. Senator, of the plan to send a promising American singer abroad to stu^y? THE WASTREL HOARD. 75 Senator Morse. Splendid! BuLLAED. Would you make the choice and take charge of the administration of the fund? Senator Morse. I should be delighted. BuLLARD. Well, Mr. Merwin is ready to put fifty thou- sand dollars into your hands tomorrow. Robert Thorburn is his attorney in these matters. It'll be all right. Senator Morse. I'll be glad to co-operate with him. Mrs. Morse. I'll still continue to stand up for Mr. Merwin. BuLLARD. Well, Merwin doesn't care who sings the songs of a country so long as he can underwrite its bond issues Victor. Merwin's scale has only one note, then ! BuLLARD. What's that? Victor. Dough ! Eh ! Mary. [Patronizingly.^ Clever! BuLLAED. That's good! Alice. With the music of life a monotone ! Victor. That makes it real harm money ! Eh ! Mrs. Havorbee. Victor. Do be serious! Mary. He is ! Victor. [Turning to Mary with a conquering smile.] Thank you. [Noting that attention continues, Victor makes another start.] The Suffragettes have reached Washington at last. Mrs. Havoebee. They are brave women. Mrs. Morse. In what way? Mrs. Havorbee. Because they do not fear prejudice. Victor. The English women don't fear anything. Eh ! Mrs. Moese. They don't fear even God! Victor. They certainly put the rage in suffrage. Mrs. Havorbee. Our women are wiser ; they use smiles [Giving a sample] instead of brickbats. We are the rage! Victor. What has that got you ! Mrs. Havorbee. Politically, not much! Until the men's parties recognize us we shall have to work as best 76, TEE WASTREL HOARD. we can through our own weak women's organization. But equal suffrage is not a sex right. It is a human right. It is the right of self-government. The women's party would benefit all political parties. It would drive out all politi- cians who would restrict the common rights. Victor. Say, Alice, to what party does your father be- long? Eh! BuLLAED. That's doubtful. It's hard to tell where anybody belongs — eh, Senator? Alice. Mother hasn't any doubt at all. BuLLAED. How's that? All parties look alike to me. They all want to regulate business out of existence. It'll be all right. Alice. Ma says she's the party. Flint. Good ! Alice. Thank you, Uncle Sam. ViCTOE. Is that joke on you or me, Mr. BuUard? Eh! BuLLABD. Both, I guess. Sbnatob Moese. And on me, too ; but it's no joke. ViCTOE. Here's one for you, Mary. Eh ! Alice. [Nervously.] Well? ViCTOE. Why is the machine politician really for equal suffrage? Eh! Mes. Havoebeb. He isn't. ViCTOE. Yes, he is. Even in Mexico. Eh ! Alice. Go ahead. We'll let you tell us. ViCTOE. Well, in Mexico, the women aren't permitted to vote and the men don't dare. That's practical equality. Flint. There's many a Mexico right here in the United States. German Liquor Interests hold a veto on all Amer- ican votes — of private citizens, candidates, and officials. Mes. Moesb. Women may do much useful, practical work in politics without the vote. Sbnatob Moesb. And we'd be better off with less vot- ing and more public service. Every public business should be run by the government. There should be no esprit de corps in this country less broad than patriotism ! THE WASTREL HOARD. 77 BuLLABD. You are planning a government for work, Benator. You can't do that with the present school of poli- ticians. These Jacks-in-Office only know how to chew the rag, graft, .take orders, and traffic in public jobs at three times the value of the service — and — in the votes of the mob. It's bad enough outside with the labor unions, but in public jobs, if they were paid by piece work, they wouldn't earn their salt. We are paying now to thousands of re- tired bartenders more than to generals and college presi- dents. The civil service is, to say the least against it, a nest of privileged incapacity and inexperience. Admit all this — they are really paid, not for work, but for the place they take in the organization. Sbnatoh Moesb. That's the beauty of my plan. It will make unnecessary this organization. It will breed a new school. That is the deeper fact. The disintegration of proprietary political parties must proceed in exact pro- portion to the growth of the civil service. In a settled civil service, the public could get ten times the result and give honest, steady jobs, that families are brought up on, to five times the number of men for the present outlay. Each would become, thus, a soldier for the public good, and, as a pledge of devotion to the nation that keeps him and his in peace, would assume an obligation to fight for that peace, both in preventing and ending war. It's the present way of running the government that makes politics just a waste- ful business war to keep the politicians alive. Eliminate the saloon, Bullard, as the cornerstone of politics, and divide up the fifty per cent, tribute by officeholders, be- tween them and the government. It is alcohol that has de- teriorated men and government and private and public business for centuries. It menaces the very nation. BuLLAED. Government's chief work now is minding somebody else's business. Senatoe Moese. And somebody else is interested to control the government. Your friends make allies of the practical politicians. They can't be good Americans. 78 THE WASTREL HOARD. BuLLAED. We own the soft impeachment. When there's one gun between two duellists, it's suicide to let the other fellow get it. This is the age of "steal." Senatok Moksb. That's a hint for the public. BuLLARD. We despise them as grafters, yet, I suppose, the alliance seems natural. You remember Ingomar, Sen- ator — "Two souls " Flint. [Cutting in on Bullaed^s speech, hacking his chair off for action, and commanding Bullard^s silence and the attention of the rest.] Yes, yes, Mr. Bullard, I saw Ingomar. "Two souls with but a single thought — [Flint becomes dramatic, looks skyward, puts both hands to his heart and raises them with the speech in the direction of his gase] — "Two hearts that beat as one." Mary. [With cruel dryness, and conscious of stealing her father's political "business," as he has stolen that of her profession.] To beat the American people. [At the word "American," Maey unconsciously picks up the small flag at her place and toys with it nervously between her speeches.] Bullaed. They use the politicians primarily as a means of getting meddlers to let their activities alone. Those who stir up discontent are enemies of the people. We say, in the language of Burke : "Applaud us " [Flint interrupts Bullard as before and completes the quotation.] Flint. "Applaud us when we run, console us when we fall. Cheer us when we recover, but let us pass on, for God's sake, let us pass on." Bullard. [Taking the interruption good-naturedly.] That's it. What the rich do is of no concern of the public. Envy of another's prosperity is the world's greatest men- ace. Millionaires are but the froth upon the beer of our political system. [Sardonically.] Chance, as a realty owner, is but a ground swell on the social sea. THE WASTREL HOARD. 79 Victor. That's my point of view. Large fortunes and big business are inseparable incidents of general prosper- ity. Thie average poor man lives happily and respectably. That is all / can hope to do. I enjoy the luxuries of life but / am willing to do without the necessities. / sympa- thize with the poor, but the trouble is their poverty is so habitual, you simply can't help them. But, then, as a matter of fact, even poverty has a lot of advantages. Maey. It takes a mighty rich man to see them. BuLLAED. The world's work must go on. Maey. And leave humanity in the rut. Victor. My part may not equal [Bullard holds up his hand to check Victor.] BuLLAED. Stop! Never apologize for yotirself — until you have accomplished something — and then — well, you won't need to. Alice. It seems to me that the doings of the rich are matters of vital public concern. The burdens of inequality rest very lightly upon the rich. ViCTOE. [Without meaning, looking at Mes. Havok- BEBj and as if floored.] And upon the women? Eh ! Mary. Upon some women. Alice. Are not women equal to men? ViCTOE. Some of them are equal to anything. Eh ! Mrs. Havorbbe. Indeed they are — and often where men are not. The men do let you pass on, Mr. Bullard. The women won't. i^When lovely woman stoops to folly! Bullard. \^The women don't now. But they have their own methods. "^^ Mrs. Morse. Their influence is through the home. Bullard. Not always. Some work outside. Mes. Morse. Indeed ! That's unwomanly. It's a men- ace to society. Bullard. If they will play the fiddle, they must stand the music. Nature must have its course. Victor. As a menace, the modern girl-sport is — more 80 THE WASTREL HOARD. deadly than the male. Eh! [Victor, emharrasted by shocked silence.] Why, every hotel in New York is a Hay- market ! Alice. [Pointedly.] If they'd only confine their at- tentions to one another. Mes. Havoebbb. Let the Bowery at least be kept out of Fifth Avenue. Let them arrest the men! Flint. Correct ! They are a part of the home ! Mes. Havoebbb. The State is the larger home. The home isn't the four walls of the house. Mes. Moesb. In one way that is true. Mes. Havoebbb. Is woman's sphere the home when, outside, man has surrounded her children with evil? Mes. Morsb. Created, for the most part, my dear, by women, who are evil because they are outside the home. BuLLAED. [Persisting.] Or in other people's homes. Mes. Moesb. Perhaps that's better. Mes. Havoebbb. I'll tell you a secret. What the real suffrage leaders — of wealth and social position — want is careers in politics — like their men. [BuLLAED directs his speech at Maby.] BuLLAED. When a woman knows her own mind about what concerns herself, it'll be time to turn it to what con- cerns others. Mes. Moesb. We should give the home a vote. BuLLAED. But in every case where husband and wife do not agree, the home would be disfranchised. Now the man casts the home vote. Mes. Morse. If women are to vote, I'd have only moth- ers and fathers vote — and that in proportion to their con- tribution to the future. Ben Franklin's mother would have had seventeen votes. Heaven forbid that the childless shall lead us. Parents would seldom disagree. The world talks much about brotherhood and just now it is sisterhood that desires to be heard, but both come only through fatherhood THE WASTREL HOARD. 81 and motherhood and that is the key to all common in- terests in household and liumanity. [BuLLAED continues to direct his words at Maey.] BULLAED. That's it. Only the woman whose own house is in order, should come into the open to discuss public morals. A man may be produced against her ! [Mes. Moese notes Bullaed's attitude, senses a purpose, and watches Bullaed narrowly.] Maey. Do you work in the open? j [Maey clenches the flag in her right hand.] Bullaed. [With feigned jocularity.] Oh, I'm known to be harmless. Nobody fears, for instance, I'd steal an- other man's wife or come between friends. Maey. Is it for that the rest must be forgiven you? Bullaed. To one who would, nothing can be forgiven. Her shame is of the light, not of the thing. She'd sell her soul to save her name. She is admired but craves respect. Maey. The weak woman is the tell-tale of your unfit- ness. As an evil, you are no more necessary than the other. A single instance at your own door is an earthquake. Yet the conditions which foster all vice are your own creation and its untold profits go with your permission to the po- litical machine; your friends could wipe out the liquor traffic and all that goes with it by one stroke of the pen. In that, as in everything, you don't ask why there is poverty and vice; need is the one motive in extenu- ation you will not accept. To you the tragedy is but an episode while every true woman feels it might well be her own story! Our "best people' drive the poor to vice and try to segregate it and them — together. Therein and in everything the great social crime of indifference does its work. To be calm is little better than to scoff! What woman is there who oughtn't to rise against this? Bullaed. You don't ask her name? Maey. Yes — and name a man worthy to protest 82 THE WASTREL HOARD. BuLLAED. [Jocosely.] The law of slander forgives everything save the mention of names. [The flag in Maey's hand becomes conspicuous as she gesticulates.] EussELL. [Quietly, to urge Maey to diesis*. ] Please! Mes. Moese. Mary, dear! Flint. Daughter ! Maey. [During this speech Maey uses the flag uncon- sciously in her gestures.] No, I shall not be silent! I shall make my voice heard in behalf of those who have been voiceless. [Mes. Havoebbe shows interest, rises, and com- mences to clap her hands.] When amid general homeless- ness and helplessness women seek their selfish rights, they complete the tragedy of this generation. [Mes. Havoebeb sits down without applauding and shows a lack of inter- est, hut Mes. Moese gives a sign of approval.] Trouble is like the air, not to be confined. When any suffer, everybody pays. Our "poor little rich boy" [Victor looks at her ques- tioningly and all eyes are turned on him] hopes to live happily and respectably — as the average poor man does. [ViCTOE looks relieved and nods approval. Flint and BuL- LAED rivet their eyes on Maey. J The average poor man has a home. It is a small place, but there are those who love it, and that is what makes the world happy and respectable — despite the discouragement to decent living which grind- ing poverty in the midst of maddening opulence brings. [KusSELL has shown anxiety about Maey's ability to carry it off up to this point, but he assumes and maintains an attitude of growing confidence wnd admiration. Victoe looks nettled.] "Sir Youthful" — despite his condescension ■ — never had a home, and though he multiply his unused villas, mansions, and palaces, he never can have one and can never know, doomed as he is to think forever about himself, the peace, the intimate joys, [Victoe appears at first interested and then fascinated. The others become respectful and attentive] which, despite the privations and THE WASTREL HOARD. 83 the hunger they endure to keep him in luxuries, even the starved child-souls of the poorest family in his thousand ill-kept tenements know. [ViCTOE visibly weakens in his dissent and sinks into Ms seat. Bullaed notes the choAige in Victoe^s attitude. Sbnatoe and Mes. Moese exchange glances, disclosing concern for their duties as hosts. Bullaed shows alarm and decides to haz- ard an inquiry.] Bullaed. Are you speaking with knowledge of par- ticular facts? [Maey rises to her feet but answers without looking at Bullaed, as if assuming the interruption to be captious; her attitude toward Bullaed discloses a trace of cunning.] Maey. No good man could be happy with so much money while so many are without the chance of such a life. [Bullaed appears relieved. Victoe passes his hand over his eyes as if to dispel a distressing thought. Alice studies him with tense eagerness.] Each million of his estate rep- resents one thousand children cheated of their birthright, the foundation torn from a thousand homes, and the whole represents one young man, the plaything of his own desires, and of the schemes of financial jackals, robbed of the com- mon birthright, the power to work out his own salvation. [Victoe staggers as a prisoner receiving a jury's verdict of conviction. Alice is visibly moved by his pain, but pleased at his sensitiveness to the criticism. Maey takes in this situation, gives a sign of letting up on Victoe, and turns with bitterness to Bullaed.] That's what big fortunes mean — the birthright of the people sacrificed to the alleged birthright of the over-rich. And the Bullard Pacific Bill is what they mean in politics ; it is the culmination of the conspiracy against the average home. [Bullaed rises. Flint turns to give him a look of challenge. Bullaed shrugs his shoulders as if to say, "What's the use?"] While 84 THE WASTREL HOARD. millions are habitually underfed, there are thousands who see the money coming in so fast they don't know what banks or bonds to put it in. Vast sums of money give men power, not only over things but over people; property in vast amounts should be as little subject to inheritance in a free country as political power. The rich now make the poor pay them for the right to live and poor men are not ashamed to do it. You buy each at his price, man or woman. But children can't pay, and the tax on their right to live is murder. Women who can be indifferent to their own trag- edies but not to this are what the future of America de- mands — ^not those who can tolerate the perpetual multipli- cation of money without effort by its possessors and the almost annihilation of individual power to rise. Let you pass on! When you let the coming generation pass on! When you give back what has been taken ! Applaud us if we run ; console us, if we fall ; cheer us if we recover, and let us pass on ; for God's sake, let us pass on. [Mary weakens, turns her gaze from Bullaed to her father, and talks more slowly. Russell pushes his chair back and gets ready to move toward Maey. She frees herself from her chair and backs away from the table, as if retreating from a dreaded object, and comes perilously near the edge of the stairs. ViCTOE appears sympathetic and apprehensive.] I demand it in the name of a race that is being preyed upon and con- sumed in the bud, of every woman who loves, who is a wife, who is a mother — [Maey gulps, her speech becomes thick; she seems to have lost all sense of her surroundings] — and of the children, and — [Maey mumbles] — be it ever so hum- ble — [As if in despair] — infants — crying — they were born of a woman — ^just as Christ was born — [As if in terror] — no candle was there — and — [As if shivering] — no — fire — it is dark — [Weakly] — and bitter cold — they are human, too — and — [Maey faints and falls to the floor at the edge of the stairs, and, before those nearest can prevent, rolls to the bottom of the staircase.] Mrs. Morse. Help her, John! THE WASTREL HOARD. 85 [All start to crowd around her. Victor raises her and with Russell brings her down stage and places her on the sofa. The flag is seen still to be clenched in Mary's right hand.] Victor. [As if the situation had brought the young men suddenly into intimacy.] This girl's a brick! Isn't she, Russell? Eh! A regular major-general! Isn't she? Eh! Russell. You are quite right, Victor — quite right. Mrs. Havorbbb. [Bringing an untouched glass of cognac from the table.] A little drop of brandy helps — a — fall. Mrs. Morse. Let me have some water. Give us room. I'm sorry, but you would better go into the library. [As the guests go out by door at bach of banquet room, the chimes strike once and the distinctness of the sound indicates the opening and closing of the door. A short interval afterward the smaller clock strikes twice. Then the clock above is heard to strike twice; then once the clock below.] Senator Morsb. Shall we call Doctor Childs? Mrs. Morse. It isn't necessary. She has only fainted. She'll be all right in a moment. Mary. I want my mother. I want to go home to my mother. [Mrs. Morse speaks to the mu^icdans and they go out silently at the right.] Mrs. Morse. She'll be all right now. [She goes over to Senator Morse.] John, I believe Bullard brought this on deliberately. The girl has a secret. We must help her keep it — even from ourselves. Senator Morse. You are one woman in a million. [Russell and Victor leave Mary as Flint ap- proaches. Bullard engages Russell in convenor tion. 1 86 THE WASTREL HOARD. BuLLARD. Let me give you a last warning. Be careful of other people's reputations or you will lose yours — and perhaps more. Beware of the black list. Merwin never forgets. Many a man in just your situation has been found missing. Good God ! My boy ! Can't you see I am think- ing only of you? [Russell remains silent hut stares after Bullaed as Bullaed goes out.] Flint. That's right, daughter. We'll go together. yfiW you forgive me? Maey. There's nothing to forgive. You were right. But I can't go back. I — must — go forward. [Sbnatoe Moesb goes up to Flint and puts his right hand on Flint's shoulder.] Senator Moese. Sam, there should be jx., place like home for a girl. It's our fault if that isn't so. Flint. What a girl I have brought up ! And I never suspected it ! She has actually introduced me to myself ! Sbnatoe Mokse. The coming generation must always be a closed book to us. We wonder that they dance because we no longer hear the music in their souls. Flint. And I wanted to imprison my girl in a. small town. She's an old man's child. Our children inherit all our experience. We scarcely notice how they grow ! Senator Moesb. She's done what I told you to do, Sam — come to New York. The country's growing, too ! Flint. No big city for me. I prefer to live in America. Senator Moesb. We are cosmopolitan. It's within us ! Flint. You are a cluster of Ghettoes, little Italics, Sokols, singing societies, and turn vereins. Sbnatoe Moese. Well, for the girl's sake. It is hard for a girl to stay alone and no "pent-up Utica" will ever confine her powers. She's a typical American girl ! Flint. Or America, either. Even as a child, she seemed to see the whole wide world! Is that American? THE WASTREL HOARD. 87 Senator Morse. Let's send her to Europe. By Jove I The Merwin scholarship! Now, I wonder if Bullard Flint. [As if rising to great generosity. 1 I'll pay myself. I've a good will to do it! It would really be a good investment! Senator Morse. She wouldn't take it. Flint. Tell her I am opposed to it. That will decide her all right. Senator Morse. I'll go further. I'll make her win in competition. Flint. I'll never again doubt her ability to do any- thing. Senator Morse. That's the way for a father to talk. You should have started that years ago. Mrs. Morse. We must leave her alone for a while. [All go out excepting Russell, who has escaped the observation of the rest. The lights are dimmed. The scene is the same as at the rising of the cur- tain.] Russell. Are you all right? Mary. [Rising. Her manner "betrays the fact that her fainting and acting were not purely voluntary. She con- tinues to make us of the flag.] 1 didn't faint. I was act- ing; Bullard threatened us and I was afraid. The swoon was a checkmate to his cruel play and — such a relief to me! The temptation was great. There was father. I wanted to let him know my views, and I wanted to give you your pro- gram. Now you know that I can act, and I know that I must. Think of it, the pretense, the deception, the simu- lated courage, and to have to rise above it all and conquer. I will pray God for strength — to — deceive — and I shall work with all my being to grow in power and charm and influence, to match the resources of Bullard's friends and to undermine him in the end. I can afford to sing now. I shall be acting every moment of my life. What a plot ! An unfortunate girl against the hold-up of the human race. T *eem to carry the whole world in my breast, to touch the 88 THE WASTREL HOARD. stars, and possess the infinite. I feel as if all the American girls in Christendom and all those that are to be were standing here within me and as if all American spirit were mine, and the world my stage. What a marvellous curtain ! What a brilliant audience! On one side are they. The curtain is drawn aside. On the other side am I. The theatre of life. I'll do a woman's part. KussBU*. You are the most womanly of all women. Maey. No. I am too like father. That's what I blame him for, and that's why he blames me. Russell. "Out of strength comes sweetness." You'll let me take care of you, won't you? Tell me what it is— Mary. No. Russell. But I have the right. Maey. That's just why [Mary checks herself. Russell looks at her (n- quiringly.] Russell. Yes ? Maey. I mean Russell. What? Mary. Well, when I was a little girl and father wished to be cross to mother and to me, mother always said, "Don't let the child suffer. She is innocent. Whatever the sins of parents, no one has rights against children. They don't ask to come. The whole world owes duties toward them." I believed that then. I know it now. I am going away. Your duties are here. I know you will do yours. You may trust me to do mine. No child will be without its chance, if I have my way. You — must go now. [Maey turns from Russell and walks toward the door. Russell watches her for a moment, then calls to her softly.] Russell. Mary! [Mary turns, the moonlight is ob- scured.] Mary! One last kiss. [Maey walks toward the window. Russell comes up to her. Mary faces Russell.] THE WASTREL HOARD. 89 Mary. You are a man, aren't you? Lock your arms behind you and keep them there. Remember— one ! [Mary puts a hand on each of Russell's shoulders and kisses him on the lips. Russell stands his ground.] You are a man. Russell, My arms don't think so ! Mary. Be proud of them. They beckon and caress from there ! Russell. Have you nothing to tell me? Mary. That / shall have a saving pride. Russell. There's a reservation working against me in your mind. Mary. If there were, it would not be so hard for me. Russell. Will you write to me? Mary. No. That is not in my role. Russell. May I write to you? Mary. What a question to ask! Russell. And you will once in a while? Mary. No. I will come back. I have had faith. It is your turn now. [Mary swallows, braces herself, assumes an attitude of great firmness, turns her face from Russell, wheels around, points to the door he is facing and speaks in a hard, unnatural voice.] Good-bye. Russell. [Turns to look at her as if to plead, struggles with himself, yields, speaks in a voice full of sadness, ten- derness, and respect.] Good-bye. [Turns, bows his head, and walks out of the door without turning again.] Mary. [Looking after Russell and speaking, in a sob, only after he has gone.] Russell ! Russell ! ! [Mary stands a moment, faces the audience, bursts into tears, kneels by the divan, sobs and suggests that she is praying. She bows her head. As her head falls, her 'lips touch the flag held in her folded hands. Awakened to consciousness of the flag, she regards it a moment through her tears, raises it slightly in both hands, lets it drop, raises THE WASTREL HOARD. 90 ?ier head, swallows, assumes an attitude of reso- lution, brightens up, und looks for a considerable time into space, as if into the future, until the fall of the curtain.] CUETAIN. ACT Hi. Before the rising of the curtain, the orchestra plays selections from Madame Butterfly, the "Tavan" ar- rangement, with emphasis upon and recurrence to the melody of "Un bel di vedremo." Andante mdlo calmo. J • . m cu/ - J^ . sfrc • fWCOR-/w del ijl'l'l ^^ via re. MftI'DOCINI. And then fbe ihip ep . {war - isg trnnaiamtrBMMata. ACT III. The Ante-Chamber of the Hall of Arbitrations of the Palace of Peace, at The Hague, two years and five months after the close of Act II. The stage is divided as in the first and second Acts, the pi ncipal room being at the back of the stage on a higher level than the Ante-Chamber, and seen through a wide door in the centre of the stage. Over the bench and extending its full width is an im- pressive symbolic oil painting. It is the allegorical group of the great French painter, Albert Besnard, entitled "Peace." A female figure is seen seated, lis- tening to the pleadings of two litigants. One of these is arguing with vehemence, and the woman lifts a hand to stop him that she may hecr the other pleader. Below are two armed warriors, who, their differences having been settled, ride off in opposite directions. In the foreground, and seemingly detached from the rest of the composition, the symbolic figure of Peace rises as an apparition carrying a child in her arms. The Hall of Arbitrations is lighted as if by sunlight streaming through stained-glass windows extending the entire left side. The walls of the Ante-Chamber are in grey Delft tiles. At the right, just outside the Court Boom door, is a temporary telegraph office. As persons cross the stage and enter the Court Boom, they remain visible in the Court Boom through the door. The movement of pages, attendants and lacheys preparing the Court Boom, is visible through- out the act, but they are out of earshot. The characters of the play can be heard and observed, as in the first and second acts, both far and near, and from their first coming into view are seen talking and fully occupied with what concerns them, using the words of the play only from the moment they come within earshot. At the left of the door are telephone booths. In the centre 94 THE WASTREL HOARD. is a table with periodicals and newspapers ar- ranged in rows. Leather-covered easy chairs are in convenient positions. Leading from the rear of the telegraph office is a door. The interior of the telegraph office is visible to the audience through a glass door, so placed as not to bring the interior of the office within the view of persons on the stage. Portraits of William the Silent, Jan Van Olden-Barneveldt, and Hugo Grotius decorate the walls of the Ante-Chamher. National arms and flags are in appropriate positions. Tulips, hyacinths, gladiolus, and other Dutch flowers are here and there in profusion. As the curtain rises slowly, the impressive scene is dom- inated by the figure of the woman with babe in arms in the foreground of the painting "Peace", upon which the sunlight streaming through the unseen windows at the right sheds a flood of glory. Throughout this Act and the next, this poignant figure, in wonderful relief against the background of the painting, seems to sense the situations that develop within her view and to set up against what is said a contrasting view- point, quite unlike that of blind Justice with the scales, symbolized by the balance of olive branch and child. For a moment after the rising of the curtain the situa- tion is static. The click of a telegraph instrument calls attention to Hugo Culp^ seated behind the counter ex- plaining the Morse code to small red-cheeked boys by ticking out a telegram and repeating as follows: — ...B .—A ...R ., .... H .. — U . G . V . — A — . N. "Van." V . E — . N — T . E .... H . —A . G ., L . — A — . . D . . . .. R . .. R ..I ... —V .... H . —A . G . — T ..0 — ..D .—A — . N. "Baron." . O. "Hugo - .. D . : E ... — . . . R. "Deventer." — U . E. . Y. "Lady . E . . . S. "Hague." ." . — A "Arrives." — U . E. "Hague." Y. "Today." . — A ... I b . . . . Y E. "Marye." M . B . . . li . . I . . . C . —A "American." . — A M — ... B ... S ... S . — A — .. D . . "Ambassador." . . . It — U ... S THE WASTREL HOARD. 95 M . —A - . N. . - A . .. R. . . . S • . I . — A. "Eussia." The sound of the closing of a door is heard. Gulp rises quickly, signals and says, "Ga in het Kantoor" to the hoys, who hasten into the office, and, still holding the telegram in his hand, busies himself examining the fixtures of his office and testing the apparatu,s. Gulp keeps the telegram always in evidence until he finally shows it to Mary. As he moves about he alternately whistles and hums and sings a Dutch song. He wears a pointed beard and flowing moustache and dresses his hair in imita- tion of Grotius. Gulp is of giant stature, has a very hearty laugh, that is infectious, and an easy sense of humor that sets off his laughter at the least excuse. The first action is the entrance of Mary and the entire significance of her intervention in the situation in this Act and the next is expressed in her grasp of the identity of her attitude with that of the figure of "Peace." At every opportune moment, from, her first step into the Court-Room, Mary fairly devours the painting with her gase. [Enter Mary^ from the left, gowned in the latest fashion. 8he is accompanied by Noeah, a maid, disguised as a lady. There is about Mary an at- mosphere of charm, power, and perfection — of the American girl become the exquisite cosmopolitan woman of intellect, smartness, and distinction. There is a suggestion of sensuous allurement and of possible passion controlled by a will of steel, and tempered by a pliant and keen humor. She radiates a magnetism wholly feminine. This is evidenced by the attitude of Gulp, who is him- 96 THE WASTREL HOARD. self unobserved hy Mary, and has interrupted hit gong at her entrance. In her first glance about the Ante-Chamber and Court Room she runs the whole gamut of facial expression. At her first pause, her splendid changing eyes, full of storm and color, drift from the sea gray of an oAitumn sky to the piercing whiteness of the fixed gaze of the American eagle — then, smiling, sweetly, sadly, and tenderly in succession, as if in joy at the at- tainment of a goal long sought, and in reminis- cence and anticipation combined, she suggests not only control of her forces for summoning and communicating emotion, but how wonderful these forces are. Before Mary is fairly on the stage, she stops, turns to Norah, and addresses her in a low tone — almost with bated breath.] Mary. This — this is the place, Norah — the Hall of Arbitrations. Norah. Yes, madame. Mary. Now, you drive right back to Scheveningen, Norah, and remain at the cottage every moment until I come — no bathing, even. Norah. Yes, madame. Mary. And keep Miss Fanning within call when she goes on the beach. Norah. Yes, madame. Mary. In answer to all inquiries, you are stupid for- eigners ; you know nothing, understand nothing. Norah. Yes, madame. Mary. And if you have no word from me over night, seek out Senator Morse here and inquire. Norah. Yes, madame. Mary. That's all, Norah. You may go. Norah. Very well, madame. [Norah turns to go.] Mary. And, Norah TEE WASTREL HOARD. 97 NoEAH. Yes, madame. Mary. Be careful— of— the night— air— you know. [NoBAH smiles as she goes out.] NOEAH. Yes, madame, I know. Good-bye, madame. Maey. Good-bye, Norah. [Maey looks about cautiously and goes into the CourtRoom. Finding that room empty, she returns and observes Culp^ who, having watched her suf- ficiently while her back was turned, now resumes CuLP. [Singing.] Ntaund. 1. O Ne-derludl let o; a suck, De t||t an ataat l> dwr, Op-dit a* in 4 hoacksletneckU nlllititdleToomerU eototbeblMii diergeeoclit IIetg(«t«DUi yoo *peBH In ma ID sc - rents A • ctf • atmtnt to cotx acb> - . — ■ I r"f m r r I riud (he roE - «% trak-tng fOand my feel, n - MB -If tatt - U ma prt • led iliroogh leai* and Joy to Ibec,. i .. , In eliante. tt vtbn an. nun jnU daih ae«3. UiToagh all llrae tw atffn. c/ /0B/ men ttfor love uuy mate out lov* 41 • vine , (01 »«l - «^ ^'Unt dt • met,-. * * \\ 1)^ 1 --^^^ ^ •I « I ibec Dilnc. . Reprinted by permission of Chappell & Co., Ltd., 41 East 34th Street, New York. Copyright, 1902, by Chappell & Co., Ltd. THE WASTREL HOARD. 193 [James enters door at right. Alice »top8 singing. James holds out card tray. Alice does not look at the card.] Alice. Tell the lady I am out of town and will not return for a week. James. Very good, Miss. [Alice continues playing and singing. The tele- phone rings. Alice looks at the instrument, walks over to the desk, sits in desk chair, and looks at the clock. It is ten after eleven. She hesitates, but finally takes the receiver of, but puts it back immediately. She rings the buzzer at side of desk.] Katy. [Enters.] Yes, Miss! Alice. Answer the telephone and repeat the name. [Katy takes off receiver, hesitates, clears her throat and answers.] Katy. Hello. Yes, this is Senator Morse's house. Alice. Ask now who it is. Katy. Who is this, please? You'd like to speak to Miss Morse? Alice. Is it a man? [Katy shakes head in negative.] Then say you didn't catch the name. Katy. I didn't catch the name. Alice. What did she say? Katy. She said she didn't give her name. She says she said she wanted to speak to Miss Morse. Alice. Tell her Miss Morse is out of town; you don't know when she'll be back ; probably not for a week. Katy. Miss Morse is out of town. We don't know when she'll be back, probably not for a week, She wants to know where. Alice. Ask for her name. No. Tell her you don't know. Katy. We don't know. 194 TEE WASTREL HOARD. Alice. That's all, Katy. If a lady wants me, I'm out. Katy. The roses have come, Miss. Alice. Please arrange them for me to-day and send yesterday's to the hospital, as usual. Katy. Yes, Miss. Alice. [Turning to a number of new hooks on the ta- ble.] And have these books, and yesterday's, and to-mor- row's, sent to the Junior League. Katy. [Gathering up the hooks.] Very good, Miss. [Exit Katy.] Alice. [Looking at the photograph of Victoe.] Oh, dear! [Alice takes the telephone instrument with the left hand, reaches for the desk clock with the right hand, and marks off periods of ten minutes. Pushes clock away and takes off receiver.] Alice. Hello, operator — Give me 6000 Chelsea — They're busy? — Well, try to get them. [Puts up receiver, reflects a moment, reaches for the telephone directory, finds a numher, and takes off the receiver.] Give me 4900 Broad — The other number is still busy? — All right, get either number — Hello, French Line? — Has the Eochambeau docked yet?— Call up Chelsea 6000?— I did, but the line was busy — Ten minutes ago? [The chimes strike once for the quarter hour.] How long will it take for passengers to get away? — Oh, the Custom House? — 1642 Broad — Thank you. Good-bye. [Presses down holder with right hand, then signals for the operator.] Give me 1642 Broad — Custom House? — How long will it take passengers to get away from the Rocham- beau? — Yes, I'll wait— Hello, Inspectors' Department? [The desk clock strikes once for the quarter hour.] How long will it take passengers to get away from the Rocham- THE WASTREL HOARD. 193 beau? — It depends upon what they have? — If it was only a diamond ring? — Might never get away ! — No, he wouldn't smuggle. He's rich — Twenty minutes? The holiday de- lays? [The clock in the room above strikes once.] Thank you very much. Good-bye. [Puts down receiver and listens. The elevator is heard ascending. Goes over to piano, takes down Victor's picture, looks at it and puts it back quietly. Looking at yiCTOn's picture.] Oh, dear! [Enter Mrs. Morse from door at left. The loud chime in the hall below is heard as the door opens. Mrs. Morse, like most women of her years, has become younger and more modern in the period that has elapsed since the close of Act I.] Mrs. Morse. [Mrs. Morse and Alice embrace.] Oh, such a crush ! ! ! Yes, father's all right. He was surprised you didn't come to meet him. Alice. I thought I'd be in the way, and he'd be home so soon. Mrs. Morse. But he didn't come with me. The Secre- tary of State took him ofE to the Metropolitan Club for a conference. There's some mystery about this Hague busi- ness. We are to receive all kinds of visitors without ques- tion, hold them here, and telephone him. I've given orders that the most questionable characters be sent up here, un- announced, and kept here Yes — and no questions asked. Alice. [Frowns.] I hope he'll come home. Mrs. Morse. Naturally, my dear. But he may go to Washington. Alice. He mustn't, without seeing me. Mrs. Morse. You could go to the Club to meet him. Shall I call up and ask him to let you know when? Alice. No, tell him to come here first on his way. He mustn't go. Mrs. Morse. But that may be impossible. You can talk to him over the telephone. 196 THE WASTREL HOARD. ALICE. That won't do. I wish to ask his advice. I can't say it over the telephone. Mrs. Morse. Isn't my advice sufficient? "What can it be? Alice. I want you both at once. — To ask whether I may [Alice hesitates.^ Mrs. Morse. May what? Alice. Consent. Mrs. Morse. To what? Alice. To be married. Mrs. Morse. You wicked child ! Who has asked you that? And you've told me nothing. Alice. Nobody has asked me. Mrs. Morse. Then you needn't be in such a hurry. Do you expect anybody to ask you? Alice. I don't know. Look at this. [Hands Mrs. Morse cablegram.] Mrs. Morse. Why, it's a week old. Why didn't you tell me? "Love to your mother!" Huh! Alice. You were away. It seemed a flimsy ground " or writing. Do people ever forge cablegrams? Mrs. Morse. It's never absolutely safe to rely upon them. But there could be no motive in this. Alice. But the whole Hague business is a mystery. What was Victor doing at The Hague? Mrs. Morse. Hasn't he written you regularly? Alice. Yes, but it was mostly about Mary. Mrs. Morse. Well, he was seeing Mary. She has writ- ten you frequently. Alice. I believe I shall never marry. Mrs. Mobse. Of course not. Never, until the right man comes. Alice. I wish to be free, to keep my own individuality, to be able to do something. The kind of men I know wouldn't permit that. Mrs. Morse. There may be a kind that would. Every one of them will promise to. THE WASTREL HOARD. 197 Alicb. a man's promise ! Mes. Mobsb. You are not jealous, are you? You do not distrust Victor? Alice. A woman's jealousy never comes from dis- trust of the man. Mes. Moesb. Indeed ! AliiCB. Distrust destroys the love jealousy is based on. Mes. Moese. Not certainty as to a man! Alice. No. Women really know nothing about men. But women do know women. And that is the reason in a woman's jealousy. Mes. Moese. As a matter of fact, whether it must be so or not, the sexes know very little about one another. You need have no fear concerning Victor. Alice. I want to be sure. There is only one way and that is to marry a man who has work to do, a purpose in life. Mes. Moesb. Victor has his property to look after. Alice. What a purpose! I don't see how any true woman's affection for a merely rich man can overcome her feeling of anger and contempt. They might be useful, but they refuse. Mes. Moesb. Victor's grand-parents made their way to wealth from abject poverty. You never can tell when old family traits will show themselves again. At all events, people who insist on marrying one another just for them- selves usually wake up to find in one another hosts of dis- agreeable ancestors. If Victor doesn't develop the real man and throw off the incubus of money, I haven't judged him right. Alice. That's a hope it will take years to justify. Money is no guarantee of breed. It conceals the real marks ipf gentle birth and calls for actual tests. Mes. Moesb. His mother was accused of marrying Bioney. Alice. She didn't know ! She was a poor girl ! She was a singer I Mes. Mobsb. And she never forgot it. Thousands of 198 THE WASTREL. HOARD. poor girls were benefited by her charities — the sweetest "uses of adversity!" The mother was an admirable woman ! I have always admired Victor for being what he is with such a man for a father. Alice. Why didn't she divorce him? Mrs. Morse. She didn't believe in divorce. Alice. But she was not happy, and nobody spoke well of the man. Mrs. Morse. There was, undoubtedly, a good reason for the disaster of their married life — which she knew. There always is a reason and love seldom remains blind long. Alice. She had everything except the one unpurchas- able thing. There you have it. If a woman must become, as most women must, what the man she marries makes her, she at least ought to use independent judgment in choosing the man. Mrs. Morse. I've studied "Victor and I can see — I see nothing but good. I take the boy as I find him ! Alice. He has not been tried. I want a man who has his bread and butter to look after now. I'm tired to death of the routine of a rich girl's life — one round of formality and unreality — disgusting vanity and sickening deferences — and — riding to death one hobby after another, and, in search of novelty, touching here and there on the bor- derland of vice — and Oh ! the wonderful force of girl- hood — before the harder nature has had time to set — all misdirected, all misspent ! I'll not stand with women whom fortune has made so complaisant at the wickedness and the social crime about them that they have lost the very power to blush. The desire to appear — to put on a false face before the painful realities of life — that characterized the years preceding the French Revolution, that has spread with our instantaneous communication from one end of the country to the other — together with sentimental self- suppression, has destroyed the self-sustaining self. When I contemplate the aristocratic leprosy that surrounds us THE WASTREL BOARD. 199 and threatens to spread, I wish with all my heart I had been boru a working girl. See what deprivation did for Mary. All women ought to work, for their own sakes, as well as for other people's. Those who have ambitions haven't the wherewithal to support them, and those who have the wherewithal haven't ambitions worthy of sup- port. There's abundant work for Americans to do ! Mrs, Morse. Your father has always said that people with money and without brains believe that people with brains and without money were born to work for them. Alice. The world is supporting too many loafers of both sexes. We are like blind fish in a beautiful bowl ! Mrs. Morse. All women who haven't children ought to work — at something! Alice. Bringing up children is work. A woman who contributes well-bred children to society has done about enough — judged by fair standards. The alternative ought to be wage-work. Mrs. Morse. [Half pleased, half flabbergasted, and as if not daring to encourage.] Don't be foolish, child. A working girl ! — to-day — and up at auction — to any bidder ! Why ! You are only a child. Alice. I've made up by observation for my lack of ex- perience. A new world-mind was horn to my generation. Society has been getting men and women into tasks that nature didn't intend for either. As a result the family wage, with the burden and the opportunity of earning it, has disappeared. I've observed that some women ennoble their men and that others reduce them to their worst. As we do unto our men, so do we unto ourselves. My man, if I marry, must always be his own best and always help me to be mine. And he must earn a family wage and feel, as / shall, what it means to me and to others — the importance not only of the money but what it means in welfare value for all wage-earners. Without such a feeling the great love that comes to the great poor, face to face with the great meaning of life, cannot exist. 200 THE WASTREL HOARD. Mes. Moese. That's a pretty sentiment, but Alice. I'll not assert or concede that for one thing all else must be endured — the one thing in a woman which most men both deplore and desire. Mes. Moesb. Among well-bred people Alice. Where are they? Breeding, though proved to be the most important thing in modern times, is the least thought of. An ill-bred race Mes. Moesb. Alice! Have those — Mother Hubbard lectures taught you this? Alice. Conceived in selfish passion Mes. Moese. Hush ! Alice. Spurred on by drink, then, unconscious Mrs. Moese. Child ! Alice. Or liquor -fanned lovers ! — vainly seeking satis- faction through indulgence of self — ! Mes. Moese. Goodness- ! [As if resolved to see the argument through.] Victor no longer drinks. Alice. No real gentleman drinks now; soon no real man will; no American can be a true citizen without re- nouncing his personal liberty under His Alcoholic Maj- esty. What the world needs is a better balance of soul and body. Marriage isn't a thing to be romantic about; it lasts too long — and its effects ! That which is to come in the future, must be conceived rather in the soul than in the body. Inebriate conception Mes. Moese. Goodness! Alice. Yes, goodness. The only key to happiness — ^for ourselves and others — ^is a life of service. Only the greater love can be "woman's whole existence." Mes. Moese. Or man's, for that matter, I imagine. Alice: I have made up my mind. I shall not marry anyone who has money. It has come to this with women as with all other things in this country, that they go upon the auction block, are disposed of to the highest bidder, and become a chattel to a lord and master who has bought and paid for them. That is where political reform should be- THE WASTREL BOARD. 201 gin, and where women should make their fight for equality. I shall insist upon partnership really equal. I have told Victor that. I have talked him to death on that subject. Mbs. Morse. If you really love a man, you'll never ask whether he has much or little. Alice. But that is just what I am doing. I want to marry Victor. I don't wish to add to the tragedies of those who have tried for love and failed. But what greater trag- edy is there on earth than an unhappy marriage? I — I am — afraid. Mes. Moesb. Of what? Woman's whims are certainly ruining this generation. Alice. That I shouldn't be able to hold him. It is not easy to combine self-realization and freedom with perma- nent loyalty and surrender. Don't you suppose the myriads of woman failures sought to make the right adjustment? Mes. Moese. It is the man who seems the supremest egoist who most suffers for the want of the woman with whom he can abandon self in blended unity. If he suc- ceeds Alice. There must be no "if." I don't want a trial marriage. Mes. Moese. My dear child, all marriages are trials. Eemember that if men and women were faultless there wouldn't be any marriages. People don't love one another because they are perfect, but because they can understand and sympathize with one another's faults. But in the rich, absorbing, impersonal struggle, trials become joys. You should have more faith in Victor and in yourself. Alice. I'd like to. That's just what I wish. To me a woman's love means the one achievement in her life worth while. It comes but once. The woman's choice of the man should study his fitness to become the father of her chil- dren, to worship her as their mother, and to be tested by her and by them and be found always a man! I'd have Victor love me always as we love in dread of losing. That is to love wisely and well. But there are the facts. 202 TEE WASTREL HOARD. Mrs. Morse. What facts? Victor loves you. Alice. That's the worst of it. I know he loves me, yet he has been chasing Mary all over Europe. Mrs. Morse. Better the fascination before than after marriage. Mary fascinates everybody. If men weren't susceptible, there would be no marriages. Victor is com- ing back to you. Alice. Because Mary doesn't want him. That's no satisfaction. To be happy in giving one's best without re- quital is a prodigy no human being ever accomplished. And suppose she should change her mind? Mrs. Morse. Have you known her to? Alice. Sixty times in one minute. Her fad Mrs. Morse. About trifles. That's temperament. She is the most steadfast of mortals — even in her whims — which seem to have gripped you. And she is your friend. Alice. Friendship should not be strained; friends should be frank. Mrs. Morse. Mary is your friend ! Alice. And I am to keep Victor by her sufferance. She defies conventions I loathe people who always want something extra — just something that decent living and the common welfare can't afford. When I see the way per- fectly healthy people rely on automobiles, I wonder what legs were given for, and fear that evolution may take them away again. If nobody had surplus means to have them, common means of getting about and getting on would suffer less from thefts of public funds! Mrs. Morse. Nonsense! For any distance, nowadays, it is either the limousine or flat-foot in the cattle cars. Transportation is the keystone of the arch of democracy but the arch of democracy is nowadays pretty much broken. Mary sees the times as they are, and governs herself ac- cordingly. As a result she is a success; she is fashion itself. I know now you are in love. You think everybody is in love with a man because you are. Mary loveB Russell. Alice. She might have married him two years ago. THE WASTREL HOARD. 203 I have secured a reminder for Victor. [Alice indicates the picture in stage costume.] Mes. Morse. Who is that — not Mary? Alice. No. It is "Sweet Lily Earle" — ^just before she changed her mind and married Victor's father. Mrs. Morse. You are in love, rest assured of that. Alice. Is it selfish to save two people from foreordained misery? Mrs. Morse. {Putting her arms about Alice and kiss- ing her upon the forehead.] I suppose you are above such a thing as jealousy, too ! You may well be — and you may spare Victor the warning. Mary loves Russell, and Victor doesn't love Mary, and Russell does. Alice. He keeps writing every day, but does he ever hear from her? — Never! Mrs. Morse. Whenever he wishes now. Let us forget useless worriment. [Lightly.] By the way, I have a new record [Mas. Morse goes to the cabinet, adjusts a record of a beautiful soprano voice singing, "Absent."] Sometimes, between long shadows on the grass, The little truant waves of sunlight pass. My eyes grow dim with tenderness, the while, Thinking I see thee — thinking I see thee smile ! And sometimes, in the twilight gloom, apart. The tall trees whisper, whisper heart to heart, From my fond lips the eager answers fall, Thinking I hear thee — thinking I hear thee call ! [During this song Alice "becomes more and more absent and Mrs. Morse turns the record to play the song on the other side without aicakening Alice from her revery. Dur- ing the playing of the second song, ^'Forgotten/' the grip of Alice upon her theories of love and life yields to pal- pable lovesickness.] 204 THE WASTREL HOARD FORGOTTEN VLOSA WtLSCBREft' (Orfgifat giy^f) fitroBKe CovLfiT Por,goUonyon?Wen,if for.get-ting Be thinking aU the day How the long hoars drag since yon left me- (Daysseemyearswith yon « _ way—) Or hear, ing tlutf all the strange bab-ble Of voi _ ces,nowgrave,now gay, On_ty yourvolcejCLithis be for.get-ting? Yet I have for-gotiea.yoa say., Or — counting each moment with longing, Till the one ivben I'll see you a_gain. If ^'i> r g- p r ^- -^ I ■' ^ J J I r p ^1 II r r I ' ^ this tie for-get-tingjonVe right, dear. And f have for.got-ten yon then- ^ j i ^' ' * ' f f r - r '' ^ r r i i Mi i rm got. ten yon? Well, if for - get . ting Be reading each face that I I r I ? p r r ■^' ^'' I r r" ' With eyes that mark nev . er a feat . orOf Save - I I . I '■'°-"" „_____^.^ yours as you last looked at me For. got_ten you? Well, if for_ get.ting Be r I' -^1 r p 1 1 | i ''[ ? I r p p '^i^ ^ yearn, ing with all my heart,. With a, long, lug, half pain and half wild wish to_see you and hear you, To be held In your arms a .^ gal»., If this he for.gettii;g,you1re right, dMF, And 1 Ime iLsaUm jm} For._Eot.tea,_ iy„„/ \g^y, Copyright MDCCCXaV by Oliver Ditson Comiiany. Inter- national Copyright Secured. Used by permission of Eugene Cowles and Oliver Ditson Company. THE WASTREL HOARD. 205" Alice. What a lovely voice. I don't recognize it. Mrs. Morse. You have heard it many times. Alice. Never. I should have recognized it again any time. We must buy some more. Mrs. Morse. You can't. Alice. Why? Mrs. Morse. There aren't any more. Alice. They'll never stop making new ones of that voice. [Absently. 1 The song — is — wonderful! Mrs. Morse. That was made especially. It was the only one made. No others will be made. Alice. How did you get it? Mrs. Morse. Kussell gave it to me yesterday in Wash- ington. He is to be here today. He wished the record to be here. It is Mary's voice. Alice. I'm ashamed of myself. I wish Victor would come. Mrs. Morse. She never wrote to him or communicated with him while the other woman lived — not even when it was all over. But he understood — and he loved her all the more for it. We can have no love worth having with(ut these tests. I believe they will Alice. But I've no chance for a test, no basis for com- radeship, no chance for a man who needs anything. Mrs. Morse. If he loves you, he'll need you, and if he can't get you, he'll live in hell, and — [The elevator is heard ascending. Mrs. Morse pauses an instant, and both listen, as Mrs. Morse continues] — that's the severest test in life. And Mary has been gone — [Enter Mart from door at left, shabbily dressed. She wears a mantilla on her head and carries a Spanish fan. Her costume is piped here and there with red, Ijohite, and blue. There is a wide belt of grey cloth. The neck is quite open] — Why, you dear child! Alice. [In double surprise — that it isn't Victor — and that it is Mary.] Mary! 206 THE WASTREL HOARD. [The Theee form a hugging group in the center of the stage. Mrs. Morse and Maey weep. Maey is quite overcome. After a moment, they separate.] Mrs. Morse. [As Mrs. Morse and Mary dry their eyes.] Why, Mary ! You are crying ! I guess I am, too ! Mary. / am not ashamed to cry over you! [Noticing that Alice has not shed tears.] Why, Alice, how strong you've grown ! Why, you're not crying ! Alice. [Concealing the rankle.] I don't want to. Mary. [Gently and not suspecting the cause.] Well, if you don't want to, you needn't. I hope you never will. Mrs. Morse. Mary, dear. What can I do — [Mary straightens and draws hack] — to show you how glad I am? [Maey is hrimful of cheerfulness.] Mary. Oh! [Looking down at her costume.] This garb ! I had forgotten ! You may — find me a man. Mrs. Moese. A man ! How do you mean? Maey. [Very seriously.] I'll take the one you find — [Very cheerfully] — if he asks me right. Mes. Moese. One came over from Washington yester- day, was to have met Senator Morse, but said he'd meet him here. He didn't wish to intrude upon the reunion. Alice had the same notion. A very satisfying reputation after thirty-three years of marriage — if it were real. Maey. You know you are models. Mrs. Moese. But not to be copied. Why, here is even my own daughter. She never intends to marry. She wants to do something. Mary. Don't, Alice, don't. Alice. The advice of the successful — "Don't." Maky. The endorsement of the unsuccessful is most impressive — when they care to speak. Stay at home with your mother — until you marry. Please, do. I love you so much, and I want you to. Alice. Your mother wanted you to, but you didn't. Maey. I had no sooner left home than I choked with regret. But it was too late. I have been " 'mid pleasures, THE WASTREL HOARD. 207 and palaces," but I have wanted my mother every hour since I left home, and I made up my mind to go back and tell her so — but not until she could be proud of her daugh- ter, after it all. What she would think always guided me. AiiiCB. She has always been proud of you. Mary. I don't mean fondly proud, but proudly proud. Achievement is the only thing that justifies what I have done. The power to rise above circumstances is the one hope of the woman who leaves the beaten path. What must follow the failure to do that is too horrible to think about. I have looked too far beneath the surface of life to feel that I have deserved better than the thousands who suffer every- thing. It is the yearning for better things that makes them stake all upon their frail power. How often it is in vain ! Natures that are restless and full of striving are full of danger ! I have felt it all the time, and I kept on merely be- cause I had an object and the world gives opportunities to women who tread on dangerous ground which nice girls do not enjoy in this wonderful, refined, male civilization of ours ! I see my error now. A moment came — when — I saw things white and clear. I couldn't think of my parents' home as my home, just because it was not as bright and the horizon was not as broad as family life's should be. It was for this petty obstacle which I had it in me to remove that I made the girl's fatal mistake. I held lightly what was near and dear to me. God help the girl who breaks away from her family to seek a bigger love in the outside world. When a girl loses the touch of a moth- er's hand, and has no mother's breast to sob upon, she is hopelessly adrift. God help her, I say, for this modern world won't, though she be an angel sent from Heaven, bearing its salvation, and God bring her safe into a home and family of her own and the love of a good strong man. Mes. Morse. That's true. [Putting her arm about Alice^s neck.] Don't you suppose your parents thought all these things out? All parents do. Alice. Mother, dear ! 208 THE WASTREL HOARD. Mrs. Morse. You were saved, my darling, from all danger, when you were a mere baby. You were then aa self-willed as a mule. For twenty minutes we coaxed, commanded, cajoled, and threatened to make you pick up a doll you had thrown on the floor. Then I told you the story of the oak tree and the violet. They grew side by side in a forest. When the wind came, the violet bent upon its stem, but the sturdy oak stood stiff. The leaves moaned and pleaded : "Don't be headstrong. Think of us, your chil- dren. Let us live." The giant oak would look down upon the tender violet with scorn, and would pay no heed. Then, one day, there came a stronger wind than ever before and it blew down the giant oak. But when the sun came out, the gentle violet was fresher and more beautiful than before. "Oh, dear," said the oak, "I am blown down and can never get up, while you, little violet, by giving in to the breeze, have come through without harm. I wish I had yielded in time." The moment the point of the story was made, you reached down, picked up the doll and handed it to me. You have never been a bit of trouble since. Mary. Alice was ready for that story then. I am ready for it, now — for the first time in my life. [Maby smile t, reflects, turns away — then to Mrs. Morse.] Perhaps Alice is ready again. [The elevator is heard ascending.] How is Mr. Chance, Mrs. Morse? [Alice exceeds the others in expectancy.] Alice. [With apparent difficulty of utterance.] He has been in Europe. Didn't you see him there? [Enter Victor.] Mary. The best source of information about a gentle- man is the gentleman himself. Victor. Three to one. Mary. Too many by two. Victor. [Indicating the holiday decorations.] No, I am "The Great and Glorious Fourth." Eh ! Mary. Modestly yielding to the ladies ! THE WASTREL HOARD. 209 Victor. I am delighted to see you all again, Mrs. Morse and Alice. [Shakes hands with 'both.\ Alice. And Mary ? Victor. Is the most wonderful girl in the world. Mary. I've been arranging Victor's affairs for him. He's going to settle down and make a home for himself. Alice. Is he the man? Mary. Oh, no. You goose. Friends never marry. Alice. Indeed ! Mary. Friendship — "should be made of sterner stufiE." [The elevator is heard ascending.] Victor. It brought us back to all of you on the same day. [Enter Russell from door at left. He looks as if he had lost sleep. He has overheard Victor^s speech. He sees the group and stops, unmanned. Mary casts down her eyes and remains motion- less for a moment. The others look at the two. Mary raises her eyes, puts out her hand, and speaks almost inaudibly. Throughout the rest of the play, Mary "acts." Her lightness of heart is, however, assumed hy reason of the necessity of concealing her real emotions from all but Rus- sell. At surprised moments, she lets it appear that she is under restraint. Russell's conquest of the green-eyed monster is gradual. In his speech he has to contend with a dryness of the mouth, evidenced by attempts to moisten his tongue and the roof of his mouth. After the ex- change of greetings, Mrs. Morse takes Victor and Alice to a window for a moment. Russell, seiz- ing the occasion, turns, exdted, to Mary.] Mary. [With a nod of caution.] Mr. Turner. Russell. You didn't meet me. Mary. I changed my mind about the steamer. 210 THE WASTREL HOARD. EussELL. But your name wasn't on any list. I have searched them all. Maey. Have you the Deutschland list? [EussELL draws from his pocket a number of steam- ship lists and hands one to Maey. Maey finds a page and indicates it to Etjssell. Eussell looks at the list with her.] Eussell. That's the second cabin list of the Deutsch- land. What do you mean? Maey. See here — [Maey points to a name] — Frau T E ; just see how they've spelled it. Frau Trimer — und — [Maey quickly crumples the list and clenches it in her right hand] — I sailed under that name. Eussell. In the second cabin? Maey. Yes. [Eussell turns to Victoe. Maey looks on during the conversation from under her lashes.] Eussell. [As if calling Victor back to be grilled.] On what boat did you come? Victoe. [Turning casually from the window and starting to walk back toward Maey and Eussell.] The Eochambeau. Eussell. Your name was not on the sailing list? Victoe. We don't place our names on sailing lists any more. Eussell. Nor a false name? Victor. Not any. No steamship man would insist upon it. Eussell. Where did you sail from? Victoe. Havre. Eussell. You went there from Paris? Victoe. No, from The Hague. Eussell. You went to attend the Tribunal? Victor. Not exactly — Mary was there. Eussell. You went with her? Victor. I followed her from St. Petersburg. THE WASTREL HOARD. 211 [Russell turns to Maey, who raises her head and then her eyes demurely.] Russell. Mr. Chance has been very kind to you. Maey. Devotion itself. Russell. You have seen a good deal of one another in Europe? Mary. At Monte Carlo — at my debut. [Mary gives Russell a meaning glance.] In Butterfly — ^he was there — a wandering spirit. Russell. Are you very fond of him? [Mrs. Morse and Alice rejoin Russell, Mary, and ■Victor.] Mary. He's the nicest, kindest, and most generous boy in the world. I just longed to anchor him to a hearthstone. [Alice winces; Mrs. Morse pats her on the hack.] Russell. And you, Mr. Chance, did you respond? Victor. It grew on me — until Russell. Did you bring anything over with you? Victor. Yes. I've had it a year, but I've been keeping it dark. I've been afraid to tell. [Enter Cortright unceremoniously from door at right.] Cortright. Well, you can tell it to me. Victor. Who are you, pray? Cortright. Here's my card. I'm a special officer of the Secret Service, assigned to the New York Custom House. Here's my badge. Victor. What can we do for you? Cortright. Is there anybody who lives here that came by the Rochambeau that landed today? Victor. Nobody that lives here. Why do you ask? Cortright. Well, we had a telephone inquiry about a party that was passing through the customs with only a solitaire diamond to declare. We looked up the declara- 212 THE WASTREL HOARD. tions and found there was nothing to correspond with that, so we thought we'd inquire. I traced the telephone num- ber down and here's where it brought me. Russell. Aren't you very zealous? Victor. Over-efflciency, Fd call it. COETEIGHT. It is often worth while. ViCTOE. For one diamond? COETEIGHT. Sure. ViCTOE. Oh, I see. I see. COETEIGHT. No, you don't see. ViCTOB. Really? Mr. Boughtright, what would you rather have now than anything else in the world? CoRTEiGHT. {Eagerly.} A little white house in the country, within access, for my wife and children [Stops suddenly.] Say ! Look here ! What are you trying to do with me? My name's Cortright, not Boughtright. I suppose you think I knew and let you pass to settle with you privately. Look out, young man, or some smart crook will have you paying him blackmail. It was the Depart- ment sent me. It's my duty. I'm after ViCTOB. I meant no COETEIGHT, No, sir. The courtesies of the Port don't go now. You've got to see the State Department about that. I'm from the Treasury Department. ViCTOE. But you are extremely courteous. Can we do nothing further for you? COETEIGHT. Excuse me, but I'd like to know who called up the Custom House and gave that information. Alice. I called up and asked for information. COETEIGHT. It's the Same thing. Every question is a clue. Alice. Really? COETEIGHT. Sure — so is a denial. Even the most skil- ful liar can't resist the temptation to tell half -truths. ViCTOE. Is that all you wish to know? CoETBiGHT. No. We got special advices from the THE WASTREL HOARD. 213 other side to watch all arrivals this week. I'll have to ask the young lady who she was expecting. Alice. [Pointing to Victor. J This gentleman. CoETEiGHT. So, now. Did you come by the Rocham- beau? •ViCTOE. I did. CoETEiGHT. Did you bring anything to declare? I want to warn you how you answer. It's a criminal offense, and they don't let anybody off nowadays with only a fine. Im- prisonment follows every conviction. Maby. Is it too late to make a declaration? COETEIGHT. What d'ye mean, a declaration? Did you come with this gentleman? Russell. I'll answer for the lady. COETEIGHT. 'Tis a lady we're after. Maey. No, I'll answer for myself. I did not. COETEIGHT. Your style of dress looks suspicious. [Russell cautions Coeteight.] Russell. Be careful what you say. CoETBJGHT. Women coming from Europe don't dress poorly for any good purpose. Women are horn smugglers ! Maby. I came by the Deutschland. [Maey hands the sailing list to Russell with a glance that says: "Don't dare to look at it." Russell grips it in his right hand.] Coeteight. I thought so. ViCTOB. "Deutschland ueber Alles!" Coeteight. [To Maby.] Well — Miss Alice! Maey. No. It is I. I'd like to declare something. [The chime in the library strikes once.] Coeteight. I'm afraid it's too late. Victoe. The lady volunteers. [The desk clock strikes twice.] Coeteight. Not at this stage it isn't voluntary. We're required to make a search. 214 THE WASTREL HOARD. Mart. But that isn't necessary. [The clock in the room above strikes twice.] CoETRiGHT. I suppose not, but they assume you declare things from fear. Maey. That's immaterial. I wish to tell the au- thorities what I brought. Shall I tell you? [The chime in the hall below strikes once.] COETEIGHT. I'm the man to tell. Maey. Your information came from Holland? CoETEiGHT. That's right. That's the diamond market. Maey. I know your informant. OoETBiGHT. He's got a big pull, whoever he is. He's got the Department working overtime. The orders were to search. Now, if I only got you on the ship or on the dock, the Lady Inspector would be handy. I'll have to de- tain you, I'm afraid. ViCTOE. Can't you cut that out? CoRTEiGHT. She's an opera singer. Alice. What have I done ! Mary. Scissors, please. I'll save you the trouble. Alice. Eight here on the desk. [Alice hands Mary the scissors. Mary cuts the red piping on her dress and draws out a string of rubies. The others are apparently much con- cerned, Mary makes an effort to appear playful.] Mary. Mr. Officer. You were right. I'm the lady — disguised. I wear this costume in Carmen — ^in the third act — at the smuggler's cave. CoRTRiGHT. That's how you got by? Shades of Doctor Watson ! Maey. [With feigned spirit, archly, making a dance step, and tapping Coeteight unth her fan.] I wouldn't have missed meeting you for anything. CoRTRiGHT. [Bewitched.] Thank you. THE WASTREL HOARD, 215 Mart. [Overcoming a nervous y pathetic ^ little laugh, she sings the air of the quintette at the smugglers^ cave,] Allegro deeifio. OarmcD. iiier, c'est notre af-fai guard, be eas- yi broth - dm. ire U aime a plaire, n_ ai • as well as ofb-ers, Tbey like_ fai - re le ga-lant; Ahl - be eal>laat, and morer Alil . LaiB-ses-noos pas-ser en s - Let OS ,. go on m iridle be- g pV'iiti' ,1 _}ki ^ vantl. font. [Maey hands the rubies to Coeteight.] CoETEiGHT. Those are beauties. Those were not pur- chased in this country. Not that it makes any difference now, but I'm only telling you. I know every bit of jewelry in that class. Pigeon blood, every one of them. Russell. [To Victob.] Did you make the gift? ViCTOB. I'm sorry to say I didn't. RtrssELL. [To Mary. J Who gave them to you? Mary. The Crown Prince of Germany. Victor. "To match your lips," you remember? Russell. Why did you accept them? Mary. As a matter of course. History records no in- stance of an actress with fortitude enough to refuse a pres- ent of jewelry. [She cuts the white piping.'] See, here are some more of them. [She draws out a string of dia- monds.] Russell. Where did you get these? Mary. From a Russian Grand Duke. Victor. "For your swan-white neck," the scoundrel! Russell. Why did you take them? Mary. As a matter of habit. See, here are some more. 216 TEH WASTREL HOARD. [She cuts the blue piping,