PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS ^ FOR THE OLD FLAG PS 3539 .U13 F65 Copy 1 BY ARTHUR LEWIS TUBBS THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA Successful Rural Plays A Strong List From Which to Select Your Next Play FARM FOIiKS; A Rural Play iti Four Acts, by Arthur Lew^s Tubbs. For five male and six female characters. Tin»e of playing, two hours and a half. One simple exterior, two easy interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Flora Goodwin, a farmer's daughter, is engaged to Philip Burleigh, a young New Yorker, Philip's mother wants him to marry a society woman, and by falsehoods makes Flora believe Philip does not love her. Dave Weston, who wants Flora himself, helps the deception by intercepting a letter from Philip to Flora. She agrees to marry Dave, but on the eve of their marriage Dave confesses, Philip learns the truth, and he and Flora are reunited. It is a simple plot, but full of speeches and situations that away an audience alternately to tears and to laughter. Price, 25 cents. HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthu« Lewis Tubbs. Characters, four male, five female. Plays two hours and a half. Scene, a simple interior — same for all four acts. Costumes, modern. One of the stroitgest plays Mr. Tubbs has written. Martin Winn's wife left him when his daughter Ruth was a baby. Harold Vincent, the nephew and adopted son of the man who has wronged Martin, makes love to Ruth Winn. She is also loved by Len Everett, a prosperous young farmer. When Martin discovers who Harold is, he orders him to leave Ruth. Harold, who does not love sincerely, yields. Ruth dis- covers she loves Len, but thinks she has lost hjm also. Then he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. Price 25 cents. THE OLD NEW HAMf^SHIRE HOME. A New England Drama in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For seven males and four females. Time, two hours and a half. Costumes, modern. A play with a strong heart interest and pathos, yet rich in humor. Easy to act and very effective. A rural drama of the "Old Homstead" and "Way Down East" type. Two ex- terior scenes, one interior, all easy to set. Full of strong sit- uations and delightfully humorous passages. The kind of a piety everybody understands and likes. Price, 25 cents. THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy in Three Acts, by Frank Dumont. For five males and four females. Time, two hours. Rural costumes. Scenes rural ex^ terior and interior. An adventurer obtains a large sum of money from a farm house through the intimidation of the farmer's niece, whose husband he claims to be. Her escapes from the wiles of the villain and his female accomplice are both starting and,, novel. Price, 15 cents. A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in Five Acts, by Charles Town send. For seven males and four females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a cq^mtry lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which re"siults in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker in his power, but *e White Mountain boy finds a way to check- mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. Price 15 cent'i^. iE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA I For the Old Flag A Patriotic Play in Three Acts By ARTHUR LEWIS TUBES Author of '*Farm Folks;' ''Home Ties,'' ''The Village Lawyer;' "The Finger of Scorn;' etc. PHILADELPHIA THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY I 9 I 8 7^5 3 S2 f Copyright 191 8 by The Penn Publishing Company ©CLD 50530 For the Old Flag OCT -9 (918 ^ For the Old Flag CAST OF CHARACTERS Philip Randall - - - - of the U. S. Army Tom Randall his brother Rodney Hunt from New York Hezekiah Wilkins - - - -an ''Old Vet'' Oliver Moon a young patriot Lucy Garrett tried and true Jessie Randall - - - sister of Philip and Tom Mrs. Randall their mother Sophia Ash .... who is '' 7?iediumistic'* Ivy the *' help " Time of Playing. — About two hours and a half. The action of the play takes place in a small village in New York State, near which is located a United States Army training camp. The first act occurs on an afternoon in August, 191 7; the second act, about the same time the next day, and the third act in the evening, the following February. THE STORY OF THE PLAY Philip Randall, a United States soldier, is in love with Lucy Garrett. She refuses him, her love and faith having been pledged to his brother, Tom Randall, who is in prison, accused of a theft Lucy believes he did not commit. Tom returns, and confronts Philip. " You took that money." Philip begs mercy for the sake of their mother and " for the old flag," and Tom agrees to keep silent for a time. Philip sails for France, and when wounded makes a confession that clears his brother's name. Then Tom in turn, with Lucy's promise to wait for him, enlists under the old flag. NOTICE TO PROFESSIONALS This play is published for the free use of strictly amateur companies only. Professional actors or organizations wishing to produce it, in any form or under any title, are forbidden to do so without the consent of the author, who may be addressed in care of the publishers. COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS Philip Randall. About twenty-five years of age. A sturdy young country fellow, of good appearance, considerable polish and attractive manner. He should by no means be indicated as a coward, but ^ rather as one " not wholly convinced." A vein of possible villainy should be hinted, not offensively depicted. He wears the khaki uniform of a pri- vate in the U. S. Army. COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS Tom Randall. About three years younger than PhiHp. Upon his first appearance he is pale, emaciated, of dejected and somewhat desperate mien. Cheap suit, considerably the worse for wear. Second act, same suit, but much more tidy in appearance, also improved in spirits and man- ner. Third act, well dressed, in plain dark suit. He has fully recovered his health and looks robust and athletic. Rodney Hunt. Young " city fellow " ; not dudish, but well dressed in summer flannel or outing suit, with straw hat; same for first two acts. Third act, uniform, same as worn by Philip in first act, with heavy overcoat, etc. Hezekiah Wilkin s. Little, wizened old man, about seventy. Thin, wrinkled face, with sparse gray hair and beard. May have slight limp. First act, baggy old trousers, with colored shirt, wide- brimmed straw hat, etc. Wears G. A. R. badge. Last act, neat but cheap winter suit ; overcoat, cap, tippet, etc. Still wears badge. Oliver Moon. Boy of fifteen or sixteen. Regular mischievous " kid," full of pranks. First act, short trousers, waist, cap or straw hat. Last act, heavier suit. Lucy Garrett. Pretty, winsome girl of eighteen or thereabouts, of cultured manners. First act, light, dainty summer costume, with hat. Second act, same or similar. Third act, becoming winter dress, with furs, etc. Jessie Randall. About same age as Lucy. Equally attractive, though not so richly dressed. First act, neat summer dress, with hat. Second act, similar attire. Third act, neat winter dress. Mrs. Randall. Motherly woman of about fifty-five or sixty; white hair; very gentle and loveable. First act, neat dress, with bonnet and light shawl or wrap. Second act, house dress of calico or some such material. Third act, dark house dress. Sophia Ash. A quick, " fussy " and self-important " old maid," distinctly a comedy part, but by no 5 propebtiJes means a caricature. She is about forty-five or fifty years old. In first two acts she is attired in somewhat fancy summer dresses, with ribbons, a gay hat, parasol, fan, etc. Third act, equally "dressy," but appropriate to season, with shawl, etc. Ivy. Typical country "help," fourteen or fifteen years of age. First two acts, short dress, with large gingham apron; not too neat, but should not be noticeably untidy. Hair combed straight back, with braids, or hanging in ringlets. Third act, neater attire, with ribbon on hair. PROPERTIES For Mrs. Randall: Fan; partly knitted sweater, needles, wool, etc. For Ivy : Pan of apples ; paring knife ; glass of water ; several cucumbers or substitutes ; tray with dishes, covered with napkin; broom; checker-board and checkers. For Lucy: Knitting-bag and two partly knitted sweaters (these should be alike except that one is a little more advanced than the other) ; hand-bag. For Jessie: Partly knitted sock, needles, etc. For Sophia: Knitting bag, partly knitted sock, needles, etc. ; newspaper in a wrapper. For Oliver: Basket with packages, supposed to be groceries. For Hezekiah: Large American flag on a pole; G. A. R. badge. For Rodney: Letter in an envelope, addressed, but not stamped. Other Properties: A phonograph to be heard off stage, with military march record. A cabinet organ, to be heard off stage playing "Keep the Home Fires Burning," or some sympathetic war music. Later, heard playing " America." Salt, to represent snow. SCENE PLOT £y(TE:ntoR nPiop nooR Scene. — Sitting-room of the Randall home. Door in flat, c, and window in flat l. c. (window may be omitted). Back drop shows village scene, fields, or yard. Doors r. and l. also. Up R. small table or stand, and two chairs or stools. Down r., two large chairs. Down l., table with table spread, papers, books. One chair r. and two l. of table. Bookcase or some other article of furniture up l. Other furnishings to make a plain but comfort- able room. For the Old Flag ACT I SCENE.—Sitiing-room of the Randall homestead, plainly but neatly furnished. There is a door up c. in flat and window up l. in flat, also doors R. and l. ; table, with spread, papers, a book or two, etc., L. c. ; several chairs. It is an afternoon in August and the window and door up c. are open, showing yard, the fields or village street in back- ground. At rise, a band is heard off^ R., playing a military march. After a pause, during which the band is supposed to pass in the distance, the music gradually dying away, Oliver Moon enters, march step, door c. to l., carrying basket containing sev- eral packages; down c, just as Ivy enters r. She carries pan containing apples. He sets down basket, stands " at attention " c. Ivy crosses down L., turns and sees Oliver. Ivy. Oh! that you, Oliver? 'Bout time you brung them groceries. Oliver (standing erect, arms at side; salutes). Here! Ivy. Oh, come on, you ain't no soldier. Can't fool me. (Sits, down l., and commences to pare and cut up apples. ) Oliver (assuming natural manner). Oh, that you, Ivy? IVY. Who's it look like— Mis' President Wilson 'r anybuddy ? Brung our things, did y' ? Oliver. Yep. Where'll I put 'em? 9 FOR THE OLD FLAG Ivy. Well, niebbe you'd better take 'em in and put *em on the pi-anner. That's gen' rally where we keep our groceries. Oliver. Pi-anner ? You ain't got none. Ivy. Well, then s'pose you go 'n' put 'em on the kitchen table. I'd take 'em, only I got t' peel these apples. Phil's got leave 'n' is comin' home t' supper 'n' I got t' make a lot o' apple sauce. Oliver. Give me a piece? (Crosses l.) Ivy. How c'n I give you a piece o' apple sauce, you silly ? 'Sides, it ain't made yet. Oliver. Aw, I mean a piece o' apple. (About to help himself from pan.) Ivy. Go 'way; th' ain't none t' spare — 'cept a little piece, mebbe. Here! (Hands him small piece of apple.) Oliver. Thanks. Regular Eve, ain't y' ? (Sits near her, l.) Ivy. Eve who? Oliver. 'N' Adam. Don't you go t' Sunday-school ? Ivy. Oh, ain't you knowin'? Sure I do. 'N' you'd better go 'n' put them groceries in the kitchen and get back t' that store, 'r Mr. Bates'll give you more 'n apples. Oliver. Huh! no danger. He never gives a feller nothin'. Y' see the soldiers ? Ivy. No. Heard the band, but Mis' Randall 'n' Jessie wanted t' go V see 'em 'cause Phil was with 'em, so I had t' stay home and watch the house. She's all broke up over his 'nlistin'. (He keeps helping himself to pieces of apple, unnoticed by her; eats them almost as fast as she pares them. ) Oliver. I s'pose she is. Jest like a mother. But it's the best thing ever happened t' Phil Randall. Mebbe it'll make a man of him. 10 FOB THE OLD FLAG Ivy. You hadn't better let her hear you say that. She thinks he's the hull thing, almost, V of course he's all she's got, sense {Notices him eating apples, jumps up, slapping him.) Here, you! Ain't you got th' cheek? Well, of all things, if you haven't et all I've peeled ! Oliver. The woman tempted me and I did eat Ivy. Well, I should say you did ! Now you take them things in the kitchen, 'n' then you clear out o' here. You're the limit. Oliver {goi7tg r., with basket). Oh, all right! But mebbe you'll be sorry you spoke t' me like that some day — when I'm over 'n France, 'n' you hear I'm shot 'r some thin'. Ivy. You ! Huh, I guess they ain't much danger. A pretty soldier you'd make Oliver. Who wants t' be a "pretty" soldier? But you jest bet I'd 'nlist t'day if they'd take me. Ain't it a shame I ain't old enough ? You jest bet I'd 'nlist if I was. Ivy. I guess you wouldn't be s' anxious 'f you was. It's easy enough to talk, but I guess when it come to the pinch You goin' t' take them things in there ? Oliver. Sure— sure! Y' see. Ivy dear, you're such a clingin' little vine, I can't tear m'self away from y — . Ivy. You sfit out (Rims at him, giving him a cuff; he exits r., with basket. She looks at pan, disgusted; goes iip, looks of door c. to r., then, carrying pan, comes down R., as she sees Mrs. Randall and Jessie, who enter from. r. They wear hats; Mrs. R. has a plain fan. They come down l.) Mrs. Randall {sitting l., fanning self). I'm so tired. It's veiy warm. Jessie {by her). Yes, Mother, and I'm afraid the walk was too much for you. Do you feel faint ? Mrs. R. Oh, no; just a little exhausted, that's all. I'll be all right in a minute. II FOB THE OLD FLAG Ivy. Shall I get you a glass o' water, Mis' Randall? Mrs. R. Why, yes. Ivy, if you will, please. Ivy. Yes, ma'am. Oliver Moon's in there. He jest brung them things you ordered from the store b'forc you went to th' p'rade. They're the slowest things down t' that store. I'll bring the water. {Exit, R., with pan.) Jessie. It was very hard, wasn't it — seeing Phil in his uniform and knowing he has to leave us ? But we must be brave, you know. Mrs. R. Yes, dear, of course we must ; and I mean to be. But it is hard, especially when I think of — of {Covers eyes with hand or fan, weeping gently. Jessie puts arm about her.) Jessie. Don't, Mother, please don't. We mustn't think about him — about that — you know. It doesn't do any good. We must only think of Phil, and that he is a soldier now and is going to be a hero — and fight for his country — and — oh. Mother, didn't he look fine in his new uniform? I was so proud of him. Weren't you? Mrs. R. {recovering). Yes, yes, of course I was. I'm so glad he has leave and can come to supper and spend a whole day with us. '{Enter Ivy, r., with glass of water; gives it to Mrs. R., who drinks nearly all of it. Oliver enters R. and stands r. c. with empty basket.) Ivy. Feel better now. Mis* Randall ? Mrs. R. Yes, thank you. Ivy. How do you do, Oliver^ Oliver. How d' do. Mis' Randall ? {He and Jessie also exchange greetings. Ivy goes out R,, with glass.) Jessie. Wouldn't you like to be a soldier, Oliver? 12 FOB THE OLD FLAG Oliver. You jest bet I would, Miss Randall. T*s only 'cause I ain't old enough 't I ain't one. Mks. R. Some would be glad to escape, Oliver. Olivf.r. Them kind ain't real Americans. They're slackers. I ain't built that way — no more 'n your Phil is, Mis' Randall. I see he's 'nlisted. Mrs. R. Yes. We have just been to see him in his uniform, for the first time. It was a very fine parade. Did you see it? (Jessie goes up to door, c.) Oliver. No. Couldn't git away. Well, I must be gitt'n' back, 'r old Bates'll dock my week's wages. Jessie {who is looking off to r.). Oh, look! Here comes Mr. Wilkins, having a parade all to himself. {Waves hand.) Hello, Mr. Wilkins! (Oliver goes up, looks off; Mrs. R. rises, goes up C. part way, also looks off; they stand aside, as Heze- KiAH Wilkins marches in, zvith good-sized Amer- ican flag. Jessie joins him on one side, Oliver on the other; they march about; Ivy looks in r., sees them, joins them and they parade around, all singing or whistling " The Girl I Left Behind Me." Mrs. R. stands up l., watching them, smiling, then applauding. Philip Randall appears in door c, in uniform, stands and watches them, at first un- noticed. They finally pause and he claps his hands. ) Philip. Hurray! Hurray! Three cheers for the U. S. A. I (They all turn and see him. He comes down l. Mrs. R. comes down l. to him; he kisses her, then kisses Jessie. Oliver, Hezekiah, Ivy at r.) Mrs. R. Why, Phil, dear, how did you get here so soon ? We didn't expect you for some time yet. Philip. They broke ranks soon after you left, and I came straight here. 13 FOR TEE OLD FLAG Jessie. My, but you look fine, Phil! Aren't you proud ? Philip. M'm— yes, I suppose I am. It's all very fine, and Fm patriotic and all that, but— well, somehow I don't feel so very enthusiastic just yet. I sup- pose I shall, though, in time. How about it, Mr. Wilkins? You ought to know. Hezekiaii. Me ? Guess I do. Be'n through th' mill ! 'Thusiasm? 'M full of it. Gosh, wish I was a young 'un agin, y' jest bet I'd fall in line. It's me f 'r Old Glory, every time ! (Waves flag; they all smile and applaud lightly.) Jessie. Good for you, Mr. Wilkins. I guess you know v\Ahat war is, too ? Hezekiaii. Guess I do. Fit f'r the Union. Was at Antietam 'n' Bull Run. Makes me fire up all over agin, all this marchin' 'n' music, 'n' all. I tell y' what, young man (to Philip), you ought t' be proud t' go 'n' fight for Uncle Sam. Oliver. Sure he ought to. Wish I could go. Philip. I am. But there's another side to it, you know — going away, and leaving this dear little mother and sister, and — they have no one else now, and Oh, but we mustn't think of these things, I suppose. By the way, Mother, I asked Rodney Hunt to come and have supper with us. I thought you wouldn't mind. Mrs. R. Why, no, of course not, Phil, if you want him. But we are not very stylish, you know, and he — well, being from the city and living at the hotel and all Hezekiah. He's that city dude 't I've seen around with you s' much, ain't he? Philip. I suppose you have seen him with me. He has been my friend for some time, and he lives in New York. But I don't know as I would call him a " dude." Wearing good clothes and having an education and polished manners doesn't nec- essarily mean that a man is what vou call a " dude," Hezekiah. 14 FOR THE OLD FLAG {He goes up L., slightly annoyed. Mrs. R. is down l. ; Ji^ssiE L. c. ; Hezekiah up r. ; Oliver and Ivy r.) Hezekiah. Didn't mean no offense, Phil, m' boy. But I've kind o' wondered why he ain't wearin' a uniform, too. Not that he'd make much of a soldier. He's th' kind that c'n carry a cane 'r a cigarette better 'n a gun, I take it. Mrs. R. Well, Phil, if your friend is coming, Ivy and I will go and see about getting a little something extra for supper. I guess there is time. Come, Ivy. Ivy. All right, Mis' Randall. Philip. Now, Mother, you needn't go and fuss. Rodney isn't so particular, and he'll understand. Mrs. R. I know, dear ; but we want to fix up a little, you know. I wouldn't want you to be ashamed of us. {Exit R., followed by Ivy. Jessie goes to r.) Jessie. I'll go and see if there's anything I can do. Mother's all upset, I can see that. I shouldn't think you would have invited Mr. Hunt here to supper, Phil, without telling us in advance. He's used to style and all, you know he is. Philip {going to her, r.). Pshaw! It won't hurt him, if he is. Besides, things are plenty good enough here for him. He was glad enough to accept, and you're glad enough to have him, you know you are Jessie {in confusion). Phil! Philip. Now, now, little sly puss! You know you think he's the grandest thing ever was. And as for him — well, what he didn't say nice about you Jessie. Phil! — be still! How can you? They'll hear {^Glances at Hezekiah and Oliver, who are up c, m door, talking together, apparently not noticing others, who are up r. ) 15 FOR THE OLD FLAG Philip. That's all right. They didn't notice. What do you care if they did? {Turning up c.) Going, Hezekiah ? Hezekiah. Wal, I wa'n't, jest yit. {Comes down c.) Reckoned I'd run in 'n' talk soldier'n' a few min- utes, seein' you've got y'r uniform. Thought mebbe I c'd give y' a little advice. Glad t'. Philip. That's very kind, Hezekiah, but I guess I'll get all the advice and instructions that are neces- sary, all in good time. What do you think about it, Oliver ? They going to get you ? Oliver {up c). Would, if I had my way. Won't take me. Ain't old 'nough. Philip. I guess that could be fixed. They might take you, one way or another. Oliver. Oh! think they would? {About to go.) Well, y' see, even so, I — I ain't sure I could go. Got some fambly ties, y' know, 'n' Say, it's gitt'n' late. Guess I'll have t' be gitt'n' back f the store, 'r Mr. Bates'U give it t' me. Good-bye. See y' later. {Exit Oliver through c. door to l. Jessie goes to door c. and looks after him. Philip comes down L.) Hezekiah. Cold feet. Was jes' blowin' about want'n' t' go. Philip {leaning on table, l.). Well, I tell you, it's no pleasant thing to think of, after all, Mr. Wilkins. I can't say I'd go, if I had my way. I don't think I'm a coward. I want to be patriotic and do my duty, and I hope I will do it when the time comes. But a fellow might as well be honest with himself and own up that he doesn't hanker after war. It's a beastly thing to think of. Hezekiah. You're right, m' boy, it is. I was there. It's a good while ago now, but sometimes it seems like it was yist'd'y. I c'n still hear the cannons roarin', V see the boys runnin' int' the midst of the fight— 'n' there I be, pitchin' in, day after day, i6 FOR TBE OLD FLAG fightin' — sometimes fairly droppin', but still keepin' at it — 'cause y' can't stop, s' long 's y'r legs '11 hold y' up and there's a breath left t' fight with. Then one day I got a shot — here, in this leg — the bullet went in there — right here — and I was done f'r. {He feels of right knee.) I'm an old Vet. now, and hev been f'r years 'n' years, 'n' I'll soon lay down m' arms f'r good. But I would like t' live till you boys come marchin' home 'n' y' tell us you licked them pesky Huns. That'd be somethin' t' live f'r — 'n' t' die f'r, if needs be, m' boy— t' die f'r ! Philip {going and clasping his hand). Thanks, Mr. Wilkins. You give me courage. I'll try to be as good a soldier as you were — as you are ! I never can be — but I'll try! Hezekiah {patting him on shoulder). That's the way t' talk, m' boy — 'n' I'll go with y' — in spirit — 'n' keep Old Glory wavin' here till y' come marchin' home. {They are down l. c. ; Jessie in door c, looking off to R. Hezekiah again waves flag.) Philip. Oh, the flag will come flying home all right, Hezekiah, you can be sure of that, and when it does, the victory it has won will be worth all we have done to win it. That's the way to feel, isn't it? Hezekiah. You bet it is. No man has ever died in vain if he's give his life f'r Old Glory. Jessie {turning to them). That's a fine sentiment, Mr. Wilkins. It's easier to say than it is to feel, how- ever. Hezekiah. Mebbe 'tis; mebbe 'tis. But we got t' feel it too, you know. Jessie {coming part way down c). Oh, yes, I know, I know. But we've got to learn, — to learn how to smile when our hearts are breaking, and cheer when, if we did what we feel like doing, we would just sit down and cry. Oh, I'm not complaining. 17 FOR THE OLD FLAG I love my country and I am patriotic and I shall bear up and act like a good soldier's true sister. But you needn't think it will be easy, for it's going to be hard — terribly, terribly hard! Philip {going to her and putting an arm about her). Of course it is, little sister. That's why you will be doing something for your country — as much, in staying here at home, you and Mother, as I am in going. Why, it will be the mothers and sisters at home, loving us and thinking of us, that will help us, more than anything else, to win. Hezekiah. My, but that sounds fine! You're a reg'lar orationer, Phil. But y' ought t' said " sweethearts " too, f 'r here comes yourn. (Jessie wipes her eyes, smiling bravely. Hezekiah has gone up c. ; looks off. ) Philip. Well, of course, I meant sweethearts, too. But as for mine — I guess you're mistaken there, Hezekiah. I have none. Hezekiah. So ? Wal, wal, do tell ! Thought y' had. 'T any rate, here comes Lucy Garrett, lookin' like she must be somebuddy's sweetheart. Who's that with her? Jessie {looking out c. to r.). Why, it's Mr. Hunt, Phil, with — Lucy Garrett. Philip. Oh, is it? (Jessie comes down, to r. c. ; Hezekiah up l. Philip goes up, meets Rodney Hunt and Lucy Garrett, as they come in door c. to r.) Rodney. Good-afternoon, Miss Randall. {He comes down r, and shakes hands with Jessie, who seems a hit embarrassed. Jessie welcomes Lucy, ivho has spoken to Philip cordially.) Lucy {down r. c). I was on the way here, Jessie, to see you, when Mr. Hunt overtook me, so we came along together. i8 FOR THE OLD FLAG Rodney {down r.). Yes. I was in luck for once. Eh, Phil? Philip {up c). You surely were. You know Mr. Wilkins, Mr. Hunt? He's our star " G. A. R." A real representative of the U. S. A. Hezekiah (l.). Glad t' know you, Mr. Hunt. What y' hunt'n' f'r — Huns? Rodney. M'm — well, not exactly. (Philip comes down c. As they all laugh, he seems somewhat annoyed. All well down stage, Lucy and Jessie r. ; Rodney c. ; Philip l. c. ; Hezekiah Lucy. Well, I guess he wouldn't find any here, if he were. It was a fine parade, Phil. I felt quite proud of you as you went marching by Philip {pleased). Of me, Lucy? Lucy. M'm — I meant of you all — the boys. But, of course, you too. Philip. Oh ! Jessie. Yes, I thought they looked splendid. {Notic- ing bag on Lucy's arm.) That your knitting, Lucy ? Lucy {holding up bag). Yes. Isn't it a beauty? I bought it in New York. Oh, you'll have to have one. They're all knitting. It's quite the thing. They knit in the street cars, and at the opera, the theatres — everywhere. Hezekiah. Anywheres s' long 's it's in public, I s'pose. Do they keep it up t' home, when they ain't nobuddy lookin'? Rodney {laughing). Indeed, no! That would be quite superfluous, you know. Hezekiah. Oh, would it? I thought it was some- thin' like that. Jessie. Come on, let's all go out in the yard. No use staying in here. I want you to show me your bag, Lucy, and what you are knitting. Lucy. All right. {They go up — Jessie first, followed by Rodney, to 19 FOR THE OLD FLAG door c. They go off to R. Hezekiah in 'door c, Lucy up r. ; Philip crosses to her. ) Hezekiah. Be out here, Phil. Want f see y', when you git a minute. We're gitt'n' up a sort o' cele- bration 'n' I thought mebbe you'd help it along — you 'n' some of the boys. Drill 'r somethin'. Think you could? Philip. Oh, I guess so, Hezekiah. Talk it over, anyway. Hezekiah. All right. I'll be out by the barn, lookin' at the pigs. {Exit Hezekiah, to l. Lucy is about to go out, hut pauses as Philip speaks.) Philip. Lucy — wait ! Lucy. What, Phil, — what is it ? Philip. I — I wanted to speak to you. Lucy. But not now. Jessie is waiting for me, and Philip {up c). No, don't go, Lucy. Wait. I may not have another chance. You must know what I mean — how I feel. Oh, Lucy, I've got to tell you, now, — if I don't it may be too late. {She is about to go; he stops her.) No, you must listen. Lucy — I love you — I'm going away. I can't go without telling you — without knowing that you are waiting for me here. It's going to be hard to go, but — but if I could have that to think about — to know that you {She comes dozvn c. ; he follows her; she draws away from him, as he tries to take her hand. ) Lucy. Phil— don't. You mustn't. It isn't right. Philip. Why isn't it right? Hasn't a man a right to tell a girl he loves her — that she is the only one in the world for him, and that he has nothing to live for if she doesn't tell him she loves him? Lucy. Stop, Phil. You know you shouldn't say such 20 FOR THE OLD FLAG things to me, and that I shouldn't listen to them. It isn't fair to — to him. {Lays knitting hag on table.) Philip. But why should we think of him? Lucy. You ask me that — you ? — and he your brother ? Do you mean to say that you could respect me if I should turn to you now, while he is shut up over there? Don't you know I promised him I would wait for him? Oh, you know I did — you know I did! Philip. But you can't, Lucy. You don't love him now. How can you ? He is a convict, a Lucy. Don't say it, Phil. He may be a convict, but that isn't saying he is guilty of the crime of which he was accused. There's many an innocent man behind prison walls, and many a guilty one outside of them. You ought to know that. Philip. I ? Why, Lucy, what do you mean Lucy. Oh, perhaps I don't mean anything, except that I never believed Tom Randall took that money. Philip. We needn't discuss that. It was proved against him. Lucy. Yes, and it was your testimony that did it. Yours — his brother's. Oh, I know you pretended you were reluctant to tell what you did — that you saw him coming out of the bank that night, an hour after it was closed, proving that he had gone back. And when the money was missing, and those bills were found on him, you " let slip " something that made them ask what you knew about it, and you had to tell. I know all that, but I know, too, that, in spite of it all, I never believed Tom guilty, never did and never shall. Philip. Well, you have a right to feel that way, and of course I hope you are right. I should like to see Tom vindicated, and I would do all I could to bring it about Lucy {close to him, looking sirairjht into his eyes). Do you mean that, Philip Randall ? 21 FOR THE OLD FLAG Philip (trying not to flinch, but unable to meet het gaze). Why, yes, of course I do. Lucy. Then why don't you tell ? Philip. Tell? Tell what Lucy. What you know. What you ought to tell — the truth ! Philip. I — I don't know what you mean. I can't imagine what you have got into your head. Lucy. Well, it's something you can't get out of it. It's something that makes that uniform you have on mean nothing to me, so long as I think what I do. Philip. Lucy ! Lucy. Oh, you needn't be afraid. I have never said this to anybody else, and Pm not going to do so. It's only my opinion, and it wouldn't do any good to express it. I may think things, but I can prove nothing, unless it is my faith in Tom Randall and my determination to stick to him and wait for him. Philip. What ! Do you mean to say you would marry him — marry him, after he comes out of prison, and face it out with him? I guess you don't realize what that would mean. Lucy. It would mean I believe him innocent, no mat- ter what all the rest of the world believe, and that there was one woman who didn't go back on a man just because things were against him. Philip. Yes, but {He walks up c, as Mrs. R. enters r.) Mrs. R. How do you do, Lucy ? Why, Lucy — Phil — what is the matter ? Philip. Nothing, Mother. Lucy and I were just discussing something, and we — we couldn't quite agree, that's all. I'll be out here with Jessie and Rodney. Will you come, Lucy? Lucy. Pretty soon. You needn't wait. {Exit Philip through door at c. and off l. Lucy is c. Mrs. R. goes to her.) FOR TEE OLD FLAG Mrs. R. Why, Lucy, what is it ? I am sure you and PhiHp have been having some words. I can't imagine — I thought you were such good friends. Lucy. Why, we are, Mrs. Randall. We weren't quarreling. I don't want to tell you what it was about, because— well, I know it is a subject that it hurts you to discuss. Mrs. R. Lucy, do you mean — Tom? Was it Tom you were talking about? Lucy. Yes, Mrs. Randall. Oh, you know how I feel ! You know I never believed him guilty, even when everything was against him. I couldn't believe Tom a — a thief. Mrs. R. I know, dear. That was because you loved him, and your heart, like mine, told you that it could not be so. Lucy. And it still tells me so. I still believe in him, I still love him, Mrs. Randall, and I'll wait for him. And when he comes out you and I will stick by him and comfort him — even if all the rest of the world turns against him. Mrs. R. You are a noble, true girl, Lucy, and Tom is blessed indeed in having such a heart as yours to beat for him. But, my dear, you forget — it can't be — there's your father Lucy. Oh, I know. Sometimes I almost wish he were not my father, he seems so hard, so cruel. He has forbidden me even to mention Tom's name. He calls him — those awful words that Mr. Stone, the District Attorney, spoke of him — oh, I shall never forget — and he, my own father, says he will have no more to do with me, that I shall no longer be his daughter, if I even speak to Tom again when he comes out. But do you think that will make any difference? Do you think even he can turn me against Tom? Mrs. R. No, no, my dear, of course not. But we must face the truth. Tom is my boy and, no matter what others think, I believe him innocent — I know he is. And it's oh, such a comfort to me to feel that you think so too. But we must face 23 FOR THE OLD FLAG the truth, dear. Your father is a rich man, he has power and influence, and it was in his bank that — that that theft took place, and he believes Tom is the one that did it. Everything was against him, you know, and your father had reason to believe him guilty. Lucy. Oh, I know he had reasons. He was anxious to find them, it seemed to me, and so was that terrible, hard-hearted District Attorney Stone, whose name just suits him. Why, they wouldn't even give Tom the benefit of the doubt. Mrs. R. I'm afraid, Lucy dear, that they thought there wasn't any doubt. Poor Tom had to admit that he went back to the bank that night, and it was Phil, you know, who saw him coming out. Then all that money was found in Tom's room, more than he could ever have had of his own, and Oh, Lucy, everything was against him. Everything ! Lucy. Yes — even his own brother. His own flesh and blood convicted him. Mrs. R. Lucy! You mustn't blame Philip. You mustn't do that. That would be unjust. He had to tell. He tried not to, you know, but they ques- tioned him, and got it out of him. Oh, I wouldn't want you to feel that way, Lucy. It would be terrible, now that Phil is a soldier, to have him go away with any such a feeling as that on your part. Is — is that what you and he were talking about? (Lucy is silent; turns away.) Lucy, was it ? Did you make Philip feel that you blame him? Lucy (facing her, sadly). I'm sorry, Mrs. Randall. I was excited, thinking of Tom. It hurts me so, — and I said more than I should. I am sorry. Mrs. R. Well, it was because you feel so about Tom, dear, and Philip will understand. He won't lay it up against you. There, there, we won't think any more about it. I want you to stay and have supper with us, Lucy. Mr. Hunt is here, you know, and it will be quite a little party. 24 FOR THE OLD FLAG Lucy. Thank you, Mrs. Randall, but I don't believe I can Mrs. R. Oh, but I won't take " no " for an answer. We don't know how soon Philip may have to go away, you know, and we may not all be here to- gether again. Lucy. But if Mr. Hunt is here, I — really, I don't think I can stay. Mrs. R. You don't like him, I know. But never mind. Stay for my sake, and Phil's. Lucy. Oh, it isn't so much that I don't like Mr. Hunt. I distrust him. I can't understand what Phil sees in him to make such a friend of. Mrs. R. Why, they were chums w^hen Philip was away at school, you know, and Philip visited him in New York for several weeks, a few years ago, and Lucy. Yes. Just before Tom's trouble, wasn't it? Phil had just come back from New York, and Mr. Hunt had been here, and — I remember. Mrs. R. Why, Lucy, what do you mean? You mustn't keep dwelling on that. It doesn't do any good now, and we agreed not to talk about it any more, you know. We must think of other things — of the soldiers — of our country Lucy {trying to smile). Yes, I know. And I must knit. Goodness, think of all the time I've wasted. I might have done a dozen rows or more. (Gets bag from table, opens it, takes out knitting.) I promised to show it to Jessie. I think I'll go out. She's waiting for me. Mrs. R. (looking at knitting). Oh, you're getting along nicely, aren't you ? What is it ? Lucy. M'm — well, it isn't anything yet. Mrs. R. I see. Of course, I meant going to be. Lucy. I hope it is going to be a sweater. That's what I want it to be. But seeing it's my first, and I'm just sort of feeling my way, it may turn out to be a tippet, or maybe only a pair of wristlets. Mrs. R. Lucy! I'm sure it will be a beautiful sweater. 25 FOR THE OLD FLAG Lucy. Thanks for those kind words. May your faith be fully rewarded — and my good intentions. {They are up to door c, about to go out, but draw back as Jessie runs in from r.) Jessii:. Well, I must say it takes you long enough. I thought you were coming out with us. Lucy. So I am. I was just showing your mother my knitting. Mrs. R. Yes, dear; she says she is knitting a sweater — for some soldier, I suppose. Maybe it is for Phil. Jessie. Oh ! is it, Lucy ? Lucy. Mercy me, I don't even know it's going to be that. If it's only wristlets, he might not want them. (She has gone up to c. ; looks off to l.) Here comes Sophia Ash. Jessie. Is it? Oh, dear! I wonder if we've got to have her wished on to us. Mrs. R. Jessie, I am surprised. Jessie. Well, you needn't be. You don't want to see her yourself. You dread her coming here, you know you do. Mrs. R. What I dread is having her go into one of those spells — " trance," she calls it. She just makes me creep when she goes into one of them, and it seems to me she is always and forever get- ting under the influence of her " control," as she calls it. It's an Indian girl, her ** control " is, named — what is her name, Jessie ? Jessie. " Prairie Flower." Some flower, I call her, if she can " control " Sophia Ash, especially her tongue. Did you ever see her when she was in one, Lucy? Lucy. No, but I should love to. Do you think she could go into one this afternoon? Jessie. Could she? Just you wait. That's what she's coming here for. Lucy. I have heard about her and her trances, but never happened to see her when she was in one. What does she do? 26 FOR THE OLD FLAG Jessie. Acts like she had a fit, and tells you a lot of things you knov/ already. But here she is. Now, for it. {Enter Sophia Ash, through door c, from l., clasping her hands, rolling her eyes, with a " far-away '* expression and distracted manner. She does not notice the others, as she comes down c. Mrs. R. places chair r. c. and Sophia sinks into it, moan- ing, with clasped hands, and swaying gently from side to side.) Mrs. R. Oh, dear, she's in one of 'em. Jessie. I should say she is. I guess we're in for it, this time. Mrs. R. Jessie, dear, don't make fun of her. Jessie. Oh, I can't help it. {Enter Hezekiah through door c. from l. Sophia seated c. ; Mrs. R. is r. c. ; Jessie and Lucy l. c. ; Hezekiah comes down l.) Hezekiah. Oh, here's the mee-jum, is she? Thought I seen her comin' in. Phew ! she's havin' 'em. {Enter Philip and Rodney through door c, from L. ; they stand hack, looking on, amusedly. ) Lucy. S-sh ! She is going to speak. Jessie. H'm! that's nothing strange. Easiest thing she does. Mrs. R. Jessie! (Sophia sways back and forth, moaning, then stops, with closed eyes. The others all keep very still. Sophia mumbles indistinctly for a moment, then begins speaking, mysteriously.) Sophia. Prairie Flower say — Prairie Flower see — {stretching out arm, points) she see Oh, it is terrible — terrible She say — she see — she see troops, marching men, cannons, swords — hark ! it's the guns, booming, booming ! It's men — fight- ing — war, war — war! 27 FOR THE OLD FLAG {Moans again, rocking hack and forlli, wailing.) Hezekiah. What d' y* think o' that ? Prairie Flower, she see war. Kind o' b'hind the times, ain't she? Sophia. I see beyond — there — far off — in the dis- tance Hezekiah. 'S fur's the middle o' next week, I reckon. {She waves her hands about.) Philip {looking on from back). She seems to be groping for something Rodney. Visions, maybe. Hezekiah. Acts more like she gropin' f'r flies 'r m'skeeters. Philip. Or a husband. You'd better look out, Hezekiah. Hezekiah. Gosh ! Guess I had. Lucy. I think it's perfectly ridiculous. {She goes up, joining Philip and Rodney. They are by door c, paying little attention to the others, talking, though occasionally glancing at Sophia, smiling. ) Sophia. All is dark again. Now I see — yes, there is a gleam of light. Hark ! I hear Prairie Flower's voice again. She is calling to me. She has a message for some one. Who? Who is it you want, Prairie Flower? I am listening. Yes, I hear you. But it is so faint. Speak louder, Prairie Flower. Hezekiah. Guess y' got a poor c'nection. Better call up central {Those at back laugh. Sophia straightens up, begins to *' come out of trance," shuddering, moaning, etc.) Mrs. R. There, she's coming to. Hezekiah. Two 'r three, looks like. Jessie {shaking Sophia gently). Miss Ash! Miss Ash! 28 FOR THE OLD FLAG Hezektah. Makes me tired, all that pretend'n' V puttV on. War? Goin' t* have war? Guess Vd better go 'n' send word t* th' President. Mebbe he'd like t' know th' news, Sophia {looking ab out, in a dazed manner). Where — where am I? Oh, it's — why, it's you, Mis' Ran- dall I And Jessie. Mrs. R. Yes, Sophia, you're here with us. Do you feel better now ? Sophia. Yes, I am all right now. But I have been far away — far away Hezektah. Can y' tell us when th' Kaiser's goin' t* git it in the neck, Miss Ash ? Sophia. Oh, you can make fun of me all you want to, Hezekiah Wilkins. But I guess if you had my powers, you'd have more respect for the mystic world. Sometimes I think it's almost an affliction to be so mediumistic, one gets so misunderstood and made fun of. But it's a gift — it comes with- out seekin'. Hezekiah. Like the mumps 'r the lumbago. (Lucy, Philip and Rodney laugh, about to go out.) Lucy. Come on, Jessie; we're going to take a little walk. Will you go? Jessie. Thanks, but I can't. I have to see about supper. Don't be long. It is nearly ready. Mrs. R. Yes, and you stay, Lucy. Jessie. Why, certainly she will. Pll put a plate on for her. Lucy. All right, then. Thank you, I will. (Philip and Rodney go off through c. door and to l., call- ing her. As she follows them.) Sorry you can't come, Jessie. But we won't be long. {Exeunt Philip, Rodney and Lucy through door c. to L. Jessie goes r. ) Jessie. I'll go and help Ivy, Mother. Mrs. R. Yes, dear, do. And have her call us as soon as it is ready. 29 FOB THE OLD FLAG Jessie. All right. It will be only a few minutes, Mrs. R. I hope you are all right now, Sophia. Sophia {still seated, Mrs. R. at her l.). Yes, I'm all right. It does kind o' take my strength, though, when I have to go. Oh, Mis' Randall, it's terrible to be so misunderstood and made fun of. But I suppose it's my mission in life and I must accept it. My strange powers come to me and I must take what they bring. I try to ns^ 'em for good. You believe that, don't you. Mis' Randall ? Mrs. R. Why — a — ye^., Sophia, I guess so. At any rate, I believe you mean to be sincere and think you get '* messages," as you call them. SorriiA. Oh, you must believe me, Mis' Randall, you must. {Rises, goes and looks up c, then r. a^id l.) You must believe, for I — I have a message for 3'ou. Mrs. R. For me, Sophia ? Why, what do you mean — from — not from your Indian girl ? Sophia {mysteriously, in subdued tones). Yes, from my ** control." When she was speaking to me then, just now, I got your name — it was a message for you — but I didn't want them to know. They don't believe — they interfere with the influence — so I had to wait till I could see you alone. {She glances about.) Mrs. R. Dear me, Sophia, you make me absolutely un- comfortable sometimes. I'd rather you wouldn't — I — really, I don't want your " message," as you call it. I don't mean to be ungrateful, but Sophia {grasping chair). I feel as if I was going again — she is calling me. Yes, Prairie Flower — I hear {Sinks into chair.) Mrs. R. Oh, Sophia, don't — try not to — really, I don't want to know, and you make me nervous. I'll call Jessie. 30 FOR THE OLD FLAG {Starts R. ; Sophia grasps her hand, or dress, detains her.) Sophia. No, no— stay! You must listen. It is about — about your boy Mrs. R. Philip? About Philip? Sophia. No— the other one. Mrs. R. Tom ! It is something about Tom ? (Sophia is now again in a " trance," though less deeply than before. Her eyes are closed. She speaks softly, but distinctly.) Sophia. I see high walls— stone walls. Iron bars- gates— men in— uniforms? No, not uniforms. They are not soldiers. But they are dressed alike— they are marching. There, now they break ranks. They— ah!— I see one— he goes— he is called. He says, " Tell my mother " Yes, I hear. I see. The gates open— he comes out- he — a-ah ! {She sinks for a moment, as if exhausted. -Mrs. R. has become very much interested, as the import of what Sophia says gradually dawns upon her.) Mrs. R. Sophia ! Sophia Ash ! What do you mean ? What were you talking about ? You were making it all up. It isn't right. It is wicked— wicked ! Sophia {coming to). What! What have I said? Have I told you anything. Mis' Randall? Mrs. R. Told me anything? As if you didn't know. I am surprised at you, Sophia Ash, a good church member, that you should give yourself up to such practices. How can you ? Sophia. Oh, Mis' Randall, don't you go back on me too. Even the minister says it is my own imagma- tion. He said if it wasn't it must be—yes, he actually said " the power of the— the Evil One." What do you think of that ? Mrs. R. Well, of course, I wouldn't want to contra- st FOR THE OLD FLAG diet anything the minister said. I have great con- fidence in his opinion. Sophia. Oh, yes, I suppose you agree with him. Well, I can't help it. I give my messages as they come to me, and i£ folks won't accept 'em, that ain't my fault. But when Prairie Flower calls, I have to answer. Jessie (off r.). Mother! Mrs. R. And when Jessie calls, I must answer. It means supper's ready. You'll stay and eat with us, Sophia? Sophia. Thanks, but you got so many, I guess I'd better be getting along. Mrs. R. (m door r.). Oh, there's always room for one more. You might as well stay. Ivy (suddenly appearing r.). Say, Mis* Randall, Jessie wants t' know 'f we shall cut that raisin cake ? Mrs. R. Certainly, Ivy. That will go nicely with your apple sauce. IvY. Yes'm. I'll tell 'er. (Exit, R.) Mrs. R. Come, Sophia. Sophia. Well, mebbe I will. If I could help a little, or anything, I'd be glad to. Mrs. R. Oh, I guess we won't need any help. But you come. Sophia. Well, seeing you insist Mrs. R. Why, of course I do. You go right in and I'll call the others. (Exit Sophia, r. Mrs. R. goes up to door c, calls off to l. ) Philip ! Lucy ! Come — supper is ready ! You all come in now. (She stands, waiting; there is a brief pause, then enter Philip from l., through door at c, with Lucy, followed by Rodney, then by Hezekiah.) Philip. Here we are, Mother. Lucy didn't want to come, but I made her. 32 jPOR TUM OLD PLAO Mrs. R. Why, certainly. I'd feel it terribly, Lucy, if you didn't stay. Lucy (smiling). Then I'll stay, of course. Besides, I'm just dying to, to tell the truth. {Enter Jessie, r.) Jessie. Come on, you folks. Supper's all ready. {Exeunt Jessie and Lucy, r., looking hack. Philip and Rodney are l. c. ; Hezekiah still has flag, which he nozv goes and lays on table. Philip places his soldier cap or hat on flag.) Philip {crossing to^.). Come, Rodney, now for some home cooking. Rodney. Delighted. I'm hungry enough to appre- ciate it, too. Philip. Oh, you don't have to be hungry to appre- ciate Mother's things. Mrs. R. Phil ! Don't mind him, Mr. Hunt. But I hope you do enjoy your supper. Rodney. Indeed I shall, Mrs. Randall. I can hardly wait. (Philip goes off to r. Rodney follows him off. Hezekiah goes to door r.) Hezekiah. Nice of you t' ask me too. Mis' Randall. D' know when I've et one o* your meals. Mrs. R. Why, the party wouldn't be complete with- out you, Hezekiah — the " Old Veteran " and the " New Volunteer," you know. Hezekiah. That's right — 'n' the Stars 'n' Stripes f 'rever ! Mrs. R. Yes, Hezekiah — forever and forever! {He exits R., chuckling happily. She stands a moment, in silent thought, then crosses to table, takes up' Philip's hat, looks at it fondly, proudly.) My boy — my handsome soldier boy! And oh, how gladly I would send him, too — my otlier boy — if he could be here to go — free from the shadow that hangs over him. Oh, Philip — Tom — my boys ! 33 FOR THE OLD FLAG (Off R., iJie of hers have he en heard laughing and talk- ing; they have now started singing, not too loudly, " The Star Spangled Banner." Mrs. R. caresses hat, takes up corner of flag and kisses it reverently, weeping, but smiling through her tears. She re- mains thus a moment, then sinks into chair, buries her face in flag on table, weeping, with the hat still clasped in her hand. There is a pause, then Tom Randall, poorly clad, pale and ill-looking, appears at zvindow, looks in, sees Mrs. R. His face quivers, as he stands there, then he disappears and shortly appears in door c, pauses again, then slowly comes down to c, near Mrs. R., stands looking down at her. He seems about to speak, falters, then murmurs, " Mother! " She looks up, bezvildered, at first does not seem to recognize him, then, with a broken cry of joy, holds up her arms; he sinks to his knees at her side, burying his face in her lap, sobbing. She thoughtlessly hangs on to flag, pulls it over his head, bending over him and murmuring ''My boy! My hoy!" The singing of the anthem, off r., continues as the curtain falls.) CURTAIN 34 ACT II SCENE. — Same as Act I, the next afternoon. The flag previously used is still on table, or standing against wall, near door at c. Curtain rises on empty stage, hut Mrs. R. at once looks in from R., cautiously, then enters, goes to L., then to door c, looking carefidly about. Goes to R. and motions. Enter Ivy, with tray, on which are several dishes covered with cloth. Ivy shows wonderment, look- ing about curiously. Mrs. R. All right, Ivy ; bring it in. There's no one here. Ivy. I see they ain't, Mis' Randall, but I'm jest dyin' t' know v^hat 's all about 'n' who this lunch is f'r. You've had yours. Mrs. R. Yes, Ivy, but there's some one who hasn't had any — up-stairs, in the spare room. Ivy {so surprised she almost drops tray). For the land's sake — in the spare room! Who is it. Mis' Randall — a tramp ? Mrs. R. Why, no, of course not. It's — but I can't tell you yet ; and you know you promised to help me and not say a word. Ivy. Sure I did, 'n' I won't. But I can't help won- derin'. Ain't you af eared, 'r anything? When did he come? Mrs. R. Last night, while they were all eating supper. I took him up-stairs, before they got through, and none of them knew. I had to tell you, so you can help me get his meals to him and other things, and I'll tell the others soon. But not just yet. I'll take the tray now and go up with it. And you keep watch, and mind you don't tell anybody. {She takes tray, goes l.) 35 JPOR TEE OLD FLAQ Ivy (dumbfounded). No'm, I won't tell. But — a ' man up-stairs in the spare room — be'n there all night. Mercy me! Is — is it anybuddy y' know, Mis' Randall, so 't you're sure he's safe ? Mrs. R. (in door l.). Oh, yes — somebody I know — well. Some one I have known a long time and longed to see — some one (Exit Mrs. R., at l., with tray. Ivy stands a moment looking after her, in dumb amazement, then starts R., but pauses as Sophia Ash appears in door c and knocks.) Ivy. Oh, 's that you, Miss Ash ? (Enter Sophia, door c.) Sophia. Ain't there anybuddy here, Ivy? I want t* see Mis' Randall. I hurried all the way over in the hot sun, b'cause I've got somethin' important to tell her. I'm jest about melted, but I couldn't get here soon enough, with what's on my mind. (Sits, L. c, takes paper or fan from table, or uses fan which she carries, fanning herself.) Ivy. I s'pose it's another one o' them visions, 'r what- ever you call 'em. Y' goin' t' have another fit here 'n our sett'n'-room ? If y' be, I'll be goin'. Sophia. Oh, you don't know what you're talkin* about. (Sits l.) What d' you know about the other world 'n' communications, 'n' spirit-mes- sages, and such? It's beyond your grasp. But you ain't the only one. What I endure 's enough t' try the patience of a Mrs. Job. There's that Hezekiah Wilkins. He never gives me a minute's peace. Taggin' me around, askin' 'f I've had any more spirits tell me I ought t' b'come Mrs. Wilkins number three. The idee! That old fossil! If I wanted a man, I'd get a hull one, not a mere remnant. (Ivy, up c, looks off to l.) 36 FOR TEE OLD FLAG Ivy. Here he comes now. Guess he's still on the trail. Sophia {rising, going ^p and looking off). I declare, so 'tis. Foliered me. I thought I'd dodged him. If that man's p'rposed t' me once he has fifty times, 'n' it don't seem t' do no good t' refuse him. He jest won't take " No " for an answer. Ivy. Well, 'tain't every girl 't has fifty pr'posals. Sophia {simpering a bit). N-no, of course not. But, then, I d' know's it's s' much, after all, bein' they're all from the same man. Here he comes. Guess I'll go 'n the other room, 'n' mebbe he'll go away. Don't you tell him I'm here. {She pretends to go, but lingers l., so that Hezekiah sees her, as he enters door c. from L. She pauses as he calls to her. ) Hezekiah. Oh, you here, Sophi'? Afternoon. Sophia. Jes' 's if you didn't know. You can't fool me, Hezekiah Wilkins. You saw me the hull time. Hezekiah. Nothin' strange, is it, Sophi' ? Don't see nothin' 'r nobuddy else, when you're 'round. Be'n tellin' y' that for the last eight 'r ten year, ain't I ? Sophia. Yes, 'n' I should think you'd 'a' made up your mind by this time that it ain't no use. I should think at your age, 'n' had two wives al- ready, you'd have some sense. Hezekiah. That's so. Mebbe 'f I had, I wouldn't want y'. Sophia. Oh, indeed! Well, thank goodness I've got sense enough not t' take y', anyway. Hezekiah. Now, Sophi', I didn't mean nothin'. You know you're the only woman in the world f'r me {He goes to her, tries to pacify her, about to put arm about her; she gets away from him, though, with all her contrariness, still seeming to encourage him. Ivy has gone to l. and keeps cautiously looking off.) 37 FOR THE OLD FLAG Sophia? Behave yourself, Hezekiah Wilkinsl rm astonished at your actions, after all the times I've told you (Noiichig Ivy.) Who you look- ing for, Ivy? What is it? I\^. Nothin'. I was jest — I v^as thinkin* I'd go 'n* pick some cucumbers for supper, 'n' Sophia. Land, they ain't no cucumbers in there, is they? Ivy. No, of course not. I — I was goin' in the garden. (Up in door c.) I'll go 'n' pick some. (Exit through door c. to r. Sophia is c, Hezekiah R. c.) Sophia. Don't she act funny? They's somethin' strange goin' on here. Did yom notice anything last night, Hezekiah ? Hezekiah. I d' know's I did — 'nless y' mean that " trance " o' yours. Wish you'd give 'em up, Sophi'. They make you ridic'lous. Sophia. Oh, they do, do they ? Well, I couldn't give 'em up if I tried. They come to me. As I was sayin', didn't you notice how queer Mis' Randall acted? She didn't come in to supper for ten or fifteen minutes after we'd started eatin', 'n' then she acted so strange-like. But I laid it to the message I'd give her. I sort o' didn't wonder it upset her. Hezekiah. Oh ! had a " message " for her, did y' ? From the spirits ? Sophia. From the spirit-world. Quite direct. It was all perfectly clear. Hezekiah. From that Injun gal? Sophia. Yes — from my control, Prairie Flower. Hezekiah. Pretty thing t' be controlled by — a Injun spook! What you need t* control y' is a hus- band, Sophi'. Sophia. Oh, indeed! I'd like t' see the one that could do it ! Hezekiah (straightening up, pompously). Behold! Sophia. Good land, an old broken-down, wizened-up 38 FOB THE OLD FLAG" left-over like you ! Looks more like I'd have you t' take care of. Hezekiah. Wal, tliat'd suit me, Sophi'l Sophia. I don't doubt it. But it wouldn't suit me, not a little bit. For the land's sake, think of some- thing else. I'm wonderin' about Mis' Randall. Jessie noticed it, too, and spoke to me afterward. She said her mother acted as if she'd seen a ghost, 'n' I've b'en worryin' for fear I'd upset her. Then I got another message last night, in the middle of the night — direct from Prairie Flower — to come over here to-day and await developments. I think something's going t' happen. Hezekiah. Mebbe they is, Sophi', mebbe they is. Mebbe you're goin' t' say " Yes." Sophia. Huh! Mebbe I ain't, any such thing. (Co- rn^ up.) I'm goin' on to the post-office, 'n' stop on my way back. I've got t' see Mis' Randall, but they's no use wastin' time. Hezekiah. Want comp'ny, Sophi'? I've got t' go to the post-office, too. Sophia {in door c. ; he c). No, I don't. {About to go, then turning back.) But, of course, if you want t' go to the post-office, it ain't none o' my business. I couldn't stop y'. Hezekiah {going up, with alacrity). Guess that's so. l^hanks f'r the hint. Sophia. Hint! The idee! I guess when I hint t' you, Hezekiah Wilkins {Exit through door c. to r. He follows her off, chuck- ling to himself. There is a slight pause, then Jessie and Rodney enter door from l. c. They look off to R., after Hezekiah and Sophia.) Jessie. There go Hezekiah Wilkins and Sophia Ash. He's been courting her for the last ten years or more, and she is still holding him off. ( They enter, come down r. ) Rodney. Well, there's nothing like persistency. 39 FOR THE OLD FLAG " Faint heart never won," you know. Perhaps he may still win her. Jessie. Perhaps. He would, I think, if he would only let her do part of the courting. She feels too sure of him. Once she thought she was going to lose him ■ Rodney. Oh, that's the idea! But it doesn't always work, does it ? Circumstances alter cases, you know, and I'm quite sure I wouldn't want to try such tactics with — well, with the girl I am anxious to win. She isn't that kind. Jessie. But I wasn't thinking of you. Rodney. No, That's just it. And I want you to. The way I think of you. Won't you — Jessie? {He is close to her; attempts to take her hand. She draws away. ) Jessie. No — don't. I — I can't let you do that. Rodney. But why? Why shouldn't you let me tell you I — I love you ? Surely, it's every man's privi- lege to tell his love and every girl's privilege to listen. Jessie. No, no — I Rodney. You know how I feel toward you. You must know. I have been here two summers now, and you cannot have failed to see that I love you — that I want 3^ou — and Jessie. Wait, Mr. Hunt Rodney. " Mister " Jessie. Well — Rodney. I — no, of course I can't say that I haven't noticed — that I have never thought of all this. But I have tried not to take it too seriously, because — because I felt — I know — that you mustn't tell me, and I must not listen. Rodney. But why — why ? Jessie. You know — ^you must know. My world is not the same as yours. I am only a country girl — oh, yes, I am — nothing more. Of course, I don't pretend to think I am not just as good, perhaps, as some of those who have had more advantages and 40 FOB THE OLD FLAG seen more of the world than I have. And I don't say you don't think I am as good as they. But you lead a different life. Your folks are — well, what would they think of me ? Rodney. Think? Why, that you are the sweetest little girl in the world — and that I was the luckiest man there is in all that world, if I could win you. Oh, I know what you mean. You are afraid of me — afraid to trust me. You think I wouldn't keep on loving you — that I would change, and Jessie. No, no, it isn't that — not altogether. It is partly that, I'll admit, but — there is something else — more — oh, much more. Shall I tell you? Rodney. To be sure. I want to hear it. Jessie. Very well. You ought to be told. I guess you have been. But now I will tell you. You are nothing but a rich man's son — an idler — of no use — no good to — to any one — to your country ! Rodney. Oh, you mean — {turning away) I — see. Jessie. I hope you do. I want you to see. I have no use for a young man now, one that is strong and able, who wears any suit but his country's uniform. Rodney. I — I thought that had something to do with it. Jessie. Something to do with it? It has everything. Now you are to me nothing but a young man who is needed by his country, but who shuns that need and hangs back. A " slacker." Yes, that's what you are. Do you think I could listen to you — let you tell me you " love " me — and not tell you how I feel? Why, I should think I was a traitor too, if I did. Rodney. " Traitor. " I must say, you are putting it pretty strong. I guess if that's the way you feel, I might as well be going. Jessie. Yes, I guess so. Oh, Mr. Hunt — Rodney — you're not going to be