635 F>F2ICB 25 CEMTS ATCHISON, KANSAS J. R. HELLENER & CO. Successful Rural Plays A Strong List From Which to Select Your Next Play FARM FOLKS. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur Lewis Tubes. For five male and six female characters. Time 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 sway an audience alternately to tears and to laughter. HOME TIES. A Rural Play in Four Acts, by Arthur Lewis Tubes. 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 strongest 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 him also. Then he comes back, and Ruth finds her happiness. THE OLD NEW HAMPSHIRE 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 play everybody understands and likes. THE OLD DAIRY HOMESTEAD. A Rural Comedy in Three Acts, by Fr.^nk 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. A WHITE MOUNTAIN BOY. A Strong Melodrama in Five Acts, by Charles Townsend. For seven males and four females, and three supers. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. One exterior, three interiors. Costumes easy. The hero, a country lad, twice saves the life of a banker's daughter, which results in their betrothal. A scoundrelly clerk has the banker in his power, but the White Mountain boy finds a way to check- mate his schemes, saves the banker, and wins the girl. Trying Them Out A Comedy in One Act By LILLIAN STOLL ATCHISON, KANSAS J, R. HELLENER & CO. 1921 Copyright 1921 by J. R. Hellener and Company Trying Them Out ^^ OCI.D 57 J 29 MAR I 7 m\ Trying Them Out CAST OF CHARACTERS Bill The office hoy Mr. Brown The manager Miss Sally Allen An old maid Mrs. Mary Due A widow Miss Covington A social butterfly Miss Hall A stenographer Time. — Forty minutes. STORY OF THE PLAY Mr. Brown, manager of a woollen firm, advertises for an expert stenographer. The first applicant is an old maid who informs Mr. Brown just what she will and will not do. Mr. Brown meekly says that he doesn't believe he will suit her. Mrs. Mary Due, a widow, applies, but her English and spelling are so bad that she is dismissed. Miss Covington, who tells all about her family tree, arrives next but does not get the position. Miss Hall, a good stenographer, applies and shows how to be businesslike. Under her influence even the office boy changes his habits. The purpose of the play is educational as well as amusing. A number of points on business ethics are brought out. COSTUMES, ETC. Bill. About fifteen. Wears the garb of a fresh office boy. Mr. Brown. About thirty. Dressed very neatly in street suit. Miss Allen. About forty-five. Dressed old maid- ish and eccentric. Mrs. Due. About twenty-five. Wears very gaudy clothes and jewelry, chews gum, and carries a small dog. Miss Covington. About twenty-five. Wears very fussy clothes and a large picture hat. Miss Hall. About twenty-five. Dressed in neat blue tailored suit and small hat. PROPERTIES Duster for office boy. Telephone. Typewriter. Two desks and one for typewriter. Three chairs. Hat-rack. Small dog. Dictionary. Bouquet of flowers. SCENE PLOT There is only one scene and this represents the in- terior of an office. Trying Them Out SCENE. — A business office. {Curtain rises on office boy dusting the room.) Bill. I sure am tired this morning. But that was a fine picture show last night. It must be great to be a movie star. Here I am dusting and running errands in an old office. I {Telephone rings. Bill goes to 'phone.) Hello, hello, what do you want? He's busy — Yes, I'll tell him you're sick and won't be down to-day — No'm I won't forget. (Sits down at desk.) Now just because I want to go to a ball game this after- noon somebody's got to get sick; well, I'll get sick too. I guess I'll call Jimmy and see if he can go. Hello, Central, how are you this morning? Give me B8921. Hello, Jimmy, going to the game? — Ah, tell him your grandmother's dead. Come on and go. You bet I'm going. Sure, I'll meet you at the drug store. Sure. No, I can't come down the street now. The boss has advertised for a new stenographer and I've got to stick around to see what she'll look like. No, Miss Johns got married. So long. (Enter Manager Brown from the door marked "private.") Brown. Bill, here is some copy I'd like to have you take down to the printer's when you go to the bank. Have fifty copies made. Where is Adams this morn- ing? {Looks at Adams' desk.) Bill. Oh, he 'phoned and said he was sick and 5 6 TRYING THEM OUT you'd find the orders that had to be gotten out in his desk. Brown. What next, and I'm swamped with work. Here it has been three days and not a single answer to my advertisement for a stenographer. {Sits down at Adams' desk and picks tip some papers on the desk.) Miss Johns was a fine stenographer and expert ones are scarcer than hen's teeth. Just about the time you get a stenographer where she knows something she decides to get married. About the only way to keep one these days is to marry her yourself. Here, Bill, you can sort these orders alphabetically. (Goes into private office.) Bill. All right, (Bill sits at Adams' desk and picks up paper.) Oh, what's this? Don'ts for Em- ployees. (Bill reads and gives his own comment on each one.) " Don't be late." No, but the high mogul can be. " Don't watch the clock." Oh, you don't say. Work overtime. " Don't gossip." Oh, no, you might hurt somebody's feelings. " Don't use the telephone for private conversations." Well, that's the only way I can make my dates. " Don't overdress but put enough on." Poor little georgettes. " Don't fail to dress neatly." Oh, yes, press your trousers every night, shine your shoes, get out a clean collar and shirt, wash your face and then if any time is left go to bed. " Don't chew gum." I suppose he thinks it looks tough. (Bill chews his furiously.) " Don't stay out late nights." Well, I bet he's from a nine o'clock town. " Don't fail to be cheerful." Smile, dearie, smile. " Don't " {The boss enters the room carrying letters and Bill gets busy at orders. ) Brown. Bill, can you run a typewriter? Bill. No, nothing but a Ford. Brown. Well, I guess I'll have to try it myself. (Brown has difficulty getting paper in and finally be- gins to pick out letters on machine. He makes a mis- take, frozvns; stops to erase, makes more mistakes and finally throws carriage back in disgust.) Oh, Bill, get TRYING THEM OUT *;; over here and see if you can find these dainty little keys any better than I can. Bill. Oh, I don't know anything about a type- writer. (Bill goes to machine. Knock is heard at the door. Brown goes over and works at his desk. Bill goes to door.) Gee, I hope that's a stenographer, (Enter old maid, Miss Sally Allen.) Old Maid. Is the manager in? Bill. There's his desk over there. Old Maid. Some people think they're awful fresh. Brown. Good-morning. (Offers Old Maid a chair.) Old Maid. Good-morning. I saw your advertise- ment and so I've come to see how it suits me. First, I would like to know if you smoke ? Brown. No, ma'am. Bill (who is supposed to be working at orders on Adams' desk). Oh, oh no. Old Maid. Do you chew ? Bill (aside). Nothing but my food. Old Maid. Do you drink? Brown. No. Bii.J^ (aside). Nothing but water. Old Maid. Oh — a — do you swear? Brown. I think not. Old Maid. Do you ever lie ? Brown. Oh, occasionally. Old Maid. Well, I want you to understand right now, sir, that I have always been treated like a lady and I never expect to be treated otherwise. And another thing, I have never been used to hearing profanity in any way, shape or form, and don't expect to begin any new habits. Bill (gets up and starts to dust; aside). No, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Brown. No, certainly not, ma'am. Old Maid. Now I want to know what you expect 8 TRYING THEM OUT of your stenographers. For instance, how many words do you require I should write a minute ? Bill {knocks hook off of desk with duster). Oh, gol darn it Old Maid (holding ears). How shocking. {To Brown.) Sir, how can you stand to hear such lan- guage ? Brown. Be quiet, Bill. Bill. All right. Old Maid. That young ruffian never learnt that at Sunday-school. — Well, how many words did you say I was to write a minute? Brown. Well, ma'am, I don't think it would be ask- ing too much to have you write, say one hundred words a minute. Old Maid. Well of all things; at my last place I never wrote over twenty-five words a minute. Bill. I bet that's why she didn't stay. Old Maid. Now I can show you my letter of rec- ommendation if you like. Here it says — to show that Miss Sally Allen Brown. Oh, yes, I'm sure your recommendations are all right. Old Maid. And how many hours are required for work? Brown. Well, you will have about seventy-five let- ters to transcribe every day. Old Maid. Seventy-five letters ? You surely don't believe in the eight-hour law. How much for over- time? Bill {out loud). Overtime? Who ever heard of overtime in this office ? Old Maid. How many men have you working in your office ? Brown. About thirteen at present, ma'am. Old Maid. And are any of them flirtified? You know I couldn't stand to be winked at or anything like that. {Looks at office boy.) Brown. Oh, my men are all very prudent men, but really, madam, / don't believe I would suit you. TRYING THEM OUT 9 Old Maid {leaving). No, I hardly think so. I knew the minute I stepped inside that a well-refined lady like me could never live through a day in an office like this. {Goes out and slams door behind her.) Bill. Now, wasn't she a bird? Say, Mr. Brown, what did she say about me and going to Sunday school ? Brown. Oh, nothing. {A knock is heard at the door.) Bill. I hope that's a real stenographer. {Goes to door.) Brown. For goodness' sake, Bill, please put your company manners on if it's a stenographer. {Enter Mrs. Mary Due — dressed very outlandish and carrying a small zvhite poodle.) Mrs. Due. Good-morning. I seen your advertise- ment in the Morning Sun for an expert stenographer. Bill {very flozvery). Yes, madam. I will call the manager. {Walks over to Brown and she follows.) Brown. Good-morning ; just be seated here. Mrs. Due. I seen your advertisement so I thought I'd drop in and talk to you. You know I really don't have to work, but my late husband just died and I thought work would take the terrible tragedy from my mind. You have no idea unless you have lost yourself what a dreadful blow it is to lose your life helpmate, and now all I have left is dear little Tootsie. I take him with me everywhere I go. Do you like dogs, Mr. — er — er Brown. My name is Brown. Mrs. Due. Oh, yes, yes, Brown is a very charming name. I like it very much. My name is Mrs. Mary Due. Bill {aside). Mrs. Mary Do Tell of Dew Drop Inn. Mrs. Due. It's very short and easy to remember and that is one thing I Brown. Yes, I think so too, Mrs. Due, but what experience have you had as a stenographer? 10 TRYING THEM OUT Mrs. Due. Oh, no experience whatever. You see I just graduated from business college, but my grades zvas excellent. They told me at the school there was no more like me ever in the history of the school. Bill. I hope not. Brown. I'd like to try you on some dictation, Mrs. Due, and see what you can do before I employ you. I am quite anxious to get this letter out. Mrs. Due {nervously). Oh, yes, yes, Mr. Brown. I'm just a little nervous since my dear husband died. {Sohs.) Brown. Oh, yes, Mrs. Due, but here is the letter. (Mrs. Due takes pencil off his ear and seats herself at his desk.) Mr. J. M. Morse, Newark, N. J. Dear Sir Mrs. Due. Just a minute, please. {Fluffs her hair and smiles at Brown.) Brown {looks disgusted). Dear Sir: I have your favor of the 12th instant and in reply will say that I have just received your check for ten thousand dollars. Mrs. Due {aside). Ten thousand dollars, what a lot of money — he's the man for me. Brown. I have heard from Mr. U. R. Green that there is a Mrs. Due. U. R. Green, what a funny name. Brown is so much nicer. Brown. Shortage of woollen goods Mrs. Due {sighs and looks at her dog). Again, please, Mr. Brown — I'm a little nervous — I've had such a tragedy in losing my husband. Bill. No wonder he died. I bet he committed sui- cide. Brown. I have heard that there is a shortage of woollen goods on account of the prevailing epidemic. Mrs. Due. What ? Epidemic ? How do vou spell it? Brown. E-p-i-d-e-m-i-c. Mrs. Due. Oh, dear, I hope there will not be an- TRYING THEM OUT II Other flu epidemic — 1 might lose Tootsie. You know, Mr. Brown, I have decided I never will marry again. Bill. No, I don't think so either. I will now sing that little ditty entitled, " He Sleeps in the Valley," by request. Brown. Hoping to hear from you if you have heard anything in regard to this report. I am. Yours truly. Now, Mrs. Due, while you are transcribing that letter I will attend to some work in the adjoining room, I think you will find stationery and envelopes at your disposal in this desk. {She looks at him wonder'mgly.) Bill, I want you to run down to the bank and deposit these checks. {Exit Brown and Bill. Bill waves good-bye.) Mrs. Due {now alone). Isn't he a dear! Ten thousand dollars. I know I'll like it here. He didn't say a word about salary. Oh, well, Tootsie, you soon can have beefsteak every day. I'll just have to call up Katie. {Goes to telephone.) L9382 — Hello, Katie — Oh, Katie, I've jest landed a swell position. A Mr. Brown — Perfectly handsome. Tall, slender — wonder- ful gray eyes — and hair divine — He's rich, too, I know. Oh, Katie — Oh yes, I have to get busy — Tootsie says good-bye too. Why, of course, I have him with me. Good-bye. {Goes to machine.) Now to get that hor- rid old letter out. I never did like to typewrite. If the principal of that old business college could only see me now. He said I never could hold down a job, but I'll show him. {Starts to put paper in machine. It goes in wrong. She tears it out and puts in another. Fi- nally gets it in and starts to typezvrite, using the hen and peck system. Makes a mistake.) This old type- writer certainly isn't any good. I never did like these old Wood-unders. I wish he'd get an Oliver. {Starts to erase and tears a hole in the paper.) Such cheap paper. {Takes out the paper and puts in another piece. Typewrites, saying words out loud.) Mr. Jimmy Norman, Newfork, N. Y. Dear me, how do you spell Newfork? Where is the dictionary? Ig TRYING THEM OUT N-e-u Such a dictionary, doesn't even have Newfork in it. Oh well, it don't matter, the postmas- ter will know what I mean. He is a friend of mine. {Makes more mistakes and erases. The office hoy enters with mail, so she stops talking. They glance at each other and make faces. She pecks away. Enter boss,) Brown. Well, Mrs. Due, is the letter finished? Mrs. Due. Just a minute, please. (Hands him the letter ivJiich he holds up to audlence% It is torn and fidl of erasure holes.) Brown (reads letter aloud). Mr. Jimmy Norman Newfork N. J. Dear Sirs : I have your fever this in- stand 12 times in haste I have checked $10,000. I have heard Mr. that you are green and there is shorts in women's goods. Please let me hear if the epidemic is with you. Hopping down the gate I am Yours unruly. Why, Mrs. Due — you are no stenographer. Just look at this paper full of holes and misspelled words. It's dreadful. I couldn't possibly keep you. Mrs. Due. Who asked you to? That's just how unreasonable you men are. When I had corn beef and cabbage my husband always wanted something else, and when I wore a red dress he wanted me to wear a blue one. I wouldn't work for any one as discourteous as you are. Neither of you are gentlemen. I wouldn't even let Tootsie associate with you. (Flounces out. Brown falls hack in chair. Bill sings. ) Bill (sings). " Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone ; oh where, oh where can he be ? " (Another knock is heard. Brown is working at the desk. Enter Miss Evangeline Evelyn Covington, dressed in afternoon gozun and picture hat, carrying a parasol.) Miss Covington. Good-morning. I'd like to have a conference with the proprietor. TRYING THEM OUT I3 Bill. Yes, madam. Miss Covington. Beg your pardon, boy — I am a Mademoiselle. Bill. Oh oui. Miss Covington. As I said before, I'd like a con- ference with the proprietor. (Brown comes forward.) Brown. Good-morning. Miss Covington. You are the proprietor? Brown. Yes. Miss Covington. I am Miss Evangeline Evelyn Covington, the daughter of the late Captain John Jacob Covington, who was distinguished for bravery twice during the Civil War. My family have all been brave and fearless warriors. Brown. I understand. (Aside.) I wonder what she wants. Bill. I bet she's collecting for some war society. (Sneaks out.) Miss Covington. So you see I am used to being associated with very gallant and courageous men. Brown. Yes, yes, but Miss Covington. So if I should decide to accept a position in your office you can see what position I would maintain in keeping with my social status. Brown. Oh, I now understand you are interested in the position of stenographer in my office. Miss Covington. Interested is hardly the word, sir — I am doingthis for the cause of humanity. I realize that expert stenographers are scarce, so I have at last consented to give a few hours of my time to menial labors. Now as to salary — I should not think forty dollars a week would be too much. I would work from say ten to twelve and one to three. That would give me ample time to keep my social position as a Covington. Brown. I suppose you at your age have had consid- erable experience in the business world. g:4 TRYING THEM OUT Miss Covington. Indeed, none whatever. I tell you my family have all been warriors and gallant men of valor and I shall work for men only of that class. Brown. Bill, oh Bill! (Bill comes in. Brown looks at him and winks. ) Bill, will you go down to the police station and see if any of our men have been locked up for the night ? Miss Covington. Police station Brown. Yes, Miss Covington, the employees of this office are a bold, bad set of men who spend at least seven nights out of the week in the police station. Miss Covington. Oh! (Screams.) I am dis- graced for life, and to think I should be the cause of the downfall of my family, I have entered the office of a criminal. (Exits.) Brown. I thought that would bring her to time. I'll be a raving maniac before the day is over. Bill, I leave the rest with you. You decide who shall and shall not see me. This is my busy day ; first it's an old maid who tells me what she will do and then a widow with a sob story, and then a social butterfly with a gal- lant family tree. I'll be in my private office. (Exit Brown. Bill sits down, puts his feet on man- ager's desk and starts to whistle. A knock is heard. ) (Enter Miss Katherine Hall, neatly dressed and a businesslike person. At her appearance, the office hoy assumes a gentleman-like attitude.) Miss Hall. Good-morning. Bill. Good-morning. Miss Hall. I should like to see the manager. Bill. Mr. Brown, a lady to see you. (Brown comes forth.) Brown. Good-morning. Miss Hall. Good-morning. Miss Hall is my TRYING THEM OUT I5 name. I came to inquire if the position of stenog- rapher in your office has been filled. Brown. No, Miss Hall, it has not. Miss Hall. I have just graduated from a complete commercial course and should like to be considered for the position. Brown. Have you had any experience ? Miss Hall. No, sir, but I am willing to work hard, work overtime if necessary, until I get on to things. Brown. Yes, I'm sure of that. I should like to try you on some dictation. Miss Hall. Yes, sir. (Brown hands her pencil and paper and she sits down at desk and waits for dictation. Brown dictates the letter he gave to Mrs. Due. Miss Hall takes it without any difficulty.) Brown. Mr. J. M. Morse, Newark, New Jersey. Dear Sir: I have your favor of the 12th instant and in reply will say that I have just received your check for $10,000. I have heard from Mr. U. R. Green that there is a shortage of woollen goods owing to the epi- demic. Hoping to hear from you if you have heard anything in regard to this report, I am, Yours truly. There, Miss Hall, I should like to have you transcribe it. I shall be in the adjoining room. (Miss Hall sits at machine. Starts to typewrite very rapidly.) Bill {surprised look on his face). I'll say she's on. She's got Miss Johns skinned a mile. Just listen to that machine go. (Bill looks at his watch and goes up to Miss Hall's desk.) Excuse me, Miss Hall, but it's time for me to go after the mail. Will you answer the 'phone if it rings? Miss Hall. Certainly; what is the number of this 'phone ? Bill. L4821. (Miss Hall writes it 'dozvn. Bill leaves and Miss Hall goes to her work. 'Phone rings.) l6 TRYING THEM OUT Miss Will [ss Hall. L4821. — No, he just stepped out. you leave your number ? All right, Jimmy. {Goes back to machine.) Brown {at the door). Bill — oh — Bill Miss Hall. He's gone after the mail. Brown. Without being told — well, it's the first time in the history of Bill. (Exit.) (Miss Hall keeps on typewriting. Enter Bill carry- ing mail and a large package containing flowers which he puts on other desk and then starts with mail toward Brown's private office. ) Miss Hall. Jimmy wants you to call him. Bill {looks disgusted). Isn't that just like him to call during office hours. I guess I'll have to show him all these don'ts. " Don't use the telephone for private conversations." {Enter Brown. Miss Hall hands him letter.) Brown. That's fine, Miss Hall. Would you con- sider a salary of twenty dollars a week to start on with an increase as you progress? Our hours are from eight-thirty to five. Miss Hall. Yes, sir. (Bill goes over to desk and takes out a hunch of flowers and begins to arrange them on Miss Hall's desk. ) Brown. What's the grand idea, Bill ? Bill. Oh, you know what you said about the only way to keep a good stenographer, so I'm getting pre- pared. CITRTAIN Successful Plays for All Girls In Selecting Your Next Play Do Not Overlook This List YOUNG DOCTOR DEVINE. A Farce in Two Acts, by Mrs. E. J. H. Goodfellow. One of the most popular plays for girls. For nine female characters. Time in playing, thirty minutes. Scenery, ordinary interior. Mod- ern costumes. Girls in a boarding-school, learning that a young doctor is coming to vaccinate all the pupils, eagerly con- sult each other as to the manner of fascinating the physician. When the doctor appears upon the scene the pupils discover that the physician is a female practitioner. SISTER MASONS. A Burlesque in One Act, by Frank DuMONT. For eleven females. Time, thirty minutes. Costumes, fantastic gowns, or dominoes. Scene, interior. A grand expose of Masonry. Some women profess to learn the secrets of a Masonic lodge by hearing their husbands talk in their sleep, and they institute a similar organization. A COMMANDING POSITION. A Farcical Enter- tainment, by Amelia Sanfokd. For seven female char- acters and ten or more other ladies and children. Time, one hour. Costumes, modern. Scenes, easy interiors and one street scene. Marian Young gets tired living with her aunt. Miss Skinflint. She decides to "attain a commanding position." Marian tries hospital nursing, college settlement work and school teaching, but decides to go back to housework. HOW A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET. A Comedy in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For ten female characters. Time, half an hour. Scene, an easy interior. Costumes, modern. Mabel Sweetly has just become engaged to Harold, but it's "the deepest kind of a secret." Before announcing it they must win the approval of Harold's uncle, now in Europe, or lose a possible ten thousand a year. At a tea Mabel meets her dearest friend. Maude sees Mabel has a secret, she coaxes and Mabel tells her. But Maude lets out the secret in a few minutes to another friend and so the secret travels. THE OXFORD AFFAIR. A Comedy in Three Acts, by Josephine H. Cobb and Jennie E. Paine. For eight female characters. Plays one hour and three-quarters. Scenes, inter- iors at a seaside hotel. Costumes, modern. The action of the play is located at a summer' resort. Alice Graham, in order to chaperon herself, poses as a widow, and Miss Oxford first claims her as a sister-in-law, then denounces her. The onerous duties of Miss Oxford, who attempts to serve as chaperon to Miss Howe and Miss Ashton in the face of many obstacles, furnish an evening of rare enjoyment. Unusually Good Enterl 017 401 444 9 < Read One or More of These Before Deciding on Your Next Program GRADUATION DAY AT WOOD HILL SCHOOL. An Entertainment in Two Acts, by Ward Macauley. For six males and four females, with several minor parts. Time of .playing, two hours. Modern costumes. Simple interior scenes: may be presented in a hall without scenery. The unusual coni« bination of a real "entertainment," including music, recitations,' .etc., with an interesting Ibve story. The graduation exercises include short speeches, recitations, songs, funny interruptions,, and a comical speech by a country school trustee. EXAMINATION DAY AT VrOOD HILL SCHOOL. An h-ntertamment in One Act, by Ward Macauley. Eight mak and six female characters, with minor parts. Plays one hour Scene, an easy interior, or may be given without scenery. Cos- tumes, modern. Miss MarkS; the teacher, refuses to marry a trustee, who threatens to discharge her. The examination in- cludes recitations and songs, and brings out many funny answers to questions. At the close Robert Coleman, an old lover, claims the teacher. Very easy and very efifective, BACK TO THE COUNTRY STORE, A Rural Enter- tainment in Three Acts, by Ward Macauley. For four male and five ftiviale character?, with some supers. Time, two hours. Two scenes, both easy interiors. Can be played effectively with- out scenery. Costumes, -.nodern. All the prmcipal parts are sure hits. Quigley Higginbotham, known as "Quig," a clerk in a country store, aspires to be a great author or s-nger and decides to try his fortunes in New York. The last scene is in Quig's home. He returns a failure but is offered a partnership in the country store. He pops the question in the midst of a surprise party given in his honor. Easy to do and very funny. THE DISTRICT CONVENTION. A Farcical Sketch in One Act, by Frank Dumont. For eleven males and one female, or twelve males. Any number of other parts or super- numeraries may be added. Plays forty-five minutes. No special scenery is required, and the costumes and properties are all easy. The play shows an uproarious political nominating con- vention. The climax comes when a woman's rights cham pion, captures the convention. There is a great chance to bur- lesque modern politics and to work in local gags. Every part will make a hit. SI SLOCUM'S COUNTRY STORE. An Entertainment; in One Act, by Fra.nk Dumont. Eleven male and five female characters with supernumeraries. Several parts may be doubled. Plays one hour. Interior scene, or may be played without set scenery. Costumes, modern. The rehearsal for an entertain- ment in the village church gives plenty of opportunity for specialty work. A very jolly entertainment of the sort adapted to almost any place or occasion.