»S 635 < 29 S45 ^O PLAYS EXCHANGED, opy 1 i37\HnR'5 Edition m or Pl7\y3 ^ When Women Vote Price, 15 Cents THE AMAZONS ^^*'® ^ Three Acts. Seven males, iive lemaies. Costumes, modern ; scenery, not diffieult. Plays a f uU evening THE CABINET MINISTER rarcein Four Acts. Tenmates.nine females. Costumes, modem society ; BceneiEy, three Interiors. Plays a full evening. DAND¥ DICE ^*'^<'® ^ Three Acts. Seven males, four femaies. Costumes^ modem ; scenery, two interiors. Playf two hours and a half. THE 6AT LORD OUEI comedy in Four Acts. Four males ten ^ females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. HIS HOUSE IN ORDER C°'°^<^y^^<>^-^<:^B Nine males, four ^^ females. Costumes, modern ; scenery^, three Interiors Plays a fall evening, THE HOBBY HORSE ^<'™®'^y ^° Three Acts. Ten males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery easy. Plays two hours and a half. IRIS ^'^^'''^'^ ^ ^^^^ Acts. Seven males, seven females. Costumes, modem ; scenery, three Interiors. Plays a full evening. LADY BODNTMJL ^'^^ ^ '^'^^ ^'^^^' ^'^lit males, seven f©- males. Costumes, modern; scenery, four in- teriors, not e^y. Plays a full evening, LFTTY ^^^"^^ ^ Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five fe- males. Costumes, modem ; scenery compUcated. Plays a full evening Sent prepaid on receipt of price by l^alter J^. 133601; a Company NOe 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts When Women Vote A Farce in Two Acts By ANNA P. SEE BOSTON WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 1911 r When Women Vote 7%u CHARACTERS Mrs. Jamison, " The Queeti of Clubs," an apostle of suffrage. Helen Jamison, her daughter ; sentimental seventeen. Mrs. Delano, a wealthy lady, homeless from choice. Mrs. Brownell, the mother of six. Hannah, oldfashioned New Etigland " help." SYNOPSIS Act I. — The living-room of the Jamison home. Act H. — The same. Copyright, 191 i, by Walter H. Baker & Co. TMPS6-007334 (g-CI.D .<:5i22 When Women Vote ACT I SCENE. — In the living-room of the Jamisons' home. There are tivo doors, one leading to the hall and the other to the room back. There is also a window. Furniture consists of chairs, a inirror, desk, clock, etc. Enter Hannah with duster ; begins work, looking occasionally out of tuindoju or at clock. Han. Here 'tis after two o'clock, and Mis' Jamison ain't home yet. I guess her dinner's all dried up a-setiin' an hour in the oven. But land sakes, she won't know wliether she's eatin' steak or leather with the suffrage on her mind. Seems as if she'd clean forgot everything, even her poor invalid hus- band and her daughter that's a-gettin' more headstrong every day. Helen won't mind even nie now. I wish the suffrage was in tunket. What do women want to vote for, anyhow ? They've got enough to do if they tend to their rightful business. I'd look pretty, wouldn't I, a-runnin' to the polls on "'Lection Day " ! I might be tempted to take a bribe or even a drink ! But if Mis' Jamison wa'n't a-plungin' into the suffrage 'twould be somethin' else. I ain't forgot how she was off, all the time, bein' a slummin' socialist, just when Helen was a-goin' through measles and whoopin' -cough and mumps, all to onct. Then when Mr. J., poor man, had his abominable cavity removed, she was a-runnin' a Theosophist magazine. Of course, I ex- pect her to belong to the Woman's Club and the Travelers' Club and the Tuesday Club and the Orient Club and the Woman's School Alliance and the D. A. R. and the Mission- ary Society and the Benevolent Society, but to become a suf- fragette on top of all the rest is too much. [Whistle outside.) There's the postman. {Goes out ; returns ivith letter.) It's for Helen. That girl gets too many letters in this handwriliu'. 4 WHEN WOMEN VOTE (^Examines letter critically , finally smells of it.) Humph, it smells of tobacker. I wonder if it's from Jack Delano, and she knows I don't approve of that dissipated boy. (^Goes to door and calls.) Hel-en ! Helen ! Here's a letter for yer. Efiter Helen Jamison. Hel. Thank you, Hannah. {Takes letter, looks happy and skips over to window to read it. Han. goes on dusting. Might sing. Hel., excitedly.) Hannah, do you know where mother is ? Han. Your ma's been speakin' to the suffragette rally in the Town Hall. The meetin' was at ten o'clock, but the land only knows where she is now. I wish she'd come along so's I'd could git the dishes out ter the way. {Bell rings from bed- room.) There's your pa's bell. I must see what the poor man wants. \^Exit. Hel. Oh, I do wish I had somebody to advise me. Father's too sick, and mother's too busy, and Hannah is so prejudiced against Jack. He is just begging me to run away with him and get married, and I don't know what to do. I suppose seventeen is too young, but Jack says no one cares what we do, so we might as well please ourselves. His letter almost persuades me. {Reads letter out loud.) " My Own Darling Helen : — In two weeks mother sails for Europe. She is going to stay six months, and I shall be infernally lonely. Let's light out and get married as soon as she is off. Your mother won't even miss you, she has so much on her mind. My mother will be furious at first, but she will soon forget it — in Paris. Think it over, sweetheart, and do, do say 'yes.' Your own Jack. P. S. We'll have a home, won't v»e? How I hate hotels." Poor Jack. To be left alone that way ! It's a shame. {Paces up and down.) What shall I do? I'm frightened to death to elope, and yet what's the use of livinu like this ? {Enter Mrs. Jamison, in hat, coat and veil, cany- ing bag ivith paper s . Walks over to desk and sits down wiihoui removing wraps. Puts glasses on over veil and tries to read. Finds mistake, removes veil and puts glasses on again. Does not even see Hel.) Mother ! Mother ! Mother ! {Approaches Mrs. J. each time she speaks. Finally takes her by the arm.) Mrs. J. Well? {Not looking up.) Hel. Mother, are you too busy to talk to me a minute? WHEN WOMEN VOTE 5 Mrs. J. (writi.'t:^). Don't bother me, Helen, I'm in a great hurry. I must make a resimie of my speech for the Re- publican and the Union, and I have only a few minutes. Hel, But, mother, 1 want to tell you something. It's very important. Mrs. J. (impatiently). Nothing is so important as the suf- frage f(;r women, Helen. Run away now and let me write. Hel. {holding out letter). Mother, please read this. Un- less you advise me I may do something you won't like. Mrs. J. Some other time I'll look it over. Now I cannot spend another minute. Hel. Very well, then. I'll decide the matter to please myself. \_Exii in anger. Mks. J. (reading from speech, ftfially pacing tip and down). " When woman can vote, what reforms will be inaugurated ! Woman will cleanse the Augean Stable of politics ; woman will not be ruled by bosses or bought with bribes ; woman will not come staggering home from the polls ! Woman, downtrodden woman, I beseech you rise and demand the suffrage. Wrest your rights from tlie oppressor, man- " Enter Han. Han. Mis' Jamison, your husband wants to see yer. He's feelin' down to-day. He had a dretful sinkin' spell this mornin' that scared me. I wish you'd go up and look at him. Mrs. J. {shuffling pcipers). Hannah, I cannot stop now for anything. Tell Mr. Jamison I'll come up-stairs by and by. I'll make a memorandum of it. (Writes on pad and reads.) " See husband at five o'clock." There, will that satisfy you, Hannah ? Han. The poor man. (ijjf/V Han., muttering. Mrs. J. reads papers. Door -bell rings twice, but she does not hear it. Folds papers and puts into long envelope.) Mrs. J. There, that's done. I hope the papers won't cut it. \_Exit with envelope in her hand. Enter 'R'EL., preceded by Mrs. Delano and M^ks. Brownell. Hel. Pardon me for keeping you waiting at the door. I thought Hannah would answer the bell, but I think she must be up with father. He isn't feeling very well to-day. 6 WHEN WOMEN VOTE Mrs. D. So sorry to hear it, Mrs. B. Yes, indeed. Mrs. D. Your uiother asked us to run over this afternoon, but if your father needs her we could come some other time. Hel. {bitterly). His feelings never inlerfere with any of her appointments. {Enter Mrs. J.) Here she is now. If you'll excuse me. \_Exii. Mrs. J. (shaking hands). My dear Mrs. Delano and Mrs. Brownell, 1 am so glad that you came this afternoon. I know you both are in sympathy with all good causes. Can you not join this great suffrage movement? We need the help of all enlightened women. Mrs. B. (languidly'). You know, Mrs. Jamison, that I am interested in all these vital problems, but 1 have just pledged myself to settlement work in S[)ringford. I hope to do much personal work for the slum child, and that will necessitate my going to Springford every day. With six young children of my own, 1 feel such sympathy for the neglected ones. Enter Han., bouncing iti excitedly. Han. Mis' Brownell, your cook's just telephoned that little Percival Augustus has fell off of the piazza roof and broke his leg. She says, can you come home? Mrs. B. (jwt in the least excited). Thank you, Hannah. Tell the cook, please, that I wilt be home presently. ( Turns to friends.) To return to the absorbing topic of the slum child, do you not think the development wonderful under the stimuli of music, art and ennobling companionship? M <; D f ^^^' i^^^^d. Wonderful. Mrs. B. And to win such neglected children to Enter Han., still f no re excited. Han. Mis' Brownell, the cook's just telephoned again, and she says Percival Augustus has fainted and she can't bring him to, and the doctor hain't come yet, and you'd orter come right home. Mrs. B. (rising reluctantly). Well, I suppose I really ought to go. I am so sorry that our delightful symposium has been interrupted, but I hope to continue it at some other time. Good-bye, Mrs. Delano, good-bye, Mrs. Jamison. I do hope that the suffrage movement will prosper. [^Exit. WHEN WOMEN VOTE 7 Mrs. J. {seating herself^. Mrs. Delano, I am counting on you to join our noble band of suffragettes. ]\Iks. D. (^gushingly). Oh, I wish I could say "Yes," dear Mrs. Jamison, but I can't. I'll tell you why, if you'll promise never to mention it, for I wouldn't have Ailerton people get hold of it for the world. Perhaps you may have heard that I am going to Europe in two weeks. Well, I gave out that state- ment myself, but in reality I am planning to investigate tlie problem of domestic service by disguising myself as a servant and taking a place, just like those fascinating magazine writers. I was always good in amateur theatricals, and caps and aprons are really very becoming to me. Then, you see, I'll know all about the servant question, and maybe I'll write a book myself. I might call it "Deserving Domestics Duly Described," by Delano. Don't you think the very fact that I live at the Ailer- ton House and know absolutely nothing about housekeeping will give me a more unprejudiced view of things? I do. Mrs. J. What a glorious plan of investigation ! I envy you the opportunities you will have of preaching woman's suffrage to the unenlightened. Mrs. D. {enihusiastically). How sweet of you to approve my plan ! I shall join that fine Springford agency — the Elite I believe it is called — just as soon as I leave Ailerton. Wouldn't my son Jack be horrified ! He does hate so to be left alone; I really oughtn't to go away except to do something for humanity. But then I'll give him plenty of money, and he has two autos and a bull-terrier. I should think he might amuse himself, wouldn't you? Mrs. J. {solemnly). My dear, how would the world pro- gress if women did not sacrifice something? Mrs. D. (rising). So true. Oh, by the way, do advise me about "taking a place," as the servants call it. Do you think I ought to accept the very first position offered me, even if I don't like it ? Mrs. J. Most assuredly, Mrs. Delano. If you are investi- gating the conditions of domestic service you cannot pick and choose. Mrs. D. Thank you. You always see things so clearly. Well, I really must be going. Good-bye. Mrs. J. Good-bye. {Exit Mrs. D. Mrs. J. reseats herself at desk and reads magazine. ) » WHEN WOMEN VOTE Enter Han. with tray aiul food. Sets a table and pours tea, Han. Your lunch is ready, Mis' Jamison. (Mrs. J. does not hear. Han. repeats her remark. Finally Mrs. J. takes a seat at the table but goes on reading. Han. gently takes magazine away from her. Then Mrs. J. begins to eat. Han. looks at her a while.^ Mis' Jamison, I'm all wore out trying to do the work and tend to Mr. J., poor man, and answer the door and the teleplione and everything. Somebody's got to help me or I can't stand it. Mrs. J. You certainly do have too much to do, Hannah. I wish I were situated so that I could assist you, but you see how I am needed outside. I believe I'll try having a second girl. How would you like that, Hannah ? Han. Well, 'twould depend on the girl, Mis' Jamison. I don't want no Poles round under my feet, nor no ladies of color, neither. Mrs. J. Oh, no, Hannah. We will send to that Spring- ford agency — the Elite. Mrs. Delano was speaking well of it just now. Han. Humph ! I don't think much of what she says about anything. She's so triflin'. Off all the time and letting that son of hers go to the dogs. But land's sakes, I've got to have somebody to help me, so perhaps you'd better order a girl from the Elite. Mrs. J. I'll telephone at once. (^Exit Mrs. J. Han. gathers up dishes, bedroom.') Bell rings from Han. There's Mr. J.'s bell. I must see what the poor man wants. \^Exit. CURTAIN ACT 11 SCENE. — The same. Afternoon ; a month later. Enter Han., followed by Mrs. D., disguised as a servant, carrying a suit-case. Han. So you're from the Elite agency. (Mrs. D. gives her a letter.) Well, Mis' Jamison's away to a suffrage con- vention and won't be back till the six o'clock car from Weston, but I'll look at your character. ( Opens letter. ) '< J-u-1-i-e-n-n-e B-r-e-t-o-n," July-Ann Britton. Be you French? (Disapprovingly. ) Mrs. D. Half French, mees. I am from ze Canada. My father, he is of the French and my mothaire was a — what you call him ? a Downeaster. Han. That's all right, July-Ann. Down East folks is good enough for me. Why, some of our family lives in Maine, same name as mine — Swett. My name's Hannah Swett. Say, July-Ann, where did you live before you come here? Mrs. D. At the hotel. {Recollects herself.) Oh, I mean ze hotel in Canada. I work there. Han. What hotel ? Where ? Mrs. D. Ze — ze Hotel Frontenac in Quebec, Mees Han- nah. Han. That furrin place ! Why, perhaps you see a Mis' Delano from here. I heard she was up there the whole summer during last year. She's young-looking, if you don't come too near her, and kinder pretty, but she don't have any too much sense. Did you see her ? Mrs. D. Per-perhaps. Han. I suppose you had to eat strange victuals in that out- landish tavern. Now if I was to see a frog's leg on the table, my stummick would kick, I know. I bet you never saw a baked bean np there, now did yer? Mrs. D. No, no. Ze bean, ze doughnut, ze pie, we do not have him, but ze French food is good. Han. You're welcome to it. (Bell rings from bedroom.) 9 10 WHEN WOMEN VOTE There's Mr. J.'s bell. He's Mis' Jamison's husband and he's an invalid. You set down till 1 see what the poor man wants, Mrs. D. {laying doxvti suit-case and seatitig herself). How perfectly ridiculous that the agency sent me to Mrs. Jamison's house. But she told me herself that I must take the first place offered me, so what could 1 do? I am so glad she is away just now. How strange 1 feel. I wonder if any one could possibly recognize me ! {Goes to glass and looks at costume. Takes various atti- tudes.^ Han. (outside). July-Ann ! QAv^%.V>. jumps and returns to her seat in a hurry. Enter Han.) Say, July-Ann, you didn't say if you was single or married. Mrs. D. I am a widow, Mees Hannah. Han. Any children ? Mrs. D. Only one — a son. Han. Well, it's none of my business, but I should think you'd want to stay with your only child. Most boys need a mother. Oh, by the way, July- Ann, can you read writin' ? Mrs. D. Oui, oui. Han. "We"! Of course I can. I asked if you could. Mrs. D. Oh, yes. Han. (bringing an envelope out of her pocket and showing it to Mrs. D.). Now you'll take in the mail most likely. If you see any letters for Miss Helen — that's Mis' Jamison's daughter — in this handwritin', I want yer to let me know. I'm trying to keep an eye on Helen, and I don't approve of the young man that writes these letters. He's a wild boy with no bringin' up. Mrs. D. I will watch the mail, mees. (Aside.) Indeed I will. Han. Well, July- Ann, you seem respectable. I guess you can stay. Don't you want a cup of tea before you go up to your room ? Mrs. D. Mille fois merci. Han. Eh? (Astonished.) Mrs. D. I mean a thousand thanks. It is kind of you to oifer me ze tea. I am tire indeed, carrying ze suit-case from ze trolley-car. Shall I leave it here in ze study ? Han. They call this the "livin' "-room, July-Ann, but it ain't livin* to my mind, when Mis' Jamison's dead to every- WHEN WOMEN VOTE II thing and buried in the suffrage. I just hate that desk. (^Glares at desk.) But come along to the kitchen. The tea's gettin' cold. \_Exetini Han. and Mrs. D. Enter Hel. , dressed in automobile tvraps and carryifig a suit- case exactly like Mrs. D.'s. Walks up and doivn room excitedly. Finally sees other suit-case and sets hers down beside it, comparing the two. Hel. Why, whose suit-case is this ? It's exactly like mine. (^Leaves suit-case and walks up and down again. ) Dear me, I'm so scared I don't know what to do. Jack will be here in ten minutes to take me to Greenton to be married, married, married 1 I've a good mind to back out now. Jack says {Hears voices outside.) Oh, here comes Hannah. She mustn't see my suit-case. (Seizes wrong suit-case and hides it.) Enter Han. and Mrs. D. Han. Go right up to the attic, July-Ann. Your room's just like mine, with a lovely view and no heat in winter, and too much in summer. (Sees Hel.) Helen, this is ournew girl, July-Ann Britton. Hel. How do you do? (Mrs. D. bows to Hel., takes up suit-case and goes out.) Han. Helen Jamison, be you a-goin' out automobilin' with that Jack Delano, after all I've said? Hel. Well, what if I am? Han. You sha'n't go one step. Hel. (^loftily.) You haven't any right to forbid my going. Han. Yes, I have a right to look after your manners and your morals, seeing as I'm the only real mother yer ever had. Didn't I hold yer in these arms when you was a little pindlin' baby and bring yer through a whole string of children's dis- eases, and teach yer the ten commandments and hear yer prayers ? (Puts apron to her eyes.) Hel. (melting). Oh, Hannah, dear Hannah, you have been a mother to me. (Throws herself into Han.'s arms. Han. weeps, making terrible faces. Hel. wipes Han.'s tears with her own handkerchief. Han. pats Hel. on the back.) 12 WHEN WOMEN VOTE Han. Hannah's own daiiin' litile girl. Yer won't go out wilh that scamp, will yer? Hel. Hannah, I'd do anything for you, but honest and true I can't break my engagement with Jack this afternoon. It's very important, you don't know how important. Han. {solemnly). Helen, that young man is demoralized — just demoralized by a college education. He's so fast he ex- ceeds the speed limit. Don't go, please don't go. {Bell rings from bedroom.') There's your pa's bell. I must see what the poor man wants. S^Exit. Hel. {going to window). There's Jack, now. {Takes suit-case fro7n hiding place and goes to door, then pauses irres- olutely. Finally looks around room sadly.) Good-bye, dear Hannah. \^Exit. Enter Han. atw^Mrs. D., with carpet-sweeper and duster. Han. Now, July-Ann, I want yer to brush up this room a little. Not a regular cleanin' — ^just a lick and a promise. (Han. gives sweeper to Mrs. D. She uses it in all sorts of awkward ways.) Not that way; like this. {After using the sweeper, Han. gives the duster to Mrs. D.) You know how to dust, don't yer? Mrs. D. Oh, yes, Mees Hannah. {Goes around blowing the dust or flapping the duster. Han. takes it out of her hand and shows her hozv to use it. Doot -bell rings. ^x;/Mrs. D., returning with a telegram.) From ze messengaire boy — for you, Mees Hannah. Han. {reading telegram, sinking into chair overcome). Oh, my poor darlin' child, my poor darlin' child, what have yer done ! Mrs. D. What ees it ? What have happen ? Han. Helen — our Helen — run away to get married — gone to Greenton with Jack Delano ! (Mrs. D. totters and clings to chair, exclaiming: ''Jack! My Jack!'' But Han. is too much overcome to notice her.) Oh, Helen! How could yer ! That wild Delano feller ain't fit to tie yer shoes. Mrs. D. {indignantly). Indeed he is ! He's good enough for any girl, the dear, handsome, affectionate boy ! Han. {noticing Mrs. D.'s behavior). Why, what do you know about him? Nothing good, I'll be bound. Mrs. D. {recollectiug herself). Pardon my excitement. I — I knew his mothaire once. WHEN WOMEN VOTE I3 Han. Don't mention her. This trouble is all her fault. That boy never had no home nor nobody to look after him. Mrs. D. {much agitated^. We telephone — we stop this marriage — perhaps eet ees not too late. {Door-bell rings ; Mrs. D. goes out.') Enter Mrs. B. Mrs. B. Good -afternoon, Hannah. Have you happened to see anything of my little Ernestine lately? I have just re- turned from Springford after a most inspiring and illuminating day and I learn that Ernestine has been missing since nine o'clock this morning. I am not at all alarmed, but I thought I would make a few inquiries. Being only five years old — or is it six? I really cannot remember — she might forget to come home to-night. Han. Well, Mis' Brownell, your little Ernestine was a-stealin' a ride on the step of the ice-wagon long about ten o'clock, but I hain't seen her since. I don't suppose 'twould help yer any to send word to our police force, but yer might try it. I'm sorry for yer, Mis' Brownell, and I'm sorry for ourselves, too. {Enter Mrs. D., and stands listening at the back.) Our Helen has eloped with that dissipated Jack Delano. I wish his selfish mother was a-feelin' as bad about him as I be about Helen. {Weeps. Mrs. D. weeps too, unobserved.') Maybe they're married already, and her ma not come back yet. I don't know what to do. Enter Mrs. J., with wraps on, carrying a hag. Mrs. J. Why, how de do all? I'm sorry I can't stop to be polite, but I must do some telephoning before I take my hat off. Han. {seizing her arm as she starts from roovi). Mis' Jamison, wait ! Helen has run away — eloped ! Mrs. J. {absently, trying to free herself). Well, I've no objections. Han. But she's goin' to get married. Mis' Jamison, and she's only seventeen years old ! Mrs. J. Before the voting age. That is a pity ! {Exit Mrs. J. Han. throws up her hands in despair.) Mrs. B. Hannah, if you should hear anything of my little 14 WHEN WOMEN VOTE Ernestine during the next few days, telephone my cook, please. She seems to be quite anxious. Good-night. [^Exif. Han. I declare, I'd swap all the "new women" in the world for just one good old-fashioned mother ! Efi/^r Mrs. J. Mrs. J. Hannah, where is the Suffrage Magazine? \ can't find it anywhere. Enter Hel. , wiih wraps on and carrying a suitcase. Throwi herself into Han.'s arms. Hel. Oh, Hannah, I've come back ! Han. My blessetl lamb, you did remember what Hannah told yer, didn't yer ? Hel. N-n-no, not exactly. You see something happened just after Jack and I got started for Greenton. 1 opened my suit-case to get a handkerchief, and what do you think? it wasn't mine at all; it was Julienne's, and there right on top was Jack's picture. 1 wouldn't have believed that he would flirt with a servant, and one old enough to be his mother. too. Of course he denied it and said he had never even heard of her, and begged me not to condemn him on such evidence. Then I remembered how you had always said he was so wild, and I thought what if he had a wife already, and oh ! I just couldn't marry him, so we came home. He broke our engage- ment he was so angry, and I am dreadfully unhappy. Do comfort me, Hannah. I haven't anybody but you now. Mrs. J. {txwakening to the situation^. You have your mother, Helen. Hel. {doubtfully). Y-es-s, of course. Mrs. J. {jnoved at last). My little daughter, my dearest little daughter, don't you love your mother? {Holds out arms.') Hel. {running to Mrs. J.). Mother, I do love you, but I thought you were too busy to love me. Mrs. J. Have I, have I seemed so indifferent, dear child ? I beseech you to forgive me. Enter Mrs. D. Goes up to Hel. and takes her hand. Mrs. D. And here is another mother ready to love you, WHKN WOMEN VOTE I5 Helen. I want you to marry my Jack and make him happier than I have ever done. Han. Land o' liberty ! Mrs. J. Who — who is this ? Hel. Jack's mother ! Mrs. D. (^pulling off cap, apron and disguise). Yes, Jack's uiother, who was investigating the servant problem and leaving her own problem unsolved. Enter Mrs. B. Mrs. B. (tnuch moved). Helen Jamison, how can I ever thank you for bringing home my little lost daughter ! It came over me, all at once, what if she were kidnapped, or even — (^shuddering) dead, and I was nearly crazy till I heard Jack's car stop at our door. 1 cried for joy at the sound of her dear little weary voice. Hel. I am so glad your runaway happened to be on our road. Poor child, she was so tired. Mrs. B. The darling was completely exhausted. I must hurry back and see how she is now. Han. Well, well, I know I'm only a bachelor girl, but if I had children, seems to me I wouldn't have to most lose 'em to appreciate 'em. CURTAIN One copy del. to Cat. Div. &HF> 1 ISM 31. 3^. ^mero'g Paps THE MAGISTRATE ^^^"^ '° Three Acts. Twelve males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, all Interior. Plays two hours and a half. THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITP J'^f"^ J° J°y ^f « Ei,^'' males, five females. Costumes, modem ; scenery, all Interiors PI; ys a full evening. THF PROFI Ifi ATF ^^^y ^ Four Acts rieven males, five females . Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. THE SCHOOI MISTRESS ^^^'^^ '° Three Acts. Nine males, seven * females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. TflE SECOND MRS. TANQDEBAY ^C/rLtr ^ct tumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. SWEPT I AYENDFR ^^^^^y ^°^ Three Acts. Seven males, four *^ '*< females. Scene, a single interior; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. THF TIMES Co'^®