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 Copy I 
 
 Sweet 
 Briars 
 
 A Drama 
 
 in 
 Three Acts 
 
 By Elizabeth S. Jewell 
 
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Through the 
 Sweet Bpiaps 
 
Through the 
 Sweet Briars 
 
 A Drama in Three Acts 
 by Elizabeth S. Jewell 
 
 COPYRIGHTED 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 Permission to Produce this Play may be 
 
 arranged for throught the author 
 
 262 Hollister Avenue 
 
 Grand Rapids, cTWichigan 
 

 /^ 
 
 OCT 20 1915 
 
 CI.A425388 
 
 i»4 
 
Through the 
 Sweet Briars 
 
 The Persons of the Play 
 
 REV. EDWARD FRISBIE 
 CAPTAIN TROTTER 
 MR. TRAMP 
 DEACON SLOCUM 
 BILL HIGGINS 
 MRS. FRISBIE 
 AUNT MARTHA 
 SOPHIE HOPKINS 
 MISS ANNA 
 
 KATHERINE 
 
 MARY 
 
 NED 
 
 JACK 
 
 BETTY 
 
 BABY 
 
 Children of 
 Rev. and Mrs. Frisbie 
 
Through the 
 Sweet Briars 
 
 THE FIRST ACT. 
 
 (The scene is in the citting room in the home of 
 Aunt Martha'. The furnishings are quaint, but com- 
 fortable. A rag carpet covers the floor. On the wall 
 are chromo portraits of George and Martha Washing- 
 ton, a large old-fashioned mirror and a Home Sweet 
 Home motto. At center, back of stage, is a cupboard, 
 shelves a-bove behind glass doors, drawers below. On 
 the shelves can be seen old-fashioned dishes, a jar of 
 jam, another of stick-candy, a large plate of fruit, and 
 a standard cake dish, on which is a layer cocoanut 
 cake. At exact center of the room is a small round 
 table on which is the "Family Bible" and photograph 
 album. At the left of the room, a little to center is a 
 small stand on which rests a large pendulum clock. 
 In front of clock, on a crocheted yarn mat, is a basket 
 of piece-work. In the right back corner is a wha<t-not 
 on which are quaint ornaments, such as a china dog, a 
 majolica vase containing a boquet of "everlastings", 
 another vase with a bunch of peacock fe&thers, two 
 or three daguerreotypes, and a basket of shells, star- 
 fish, bright stones and other trinkets which might have 
 been picked up at sea. Toward the front of the stage 
 at the left is a child's rocking-chair in which sits an 
 old-fa-shioned doll with "china hair". A copious arm- 
 chair and a high-backed rocking chair are on either 
 side the center table, a little back. Both are graced 
 
6 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 with bright calico cushions and crocheted tidies. On 
 the left side, near back of stage, is a door opening to 
 the outside. On the right side, near center, is a door 
 opening to dining room.) 
 
 (Note: "Left" and "Right" are the left and right 
 as seen from audience.) 
 
 (Aunt Martha wears a calico dress with full skirt 
 and a white "tea-jacket", tied in front with a lavender 
 ribbon, a small white embroidered "turn-over" collar 
 is fastened with a large brooch. As curtain rises, she 
 is tying a large gingham apron, over a somewhat 
 smaller white apron. Then she takes the cake from 
 cupboard, places on center-table, cuts into generous 
 pieces and carries out to dining-room, brings in glass 
 sa-uce-dish which she fills with jam, carries this and 
 the plate of fruit out to dining-room. While she works, 
 she sings in a rather high key, "Come Thou Fount of 
 Every Blessing". On her second return from dining 
 room, she picks up doll, pats down her dress, sets her 
 straight in the chair, continuing singing of hymn as 
 she works.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 "Teach me some melodious sonnet, 
 
 Sung by" 
 
 There now, Pollyanne, it's most time fur the com- 
 pany, (glancing at clock), so you set up an' mind your 
 "p's and q's". (Takes basket of shells from what-not 
 and places it on center ta<ble.) 'Spose the children 
 would like to look over these here shells an' things — 
 beats all where Cap'n Trotter finds so many knick- 
 knacks to fetch home. Kind o' pleases him, though, to 
 have me make a fuss over 'em. (Takes one or two up 
 and looks at them.) Might as well have 'em out and 
 around for he'll be a-comin' home now most any day. 
 (Steps to door of dining-room and stands looking in, 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 7 
 
 hands on hips.) That's a grand-looking table if I did 
 set it myself! I hope those blessed children will en- 
 joy a good round square meal for once in their lives. 
 Mercy, I've forgot the candy! (Takes jar of candy 
 from cupboard and arranges sticks temptingly on fa-ncy 
 plate which she gets from what-not.) I don't see how 
 our minister's folks are a-goin' to make both ends meet 
 this year, — what with the new baby to care for, and 
 the little minister's stomach goin' back on him an' all! 
 Pollyanne, you'd best be tha^nkful fur your stout saw- 
 dust stomach. (Carries candy to dining-room, sing- 
 ing), "Teach me some melodious sonnet." (Returns). 
 (Hears knocks at door, left, opens and admits Sophie 
 Hopkins, the village spinster. Sophie is dressed in 
 prim visiting costume — old-fashioned figured "print" 
 dress, plain skirt with "tied-back" polonaise, fastened 
 at neck with stifif purple or green ribbon bow. A nar- 
 row ribbon around her wa-ist is tied at left side in small 
 bow with long ends. She wears a small, stiff black 
 straw hat, with quill at side, black or white lace mitts, 
 black slippers and white stockings.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Why, how-d'ye-do, Sophie! I ain't seen you fur the 
 longest spell! Come right in an' set awhile. (Offers 
 rocking-chair, but Sophie takes arm-chair.) You look 
 clea-n beat out! 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 I am some tired, Marthy, but I ain't one o' them 
 kind that can stay to home and fold my hands when 
 there's the Lord's work to be looked after. Why 
 wa'n't you to Ladies' Aid this afternoon, Marthy? 
 (Looking over spectacles.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 I couldn't go real handy today, Sophie. You see, 
 
8 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 I'm goin' to give a little tea-pa<rty this even' and I 
 couldn't quite spare the time fur Ladies' Aid. 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 (Raising both hands in horror.) A tea-party on 
 Ladies' Aid Day! A tea-party on — Why, Marthy 
 Brown! (Shakes fore-finger at Aunt Martha.) I don't 
 see how you da'st! Well, (Folds hands over lap and 
 sits up straighter.) I suppose the next thing we'll hear 
 of you you'll be a-powderin' your face an' a-goin to 
 one of them wicked movin' picture shows! 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 (Hands on hips, shaking with laughter.) I'm quite 
 satisfied with the complexion that natur' give me, 
 Sophie, but as to the movies, I've been to a show regu- 
 la<r once a week since they opened up here, an' I most 
 alius find myself in good compn'y there — of course, 
 some that ain't so good occasionally. Last evenin' 
 Deacon Slocum set across the aisle from me, (Sophie 
 straightens her back again and draws in her lips) an' he 
 was so oncomf'table when he see me! He hitched an' 
 fidgeted a<bout, an' finally he made out like he was a- 
 goin' to leave, but I kep' my eye on him an' I see he 
 only changed his seat to one further back. But fur the 
 most pa<rt (settles back and rocks gently) the folks I 
 meet to the picture shows appears like good honest 
 people. (Sophie rises indignantly.) Oh, don't go yet, 
 Sophie! Stay an' have a cup o' tea. I've invited — 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 I'm not at all interested in who you've asked to 
 your tea-party, seein' your givin' it on Ladies' Aid day. 
 Seems as if the Lord's work is bein' awful neglected 
 here lately, with our preacher away fur two full weeks 
 an' all the church folks agoin' to the Baptist an' Metho- 
 dist churches 'stid o' our'n. By the way, Marthy, we 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 9 
 
 voted at Ladies' Aid today, to take what money we're 
 savin' this month on our pa-stor's salary, on account of 
 his bein' away, to buy a strip o' carpet fur the middle 
 aisle o' the church. We'll have to be fixin up some be- 
 fore the city resort folks gits here, or they'll be agoin' 
 to the other churches, an' that would make a big differ- 
 ence in our summer collections. Mis' Barton says 
 Deacon Slocum told her 'at that millionaire from Chi- 
 cago tha<t was up to the hotel last sumrner, dropped in 
 as high as a quarter onto the contribution plate most 
 every Sunday. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Sophie Hopkins! You don't mean to say that Ladies* 
 Aid is talkin' o' dockin' our pastor on his salary on 
 account of his havin' to go away to try to ketch up in 
 his hea-lth! Well, of all things! I can't believe it, 
 scurcely! 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 Marthy, you never did have no idee of savin', did 
 you! I'd like to know how the church'd git along if 
 we was all as slipshod as you b -- about money matters. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Sophie, I guess you an' me had best not git to 
 talkin' about church affairs, if we want to stay friends, 
 for our idees don't seem to hitch, somehow — 'scuse 
 me a minute, plea-se, it's time to set the tea kettle over. 
 (Goes out to dining room.) 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 Wonder who she's goin' to have, to her tea-party, 
 anyway. (Steps to dining room door and peeks in at 
 table. Points to places set at table and counts to her- 
 self), one, two, three, four, five, six! H'm — She's set 
 fur six! Well, I know some folks that'll be awful mad 
 
10 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 that they wa'n't invited when T tell 'em al)Out it, but I 
 fur one don't ca-re a mite. Howsomever, I would like 
 to know who she is goin' to have! (Notices Polly- 
 anne.) Well, upon my soul! What fool nonsense is 
 this! Is Marthy Brown agoin' crazy, or is she comin' 
 to her second childhood! (Aunt Martha enters.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 I've invited our minister's children to tea, Sophie, 
 seein' as how the church is so back on his last quarter's 
 salary. I thought maybe a taste o' comp'ny cookin' 
 might be appetizin', to the little folks. 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 H'm! If you're expecting a<ll them Fribie younguns 
 to tea, I might as well go — children do git on my 
 nerves jest awful. You alius do the peskiest lot o' 
 work fur what don't count nothin' of anybody I ever 
 see, Marthy! Well, I must hurry along or the market 
 will be shet up an' I want to get a little broth meat 
 fur my cat — she ain't been herself fur a few days back. 
 I walked better'n a- mile yesterday to get her some fresh 
 catnip, an' she wouldn't tech it. I'm awful worried 
 over her. Mercy sakes! There come them younguns, 
 I'll go out by the side door. (Leaves hurriedly.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Goodby, Sophie. Hope your cat'll soon be better! 
 (Turns to greet children.) Come right in all of you an' 
 make yourselves to home. (Takes hats and offers 
 chairs.) Here's PoUyanne awaitin' fur you. 
 
 MARY. 
 
 (A girl of about ten yea-rs. Dark hair, tied with 
 red ribbons — white middy with red tie.) 
 
 (Kneeling by doll's chair.) Oh! What a darling 
 doll! May I hold her if I'll be real careful? 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 11 
 
 AUNT MARTHA.. 
 
 Of course you can! That's jest what she likes — 
 bein' held, — an' here's a smaller doll fur little Nell. 
 You two boys might like to look at these shells an' 
 things. They've come from ever so many interesting 
 places. I'll ha-ve supper on in jest no time. 
 
 KATHERINE. 
 
 (A girl of thirteen, fair curly hair, tied loosely back 
 with blue ribbon — white muslin dress.) 
 
 Can't I help you get the supper on Aunt Martha? 
 I always help Mamma. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 No, you're comp'ny, now, you know. You jest 
 amuse yourself with my stere'scope or sumpin' for a 
 few minutes. (Exit Aunt Martha to dining room. 
 Children entertain themselves with toys, etc.) 
 
 NED. 
 
 (A boy of nine — white waist — dark trousers.) 
 Wonder where a-ll these things came from. I didn't 
 know Aunt Martha ever traveled anywhere. 
 
 JACK. 
 
 (A boy of eight — light wash suit.) 
 
 Maybe she knows someone who does travel. Say, 
 I bet I know! It's Captain Trotter! He gave me a 
 shell once just like this one. I'll ask her when she 
 comes in. 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 (A girl of six — Dutch-cut hair tied with pink ribbon 
 — one-piece white pique dress with wide pink belt — 
 dress low at neck and with elbow sleeves, trimmed with 
 pink.) 
 
12 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 (Gets up from play and goes pa-st dining room door, 
 gazing at table longingly, then goes to Katherine and 
 speaks in a loud whisper), They's three kinds of cake! 
 
 KATHERINE. 
 
 Why, Betty, dear, you haven't been peeking, have 
 you? 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 No, I didn't peek. I just went by the door an' I 
 couldn't help seeing. 
 
 JACK. 
 What couldn't you help seeing? 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 Oh, lots of things — cake, an' chicken, an' bananoes, 
 an' oranges, an' — 
 
 NED. 
 
 You didn't count the oranges, did you? 
 
 BETTY. 
 Yes, an' I think they's just four! 
 
 KATHERINE. 
 
 Well, if there are only four, Mary and I will go 
 halves, because we're the oldest. 
 
 NED. 
 
 No, Jack and I will go halves because we're littler 
 than you two an' there isn't a<s much room in us for 
 oranges. (A steamboat whistle sounds.) 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 13 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 (All exclaiming at once.) 
 
 Captain Trotter's boat! It's the Trixie whistle! 
 Captain Trotter's coming! (Enter Aunt Martha.) 
 Captain Trotter's boat is coming, Aunt Martha! 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Yes, I thought I hea-rd it whistle. Do you children 
 know Captain Trotter, too? 
 
 NED. 
 
 You bet we do! Can't we run down to meet him 
 before supper? 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Yes, if you wish; but supper's most ready, so you'd 
 best ask him to come along and eat with us. He's an 
 old-time friend of mine. 
 
 KATHERINE. 
 
 Oh, is he Aunt Martha? We didn't know you knew 
 him too! 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 (Rushing out of door to right.) Goody, goody! 
 Captain Trotter'll have supper here too. (Aunt Martha 
 "touches up" a bit before mirror. Hears knock at door. 
 Removes gingham apron hurriedly, uncovering white 
 apron which she smooths down, after tossing gingham 
 apron into dining room. Opens door smilingly, ex- 
 pecting to greet Captain Trotter, but changes expres- 
 sion to one of coldness as Deacon Slocum enters.) 
 
 DEACON SLOCUM. 
 
 (A small, thin man, about sixty years of age. Wears 
 
14 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 frock coat and old-style silk hat. Has a< goatee, which 
 he strokes occasionally, as he talks. Carries cane and 
 gloves.) 
 
 Well, well, Marthy, seems to me you look younger 
 an' better lookin' every time I see you! (Sits down 
 uninvited.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 I'd like to say the same to you. Deacon Slocum, but 
 I can't an' be real honest. How'd you like the show 
 la<st night? 
 
 DEACON SLOCUM. 
 
 Why, you know I didn't go to no sech place to en- 
 j'y myself, but I'd heard so much about what an awful 
 place it was, that I thought I'd orter go jest to see if 
 the reports was true. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 (Sits in straight chair by stand at left. Takes up 
 piece-work and sews as she talks.) Well, did you find 
 out? 
 
 DEACON SLOCUM. 
 
 Why, it wa'n't quite so bad as I expected to find it, 
 but they say the one next week will be a lot worse, so 
 I suppose it will be my painful duty to look in, and if 
 it is as bad as we fear I shall surely make a move to 
 have the place shet up before the morals of the whole 
 town are endangered. But, Marthy, what I ca<lled fur 
 this even'in was on another rather painful duty. Have 
 you heard how the trustees have found a little mistake 
 in our pastor's accounts with the church? Before he 
 went away, he handed the treasurer a< statement of 
 how much salary had been paid him up to date, an' he 
 left out one or two items, though I'm not the one to 
 say it was intentional to cheat on his part. 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 1$ 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 (Sarcastically.) What items did he forget? 
 
 DEACON SLOCUM. 
 
 (Pulls carpet-covered foot-stool from under center- 
 table, rests one foot on stool and crosses his legs, un- 
 fastens coat, puts thumbs into arm-pits, and leans back 
 in chair complacently before answering.) Wall, you 
 see, Hank Simm's fanning mill went back on him the 
 last three or four bushel o' wheat, an' seein' they wa<'nt 
 no market fur it unfanned, he fetched a bushel of it 
 jest as it was to the parson's folks to apply on his sub- 
 scription to the salary. The parson said he _ didn't 
 know as he could use it, seein' they hadn't no chickens, 
 but Hank left it, ruther'n lug it back hum. An' it 
 seems the parson's younguns fa-nned it by hand an' 
 his wife biled it an' they et it after all, an' just said 
 nothin' about it on the statement of the amount re- 
 ceived on salary. (Puts left hand in trouser pocket 
 and strokes goatee with right hand.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 (Calmly.) Yes, an' they used better'n a cord of 
 wood a-cookin' it, an' twa'nt only seconds at that, 
 an' like as not tryin' to digest the stuff is what made 
 the little minister's stomach go back on him. I think 
 Hank Simms'd better cal'clate that he owes the par- 
 son the price of a cord or two o'wood an' a doctor's 
 bill beside! 
 
 DEACON SLOCUM. 
 
 (Leans forward slightly, resting left hand on his 
 knee, ra-ps impatiently on floor with cane, which has 
 been leaning against center-table.) Now, Marthy, don't 
 you come to conclusions too swift. The wheat wa'n'a 
 the only item. 
 
16 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 (Looking over spectacles.) What then? 
 
 DEACON SLOCUM. 
 
 He didn't give no credit to Mis' Beers for two nice 
 fat chickens she sent when he was first took sick, an' 
 she intended them to apply on the three dollars she'd 
 subscribed to his salary. She bein' a widow, I'm spe- 
 cial surprised tha-t he'd take advantage of her in that 
 way. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 I don't see what cause you have to be surprised at 
 a seemin' oppression of widows — not considerin' all 
 the mortgages you've foreclosed on most o' the help- 
 less widows in this town! An' as to Mis' Beers' fat 
 chickens — they were two black hens that had got too 
 old to lay, an' they were too tough for Mis' Beers to 
 attempt to eat herself, — with her two last back teeth 
 not trackin'. Now see here. Deacon Slocum, if you've 
 come in jest to gossip about our pastor's affairs, I'll 
 have to be excused. I have some friends comin' in to 
 tea, an' (rising as if to dismiss him). 
 
 DEACON SLOCUM. 
 
 (Rising.) Oh, excuse me, Marthy, I wouldn't for 
 the world impose my presence where I wa'n't wel- 
 come! Good day. (Leaves ha-stily.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Good day, Deacon. There come my friends now! 
 (Voices heard outside.) There, there, my hearties, 
 how d'ye 'spose I can move with you strandin' me this 
 way? (Enter Captain Trotter and children.) 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 (A jolly, fat man of about fifty, florid complexion, 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 17 
 
 side whiskers, dressed in a regulation ship-ca-ptain's 
 navy blue suit, with brass buttons, a captain's cap still 
 on his head when he enters. He carries Betty in his 
 arms, the boys have hold of either coat-tail. Mary 
 hangs on his right elbow, and Ka-therine on his left.) 
 Heigh there, Marthy! I tried to git here sooner, but 
 this is sure a husky little crew that piloted me here. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Glad to sec you, Cap'n. You've come jest in time 
 for a real comp'ny supper. 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 Well, I'm right hungry, Marthy! Put on plenty. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Indeed I will. (Goes to dining room. Children 
 climb onto Cap. Trotter. Betty sits on one knee, Jack 
 on the other, Mary climbs onto back of his chair, 
 Katherine stands a-t his right and Ned sits on the floor 
 in front of him, Turk fashion, with back toward audi- 
 ence.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Captain, did you find any giants on lonely islands 
 on this trip? 
 
 JACK. 
 
 Or sea lions? 
 
 NED. 
 
 Or any whales or sharks? 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 Never seen so many whales on a<ny voyage before, 
 
18 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 an' sharks! Why, they were as thick as mud-turtles 
 in a swamp. 
 
 JACK. 
 
 (Turning somesault backwards.) Ki, yi, that's bully! 
 (The other children clap hands.) 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 But say! Who do you youngsters s'pose I brought 
 home on my ship with me? 
 
 KATHERINE. 
 Surely not our papa! 
 
 ALL. 
 
 Oh, did you bring our pa-pa home? 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 Right you are, an' a grand man he is. You may well 
 be proud — (Patting Betty's head.) 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 (Interrupting.) Papa has come! Our papa has come 
 home! (Jack and Betty jump down from Capta-in's 
 lap. Mary comes around to front and all dance up and 
 down, clapping hands. Enter Aunt Martha. Captain 
 Trotter rises.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 What is it a<ll about? 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 Our papa has come home, Aunt Martha. (All rush 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 19 
 
 out of the house.) (Aunt Martha goes to the door and 
 calls to them.) 
 
 KATHERINE. 
 
 (Running back.) Oh, please excuse us Aunt Ma-rtha, 
 we just couldn't wait till after supper to see our papa! 
 (Takes all the hats.) Good evening Aunt Martha, 
 you were so kind to ask us, but we must go to see 
 Papa! 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 You don't suppose they're not comin' back again, do 
 you? 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 I'll be blowed if I know, Marthy! They had me 
 stranded here! Downed my jibs an' held me fast fore 
 an' aft, but the instant I said their daddy had come 
 home, if the little pira<tes didn't up anchor an' desert 
 me! 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Well, they've deserted me, too, an' the best supper, 
 I dare say, they've had spread for 'em this twelve 
 month. Did you say our minister came home tonight 
 on your boat? 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 Yes; but I had to let him off at the lower deck, he 
 was in sech a hurry to see his wife an' babies. Marthy, 
 (Hands in pockets.) I've never been much of a hand 
 fur churches an' parsons an' sich, but shiver my tim- 
 bers! If I didn't like that preacher pretty well! An' 
 he's got grit to stan' by this here gospel-ship o' his'n 
 through what I'd call a right bad sea. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 (Sits in rocking-chair, and takes up piece-work but 
 
20 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 only makes pretence of sewing a-s she is embarrassed.) 
 What do you mean, Cap'n? 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 Well, we got to talkin' an' swappin' yarns some a- 
 ship-board, an' he says to rne, says he, "Cap'n, I'm try- 
 in' to manage a sort of ship too — yours is ca-lled The 
 Trixie, an' mine might be called a Gospel Ship. We 
 both have to be on the lookout pretty sharp and under- 
 stand our jobs from stem to stern to make our voyages 
 successful, don't we? Now,"he says", You've shown 
 me many interestin' things about your ship that I never 
 knew existed, an* sometime when you're in port come 
 a-n' let me show you mine!" Well, Marthy, I've made 
 up my mind that I'd like fust rate to go an' hear him 
 preach some time. But, shiver my bow if I'd ever want 
 to swap ships with him! "What fur pay do they give 
 ye?" I asked. "Six hundred dollars an' a parsonage," 
 says he, as proud a-s if it was six thousand. By old 
 Davy Jones, Marthy, I wish't I was a church member! 
 I'd show 'em how to take care o' their preachers. I'll 
 be blowed, if I don't envy that little preacher in a way, 
 though, anyhow, Marthy — to think o' havin' five little 
 hearties like them a-waitin' fur their daddy to heave 
 into port! An' them a leavin' a mess o' your cookin' 
 jest to smack him a half hour earlier! Say, Marthy, I'm 
 a rough old salt but if there's any good in me, you an' 
 your little cabin here could bring it out. I'm some like 
 the little preacher sa-ys this here church is — not flour- 
 ishin' but by God's grace an' the help of a brave little 
 
 wife, an' 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 (Rising and laying down sewing.) There, there, 
 Cap'n Trotter, you've gone fur enough. Come into the 
 dining room an' have a bite to eat. 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 (Stepping to dining room, looking at table, and then 
 stepping back a little.) Well, I'll be boiled, Marthy, if 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 21 
 
 this ain't good enough fur a weddin' feast! What do 
 you say to givin' the little minister a ten dollar job 
 a-marrying you an' me right this very evenin' an in- 
 vitin' all the little pirate crew to supper? 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 (Embarrassed.) Oh, Cap'n. This is so sudden like, 
 — but, well . . . 'twould be a pity most to let my 
 whole day's cookin' go to waste, now wouldn't it? 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 Sure we couldn't, not your cookin'! Marthy! Now, 
 hurry up, an' put on your bunnit an' we'll go git 'em all 
 back here in the wink of a shark's eye. (Aunt Martha 
 whisks off apron, puts on bonnet and small crocheted 
 wool shawl before mirror. Capta-in Trotter watches 
 her adm.iringly, as she dresses to go out.) 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 Shiver my timbers, but you'll be the great little ship- 
 mate! (Both go out left.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
THE SECOND ACT 
 
 (The scene is a roadway running from entrance, 
 back left, diagonally, to exit, right front. Beyond 
 road, is a garden sea-t, facing audience. Extending 
 from entrance to within four feet of exit, behind seat, 
 is a fence, either picket or three board. The seat is 
 placed so that the fence extends about one foot beyond 
 the end of it, toward the exit. At end of seat, on the 
 ground in front of fence stands a water-pail. At rise of 
 curtain, Jack a-nd Betty Frisbie stand near pail of 
 water, Jack helping Betty to a drink. Ned is leaning 
 against fence from behind, whittling. Toward front 
 of stage at left is a go-cart in which a baby is sleeping. 
 — a large doll should be used.) 
 
 (Note: The roadway is represented by a strip of 
 light colored ca<nvas. The grass in front of the road 
 can be made with shreds of green tissue paper scattered 
 on dark background.) 
 
 (Whistling is heard from without. Betty sets down 
 dipper. Jack turns toward entrance. Ned stops whit- 
 tling and Mary appears behind fence. She has been 
 stooping down to pick strawberries. The boys wear 
 gingham waists a-nd overalls, Mary a gingham apron, 
 Dutch neck, and kimono sleeves, sunbonnet hanging 
 back on shoulders. Betty, light colored rompers. 
 
 Mr. Tramp enters — a man of about twenty-five, 
 dressed in camping costume. He carries fishing rod 
 over his shoulders. He sees go-cart, steps to it, turns 
 back corner of blanket and takes baby's hand in his.) 
 
 NED. 
 I say, sir, wha-t are you going to do with our baby? 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 (Turning toward children.) Why, hello there! 
 Where did you all come from? 'Pon my word, I didn't 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 23 
 
 see anyone but the baby when I came along and I just 
 stopped to play with him a bit. It's a long time since 
 I've seen such a fine baby as this. (Turning to go- 
 cart.) 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 You're not a tramp, are you? 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 ALL. 
 
 Why, Betty Frisbie! 
 
 MARY. 
 
 (Coming around fence and approaching Mr. Tramp.) 
 Of course, you're not a tramp, but mamma wants us 
 to be careful about not talking to strangers, 'cause once 
 in a while they turn out to be tramps. But please 
 'scuse Betty 'cause she's only six years old — she didn't 
 mean to be rude! 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 (Patting Betty's head.) Little Betty's all right,— I 
 am a kind of a tramp, but not the kind that children 
 need to be afraid of. 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 (Stepping back a little and standing with hands folded 
 behind her.) Well, you're a nice, clean tramp, anyway. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 Yes; wa-ter's cheap, you know! 
 
 JACK. 
 (Taking hold of Mr. Tramp's coat button.) Don't 
 
24 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 you think you ought to be doing some work 'stead o' 
 tramping? Guess we could find you somp'n to do. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 (Raising hands as if to ward off trouble.) No siree! 
 Don't speak of work or I'll not come here again. It's 
 because they worked me so hard in New York that I 
 want to be a tramp for awhile now. 
 NED. 
 
 Wha-t did you have to do in New York? 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 (Laying fishing pole against end of seat and sitting 
 down.) I worked in a big menagerie on Wall street. 
 I quit my job a couple of weeks ago because I wouldn't 
 do what the managers wanted me to do. 
 
 ALL. 
 
 (Jack occupies himself examining Mr. Tramp's fish- 
 ing-pole. Betty stands a-t Mr. Tramp's right with her 
 hand on his knee. Mary sits on seat at his left. Ned 
 stands about two feet from him, facing him, hands in 
 trouser pockets.) What was that? 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 They tried to get me to water the stock and I just 
 wouldn't do it! 
 
 JACK. 
 
 Why not? We like to drive our cow down to the 
 creek, don't we, Ned? 
 
 NED. 
 Yes, and it would be even more fun, I should think, 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 25 
 
 watering stock in a menagerie. Bob Marks said when 
 Ringling Brothers were here last summer, he carried 
 twenty pails of water for the elephants and he got two 
 tickets for the show. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 They promised me a whole pocket full of tickets i^ 
 I'd just water the stock in the New York menagerie, 
 but it was too dirty work watering stock in a big city. 
 But let's not talk about me any more — what are you 
 children up to? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 (Rising, resting one knee on seat and looking over 
 back of fence.) We're picking berries from our very 
 own strawberry vines. 
 
 NED. 
 
 And we can have all the money we get from selling 
 the berries too. (Joins Jack in examining fishing-rod.) 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Where do you sell the berries? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Up at the hotel where the people from the city are 
 staying. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 That's where I got my breakfast this morning. 
 JACK. 
 
 (Placing himself directly in front of Mr. Tramp.) 
 But you said you were a tramp! 
 
26 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Well, you see, I stand in with one of the waiters up 
 at the hotel and he usually manages to save something 
 for me. But say — how is this? There are five straw- 
 berry beds and only four people to work them. (Mary 
 and Ned sit down.) 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 (Pointing toward stra-wberry patch.) That largest 
 bed is sister Katherine's — she fell and hurt herself. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Not badly, I hope — 
 
 MARY. 
 
 The doctor says he's afraid her spine is injured. 
 But oh! She's so brave — she hardly ever says any- 
 thing about the hurt. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 We'll hope it will not prove very serious. But you 
 haven't told me yet what you're going to do with all 
 the money from the strawberries. (Is seated.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 That's a secret, 'ca^use we're going to save it for 
 Christmas. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 For Christmas! Don't you think you're planning 
 for Christmas a long way ahead of time? When I was 
 a youngster, I didn't begin savin' up Christmas money 
 till after Thanksgiving. 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 27 
 
 NED. 
 
 But there won't be any strawberries to pick in 
 November. (Sound of call bell.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Tha>t's Mother's call for Jack and Betty. She wants 
 them to bring baby home. (Exit Jack and Betty, with 
 baby carriage — Mary helps them off.) 
 
 JACK AND BETTY. 
 (Turning, Betty throws kiss.) Goodby, Mr. Tramp. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Goodby children (Throwing kiss to Betty.) Well, 
 there won't be any trout left in the stream if I don't 
 hurry along. I'll see you all again some day. So long. 
 (Puts fishing-rod over shoulder and leaves, left.) 
 
 MARY AND NED. 
 
 Goodby, Sir. 
 
 MARY. 
 
 (Mary and Ned sit down.) Isn't it too bad, Ned, 
 that such a nice man as that should be a tramp? 
 
 NED. 
 
 Yes, it is, — don't you suppose we might persuade 
 him to go to work the next time we see him? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 I'm afraid not unless he finds us working harder 
 than we have this morning. (Goes around back of 
 
28 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 seat. Ned follows. They carry crate of berries to 
 front of seat.) We've picked only fourteen quarts. 
 
 (Note: Imitation strawberries can be easily made 
 from red and green crepe paper. These should fill tops 
 of boxes in crate. A pattern for same will be sent by 
 author on request.) 
 
 NED. 
 How much will that be at eleven cents a qui-rt? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Let's see! 11 x 9 is 99—11x10 is— Oh, dear! I'll 
 most be glad when they begin to pay only ten cents 
 a quart — eleven cents is so hard to calc'late when it's 
 more'n 99. 
 
 NED. 
 
 (As they set down crates of berries, Mary sits on 
 garden-seat with back toward exit. Ned throws him- 
 self on his stomach on ground about a< foot in front of 
 Mary, facing left of stage, rests chin on hands, elbows 
 on ground.) Never mind, we'll stop to see Miss Anna 
 on the way to the hotel and she can tell us how much 
 it will be without even putting it down on paper. Just 
 think! We had $6.77 last week! Won't we have a 
 jolly time, though, Christmas, with so much money to 
 buy presents with? (Re-enter Mr. T. unseen by child- 
 ren.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Yes, if Sister Katherine only gets well before then 
 — but I-I heard something today,Ned. 
 
 NED. 
 What was it? Something about Katherine? 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 29 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Yes; kind of about her, but not 'zackly. You see, 
 it was this way — I was sitting in the hammock, waiting 
 for you to change your shoes, and the sitting-room win- 
 dow was open, and I heard Papa and Mamma talking 
 and Ma-mma told Papa that the doctor says Katherine 
 will have to go away to a hospital and have an opera- 
 tion before she will be able to walk again. 
 
 NED. 
 
 (Sitting up.) Our sister Katherine go to a hospi- 
 tal! 
 
 MARY. 
 
 ^ Yes, but that isn't the worst of it, for then Papa- 
 said it wouldn't be such a puzzle if the church would 
 only pay up what they owe on last quarter's salary. 
 But he said the trustees say there isn't any money in 
 the treasury, but that Mr. Hardy has just sold some 
 wheat and ma<ybe he can pay his 'scription soon. So 
 Papa's going to ask the trustees again, but whatever 
 will we do, Ned, if they isn't any money to send 
 Katherine? 
 
 NED. 
 
 Gee! She's got to go, that's all there is about that! 
 We'll have to think of some way, Mary. 
 
 MARY. 
 
 There's our Christmas money, Ned. 
 
 NED. 
 
 (Slowly, somewhat hesita-tingly.) That's so, we'll 
 give that, and $6.77 ought to help quit a lot, oughn't 
 it? 
 
30 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Oh, my! yes; it ought to buy ever so many bottles 
 of medicine, anway. Down at Murray's drug store 
 they sold bottles of medicine so big for 89 cts. An* 
 there are ever so many presents we could make for 
 each other for Christmas, 'stead of buying things, 
 aren't there? 
 
 NED. 
 
 Yes — lots and lots of presents. 
 
 (Mr. Tramp coughs — children see him.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 (Both rising.) Oh, Mr. Tra — I mea-n Mr. Sir; you 
 most frightened us. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Call me Mr. Tramp — I don't mind. I told you I was 
 kind of a tramp, and you know tramps don't usually 
 like to give their right names. I'm afraid, though, 
 you'll think me rather a bad tramp when I tell you 
 I've been listening to what you've been saying. At 
 least, I've hea<rd enough to make me fear that sister 
 Katherine was hurt rather badly. How about it? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Yes; the doctor says he's afraid she'll have to go 
 to a hospital an' have an operation before she'll be 
 able to walk. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 When is she going? I have to go back to New 
 York next Thursday. Perhaps I could help to take 
 care of her on the way. 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 31 
 
 NED. 
 
 But I thought you didn't want to go back to New 
 York 'cause that's where they wanted you to water the 
 stock! 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 I got a letter today saying a new job was waiting 
 for me. I think I'll like this one better — it's cleaner 
 work. Do you think sister Ka'therine could go by 
 Thursday? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 I'm afraid not 'cause the trustees don't meet till 
 Monday night. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 The trustees of what? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 The trustees of Papa's church. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 (Mr. Tramp sits at left end of garden seat. Ned sits 
 on back of seat, feet hanging over, takes knife and 
 stick from pocket and whittles. Ma«ry sits at right end 
 of seat.) So your father's a preacher, is he? Well,^ the 
 trustees of the church don't have their say about sister 
 do they? 
 
 NED. 
 
 No; but they have the say about the money, an' if 
 Mr. Hardy doesn't pay his 'scription — 
 
 MARY. 
 (Reaches and taps Ned's lips lightly with fore- 
 
32 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 finger.) Oh, Ned! I'm afra-id that's family affairs an' 
 it isn't polite to speak about them. 
 
 NED. 
 
 Well, we can tell our secret anyway, 'cause Mr. 
 Tramp might know how much hospitals an' operations 
 an' such things cost, an' — 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 What! You've got another secret! Well, you're 
 the greatest youngsters for secrets I ever knew — a 
 half hour ago it was Christmas secrets, and now what 
 is it? — Fourth of July? 
 
 NED. 
 
 No; we've decided to use our strawberry money for 
 sister Katherine so that she can go to a hospital and 
 get well right away. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 But what will you do then for Christmas money? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Oh, we don't care about that! Spines are a lot more 
 'portant tha<n Christmas presents, an' Katherine's spine 
 is the 'portantest spine of all us childrens, 'cause, don't 
 you remember, Ned — one day when Papa and Mamma 
 were gone calling, and' Jack broke his arm, an' you an' 
 Betty an' I ran a<way so we couldn't hear him crying 
 when the doctor set it, an' Katherine staid an' comf'ted 
 him and helped the doctor, an' afterward the doctor 
 told papa that Katherine's got the best backbone in 
 the whole lot. Now wasn't it too bad, Mr. Tramp, th&t 
 it was the best backbone that had to be hurt? 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 33 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Well, I think there are some pretty good specimens 
 of backbone left in the family still, — but, by the way, 
 who are the trustees of your father's church? 
 
 NED. 
 Mr. Stone's one, an' Mr. Pratt's one, an' — 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 I guess they'll do. 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Oh, say, Mr. Tramp, if — if you're goin to join the 
 church, you don't wa<nt to see the trustees — you want 
 to see the deacons. Mr. Hilton would be the best one 
 — he's so kind and 'greeable, an' he won't care even if 
 you are a kind of a tramp as long as you want to do 
 better. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 (Suppressing a smile.) Thanks, little girl, I'll re- 
 member what you've said when I want to join the 
 church. In the meantime, I'm going to write some- 
 thing down on this little piece of pa-per, (Takes check- 
 book from pocket) for you to hand to your father, and 
 you tell him that a friend of mine out in New York 
 once had a little sister who hurt her spine, and this 
 prescription that I'm writing went a long way toward 
 helping her get well, and I would like to have him try 
 it for your sister Katherine. 
 
 NED. 
 
 (Taking proffered paper.) Oh, tha-nk you, o' course 
 we'll try it. 
 
34 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 MARY. 
 
 And please thank your friend in New York for us 
 too. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Indeed I will. (Rising.) But I nearly forgot what 
 I came back for — I want to buy two of your boxes of 
 berries. I hope to catch some trout and if I do I'm 
 going to have a little campfire dinner and the berries 
 would help out a lot. 
 
 NED. 
 
 (Climbing down and selecting two boxes of berries.) 
 Are you sure you wa-nt two quarts? 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Yes; I just might have company drop in on me, you 
 see, and I'd want to have plenty. How much are they? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 They were eleven cents yesterday, but up at the 
 hotel they said they might be only ten cents by today. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 (Hands Ned 50 cents.) This is the smallest change 
 I have with me. 
 
 NED. 
 (Holding out money.) But this is a lot too much. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Never mind. Buy something for sister Katherine 
 with the rest. I'll have to hurry along now. (Exit Mr. 
 T.) 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 3S 
 
 MARY. 
 
 (Both children examine money.) Fifty cents! Why 
 Ned, do you 'spose we ought to take it from a poor 
 man who is just a tramp? 
 
 NED. 
 
 (Putting money into pocket.) He said he had an- 
 other job waiting for him next week, you know. I 
 guess it'll be all right. 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Here comes Miss Anna — let's ask her about it. 
 
 (Enter Miss Anna, a young lady from — (town where 
 play is being given) — who is a guest at one of the 
 summer cottages. She is dressed in outing costume, 
 and carries a thermos case over her shoulder and a 
 boog and pillow under her arm. Children run toward 
 her.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Miss Anna, will you please help us count up how 
 much we'll have when we've sold these berries? There 
 are twelve quarts — how much will that be at 11 cents a 
 quart? 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 (Miss Anna sits at right end of seat, arm around 
 Mary, who sits beside her.) When I went to school 11 
 cents times 12 cents was $1.32, and with what you had 
 last week — $6.77 was it? (Children nod.) Let me see, 
 why you'll have more than $8.00. What a grand Christ- 
 mas you'll have this year! 
 
 NED. 
 
 (Stepping out and facing Miss Anna.) But we're 
 not going to save this money for Christmas now. 
 
36 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 Why not? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 (Miss Anna sits at right end of seat, arm still 
 around Mary, who sits beside her.) Oh, Miss Anna, I 
 forgot you didn't know — sister Katherine's got to go 
 away to a hospital and we're going to use our straw- 
 berry money to help pay her 'spenses. 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 Why, is it as bad as that? When is she going? 
 
 NED. 
 
 Mr. Tramp said — Oh, you don't know about Mr. 
 Tramp, do you? 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 Mr. Tramp! Whoever is he? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Why he's the nicest ma<n you ever saw. He came 
 by here a little while ago, an' he wanted to buy some 
 berries, 'cause he was going down to the trout stream 
 an' he said he wanted to have a camp-fire supper, and' — 
 
 NED. 
 
 (Interrupting and displaying money.) An' he 
 bought two boxes 'cause he sa-id he might have com- 
 p'ny drop in on him for supper — an' what do you 
 'spose! — he paid us fifty cents for just two quarts of 
 berries, so he couldn't be a very poor tramp. 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 But what did that have to do with Sister Katherine's 
 going to the hospital? 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 37 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Well, Mr. Tramp said he was going to New York 
 next week to work again, a<nd perhaps he could help 
 take Katherine. 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 (Interest awakened.) He's going back to New 
 York! What's he going to do there? 
 
 NED. 
 
 Well, you see, he used to work in a menagerie on 
 Wall street, but now — 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 (Interrupting.) Work in a menagerie on Wall 
 street? Oh, yes; I see (smiles). 
 
 MARY. 
 
 But he isn't going to work there any more 'cause 
 he didn't want to wa-ter the stock. 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 (Increased interest.) What! — is he really going to 
 leave the exchange — I mean the menagerie? 
 
 NED. 
 
 Yes, he said watering the cows in the city was dirty 
 work — 'spose they don't have nice clean creeks like 
 our's near the city. 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 (Laughing.) Well, I'm glad if he's found more 
 pleasant work — when did you say he was going back? 
 
38 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 NED. 
 
 Next week, and — oh, yes, see here. He gave us this 
 prescription to give to papa for medicine for Kathe- 
 rine's spine. He said he had a friend in New York 
 whose little sister hurt her spine, and this medicine 
 helped her to get well. (Shows Miss Anna Mr. Tramp's 
 check.) 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 (Reads from check.) "$500"! "John Goodwin!" 
 (Aside.) Isn't that just like Jack! 
 
 NED. 
 
 $500.00! It wouldn't cost as much a<s that, would 
 it? Just one bottle? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Dear me! We'd never get that much money all 
 summer long. 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 Oh, it wouldn't cost your father nearly as much as 
 that! Be careful not to lose that paper. It's a very 
 valuable prescription. You'd better run right home 
 now a-nd give it to your father and tell your mother 
 that I'll come in this evening to help plan for Kather- 
 ine to go to the hospital. 
 
 MARY. 
 Oh, will you. Miss Anna? I'm so glad. 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 Run along now and don't lose that prescription.. 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARg l9 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 We'll be careful of it. 
 (Exit children, right.) 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 I wonder how pimento sandwiches and coffee would 
 go with brook trout and strawberries? 
 (Exit, right.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
THE THIRD ACT 
 
 (Time: The day before Christmas.) 
 
 (Scene: The sitting-room in the Frisbie home. En- 
 trance is on the left near back of sta-ge as in other 
 scenes. A door oh the right near center leads into bed- 
 room. At center back is a medium size oblong table, 
 placed with end toward wall, which Mr. Frisbie is us- 
 ing for a desk. He sits at the right of table writing, 
 wearing a house coat which has seen better days. Mrs. 
 Frisbie, dressed in da-rk skirt, white shirtwaist and 
 light colored house apron, sits at small table at left 
 side of room a little toward front of stage, mending 
 stockings. Across right back corner is a small cabi- 
 net organ, at which Mary sits playing and singing 
 "Soft and Low". Mrs. Frisbie is also singing softly a<s 
 curtain rises.) 
 
 MARY. 
 (Wears a navy blue dress, red tie and hair ribbon.) 
 
 While my little one 
 While my pretty one 
 Sleeps." 
 Oh, dear! I do wish we had a piano, this organ is 
 so hard to pump! 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 It would be fine if we had one, wouldn't it? But 
 I think. Dearie, that our home songs sound very sweet 
 with the organ, and you know we couldn't ha>ve even 
 that if Deacon Hilton hadn't given it to us, so let us 
 be happy with what we have. 
 
 BETTY. 
 (Enters from bed-room. Wears simple winter play 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 41 
 
 dress and bright hair bow. Holds up warning finger 
 and speaks softly.) 
 
 Hush, everybody, baby brother is a<sleep in the 
 doll bed. 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 (Rising.) In the doll bed! The little cunning! 
 Mother'll go see if he's comfortable. (Peeps into bed- 
 room.) Come quick, Edward, did you ever see any- 
 thing so adorable? (Both stand looking into bed-room 
 for a few seconds.) See, girlies, the stockings are 
 mended in time to hang up for Santa Claus! (Holds 
 up bundle of stockings which she threw over her arm 
 as she stepped across the room.) 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 (Running to window.) Oh, goodie! It's snowing 
 so Santa's reindeer can get here, can't they papa? 
 (Climbs on ba-ck of chair in which Mr. Frisbie has re- 
 seated himself.) 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 (Looking up from work.) It does begin to look 
 more hopeful outside. 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 (Stepping out from bed-room.) Don't you girlies 
 want to go out and play awhile in the snow? 
 
 MARY AND BETTY. 
 
 Yes, yes. (Mary brings her wraps and Betty's. Mr. 
 Frisbie helps Betty with her coat and rubbers; pulls 
 down her cap and kisses her.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Don't you wish Katherine could be home for Christ- 
 mas, papa! 
 
42 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 That would be fine, wouldn't it? But you know 
 sister Katherine is such a bra've little girl that she is 
 willing to stay at the hospital until she is perfectly 
 well and we must be as brave as she is. The afternoon 
 train will be in soon and the boys have gone for the 
 mail. Perhaps we'll have a letter from Katherine. 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Maybe we'll a'll get letters from her 'cause tomor- 
 row's Christmas. 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 (Dancing up and down.) Tomorrow's Christmas 
 and p'rhps Santa Claus'U bring me a baby doll! 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 Now hurry along out of doors so baby brother can 
 have a good sleep. Then he'll be good natured tomor- 
 row and let you have time to platy with a baby doll if 
 one should happen to come. 
 
 MARY. 
 
 (As children go out.) If you get a baby doll, I'll 
 play Paul is my doll and — (Exit). 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 (Coming in from bed-room carying small baby doll.) 
 See, Edward, the head did fit the body I made pretty 
 well, didn't it? And I finished dressing it but I had to 
 sew until two o'clock this morning. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 (Rising and taking doll in his hands.) It looks fine, 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 43 
 
 little mother! Let's see — what have we for Mary's 
 stocking and the boy's? 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Have you forgotten? Mary is ten years old to- 
 morrow so she is to have the locket my mother gave 
 me the day I was ten. (Goes to bed-room and gets 
 little velvet case and shows locket enclosed.) Isn't it 
 a dear, I used to be so proud of it when I was a little 
 girl! 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 There's your picture in it, too. It looks just like 
 the little girl I kissed one day at recess when we were 
 playing — 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Shame on you! 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 Oh, I notice you dropped the handkerchief behind 
 me again next day! 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Well, May Watson dared me to — but I haven't 
 shown you what I have for the boys' stockings and 
 I'll have to hurry or they'll be coming. (Brings out 
 mechanical toys for both boys.) I suppose I was ex- 
 travagant — Bert's cost seventy-five cents and Ned's a 
 dollar, but I used some of the money Mrs. Hilton paid 
 me for tutoring Charles in his Latin. You know, Ed- 
 ward, how brave the boys were about giving up their 
 Christmas money for Katherine's hospital expenses, 
 and that, too, after they had studied that toy catalog 
 for months. I found pictures of these very toys in the 
 catalog marked with the boys' names, and I just could- 
 n't resist sending for them. 
 
44 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 (Takes toys out of boxes and tries them out on the 
 floor.) I want to play with them myself. I'm mighty 
 glad you got them. (Looks at watch.) Won't the 
 kiddies be surprised to see Katherine? 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 And Oh, Edward! To think tha-t Katherine has 
 entirely recovered! It does seem as if we ought to be 
 at the depot to meet her, doesn't it? But it was her 
 own plan to have Captain Trotter bring her home to 
 surprise the children. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 Let's see; how's it going to be? First Miss Anna 
 and Mr. Tramp are to come in, and after the children 
 get over that surprise Katherine and Captain Trotter 
 a-re to arrive — is that the plan? 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Yes, that's it. It seems as if I couldn't wait so long 
 to see our little girl, but you know, Edward, how she 
 always has loved to surprise the other children, and 
 perhaps they would enjoy it better this way. There's 
 the train whistle now. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 That's the mail train on the other road. Katherine's 
 train is not due for a half hour, 
 
 (Knock a«t door. Mrs. Frisbie opens, enter Sophie 
 Hopkins, wearing prim calling costume.) 
 
 MR. AND MRS. FRISBIE. 
 Good afternoon. Miss Hopkins. 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 45 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 Good afternoon. (Mrs. Frisbie offers chair.) No, 
 thanks, I'll not set down. I just dropped in to bring an 
 offering that I decided after many prayers, to lay on 
 the altar of the Lord's cause, or, in other words, to 
 give it for the use of the children of the Lord's ser- 
 vants. (Hands large cotton umbrella to Mr. Frisbie.) 
 It's a>n umbrella that I've been real choice of a right 
 long spell. My Aunt Marrier carried it to meetin' 
 every Sunday as long as she was able to walk there, so 
 it's some faded, but I've alius kep' it up in my attic an' 
 took care of it. But Aunt Marrier died a spell ago, and 
 seein' as how she didn't leave me nothin in her will, 
 I don't see a-s I have any call to be beholdin' to her 
 mem'ry, so I made up my mind to get rid of all the 
 rubbish I've been storin' since she seemed like to die 
 fifteen years ago — not that this umbrella's rubbish — 
 they ain't a hole in it, and it orter keep some of the 
 freckles off'n your children next summer. Land knows 
 they got freckles enough last summer playin' out bare- 
 headed. I s'pose 'twa'n't none of my business, but I 
 didn't think they 'peared real respectable fur minister's 
 folks' younguns, freckled so. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 I'm sure this is very thoughtful of you — we were 
 just trying to plan some Christma<s enjoyment for the 
 children. 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 It is not too early to wish you a Merry Christmas, 
 I hope. Miss Hopkins? 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 No, I s'pose not. 
 
 (Knock a<t door. Enter Aunt Martha Trotter, nee 
 Brown.) 
 
46 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Merry Christmas, everybody! Why how-dy-do, 
 Sophie, you ain't agoin' jest 'cause I came in, be ye? 
 
 SOPHIE. 
 
 No, but I must take this catnip home to Tabby, 
 'Tain't very good fur her, bein' dried catnip, but it's 
 the best they had into Murray's Drug Store. Good 
 a'fternoon. (Exit.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 I'm afraid Sophie's cat w^on't get as much atten- 
 tion after a spell. I hear the Deacon don't take kindly 
 to cats. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 What Deacon? What do you mean, Martha? 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Why ain't you heard? Sophie and Deacon Slocum's 
 agoin' to get married. 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Are you sure, Martha? I can't imagine either the 
 Deacon or Miss Hopkins being in love. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Well I guess they ain't much love lost by either 
 one, but the Deacon's bought the property a-jinin' on- 
 to Sophie's an' I heard they thought it 'ud reduce the 
 taxes on both pieces if they was throwed together. 
 Funny how^ some folks looks at such things, — now the 
 Captain and I — Oh, by the way, here's a little bakin' I 
 brought along for your Christmas dinner. (Opens bas- 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 47 
 
 ket which she had set down as she came in.) I fetched 
 the turkey right along in the drippin' pan, 'cause I 
 thought like you'd want to finish roastin' him tomor- 
 row. They're all a-comin' ain't they — Mr. Tramp and 
 Miss Anna a<s well as our blessed little Katherine? 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Yes, they'll be here now in about half an hour. But, 
 really Martha, you shouldn't have brought such an 
 abundant gift! Why, here's our whole dinner and 
 enough cookies and doughnuts to last over the holi- 
 days. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Oh, I didn't do it all alone. The Captain cut out all 
 the cookies, and he made the gingerbread men, too. 
 He's a great hand for the little folks, you know. He's 
 goin' to surprise them sure tonight, when he brings 
 Katherine. I guess I won't tell all his plans; it'll be 
 more fun fur us old folks to get a little surprised,. too. 
 
 (Enter Ned and Jack with the mail.) 
 
 NED. 
 
 (Handing mail to Mrs. Frisbie.) Two letters, a-nd 
 both from — (naming town where play is being given) — 
 one from — (naming some local freight office) — and the 
 other from Mrs. — (naming chairman of Home Mis- 
 sionary Committee of the church giving the play.) 
 
 (To illustrate, if the play were being given in De- 
 troit under the auspices of some Congregational 
 Church, and the chairman of the Home Missona«ry 
 Committee were a Mrs. William Brown, he might say, 
 "Two letters, and both from Detroit! One from the 
 Pere Marquette Freight Office, and one from Mrs. 
 William Brown.") 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 They must both be about the missionary barrel! I 
 
48 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 do wish it might have come in time for the children's 
 Christmas! We hoped — 
 
 JACK. 
 
 (Interrupting.) Mamma, Oh, please, just a< minute, 
 'cause it's getting dark so fast! Can't, Ned and I get 
 out our sleds and go coasting for awhile?. 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Certainly, but don't go out of call because Sister 
 Katherine will be here soon, you know. 
 
 (Boys get sleds from right back corner of living- 
 room, where they have been standing a-gainst wall, un- 
 der a hat rack on which are hung children's out-of- 
 doors garments, etc.) 
 
 NED. 
 
 (As both rush toward door at left back.) We'll 
 each go down only twice. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 (Handing the boys cookies from her basket.) Here, 
 boys, you take some cookies along to stay your 
 stomachs! 
 
 JACK. 
 
 You bet we will! (Exit both boys, munching cook- 
 ies.) 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 (To Mr. Frisbie, who is rea<ding letter.) If that's 
 about a missionary box a-comin', would you folks 
 mind a-callin' me in to see you open it? I've alius had 
 an idee that missionary boxes wa'n't all they was 
 cracked up to be — mostly second hand clothes an' 
 sech, ain't they? 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 49 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Oh, generally they are a great help, and this one 
 from — (Name of local church) — I am sure is going to 
 be fine, for Mrs. — (Name of chairman of Home Mis- 
 sionary Committees) — wrote and a<sked us just what 
 we most needed, and said they — 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 (Interrupting.) Just listen to this from the freight 
 office at — (naming town where play is being given.) 
 
 (Reads from letter.) "This is to say that a box and 
 a barrel were shipped to your address December 15th." 
 Why, they must have been at the depot several days! 
 
 (Enter Ma-ry and Betty.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Papa, Mr. Higgins is stopping here with his dray, 
 an' he's putting off a barrel an' a box for us. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 Yes, the letter says — 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 (Dancing about in glee.) The Missionary Box! The 
 missionary box! 
 
 MARY. 
 
 And a barrel too! Goody, goody, they've come! 
 (Mr. F. goes out and re-enters with drayman carry- 
 ing in freight). 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 I'm so gla<d they did come in time for Christmas! 
 
50 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Well, I'm mighty glad to see one of them Mission- 
 ary barrels with my very own living eyes! 
 
 BETTY. 
 I hope they won't break anything. 
 
 MARY. 
 They couldn't break clothes, could they? 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 They might be a doll or somp'n that they could 
 break. 
 
 MARY. 
 But let's not 'spect it, or we might be 'spointed. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 (To drayman.) When did these come? I had a 
 letter this evening saying they were shipped over a 
 week ago. 
 
 DRAYMAN. 
 
 Seems to me now they did get her along back the 
 fust o' the week, but they want nothin' to c'lect on 'em 
 so it kinder slipped my mind. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 Wha«t do I owe you for delivering them now? 
 
 DRAYMAN. 
 Wall, I calc'late to charge twenty-five cents fur 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 51 
 
 each piece as a gineral thing, but the Parson's folks 
 orter have it a little cheaper, I 'spose, so — well — we'll 
 call it forty-five cents fur both this time. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 That's very kind of you (draws out all the contents 
 of his pocket). Let's see! Here a<re thirty-six cents, 
 and we'll look for the rest. 
 
 MARY. 
 
 There's a nickel on top of the kitchen clock. Papa — 
 I saw it there this morning when I was dusting (runs 
 to kitchen and returns with money, which she gives 
 to her father.) 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 I lost a penny down the back of this chair last 
 winter. (She searches for penny.) 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 Here's all we seem to find — forty-two cents. (Hands 
 it to drayman.) 
 
 DRAYMAN. 
 
 Wall, that'll do fur now, Pa-rson — 'taint as if I 
 couldn't see you any day. Some time or 'nuther you 
 can hand me the other three cents when so be it's 
 handy. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Bill Higgins, ain't you ashamed o' yourself. Here, 
 take this fifty cents (takes purse out of petticoat pock- 
 et) an' don't you ever let me here you a-bragging how 
 you've ever done anything for ministers' folks. Here 
 you've kept 'em waitin' a whole week most for their 
 
52 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 freight, an' then thinkin' to squa<re it with chargin' 5 
 cents less. I'm 'shamed to be a talkin' to you — g'long 
 and see if they ain't some more Xmas boxes you're 
 keepin' away from folks by your 'tarnal laziness. 
 
 BILL H. 
 
 I got to go home to supper now an[ I don't guess 
 I'll work no more this afternoon, seein' tomorrow's 
 Christmas. Much 'bleeged, Marthy. (Exit drayman.) 
 (Enter Ned a<nd Jack.) 
 
 BOTH. 
 The Missionary box! The missionary box! 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 Shall we eat supper before we see what's in this 
 barrel and box? 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 Oh, no, no! (Boys bring in axe and hammer and 
 Mr. Frisbie pries off head of barrel.) 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 Be careful, Edward, don't break the barrel — it will 
 come in handy the next time we move. 
 
 (First from barrel comes bundles of magazines.) 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 If these could have come one at a time last year, 
 they would have helped me to keep up with outside 
 affairs. 
 
 (Next come two vests tied together.) 
 
THl?OUGH THE SWEET BRIARS S3 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 They are of different sizes, and I'm afraid one is too 
 large and the other too small. Try on the smaller one, 
 Edward, your Sunday vest is so shajbby. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 (Tries on vest which proves too small.) It must 
 have belonged to a school boy. Let's try the other 
 one. (Changes.) No, I'm afraid this won't do. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Perhaps it would if you'd move the buckle over, 
 Mis' Frisbie. (Various article follow from the barrel, 
 such as summer hats, old-fashioned cloak, rolls of 
 patch-work pieces, old shirts, children's clothes suited 
 to no one in the family, girl's dresses size for Frisbie 
 boys, boy's Buster Brown suit — not right size for any- 
 one, infant's apparel, too small for Frisbie baby, out of 
 date dress-suit coat without trousers, a very pretty sum- 
 mer dress, too small for Mrs. Frisbie. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Suds an' garters! If this isn't the beatin'est fraud I 
 ever see! 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 I believe there's been some mistake made. Didn't 
 you say, Edward, that there wa<s a letter from Mrs. — 
 (Name chairman Home Missionary Committee). May- 
 be that will explain things. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 So there was (goes to desk.) Here it is. (Reads.) 
 Mr. and Mrs. Frisbie, 
 
 Our Dear Friends. 
 Through some misunderstanding, the baggage man 
 
54 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 who wa<s sent to our church to nail up and take to the 
 freight depot the barrel of clothing and other gifts 
 which our society had packed for your family, has sent 
 the wrong barrel. There was another barrel in the 
 same room into which one of our church circles was 
 collecting articles for a rummage sale, and tha<t was the 
 one sent to you. We have just learned of the blunder 
 and are shipping today the right barrel, which we trust 
 contains much more acceptable things. We are so sorry 
 this mistake was ma-de and I am afraid that it is too late 
 now for the right barrel to reach you before Christ- 
 mas, which is indeed too bad, especially as it contains 
 some personal Christmas gifts for all. Our hope now 
 is that they may serve to brighten the beginning of a 
 glad New Year for you a-ll. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 Mrs. — (Name Chairman of Home 
 
 Missionary Committee.) 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 
 ^ I just felt there must be some mistake about these 
 things having been meant for us, 
 
 JACK. 
 We haven't opened the box yet. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 That's so! I'd forgotten there was a box. (Picks 
 up hammer then notices label on box.) Aha I What's 
 this! "Not to be opened till Christma-s", and signed 
 "Santa Claus!" 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 A Christmas box from Santa Claus! 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 A box from Santa Claus! Goody! 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 55 
 
 NED. 
 Can't we open it tonight? 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 It seems to me you take a good deal of interest, 
 Ned, for one who doesn't believe in Santa Claus! 
 (All laugh.) 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 I'll just loosen up the cover a little, since this is 
 Christmas eve. (Begins to pry cover loose from 
 box. Knocks heard at door.) (Enters Miss Anna and 
 Mr. Tramp. Cordial greetings from all.) 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Why, we didn't know you knew our Mr. Tramp 
 Miss Anna! 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Oh, you Frisbie youngsters needn't think your's is 
 the only secret society! We've been planning a long 
 time to give you this little Christmas surprise. 
 
 MR. FRISBIE. 
 
 Speaking of surprises, this box is an evidence to me 
 that there is a pretty active secret society working 
 somewhere, of which Mrs. Frisbie and I have been kept 
 in ignora<nce. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Well, you see, old Santa has to have his little joke 
 once in a while to keep him young. 
 
 MRS. FRISBIE. 
 We've just been enjoying a joke, which partly 
 
56 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 accounts for the confusion of this room— (Naming lo- 
 cal church) was going to send us a Missionary barrel, 
 and by mistake of the baggage ma<n they've sent a rum- 
 mage sale barrel instead. 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 A rummage sale barrel! Well, I though this hat 
 had a familiar look! — (naming some well-known mem- 
 ber of the church missionary society, preferably some- 
 one who has been married two or three years — some- 
 one who is probably at present in the audience) used 
 to wear this when she was — (calling her by her maiden 
 name) and this dress! Why, — (naming someone well 
 known in the church about whom there are rumors of 
 an approa-ching wedding) — had this dress new last 
 summer! It looks as if someone beside myself is plan- 
 ning on having all new clothes for next summer. 
 
 TRAMP. 
 Sooner than next summer. Dear! 
 
 MARY. • 
 
 Why, Miss Anna, I think your clothes are just 
 beautiful as they are! 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 Well, you see, Dearey, I — we — 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 You don't know just how to tell about it, do you! 
 Let me try! (Stands with hands in trouser pockets, 
 looking at children who line up in front of him.) Now 
 see here. Kiddies, Miss Anna-*s going to give a great 
 big party down home in — (naming local church) in a 
 few weeks, and she's asked me — 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 57 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 
 I did not ask you! 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 No of course she didn't ask me, but I've invited 
 her, — Oh, bother, someone to take my job quick, — here, 
 Aunt Martha, you explain to them, can't you? 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Sure I can. You children all know about wedding 
 parties, don't you? 
 
 NED. 
 
 You bet we do! You and Ca^ptain Trotter had a 
 dandy! 
 
 JACK. 
 
 It was the only time in my life I ever had all the 
 ice cream I could eat. 
 
 AUNT MARTHA. 
 
 Well, Mr. Tramp and Miss Anna are going to have 
 a wedding party in — (naming town where play is being 
 given). 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Oh, goody! Can we all come to it? 
 
 TRAMP. 
 
 Sure, every one of you! 
 
 BETTY, 
 
 Are you and Miss Anna going to get married to- 
 gether? 
 
58 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 MISS ANNA. 
 Yes, Dearie, pretty soon after Christmas. 
 
 JACK. 
 
 Well, if we've got to wait till after Christmas for 
 that party couldn't we open the Christmas box the 
 night before Christmas? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 But, you know, Jack, Santa Claus wrote on this 
 tag — (reading from label on box). "Not to be opened 
 till Christmas", a-nd of course we wouldn't — (knock at 
 door, Mrs. Frisbie opens and Santa Claus enters.) 
 
 (Cries of Santa Claus! Santa Claus!) 
 
 SANTA. 
 
 Merry Christmas, everybody, you see I got here all 
 right, but my pack was too big this time to get it down 
 the chimney. Do you care if I bring it in through the 
 door? 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 Oh, no, bring it in! Bring it in! 
 
 SANTA. 
 
 Not till you kiddies have guessed what's in it for 
 you. It's something you want a<wful bad. Now what 
 do you want, Jack! 
 
 JACK. 
 
 A great big drum. 
 
 SANTA. 
 
 Not so noisy as that — your turn, Ned! 
 
THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 59 
 
 NED. 
 A bushel of candy. 
 
 SANTA. 
 
 It's pretty sweet, but that's not quite right. Betty, 
 what did you want Santa to bring you? 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 A cunning baby doll that ca-n go to sleep and can 
 say "ma«mma!" 
 
 SANTA. 
 
 Most had me that time, hot, hotter — now, Mary, 
 what Christmas present do you want most of all? 
 
 MARY. 
 
 Oh, I'd like a lot of things, but I wouldn't ask for 
 any other present if only Sister Katherine could be 
 home with us for Christmas. 
 
 SANTA. 
 
 Mary gets her wish, so now I'll bring in my pack. 
 (Steps outside and re-enters, carrying a huge bundle 
 rolled in a< buffalo robe. He opens the bundle and out 
 jumps Katherine.) 
 
 KATHERINE. 
 
 Merry Christmas everybody! (Hugging and kiss- 
 ing on the part of everyone — cries of "Katherine, sister 
 Katherine's here!" "Oh, joy!" etc. When the excite- 
 ment subsides a little, Santa crosses the room and em- 
 braces Aunt Martha. 
 
 BETTY. 
 
 Oh, see! Santa Claus is hugging Aunt Martha! 
 
60 THROUGH THE SWEET BRIARS 
 
 SANTA. 
 
 (Removing Sa'nta Claus disguise, and disclosing 
 himself as Captain Trotter.) "Shiver my timbers, 
 who's got a better right — I'd like to know! (Cries from 
 the children, dancing and prancing around.) Oh, it's 
 Captain Trotter. It's Captain Trotter! 
 
 MARY. 
 Why, just see, people, Katherine can walk! 
 
 KATHERINE. 
 
 Oh, yes; I'm just as well and strong as I ever was. 
 (March across room. Everyone exclaims delightedly.) 
 
 NED. 
 
 Let's have a parade and Katherine and I will lead, 
 and you all be in it! 
 
 MARY. 
 
 I'll play a ma<rch. 
 
 CAPT. TROTTER. 
 
 Hold fast there. I had right good luck once turn- 
 ing a or'nery every-day party into a weddin' party. 
 What's the matter o' turning this parade into a wedding 
 march, and lettin' Mr. Tramp tow along behind with 
 Miss Anna-? (Mary starts a wedding march. All fall 
 in line and march around room twice. Enter Sophie 
 Hopkins on Deacon Slocum's arm, she carrying a huge 
 bouquet and he wearing a buttonhole bouquet. They 
 join the procession. All march again around stage.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
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