. 
 
 PS 3507 
 .R9 S5 
 1916 
 Copy 1 
 
 IDNEY DRUM 
 
 SIX MILES 
 ROM A LEMON 
 
 FARCE IN THREE ACTS 
 
 Walter H. Baker 6 Co.. Boston 
 
& W, lmero'6 Paps 
 
 $rice, 50 <ffcnt£ <Cad> 
 
 THE AMAZONS * ,arce ln Th*" 66 Acts. Seven males, fire females. 
 Aaiiii« w Costumes, modern ; scenery, not difficult. Plays 
 a full evening. 
 
 THE CABINET MINISTER ££'S£EUS£EE 
 
 scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
 DANDY DICE Farce m Three Acts. Seven males, four females. 
 ^^ Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays 
 two hours and a hall 
 
 THE fiAY LORD OUEX Comed y m Four Acts. Four males, ten 
 ywajA j emaleg> Costumes, modern ; scenery, 
 two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. 
 
 HIS HOUSE IN ORDER Comedy in Four Acts. Nine males, four 
 ilvli 1* Hi Vl\ L fenoaieg. Costumes, modern ; scenery, 
 three interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
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Six Miles From a Lemon 
 
Six Miles From a Lemon 
 
 A Farce in Three Acts 
 
 By 
 SIDNEY DRUM 
 
 NOTE 
 
 The acting rights of this play are strictly reserved. 
 Performance may be given by amateurs on payment to the 
 author of a royalty of ten dollars ($10.00) for each per- 
 formance. Correspondence on this subject should be ad- 
 dressed to the author in care of the publishers. The 
 professional stage rights are also strictly reserved, and 
 performance by professional actors, given in advertised 
 places of amusement and for profit, are forbidden. Per- 
 sons who may wish to produce this play publicly and pro- 
 fessionally should apply to the author, as above. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
 1916 
 

 Six Miles From a Lemon 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Curtis Woodward, Seth Kimander, 
 
 Peter Woodward, Mrs. Curtis Woodward, 
 
 Lord Bunn, Ruth Woodward, 
 
 O. B. Jackson, Fredericka Pomeroy, 
 
 Lucius Peck, Keziah Kimander. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. — The Woodward Homestead, Tuesday morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Act II.— Lucius Peck's Grocery-store, Wednesday 
 morning. 
 
 Act III.— The Eagle Tavern, Wednesday afternoon. 
 
 Copyright, 191 6, by Sidney Drum 
 
 Professional stage and moving picture rights reserved. 
 
 ©GI.D 44594 " ' 
 AUG !0!9!8 
 
PLEASE NOTICE 
 
 The professional stage-rights in this play are strictly re- 
 served by the author, to whom applications for its use should 
 be addressed. Amateurs may obtain permission to produce 
 it privately on payment to him of a fee of ten dollars ($10.00) for 
 each performance, in advance. Correspondence on this subject 
 may be addressed to the author in care of the publishers. 
 
 Attention is called to the penalties provided by law for 
 any infringements of his rights, as follows : 
 
 " Sec. 4966 : — Any person publicly performing or representing any 
 dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, 
 without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composi- 
 tion, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages therefor, such 
 damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred 
 dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as 
 to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and rep- 
 resentation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty 
 of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction be imprisoned for a period not 
 exceeding one year." — U. S. Revised Statutes, Title bo, Chap. 3. 
 
Six Miles from a Lemon 
 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE. — The living-room at the Woodward 
 homestead. Typical New England furnish- 
 ings. Dresser with dishes at rear. Cook- 
 stove at L., with wood-box behind it. Table 
 at ~R., set ready for meal. Queer-looking 
 picture-frames on wall. It is a corner 
 roo?n, and there is an outside door at rear, 
 in the middle, and one at left, with win- 
 dow alongside of each. A door on the 
 right leads to the rest of the house. Door 
 at right, rear, leads to pantry. 
 
 Miss Kimander discovered as the curtain 
 rises, seated in high-backed chair at centre, 
 facing audience. She is asleep, with her 
 bonnet on, band-boxes at her feet, parcels in 
 her hands, large picture-frame on her 
 knees, with her chin resting on the top of 
 it. Carpet-bag on floor near rear door. As 
 
 7 
 
8 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 curtain rises she lets go of a parcel, and 
 snores loudly. Enter Mrs. Woodward at 
 rear door. Curtis Woodward appears 
 in doorway following her. Mrs. Wood- 
 ward, with her hack toward the audience, 
 watches Curtis as she draws off her 
 gloves. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Outside.] You — you — you villain ! Come 
 back here and carry in my trunk. I'll hold 
 
 your team Say ! Are you coming back ? 
 
 [Throws his hands in the air with each epithet.] 
 Kascal! Pirate! Corsair! [To Mrs. Wood- 
 ward.] This is a nice beginning ! Train six 
 hours late bucking through snow-drifts, and 
 highway robbery on top of that ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Curtis, Curtis ! Don't make such an uproar ! 
 You'll rouse the village. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Why, Dolly, he's galloped off with a five- 
 dollar bill ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Oh, everybody knows everybody else in these 
 little places. You can find him to-morrow. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON g 
 
 [Enter Curtis.] Why, Curtis ! It may even 
 be one of the boys you went to school with ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Does sort of favor a chap I once licked. But 
 he didn't appear to know me. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Thirty years would change you both. The 
 Staceyville folks could hardly be expected to 
 recognize you for the boy who left here thirty 
 years ago in overalls. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Pointing outdoors.] Dolly, did I look like 
 that when you first knew me ? 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 I cannot tell a lie — [pauswig'] and I will not 
 tell the truth [laughs]. So this is the house 
 you were born in, Curtis ? I almost know it 
 from your description. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Hasn't changed a line. On this happy occa- 
 sion 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 On this happy occasion our trunk will be 
 snowed under if you let it lie out there. 
 
IO SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 CUETIS. 
 Humph! That vagabond was too con- 
 foundedly busy making off with my five dol- 
 lars. [Exit Curtis at rear door. Mrs. Wood- 
 ward goes about looking at pictures, etc. She 
 suddenly discovers Miss Kimander. Reenter 
 Curtis, dragging trunk and brushing snow off 
 it. Mrs. ¥ooD¥AEDj?omfe to Miss Kiman- 
 der. Curtis goes in front of Miss Kiman- 
 der.] Huh ! [Miss Kimajnder does not stir. 
 Curtis drags tnonk in front of her and lets the 
 end fall with a bang. Curtis, louder. .] Huh ! 
 [Miss KiMAKDER snores and releases 
 her hold on a parcel, which falls. 
 Mrs. Woodward and Curtis stand 
 regarding her. Curtis goes out rear 
 door and returns with several valises, 
 which he drops one at a time in front 
 of Miss Kim and er, saying " Huh ! " 
 each time more loudly. Curtis takes 
 Miss Kimander by the shoulder and 
 shakes her. Miss Kimander awakes 
 with a scream, and tries to escape by 
 rear door, but Mrs. Woodward is 
 standing between her and the door. 
 
 Miss Ejmander. 
 Oh, Burglar! Good, kind Burglar! An' 
 Mis' Burglar ! Don't harm a poor lone female ! 
 [Miss Kimander flops down on her 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 1 
 
 knees and lifts her hands imploringly, 
 lifting at the same time the remaining 
 packages which she carries by the 
 strings. 
 
 Curtis. 
 My dear Madam 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Putting her fingers in her ears and strug- 
 gling to her feet.] Oh, don't speak to me ! 
 How dare you ! Let me go ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Come, come ! We are not burglars. We 
 have rented this house for a week. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Still holding her jmgers in her ears.] Go 
 away, you bold, bad fellow ! And you too, 
 brazen-faced hussy ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Louder.'] We are not burglars ! We have 
 rented this house for a week. [Miss Kimaist- 
 der screams shrilly.] Come here, Dolly. 
 [Mrs. Woodward moves to Curtis's side.] 
 Now, together ! 
 
12 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Curtis and Mrs. Woodward. 
 [Shouting.'] We are not burglars ! We have 
 rented this house for a we-e-e-ek ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Oh, my goodness ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Hold her hands down, Dolly. [Mrs. Wood- 
 ward forcibly removes Miss Kimander's 
 hands from her ears. Miss Kimander sits 
 down on floor. Curtis stands in front of her.~\ 
 We are not burglars. We have rented 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Getting to her feet.] Well, I think you 
 might have said so at first ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Oh, woman, woman! Will you please call 
 Miss Kimander ? 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Mercy sakes! You must be Curt Wood- 
 ward ! I want to know ! Mercy sakes ! 
 What a change thirty years does make! 
 Mercy sakes ! Mercy me ! * 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 I suppose they make changes in everybody. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 3 
 
 If we had known you thirty years ago, it's 
 very probable 
 
 Curtis. 
 Never mind, Dolly. {To Miss Kimander.] 
 We are expecting to have Miss Kimander, who 
 we understand now owns the house, turn it 
 over to us. Will you please call her ? 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Mercy sakes ! Why, Curtis Woodward ! 
 Pm Keziah Kimander ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, I'll be— that is, I would be if I didn't 
 have to not be. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 I understand what you mean, Curtis Wood- 
 ward, and I just don't thank you one bit. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Er — Kizzie, this is my wife. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Happy to meet you, ma'am. [Shakes hands 
 with Mrs. Woodward.] And what notion 
 brings you here, Curt ? Seems when you 
 could git along without the village for thirty 
 years you wouldn't worry about it now. 
 
14 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Miss Kimander, talk about women's senti- 
 mentality ! Just ask Mr. Woodward why we 
 came here ! 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Well, you see, Kizzie, I've been working so 
 hard boring my way down in ISTew York, rais- 
 ing a family and getting enough for them to 
 eat 
 
 Miss Kimandee. 
 And buyin' an English lord for your daugh- 
 ter Oh, we read the society colyum up 
 
 here! 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 Well, now, Kizzie, I always had a relish for 
 a bargain, and this English lord was going so 
 remarkably cheap ! It would have been a sin 
 not to 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 
 Curtis ! I'm ashamed of you ! [To Miss 
 Kimandee.] Whatever you've read about 
 Lord Bunn, to whom I suppose you refer, you 
 can attribute to the romancing of a fanciful 
 journalist. I shall be glad if you will correct 
 any reports you may hear connecting his name 
 with ours. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 5 
 
 Miss Kimakder. 
 
 Why, mercy sakes, yes ! If it'll be a com- 
 fort to you. Well, Curtis ? 
 
 Ctjktis. 
 
 You see, Kizzie, it's this way. I began to 
 think how transitory is this world and its 
 
 wealth — how fleeting 
 
 [Casting his eyes up to the ceiling and 
 joining his finger-tips. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 
 [Eagerly.] You don't mean to say you've 
 lost your money ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 I certainly have lost some lately, but I'll get 
 it back or know the reason why. 
 
 [Going to window right of rear door and 
 looking out. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [Smiling.'] I see I must shorten a long story. 
 Mr. Woodward was seized with a sudden fit of 
 sentiment, Miss Kimander. Nothing would do 
 but we must come to pass our wedding anni- 
 versary here [looking around] in the very house 
 in which he spent his boyhood. So here we 
 are, and I'm sure we're going to have a charm- 
 ing time — for a week, at any rate. 
 
1 6 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 [While Mrs. Woodwaed has been 
 speaking, Curtis has been dragging 
 the baggage out at right-hand door. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 It's likely to be that long, anyhow. The 
 way this snow's coming down, I calculate there 
 won't be a train out for days. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [To Curtis.] You hear that, Curtis ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 I hear ; but as we don't want to get out for 
 a week I don't see that it interests us particu- 
 larly. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 But if we should f 
 
 Curtis. 
 I believe that way down deep every woman 
 is a born calamity prophet. Wouldn't you 
 like to lay off your things and go through the 
 house ? 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [Going toward right-hand door.~\ I should 
 like to, dearly. [Pausing at doorJ] Aren't 
 you coming too ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON l? 
 
 Curtis. 
 I'm powerfully tempted to go, but I want to 
 enjoy every room to the full before I move on 
 to another, and [rubbing his hands and looking 
 around'] I haven't even begun to bite into this 
 one. [Follows Mrs. Woodward and points.] 
 There, you can go right up that stairway to the 
 floor above. {Exit Mrs. Woodward.] By 
 George, I'm just itching to go along too. But 
 it'd be like eating the whole box of candy at 
 one sitting and not leaving a gum-drop for 
 to-morrow. [Watching Mrs. Woodward 
 through open door.] Careful you don't hit 
 your head on the ceiling. [Closing door and 
 approaching Miss Kimastder.] Well, Kizzie, 
 and what are you doing yourself ? 
 
 [Curtis roams around, paying very 
 little heed to Miss Kimander, who 
 follows him around as she speaks. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Oh, I'm telegraph operator, local correspond- 
 ent for the County Gazette, and special repre- 
 sentative for the New York Evening Palladium. 
 [Curtis goes looking about the room. In the 
 course of the following he puts his hands in his 
 pockets while facing audience, and suddenly, as 
 if reminded of the loss of the five dollars, goes 
 to window at right of centre, rear, and looks out 
 in the direction in which the stage-driver is sup- 
 
1 8 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 posed to have gone.] That is, I'm their repre- 
 sentative when there's anything to represent. 
 I haven't sent them any news yet. Couldn't 
 you give me something I could send them ? 
 
 Cuetis. 
 The New York Evening Palladium? No! 
 I wouldn't admire to read even my obituary in 
 it. Can't you beat that, Kizzie ? 
 
 Miss Kimandee. 
 Well, I'm writing a book on practical natural 
 history. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 " How to Tell the Bulls from the Bilber- 
 ries " ; " How to Baise Toadstools in a Flower- 
 Pot," eh ? 
 
 Miss Kimandee. 
 Ah ! Vastly more useful. My subjects are 
 the entire animal, vegetable and mineral 
 kingdoms. [Indicating ornaments.] Here's 
 a candlestick made from a pig's tail. Fancy 
 table-cover, made from skins of frogs. Pic- 
 ture-frame [indicating one on wall] made from 
 varnished potato-bugs. Bunnit [touching her 
 hat] corn-husks. Millinery [touching hunch of 
 artificial roses on hat] potato-parings shellacked 
 and painted. [Getting picture-frame from 
 floor, l. c] This here frame is constructed 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 9 
 
 from the toe-nails of animals — nine thousand, 
 nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em. [Plac- 
 ing frame on chair and ^pointing.'] Claws of 
 bear — dog — common house-cat — porcupine — 
 
 lynx — bob-cat 
 
 [Curtis jumps at mention of each ani- 
 mal. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 ? 
 
 CURTIS. 
 
 Going to take it away with you 
 
 Miss Kimastder. 
 Yes. I want to put in one more toe-nail. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Goes to wall and detaches potato-bug frame.'] 
 Can't you carry two ? Seems an awful pity to 
 deprive you of this for a whole week — and it 
 looks to me like it needed one more potato-bug. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Takes a frame under each arm.] Oh, 
 you're so kind ! I did hate to leave it, but I 
 thought of the enjoyment you'd have regardin' 
 it. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 I know, I know. But I think if I try hard I 
 can bear up. 
 
20 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 I set great store by that toe-nail frame. 
 [Sentimentally. ~\ All mementoes of friends of 
 mine — some of 'em dead and gone ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 What! 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 
 Oh, I meant they give me the critters' claws. 
 
 Mercy me ! You didn't think I meant 
 
 No, they give them to me. Peter, now, give 
 me them wildcat toe-nails. Oh, by the way, 
 speakin' of Peter, how is he ? Your son, you 
 know. Your daughter Ruth, too — how is she ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, you certainly have kept tabs on me 
 these thirty years. Yes, Peter and Ruth. 
 Both hearty when we left. You see, we've 
 run away from them. Peter, my boy, is a big 
 fellow now 
 
 MlSS KlMAKDER. 
 
 Why, of course he is. The idea ! I know 
 all about Peter. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Trust you people in the country for knowing 
 what's going on. I'll bet the folks in this vil- 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 21 
 
 lage know almost more about Peter than his 
 own father. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 "Well, perhaps some little things, you know. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Kizzie, you're a born journalist for certain. 
 How do you do it ? Clairvoyance must be 
 your long suit. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Clairvoyance ? Stuff ! My great holt is 
 imagination. The poetic temper'ment. Here, 
 I've got a sample poem right with me I'm 
 workin' on. My masterpiece ! [Takes paper 
 out of carpet-hag and unfolds it until it is the 
 size of a newspaper. Clears her throat.] Hum ! 
 Title : " Ashes of Eoses." 
 
 Curtis. 
 Mighty sensible title, too. Looks to me like 
 a big thing. Is that all the poem ? 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 
 Mercy sakes, no ! Here's more. [Drawing 
 several similar papers from carpet-hag.'] And 
 I've got a lot of cantos in my head yet. It 
 ain't near finished. [As Miss Kimander 
 starts to read, Mrs. Woodward reenters from 
 
22 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 right Miss Kimander, reading^ "When 
 you and I were young, and our love like a 
 crimson rose unfolded " 
 
 Curtis. 
 No more, no more ; I beg of you ! She 
 {glancing over his shoulder~\ — Dolly, my wife, 
 you know, she can't stand poetry. That is, 
 beautiful poetry, like yours. It — it's likely to 
 give her convulsions. She — she sees things — 
 visions, you know. 
 
 [He waves his hands about his head. 
 Miss Kimander sympathetically 
 waves one finger in circles. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Yery sad ! Wouldn't you like to hear jest a 
 Uetle more — jest a leetle ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Not to-day, not to-day ! 
 
 [Mrs. Woodward has meanwhile seated 
 herself on chair at left. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Curtis ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Yes, my dear ? 
 
 [Miss Kimander lays finger on Curtis's 
 arm. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 23 
 
 Miss Kemakder. 
 I understand. I'll come when you're 
 alone 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Aghast] What ! Come and read poetry 
 to me alone ? And such — such warm poetry ? 
 It makes me perspire freely to think of it. 
 [Curtis rnops his face with his handkerchief.'] 
 No, no, Kizzie ! If my wife heard that, it'd 
 twist her into a knot. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Curtis ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [ Going toward Mrs. Woodward.] Yes, yes, 
 my dear. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Gathering traps together^] Sad, sad ! But 
 what a story! What a story for the New 
 York Evening Palladium ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [To Curtis.] When is Miss Kimander 
 going to leave ? Can't you tell her to go ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 What ! Eight out, like that ? 
 
24 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Mrs. "Woodward. 
 Oh, no! But nicely. Can't you say some- 
 thing that will be a strong hint ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 "Well, I guess I can. [Curtis goes toward 
 Miss Kimander and speaks to her.'} She bites 
 people when she has them — fits, you know. I 
 think she's going to have one now ! 
 
 [Mrs. Woodward, sitting with her 
 hands folded, stares rather severely at 
 Miss Kimander. Miss Kimander 
 screams slightly, dives at her parcels 
 and hurriedly makes for the rear door, 
 the two picture-frames under her arms, 
 and shedding parcels as she goes, stoop- 
 ing and grabbing at them as she loses 
 them. Mrs. Woodward rises as she 
 approaches and holds out her hand. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Good-day, Miss Kimander. So sorry you're 
 going so soon. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Mercy sakes ! Mercy me ! 
 
 [Miss Kimander waves Mrs. Wood- 
 ward off with a picture frame, curves 
 around her in a semicircle, and exit 
 at left-hand door. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 2$ 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 
 I declare ! What did you say to her, Curtis, 
 to make her bounce out so ? 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 [Picking up Miss Kimaistdee's stray parcels 
 and throwing them out of right-hand door.] 
 Didn't you ask me to ? Don't you bother about 
 the mechanical details. Hadn't you better be- 
 gin making those biscuits we were getting an 
 appetite for coming up ? 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Why, Miss Kimander has lunch all ready for 
 us on the stove. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 I know, but no biscuits — none of the kind 
 you used to make on the little cook-stove before 
 we had a French chef to bedevil our meals, 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 
 Well, if I must. 
 
 {During the following Cuetis gets a pair 
 of blue overalls from valise and puts 
 them on, hopping about on one leg in 
 doing so. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 You don't say it very enthusiastically. 
 
26 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 It's all very well for you, Curtis, to come 
 back to your boyhood home and renew ac- 
 quaintances with your old friends — your old 
 friends 
 
 Curtis. 
 I give in to that. Kizzie is certainly no veal 
 cutlet. Dolly [going toward Mrs. Wood- 
 ward], every year I go with you and the chil- 
 dren to Newport, to Europe, and to other un- 
 godly places that suit you, now don't I ? And 
 never a word 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 My dear, dear Curtis ! I'm ashamed of my- 
 self. It must have been that dreadful — I 
 mean that delightfully lively and amusing 
 friend of yours. And it's such a dear, quaint 
 old house ! I Jcnow we're going to have the best 
 kind of good time here 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Now, be careful. Don't slop over on the 
 other side. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 \_Laughing.~\ Where's my apron ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 2/ 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Produces apron and ties it about Mrs. 
 "Woodward, during which operation he gives 
 her a hug and a kiss.'] Dolly, you're a brick. 
 You'll find the fixings in that pantry, same as 
 always, I guess. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 [Going to pantry at rear, Curtis following.'] 
 Don't follow me around. You make me nervous. 
 Do your share. Go get some wood. 
 
 [Curtis puts on his silk hat. Mrs. 
 Woodward laughs and points to it. 
 Curtis removes silk hat, and going to 
 valise gets out old felt hat and puts it 
 on. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 All I need now is a straw to chew to make 
 me feel at home. [Curtis goes to picture- 
 frame on the wall and' draws out straw. Is 
 about to put it in his mouth, when he looks at it, 
 looks at picture frame, looks at place where 
 potato-bug frame was hanging, and carefully re- 
 places straw, shaking his head. He goes to 
 wood-box behind the stove, opens it and looks in.] 
 Wood-box full. Shan't have to go out. Gen- 
 erally empty when I was a boy, so far as I can 
 remember. 
 
28 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 [Cuetis picks up paper and sits down 
 before stove to read, drawing off shoes 
 and exposing blue woollen socles. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 [ Working at table.'] I wonder what the chil- 
 dren are doing now ? 
 
 Cuetis. 
 They're pretty good children, but I'm not 
 sorry to ease them off my mind for a few days. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 And to get away from business ? 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 [Reading paper.] M-m-m — yes ! Nothing 
 short of an earthquake could upset the market 
 now. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 You're sure Mr. Perkins will do everything 
 as it should be done while you're away ? 
 
 Cuetis. 
 [Looking up and laughing.] Perkins is a 
 first-rate lobster — I don't say it slangily. But 
 he can float with the tide. If he weren't my 
 partner, I'd like to see what sort of an acrobatic 
 performance he could put up going against the 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 29 
 
 tide. No, no. I'll get him on the long-dis- 
 tance every morning and keep poor old Per- 
 kins's flippers from getting frazzled at the ends. 
 
 Mes. Woodward. 
 
 Just suppose the telephone wires should come 
 down, with the trains all stalled ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Now, Dolly, don't let's holler " Extry ! » be- 
 fore war's declared. 
 
 [Curtis resumes reading. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 If I weren't sure of your identity, Curtis, I'd 
 think it was one of the natives speaking. I de- 
 clare you've acquired the real Yankee twang. 
 
 CURTIS, 
 
 It's as much as I can do, on my native heath, 
 to hold a straight tongue. By gum ! I won't 
 try ! So long as I'm in Staceyville my tongue 
 kin git kinked up as much as it's a mind to, 
 an' I'm goin' to talk good old unadulterated 
 United States, straight ! [Heading from paper.] 
 Here's richness ! " Hubert Fox informs us that 
 although turned ninety-two he has so far this 
 winter thrashed out one hundred and twenty 
 bushel of oats." [Looking up.~] I'll bet Lord 
 Bunn couldn't git an item like that printed 
 about any of his family ! 
 
30 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Dear, dear ! You are so prejudiced against 
 Lord Bunn ! 
 
 Cuetis. 
 I ain't prejudiced against him personally, but 
 that stock-jobbing blood-sucker, his father — I 
 had all the experience with the English nobility 
 I wanted when I ran up against him — or rather, 
 when he ran up against me. And I ain't quit of 
 him yet. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 But Lord Bunn himself 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 [Laying down his paper.'] Eow, I've simply 
 made up my mind that I don't care to become 
 a father to him. Lordy ! Ruth don't want two 
 husbands, and she's as good as engaged to young 
 Yalentine Quincy. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Sometimes, Curtis, I have an idea that neither 
 she nor Yalentine Quincy cares for each other 
 enough for that, now. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Dolly, you know that if there's one thing 
 settled between the Quincy and Woodward 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 3 1 
 
 families, it's that this particular schoolboy and 
 schoolgirl match is thoroughly satisfactory all 
 'round. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 I hear he has been showing a great deal 
 of attention lately to Thomasina Breitstein. 
 Thomasina is a very pretty girl, and her 
 father, although he is a brewer 
 
 Cuetis. 
 King Wurtzburger we call him in the Street. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 I hope you know best. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 {Returning to his paper. ] Humph ! I think 
 I do! 
 
 [A knock is heard at left-hand door. 
 Cuetis makes a dive for his shoes 
 and gets them on, while Mes. Wood- 
 waed goes to the door and opens it. 
 Enter Lucius Peck, to sound of 
 sleigh-hells, as if a horse were stamp- 
 ing outside. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 [To horse outside.] Stand still, thar ! Whoa ! 
 [Lucius shows signs of uncertainty as to whether 
 
32 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 he will leave the horse and remain, or not. Fi- 
 nally remains, and closes door, advancing toward 
 Cuetis.] Good-day, sir ! Your sarvant, ma'am ! 
 I s'pose you're the butler, sent on ahead, an' you, 
 ma'am, are the cook, or the valley-de-chamber, 
 or the second-story woman ? Ha, ha ! 
 
 Cuetis. 
 [ With dignity.] I am Mr. Curtis Woodward, 
 and this is Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 [Gripping Cuetis by the hand and roughly 
 drawing him forward.'] Curtis Woodward ! 
 
 Wal, I'll be Wal, dang my buttons ! 
 
 [Continues shaking Cuetis's hand,] Dang 
 my buttons, one an' all ! 
 
 [Lucius drops Cuetis's hand and slaps 
 him on the back, and rushes toward 
 Mes. Woodwaed. She, in alarm, 
 gets behind the table. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Look out ! My hands are covered with flour. 
 [Lucius dashes his hat on the floor, un- 
 winds the " comforter "from his neck 
 and dashes that on the floor. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Durn me, but I'm glad to see you, Curtis, an' 
 your good lady. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 33 
 
 [Lucius goes toward Curtis to shake 
 hands with him again. CURTIS holds 
 his hands behind him. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Before we have another wrestling-match, sup- 
 pose you tell me whom I have the pleasure of 
 being mauled by ? 
 
 Lucius. 
 Hey? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Who are you ? 
 
 Lucius. 
 Why, I'm Lucius Peck ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Lucius ! 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Curt! 
 
 [They shake hands warmly. CURTIS 
 puts on silk hat and Mrs. Wood- 
 ward comes forward and takes it of 
 his head. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Gimme it, an' I'll kick a hole through the 
 top ! I'm a boy again, sure enough ! Hooray ! 
 
34 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 I know, but you won't be one any longer 
 when you start for home, and you'll need a 
 decent hat to go with. 
 
 [Exit Mrs. Woodward at right-hand 
 door. 
 
 Lucius. 
 Wal, wal ! But I'm glad to see you an' your 
 good lady — said that once or twice before, 
 hain't I ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Say it again, if you've a mind to, Lucius. It 
 sounds good to hear you. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Folks all well ? Where's the youngsters, an' 
 the English lord Kizzie Kimander was a-blowin' 
 about? Trot out the English lord, Curt, an' 
 let's have a look at the critter. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Lord Bunn ain't with us, Lucius, nor the chil- 
 dren neither. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Wal, sir ! I'm disappointed. But I'm glad 
 to see you — durn it, that's the third time I've 
 said it. Ye'll git to believe it presently. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 35 
 
 Curtis. 
 I hftow it, Lucius. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Gosh all hemlock ! To think you're the 
 young sprig used to help me 'tend father's 
 store. Kemember it, Curt ? Mine now. Even 
 the cracker-barrel ain't been moved an inch. 
 Ha, ha ! Seems like only a year ago. But 
 the folks ain't forgotten ye. 'Tain't every day 
 we git a home-made millionaire in our midst, 
 an' we've arranged a programme to welcome ye. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Arranged a programme ! 
 
 Lucius. 
 Yessir ! First, you've been appointed Sheriff. 
 Sheriff Mounthooley's jest been charged with 
 malfeasance in office, misfeasance in office, non- 
 feasance in office, an' a few more feasances, in 
 an' out of office. He's suspended, an' durin' 
 the interim you've been appointed Sheriff over 
 the telephone by the Governor, at my request. 
 An' here's the pie-plate goes with it. 
 
 [Produces large shield, which he pins on 
 Curtis's left breast 
 
 Curtis. 
 But I don't live here, and 
 
36 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Oh, pshaw ! I seen ahead every objection 
 yon conld make, an' all's been attended to. 
 The Governor says you're Sheriff, an' Sheriff 
 you be. Don't say another word, but start in 
 on the job. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 Well, I swear ! And we think we are some 
 swift down in New York ! 
 
 Lucius. 
 It's only for a few days, an' ef we kin stand 
 you, you ought to be able to stand us. Ha, ha ! 
 In a week or so Mounthooley'll be either ac- 
 quitted or sent to jail. Then we'll have a per- 
 manent Sheriff. Besides [persuasively], in a 
 week you may be in jail yourself. Sheriffs 
 often is. They lead a precarious life. 
 
 Curtis. 
 And this is a compliment ? 
 
 Lucius. 
 Think of the glory, man ! Compliment ? 
 Biggest goin' — but one, an' that one the boys 
 has authorized me to offer you. Formal in- 
 itiation to-night. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Say, Lucius, I ain't a hog. I don't want to 
 start supper afore I git up from dinner. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON S7 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 "Wait till you hear what it is ! [Takes a big 
 breath and throws out his chest. ~\ You've been 
 elected captain of the Staceyville Mutual Pro- 
 tective Association's Combined Hook-an'-Lad- 
 der, Hose-Cart an' Chemical Engine Company 
 Number One. Only one they is. Gotter be 
 Number One ! Ha, ha ! An' here's your star. 
 [He pins a large shield on Curtis's right breast. 
 Curtis makes a gesture of despair."] An' for 
 your wife, she's been chose unanimous several 
 things, an' she'll be initiated same time as you. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Lucius, I don't know how Dolly'll take that. 
 You see 
 
 Lucius. 
 Oh, don't thank me ! I'm only the herald of 
 good news. [Draws paper from his pocket and 
 reads?] Here's what she's been elected : Presi- 
 dent Staceyville Dorcas Society Number One ; 
 Third Yice-President Staceyville Women's 
 Temperance Union Number One ; Corre- 
 spond^' Sekketary Mothers' Circle Number 
 One. All Number Ones. Only ones they is. 
 Gotter be Number Ones. Ha, ha ! You un- 
 derstand ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Well, most of it. 
 
38 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Lucius. 
 Kind of overpowered by the granjeur of it, 
 eh? Needn't to say a word. I got a few 
 more. [Clears his throat. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Better chop it off as far as you've got, Lucius. 
 She'll think over those for a starter. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Got a few more ? No ? "Wal, we want you 
 should realize how glad we are to see you — to 
 welcome home one of the nation's most distin- 
 guished Oh, thunder! That's from the 
 
 schoolmaster's speech for to-night. Jest popped 
 out. You won't mention it ? 
 
 Cuktts. 
 
 See here, Lucius. I came up here to rest — 
 not to go out chasing dirty tramps and ram- 
 bling over the landscape yanking a hose-cart on 
 the end of a clothes-line. Suppose I won't ac- 
 cept? 
 
 Lucius. 
 Tar an' feather ye ef ye don't. Local pride 
 here is terrible strong. DonH say ye won't ac- 
 cept ! Won't do ye no good to say so, any- 
 how. Wal, I must be goin'. I'm awfully glad 
 {shaking Curtis's hand] — blest ef I ain't 
 wound up agin ! Ha, ha ! Wal, good-bye. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 39 
 
 Tell your good lady I am her most obedient. 
 [Goes toward left-hand door, winding his " com- 
 forter " about his neck. Suddenly stops and ad- 
 dresses Curtis.] How is it Peter didn't come 
 up with you ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 What Peter? 
 
 Lucius. 
 Peter— your big boy Peter. When he left 
 
 here last fall 
 
 Curtis. 
 Sho! My boy Peter ain't never been up 
 here ! 
 
 Lucius. 
 Wal, there was a prime young fellow up 
 here last fall, said he was your son. Keg'lar 
 dawg fer huntin', an' talked about as much as 
 an extra-sized bag o' flour. 
 
 Curtis. 
 That sounds like Peter ! 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Sure it was Peter. Went gunnin' many's 
 the time with me an' Kizzie's brother Seth. 
 You don't mean- to say he didn 5 t give you all 
 the good wishes we sent you? By ginger 
 
40 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 spreuce! I knowed he was economical of 
 words, but — hey ! Mebbe I'm tellin' tales out 
 of office-hours ? 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 Oh, no ! Yes, yes ! Of course ! All my 
 forgetfulness. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 [Suspiciously.'] You've got a mighty wabbly 
 memory, Curt. Wal, how is Peter ? 
 
 [Draws on his gloves. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Oh, fair to middling — eatin' more an' sayin' 
 less every day. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Pity he didn't come up. [Preparing to 
 leave.] Don't say nothin' to the schoolmaster 
 about that sample from his speech, will ye? 
 Ha, ha ! 
 
 [Exit Lucius, left-hand door. Cubtis 
 remains in thought for a moment. 
 Then he goes to right-hand door and 
 calls. 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 Dolly! Oh, Dolly! 
 
 [Mrs. Woodward reenters. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 4 1 
 
 Mrs. "Woodward. 
 I thought you might be more comfortable 
 with your old friend if I weren't here, Curtis. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Absent-mindedly.] Yes, yes ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 And what are these extraordinary decora- 
 tions ? [She looks at badges. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Going toward left-hand door.~\ I'll tell you 
 later. I've got something else to think of 
 just now. [Calls out at door.] Lucius ! Hey, 
 Lucius ! [Makes gesture shovnng that Lucius 
 does not hear.'] I want to see Lucius about 
 something I — er — overlooked. Do you mind 
 if I step down to the store for a minute ? 
 
 [Curtis puts on his hat and overcoat. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Do, do, Curtis. And don't bother to hurry 
 back. It seems as if we had all time and eter- 
 nity here. [Exit Curtis, at left-hand door. 
 Mrs. Woodward waves farewell at door, stands 
 watching him a moment, and returns to her 
 work at table. Knock heard at rear door. As 
 Mrs. Woodward opens it, enter Peter, Lord 
 Bunn and Euth, Ruth being hidden behind 
 
42 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 the others. Peter is a rather stout young man, 
 with an indomitably smiling and good-natured 
 face. He has a " comforter " wound about his 
 neck.] Peter! LordBunn! [As Mrs. Wood- 
 ward advances with her hands out, Peter 
 gives her the end of the " comforter " and as she 
 holds it Peter unwinds himself from its folds 
 by turning around. Then he and Lord Bunn 
 fall apart, revealing Kuth. Mrs. Woodward, 
 taking Ruth in her arms.] Why, Ruth! 
 [Ruth hisses Mrs. Woodward and throws 
 her arms about her.] Why, Lord Bunn ! Why, 
 Peter! Where in the world did you spring 
 from? 
 
 Peter. 
 [Taking Mrs. Woodward by the arm, lead- 
 ing her to rear door, opening door, pointing out 
 mysteriously, and closing door softly.] Sh ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Don't be silly, Peter ! What possessed you 
 to come here after us ? 
 
 Ruth. 
 
 [Taking off her hat.] Oh, what a lovely, 
 quaint old place ! We got so lonesome without 
 you, Mother dear, and of course I couldn't stay 
 alone when Peter made up his mind to come. 
 He said you'd probably be making some im- 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 43 
 
 portant discoveries, and in case you should he 
 wanted to be on the ground to help you make 
 them. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 [Seating herself.] How absurd ! Well, we've 
 made a few already. 
 
 Petee. 
 Kizzie ? 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 What! Has your father been telling you 
 about Miss Kizzie ? That's singular, when he 
 had nearly forgotten her. I know her very 
 well already. 
 
 Petee. 
 
 [As if about to make a long confidential com- 
 munication, bringing a chair, setting it down 
 facing Mes. Woodwaed and sitting.'] And 
 others ? 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Oh, surely, not many others yet, Peter I 
 
 Kuth. 
 So don't be angry, Mother 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Angry, my child ? I'm delighted. 
 
44 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 RUTH. 
 And I hope Father won't be. We came near 
 bringing Dawson and Jane with us, but Peter 
 said that a butler and a maid would be out of 
 place in the simple life of Stacey ville. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Dawson ! I'm glad you didn't. I shouldn't 
 sleep if I didn't know that Dawson was looking 
 after the house. Really, I'm glad now you 
 came. I had an idea I'd like to ask you to come 
 with us in the first place, and I think your 
 father felt that way too. He'll be very much 
 pleased to see you when he comes in, you may 
 be sure. I dare say we should have been bor- 
 ing ourselves to death in two days. 
 
 Peter. 
 [Holding up his hand for silence, and appar- 
 ently going to make a long and important speech.] 
 Two weeks. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Two weeks ? 
 
 Ruth. 
 The conductor told us our train would be the 
 last through in several days — the worst storm in 
 live years. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 45 
 
 Loed Bum*. 
 
 I presume I may be allowed to say a word 
 about my presence ? 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 
 I do not press you, Lord Bunn. I am very 
 glad indeed to see you, with or without a 
 reason. You don't mind if I go on with my 
 work ? I've been so interrupted that I declare 
 it will never be done. [Mes. Woodwaed goes 
 to table. During the ensuing dialogue Ruth is 
 standing at the side of Mes. Woodwaed and a 
 little to the back of her, and evidently takes a 
 great deal of interest in what Loed Bunn is say- 
 ing. She smiles at him, clasps her hands encour- 
 agingly, etc. She helps her mother in a desultory 
 way, handing her the wrong articles, etc. Petee 
 is sitting by stove, reading the country paper, 
 smiling to himself, laughing aloud, and occa- 
 sionally slapping his knee and ejaculating.] 
 We thought you were in England ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 So I was. Only got back yesterday. You 
 see, I had a matter of business with Mr. Wood- 
 ward, and a minute's talk is better than no end 
 of telegrams. 
 
 PETEB; 
 
 [Beading.] Buster ! 
 
46 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 [Mes. Woodward and Loed Bunn 
 turn to look at Petee, who reads on 
 unconsciously. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 It was important and urgent, Lord Bunn ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 Important? Well, rather. And urgent? 
 Why, do you know [laughing] I didn't even 
 stop to act as best man in a runaway match of 
 a friend of mine. Think what a novelty to 
 miss ! Best man in an elopement ! 
 
 Kuth. 
 Oh, how romantic ! Who were they ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 Ah, no ! That would hardly be fair. You 
 might know them, and they may not have suc- 
 ceeded in carrying it off. 
 
 Buth. 
 
 I might know them ? Oh, do tell, please ! 
 I'm a regular gourmand for gossip. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 No, no ; really 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 47 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [To Kuth.] Don't tease Lord Bunn about 
 such a thing, Ruth. Of course he's right. You 
 were saying, Lord Bunn ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 [Lamely, as Ruth turns away pouting.] 
 Well, then — er — er — there were other matters, 
 er — er 
 
 Peter. 
 Ur, ur ! 
 
 [Same business as before by Mrs. Wood- 
 ward, Lord Bunn and Peter. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Er — yes ! Other matters — another matter, 
 rather. [He glances at Ruth, rouses himself, 
 and starts off briskly '.] You see, the unprece- 
 dented stringency in the money market — that 
 is, the uncommon ease with which money may 
 be borrowed — er — er 
 
 Peter. 
 [As before.'] Going some ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Lord Bunn, I've no head for business, you 
 know, and this will all have to be explained 
 over again to Mr. Woodward 
 
48 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 LOED BUNN. 
 I'm afraid I'm making a poor hand at it. 
 The journey and the voyage must have upset 
 me a little. I can put it quite clearly to you 
 to-morrow. In brief, I wanted to see him — you 
 — Mr. Woodward — on very, very important 
 business [glancing at Ruth, who clasps her 
 hands delightedly and smiles at him], and I just 
 happened — you see, the train I took, as it 
 chanced — er 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 I see ! Remarkable coincidence, wasn't it ? 
 
 Petee. 
 Bunn, you take a rest, add yourself up, and 
 tell us the answer when you get it. [Loed 
 Bunist rises and makes dunib show as if expos- 
 tulating with Ruth. She rather snubs him. 
 Petee, looking up from his paper and nodding 
 his head to indicate Loed Bunjst.] Orator ! 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Better have your luggage sent up here, Lord 
 Bunn. You'll stay with us, of course ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 [Looking apprehensively at Ruth, who still 
 has her nose turned up at him.'] Oh, but really, 
 I couldn't intrude. I'll go to the hotel. I 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 49 
 
 suppose there is a hotel. I hope there's a 
 
 hotel {Looks appealingly at Ruth, who 
 
 keeps silence.] I'll send your luggage up, 
 Peter, if you say so ? 
 
 Petee. 
 Do, that's a good fellow. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 We shall see you this afternoon, Lord Bunn ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 [Looking expectantly at Euth.] This after- 
 noon? This afternoon? [Euth does not 
 speak] Ah, yes. This afternoon. Till then, 
 au revoir. [Exit Lord Bunn at rear door. 
 
 Euth. 
 How provoking men can be when they really 
 try! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [After looking at Euth keenly for a mo- 
 ment.] Come, children, let me show you the 
 house your father was born in. [Euth follows 
 her to right-hand door. Peter does not move.] 
 You too, Peter. 
 
 Peter. 
 Old story to me. 
 
50 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 [ Voice outside : " House ahoy ! " Peter 
 goes to rear door, opens door, and en- 
 ter Fredericka Pomeroy. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 Well, Peter ! You here ? How are you ? 
 
 [Shaking hands with Peter. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Peter! 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 My efforts to make the acquaintance of your 
 family have nearly been the death of me. 
 That last drift was an ocean, and I almost 
 foundered. [Laughs easily.'] Your folks, 
 Peter ? Introduce me, like a good boy. 
 
 Peter. 
 [ With a grand sweep of the hand.] Folks, — 
 Miss Pomeroy ! 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Folks ? And who are the folks, Stupid ? 
 
 Peter. 
 [Indicating Mrs. Woodward, who has gone 
 beside table and is absent-mindedly handling 
 bread-making tools.] Mother. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 5 1 
 
 Fredericka. 
 [Offering to shake hands.] Charmed. [Mrs. 
 Woodward does not offer her hand, but bows 
 stiffly.] Oh, you don't want to doughy up my 
 hands. Considerate ! 
 
 Peter. 
 Sister — Euth. 
 
 Fredericks. 
 [Shaking hands with Euth.] I'll like you, 
 my dear ; I know I shall. [A pause.] Good- 
 ness ! Won't somebody please say something ? 
 — Anything ? 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Peter! Why, Peter! Do you know this 
 young — person ? Peter, answer me ! 
 
 Peter. 
 Ahem ! [Enter Curtis left-hand door. 
 Peter, to Fredericka, indicating Curtis.] 
 Father, — Miss Pomeroy. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 [Shaking hands with Curtis.] Oh, you look 
 so funny, frowning like that. Don't ! Bad for 
 the temper. 
 
52 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Kissing Ruth.] I heard you'd arrived, and 
 I hurried back — [to Peter] — with a few stray 
 items of news I picked up. It seems to me an 
 explanation is due from you, sir ! 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Due, and will go to protest if you wait to 
 get it from Peter. Fll explain. Peter and I 
 are engaged. 
 
 Curtis. 
 I expected as much. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Merciful heavens ! Peter ! When ? 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 [Holdmg up her hcmd.~\ Now, wait ! The 
 parts are rather reversed, but you know Peter. 
 I've got one of the best farms around here — 
 own it free and clear. Five hundred and 
 twenty-eight acres, seventy-four cows, eleven 
 horses besides my saddle-horse. Nine men 
 working for me regularly, and four maids. 
 And I'm my own boss. People tell me I act 
 like it. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [To Peter.] What do you say to that, sir ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 53 
 
 Peter. 
 Correct, I guess. Never counted 'em. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 The deuce, Peter ! Is it serious ? [Peter 
 solemnly nods his head.] Peter, you'd never 
 make a farmer. But if you'll come home with 
 me, get into the bank, put your shoulder under 
 the business, and keep this little place for a 
 summer-home, I believe that girl may make 
 something of you. If it's a bargain, I'll stand 
 by you through thick and thin. 
 
 [Peter shakes hands on it with Curtis. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 My head's reeling. When was Peter ever 
 here before ? 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Why, last fall ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 When we thought him safe in Canada. 
 
 Peter. 
 
 Natural curiosity — birthplace of sire — good 
 man, must be good place. Look it up. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 You are not going to encourage this mesalli- 
 ance, Curtis ? 
 
54 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Curtis. 
 If it's going to solve the riddle of getting 
 Peter interested in anything, I'm willing to take 
 a chance. 
 
 Frederick a. 
 
 You're disposing of me and my farm pretty 
 coolly, I should say. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Oh, Curtis ! How can you ? [To Fred- 
 erick A.] You see how ridiculous it is, don't 
 you? 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 You think I am not good enough for your 
 son? 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 My dear young lady ! You must not put 
 words into my mouth. I'm sure 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 No fencing. Either you do think so, or you 
 do not. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Why, I don't know anything about you. 
 What a strange 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 You do not approve. Sir [to Curtis], what 
 do you say ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 55 
 
 CURTIS. 
 
 I've just given my blessing to Peter, upon 
 conditions, and I'm willing to give it to you. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Wait ! I don't want to go into any family 
 where I'm not entirely welcome for myself 
 alone. Did the gossips tell you all ? 
 
 Peter, 
 [ Warningly.'] Thick and thin ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Through thick and thin. But if there's any- 
 thing particularly thick or particularly thin, let 
 us have it now. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Curtis ! Have you considered ? We do not 
 know whether the young lady's parents approve 
 this step — we don't even know her parents ! 
 
 Fredericka. 
 [Calmly. 1 I don't even know them myself. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Merciful heavens ! [Looks perplexedly from 
 
 Curtis to Fredericka. Then, to Euth.] 
 
 Come, Euth. I think you ought to lie down 
 
 and take a nap after that long trip. I really do. 
 
56 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 [Exit Mrs. Woodward and Ruth, 
 Ruth last, at right-hand door. Ruth 
 throws a kiss to Fredericka and 
 Peter, who are standing at L. c, 
 facing Ruth, Curtis sitting with his 
 bach to Ruth. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Explanations seem to be the standing order of 
 business to-day. It appears to be up to you, 
 Miss Pomeroy. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 I think I have told you everything necessary. 
 
 Curtis. 
 But that little point — you know — not know- 
 ing your parents, — you know 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Oh, that ! My name, my full name, given to 
 me by my foster-father, now dead, is Fredericka 
 Front Porch Left Wright Pomeroy. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Bless me ! Peter'd side-step that at the very 
 altar. " I, Peter, take thee, Fredericka Front- 
 foot Hind-foot " 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Fredericka Front Porch Left Wright Pome- 
 roy, if you please. My foster-father's name 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON $7 
 
 was Wright Pomeroy. His housekeeper's name 
 was Frederieka. She found me one morn- 
 ing in a basket on the front porch. You un- 
 derstand? Frederieka — sentimental, after the 
 housekeeper; Wright Pomeroy — by adoption; 
 Front Porch Left, descriptive. Frederieka 
 Front Porch Left Wright Pomeroy. My life 
 history in my name. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Slowly.] Frederieka — Front — Porch — Left 
 
 — Wright — Pomeroy! And yet Shakespeare 
 
 says, " What's in a name ? " Peter, you see it's 
 
 — it's [Curtis shakes Ms head. 
 
 Peter. 
 See nothing ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 I know, I know, my boy. I must be brutally 
 outspoken. The censure of the world — the 
 scorn of the sneering multitude — [rapidly] and 
 what will your mother say ? 
 
 Peter. 
 Probably holler. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Forgive me, my dear young lady. I don't 
 
 want to hurt your feelings unnecessarily 
 
 [Peter puts his arm around Freder- 
 icks. 
 
58 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Nothing you will say can hurt me if only 
 Peter stands by me. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Peter, listen to reason. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 [Indignantly.'] Why, we've reasoned it all 
 out together, haven't we, Peter ? And let me 
 tell you, Mr. Woodward, it was the best day's 
 work your son ever did when he met me. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 I can't persuade you, my boy ? You won't 
 give her up ? 
 
 Petee. 
 Would you ? 
 
 Cuetis. 
 [Rising.'] Nothing I can say will move 
 you? 
 
 Petee. 
 No go. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Then I'm not going to say anything. 
 
 [Holds out his hands to them. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 [Throwing herself into his arms.] Dad ! 
 
six miles from a lemon 59 
 
 Curtis. 
 So far as the head of the house goes, Peter, 
 take her and be happy. What the foot of the 
 house will say is another chapter. 
 
 [Enter Mrs. Woodward, at right-hand 
 door. She goes straight to Curtis. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Curtis ! You never, never have 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, my dear, I'm glad that somebody has 
 been able to make Peter sit up and take notice, 
 /never could. 
 
 [Mrs. Woodward looks at him appeal- 
 ingly. He fidgets, hut plainly shows 
 that he is not going to recede. Mrs. 
 Woodward sinks into chair covering 
 her face with her hands. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Oh, Peter, Peter! 
 
 Peter. 
 
 {Going toward Mrs. Woodward.] Moth- 
 er * 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Oh, Peter ! Oh, Peter ! How could you ? 
 
OO SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Peter. 
 
 Mother 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 No, no ! Not if you don't give up that girl ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 [ Wamingly.~\ Dolly, Dolly ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward, 
 
 Oh, I know I'm not acting as I should, but 
 
 this is no situation for conventional politeness. 
 
 [Fredericka has stood with her back to 
 
 the stove, flicking her boot with whip 
 
 she carries, apparently little moved by 
 
 this scene. She now speaks to Mrs. 
 
 Woodward. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 I have a decent pride as well as you, Mrs. 
 Woodward. If I had listened to Peter last 
 fall, we should have been married then. Is 
 that so, Peter ? [Peter nods his head em- 
 phatically.'] So you see I don't really need to 
 wait for your consent unless I choose. But I 
 do choose. I'll never marry into a family that 
 won't receive me without qualification. No 
 "ifs"or "buts." 
 
six miles from a lemon 6 1 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Surely, your parents left some clue. A 
 proper search 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Parents or no parents. Whoever they were, 
 even if they were the highest and most respect- 
 able in the land, if I could put my hand on 
 them to-morrow I wouldn't throw that much 
 of a bribe to you. You'll accept me at my own 
 valuation, or not at all. [To Petee, who seems 
 about to speak.] Now, Peter, you know I've 
 got a good bit of pig-headedness myself — never, 
 never ! 
 
 [Feedeeicka prepares to go. Petee 
 takes up his voat and begins to put 
 it on. 
 
 Mes. Woodward. 
 Peter ! 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 [To Petee.] Don't mind going home with 
 me. It will be a hard trip back for you. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Peter ! You are coming back ? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Coming back ? Gracious ! I should say so ! 
 
62 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Petee. 
 Well, no. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Nonsense ! [Petee stands immovable. 
 Feedeeicka, clapping her hands.] Oh, I've 
 got an idea! [To Petee.] You come with 
 me as my hired man. No sentiment. This is 
 a business proposition. You go and get the 
 team out of the shed and bring it up here. 
 Hurry, now ! [Exit Petee, at left-hand door. 
 Feedeeicka, giving Cuetis her hand.] Good- 
 bye, Dad ! Oh, I know I shall just love you ! 
 [To Mes. Woodwaed.] Good-bye ! 
 
 [Feedeeicka turns to leave at left- 
 hand door, and in going out she runs 
 into Miss Kimandee, who is enter- 
 ing with her hands full of telegrams. 
 Feedeeicka follows her in. Miss 
 Kimaistdee stumbles and lets the tele- 
 grams drop on the floor. She grabs 
 them up hastily and stumbles to 
 Cuetis. 
 
 Miss Kimakdee. 
 I've got an order from the New York Evening 
 Palladium for two colyums of choice anecdote 
 an' miscellany about you, Curt. [Getting out 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 63 
 
 note-hook and pencil.'] How old are you? 
 What air your religious convictions ? 
 
 [She scribbles wildly. 
 
 CURTIS. 
 
 [Looking at Miss Kimander m astonish- 
 ment, opening telegram and reading.] " Aw- 
 fully sorry for your trouble, old man. Call on 
 me if I can help." [Opens another.] " Firm 
 hard hit with news of your failure in Palladium. 
 Trying to keep above water. Wire explanation 
 or denial immediately. Perkins." My failure ! 
 in the Palladium ! [Looks fiercely at Miss 
 Kimander.] What — what have you been 
 writing about me, woman ? 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Nodding her head.] Your failure — lost your 
 money, you know — you told me 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Reading another telegram.] " Condolences. 
 Tell Mrs. W. to try sal volatile for attacks of 
 convulsions." 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Convulsions ! 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 When you hear beautiful poetry, you know ! 
 [Mrs. Woodward looks about in bewilder- 
 
64 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 menf] Now, don't ye git excited ! Don't ye ! 
 Don't ye ! Remain ca'm ! Remain ca'm ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Opening and reading other telegrams, .] 
 " Creditors in possession of house. What shall 
 Jane and me do ? Hope Mrs. W. is better 
 from fits. Dawson." " Couldn't hold up 
 against Transatlantic Securities. Get Lord 
 Bunn to tell father to keep hands off. 
 Otherwise everything going to smash. Per- 
 kins." So Lord Bunu's father's got to be in it, 
 
 too. " Sorry to learn " What's this ? 
 
 Where's the rest of this telegram ? 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Telegraph wires broke down while that was 
 coming in. No gittin' news from New York 
 for a week. But my article — my two colyums 
 of choice anecdote an' miscellany'll be the first 
 thing out when the wire's mended. [Curtis 
 looks around wildly and then drops into a 
 chair, Mrs. Woodward kneeling beside him 
 as if imploring him to hold himself together.'] 
 Two colyums ! Two colyums ! What air your 
 politics — where do you think this imperial na- 
 tion's destiny lies ? What was your favor- 
 ite hymn when a happy careless boy ? Did 
 you ever git fit by a wild beast ? Is your 
 daughter engaged to a Dook or a Barr'net? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 65 
 
 Tell me all— tell me everything— and tell me 
 
 quick ! 
 
 [As Miss Kimandee makes these de- 
 mands^ Feedeeicka grabs her by the 
 back of the neck and drags her toward 
 rear door. Miss Kimandee keeps her 
 face toward Cuetis, asking her ques- 
 tions, and as she asks them the cur- 
 tamfalls. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE. — At Lucius Peck's grocery store the 
 next morning. 
 
 Curtis and Lucius discovered, Curtis sitting 
 on a barrel, L. C., and Lucius packing^ a 
 delivery basket. He is evidently loading 
 the sleigh for delivery. During this scene 
 he occasionally says " Whoa ! " to horse sup- 
 posed to be outside. 
 
 Lucius. 
 Whoa, Bob ! Heavy day ahead, with all this 
 snow to plow through. Wisht there was less 
 of it for your sake, Curt. 
 
 Curtis. 
 I don't know as it matters much — now. 
 
 Lucius. 
 Sho ! Wisht I could do something, Curt. 
 
 Curtis. 
 It's impossible to get a messenger through ? 
 
 Lucius. 
 Look outside an' tell me yourself. An' with 
 all the wires down nobody could git a message 
 
 66 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 67 
 
 over the mountains now but a bird or a man on 
 snow-shoes, an' there ain't a soul left in the vil- 
 lage kin navigate the pesky things. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 I'd give ten thousand dollars for a man on 
 snow-shoes. 
 
 Lucius. 
 Ten thousand ! "Whew ! See what a mis- 
 take my father made teachin' me to sand 
 sugar instead of to walk snow ! Ha, ha ! I'll 
 see if I can't rouse some of the fellers out with 
 that. Ten thousand dollars is big, but twenty- 
 five mile over them mountains in this weather 
 — wal, I'll see. [Comes over to Curtis and 
 lays his hand on Cuetis's shoulder.'] Curt, is 
 it as bad as that ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Just that bad. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 I'd like to be able to take things as cool as 
 you. Suppose I found my store burned down 
 some morning without insurance — your case, 
 about, ain't it ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Yes ; about that. 
 
68 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Lucius. 
 "Wal, deacon or no deacon, I'd be liable to use 
 some language celebratin' it. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 {Cutting off a piece of cheese and holding it 
 up on 'knife.'] Lucius, at about what age do 
 you calculate it's proper to pension off a de- 
 servin' old cheese? This here one is purty 
 nigh the veteran class, right now. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Ha, ha ! It does me real good to see you 
 keep up so. If you'll take it as it's meant, 
 Curt, clerkin' in a grocery store for old fellows 
 like you an' me ain't what it was for the 
 young 'uns we was thirty years ago, but, Curt, 
 there's always a place for you here, you know. 
 
 [They clasp hands. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Lucius ! Old friend ! 
 
 Lucius. 
 Dang it, Curt, ye kin hev the store — the hull 
 shootin'-match, an' I'll clerk it for you, an' you 
 kin be boss, Curt, only say the word. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Wal, I'll tend store for you whiles you're out, 
 an' see how I git the hang of it, an' mebbe 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 69 
 
 you'll be sorry for the offer. Everything jest 
 as it was in ancient times ? Ginger here ? 
 
 [ Walking around and pointing. 
 
 Yes, yes ! 
 Prunes ? 
 Yes, prunes. 
 
 Lucius. 
 Curtis. 
 Lucius. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Walking around behind counter at right.] 
 Hoss-lininient there ? Calico here ? 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Yes, yes, yes ! 
 
 [Curtis pretends to be selling goods, un- 
 rolling calico, etc., when Mrs. Wood- 
 ward enters centre door. She walks 
 toward him as he spreads out a piece 
 of calico, and bends over it, not seeing 
 her. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Yery pretty pattern, ma'am. Fast ? As a 
 hitchin'-post. Run ? Not if it seen the Angel 
 Gabriel come tootin' down in a areyplane. 
 
 {Looks up and sees Mrs. Woodward. 
 
jo six miles from a lemon 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Goodness, Curtis ! What are you doing ? 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 [ Coming out from behind the counter.'] Lucius 
 has jest give me a job. Five a week, Lucius, I 
 think you said, for a starter ? [Mes. Wood- 
 waed sits in a chair near counter and begins 
 to cry. Cuetis, patting her on the shoulder J\ 
 Never mind my foolishness, Dolly. Do you 
 think I don't feel our misfortune as keenly as 
 you ? Our honest independence, our hope of a 
 tranquil old age, our pride in our children 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 
 [Taking Cuetis's hand and looking up 
 earnestly into his eyes.] Curtis, I've sometimes 
 been a peevish, complaining wife, but you've 
 seen the last of that Dolly Woodward. If this 
 affliction presses upon us, we will bear it to- 
 gether. I will devote myself to giving aid, and 
 comfort, and cheer, and sympathy to my own 
 dear old man, who's been so good to me all 
 these years. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 And he needs it sorely now, Dolly. It's 
 worth being poor again to hear you say that. 
 My dear good wife ! 
 
 [Mes. Woodwaed rises and Cuetis 
 clasps her in his arms. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 7 1 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 [At left door.] Whoa, consarn ye ! Whoa ! 
 [Curtis and Mrs. Woodward move 
 apart. Lucius comes toward them. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 I really forgot what I came for. I want two 
 aprons, Mr. Peck. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 [Chuckling.] Ask my clerk for 'em. [^Rub- 
 bing his hands.] By ginger sprence ! 'Tain't 
 everybody kin hev the Sheriff an' Fire Chief to 
 work for 'em to oncet. Ha, ha ! [Exit Lucius 
 left, laughing loudly. Outside.] Whoa, there ! 
 ivbw, then, giddap, durn ye ! Giddap ! 
 
 [/Sound of sleigh-bells moving off outside. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Curtis, I won't refer to it again ; but just this 
 once, let me 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Impatiently.] I know [Suddenly, 
 
 with deference.] Pardon me, my dear ; I was 
 getting hasty. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 If Mr. Perkins says it's the Transatlantic 
 Securities Corporation that is pushing you 
 
/2 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 Dolly, can I afford, as a man, to kneel to 
 Lord Bunn and get help from his father ? 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 I don't urge it, Curtis. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Eo, Mother. If we must fall, let us go down 
 with self-respect. Oh, if I could only get five 
 minutes on the telephone ! {Beginning to pace 
 the floor. ~\ It makes me light-headed to think 
 what I could do if I could only reach the office. 
 [Getting louder in his talk J] And that old 
 
 fossil, Perkins [Mrs. Woodward lays a 
 
 restraining hand on his arm.'] You're right, 
 my dear girl. I mustn't think of it. [Looks at 
 Mrs. Woodward quizzically, and then takes 
 her by both shoulders and looks straight i/tito her 
 eyes with a smile.'] There's something beyond 
 that on your mind. Better get rid of it. Out 
 with it ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 [Gently disengaging herself.] No, Curtis ; 
 you've answered that, too. 
 
 [Mrs. Woodward goes toward counter 
 and feels absent-mindedly of the calico. 
 Curtis follows. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 73 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 Now, Dolly, you wouldn't have me 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Come, Curtis! Don't let's think any more 
 about it. Get me my aprons. [Curtis goes 
 around behind counter.'] I must hurry back to 
 cook dinner. Ruth's peeling the potatoes — just 
 think ! For the first time in her life ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Euth, now! You really imagine she likes 
 Lord Bunn ? 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 I've passed beyond imagining. I know. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Measuring off and putting up calico.'] 
 Humph ! 
 
 [Lord Bunn, passing outside window 
 in rear, taps on it to draw their atten- 
 tion, and waves his hand gaily. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [Hastily.] There he is now, coming in. 
 You'll treat him nicely, Curtis ? 
 
 [Enter Lord Bunn. 
 
74 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Loed Bmsnsr. 
 
 Good-morning ; good-morning, Mrs. "Wood- 
 ward. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Good-morning, Lord Bunn. I was hoping I 
 should see you so that I might invite you to 
 dinner. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 [To Loed Bunn.] I forbid you to come — 
 unless Mrs. Woodward makes a double supply 
 of biscuits. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 
 If it will not be too much trouble, Mrs. 
 Woodward ? 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 [Laughing. ~\ I'll make a bushel, if neces- 
 sary, but you shall both have enough. Oh, 
 Curtis ! My aprons ! 
 
 [Cuetis wraps them up and gives them 
 to her. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 At what hour, Mrs. Woodward ? 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Twelve, sharp, is the hour set by the Stacey- 
 ville decree of fashion. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON ?$ 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 And a blame good hour, too — mebbe eleven 
 would be a mite better. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 Well, I'll hurry the dinner, then, you poor 
 hungry soul. Watch the gable window, and 
 when you see the blue table-cover hung out 
 you'll know dinner is ready. 
 
 [Mrs. Woodward gives Curtis money, 
 and moves toward centre door. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Coming out from oehind counter, approach- 
 ing Mrs. Woodward and speaking earnestly.'] 
 Hold on, Dolly. Show me the window. It'd 
 be terrible if we made a mistake. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [Walking Curtis to window at right and 
 pointing.] The window just above the tree. 
 Remember [moving toward door], the blue 
 table-cover, gentlemen. 
 
 Curtis. 
 In the gable window. [Exit Mrs. Wood- 
 ward at centre.] Lord Bunn, there goes the 
 best woman that ever trod a rag-carpet — or a 
 Persian rug, either. You'd never think, to know 
 that dear girl only in prosperity, how she can 
 
76 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 shine out in adversity. If you could only see 
 how staunch, and tender, and forgetful of self 
 she's been since the calamity of yesterday ! 
 Not once even saying, " I told you so ! " And 
 when a woman can keep from saying " I 
 told you so " to the unfortunate critter that's 
 brought her to her knees — why, she gets about 
 as near the angels as it's possible — or desirable. 
 [Seats himself on chair in front of counter.'] 
 D'you know, Lord Bunn, the whole situation's 
 farcical. Here that fool Kimander woman's 
 put me on the brink of ruin with her con- 
 founded telegrams to her condemned news- 
 paper, and me only twenty-five miles from 
 help, and it's as far off as heaven. If I could 
 get over that twenty-five miles, I'd save my- 
 self yet. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 Twenty-five miles doesn't seem so far. 
 
 Cuktis. 
 Not until you offer a fortune to any man 
 here who will get over it. They balk, and 
 they ought to know. I've got to sit tight like 
 a woodchuck run into a stone-wall and wait for 
 an engine to break through the drifts. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 And how long will that take ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON TJ 
 
 Curtis. 
 Three days, four days, they say. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Oh, if it's only three or four days 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Laying his hand earnestly on Lord Bunn's 
 knee.'] And where shall I be in three days ? 
 [Kissing his Jmger-tips and waving them.] 
 There ! Lucius will give me a job in the store, 
 Dolly will do her own washing, Peter's gone 
 out already for a hired man, and Ruth — Kuth, 
 Lord Bunn. That's beyond a jest. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 [Eagerly.] Oh, Ruth— Miss Woodward ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Yes? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 I hope she is well this morning ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Appeared to be. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 The — the journey has not upset her ? 
 
78 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Curtis. 
 Not so's't you could notice. She ate four 
 sausages for breakfast and a pile of buckwheats 
 as high as a flower-pot. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 You — you, sir ; and you are feeling well ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Never better, so far as health is concerned. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 I wanted to say, sir, about Miss — er, that is, 
 Mrs. Woodward] I — that is — I hope — she's 
 well? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Didn't look sick a little while ago. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 
 Oh, no, no ! Not at all ! To be sure ! . . . 
 And Miss Euth — er— I hope, sir — I trust you'll 
 forgive me, but 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 She is quite well, Lord Bunn. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Mr. Woodward, you, sir — you 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 79 
 
 CUETIS. 
 We're all well. The hull family's well. 
 
 [An embarrassing silence, while Loed 
 Bunn sits tongue-tied, and Curtis 
 watches him narrowly. 
 
 Loed Btnsnvr. 
 Mr. Woodward, I've customarily nerve and 
 self-command enough, but this — this 
 
 Cuetis. 
 This wholesale search for health is rather too 
 much, eh ? Oh, you forgot Peter. I assure 
 you, on my honor, he's well, too. 
 
 Loed Bumsr. 
 I know I'm making a fool of myself 
 
 Cuetis. 
 /didn't say you weren't. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 
 {Rising and throwing back his shoulders. .] 
 Mr. Woodward, what I'm trying to tell you — 
 what I 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Steady, steady ! There you go again ! 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 What do you suppose I crossed the ocean for 
 and came away up here to see you about ? 
 
8o SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 CUETIS. 
 Wanted to make sure I was well. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 The devil ! No ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, I'm real put out ! 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 Mr. Woodward, I want to ask your consent 
 to my marriage with Miss Kuth. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 {Rising and pacing the floor .] I knew it was 
 coming. I knew it ! But Lordy ! Somehow 
 it's a shock when it does come. Lord Bunn, I 
 don't think you can accuse me of having given 
 you any encouragement ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 I accuse you quite to the contrary. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Just so. [Suspiciously.'] You haven't spoken 
 to my daughter before speaking to me ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 
 [Innocently.'] Oh, would that have been the 
 proper way ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 8 1 
 
 CUETIS. 
 [Severely.] No, sir. It would not have been 
 the proper way. It appears to me, Lord Bunn, 
 that you're up against a blind wall. There's no 
 more to be said. 
 
 [Miter Miss Kimander, centre, carry- 
 ing a pail and a covered basket 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 [Eagerly.] But there's plenty more to be 
 said, and I'm going to say it. 
 
 [C urtis checks him by motioning toward 
 Miss Kimander, who has set down her 
 basket and pail at right, and has her 
 note-book out. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Slipping note-book into her pocket, taking up 
 pail and coming forward?^ Don't let me inter- 
 rupt you gentlemen. I've just come for a quart 
 of molasses. 
 
 [Curtis takes the pail and is about to 
 start with it, when Lord Bujstn speaks. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 [Taking pail and holding it gingerly from 
 him with thumb and finger .] Let me get it for 
 you. 
 
82 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Curtis. 
 All right. Furthest barrel beyond ye on the 
 right as ye git to the bottom of the stairs. 
 [Marking place on pail with finger?^ About 
 to there, I should jedge, would be a quart. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 And while you're gone I'll read Curt a few 
 stanzas of my poem — my masterpiece — " Ashes 
 of Koses." 
 
 [She looks languishingly at Curtis. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Running to Lord Buistn and taking pail.~\ 
 Here, let me go ! I'd rather draw freezin' mo- 
 lasses any day than listen to red-hot poetry. 
 
 [Curtis goes out cellar door, chuckling. 
 
 Miss Kimastder. 
 [Unfolding poetry and beginning to read.] 
 Hem ! " When you and I were young and our 
 love like a crimson rose unfolded " 
 
 Lord Bu:or. 
 Oh, Miss Kimander ! I don't think I'm a 
 good judge of poetry. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Loftily.'] Young man, this here poetry is 
 writ so's anybody kin enjoy it — even a lord. 
 Hem ! " When you and I were young " 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 83 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 
 Listen ! Did you hear a noise ? I think Mr. 
 Woodward has fallen and hurt himself. I'll 
 go see ! [He starts toward cellar. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Stop, Lord Bunn ! I have need of you ! 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 But maybe Mr. Woodward needs me more. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 I want to ask a favor of you. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 I say ! No more poetry, you know ! 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Oh, — no poetry ; though you don't realize 
 what you're a-missin'. No ! Jest give me a 
 colyum interview to send to the New York 
 Evening Palladium — choice anecdote an' mis- 
 cellany about Curt an' his family. They're 
 crazy to git it. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 My dear madam ! Even if I wished to and 
 were able to, how could you send it ? It would 
 be labor wasted. 
 
84 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Miss Kimandeb. 
 How's that ? 
 
 Loed Buisnsr. 
 Why, no one can get out of Stacey ville. 
 
 Miss Kimandee. 
 
 Never you worry about that. I'll get my 
 story out. Don't you mind. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 But I do mind. 
 
 Miss Kimandeb. 
 
 See here. Will you give me the interview if 
 I tell you ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 Tell me first 
 
 Miss Kimandee. 
 No, sirree! Cash before delivery is my 
 motto. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 If you'll tell me how I can get a message out 
 of Stacey ville to-day, I'll let you print anything 
 you like about me! 
 
 MlSS KlMANDEE. 
 
 Mercy ! About you ? A real live lord ? 
 It's a bargain. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 85 
 
 [Miss Kimander brings forward the 
 covered basket and lifts lid. Lord 
 Bunn looks in. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Pigeons ! 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Carrier-pigeons. There's only them two left. 
 I've let off a flock to-day with three colyurns of 
 choice 
 
 Lord Bustn. 
 And how much should you expect to get for 
 what these two birds will carry ? 
 
 Miss Kimakder. 
 Well, maybe ten dollars. 
 
 Lord Buotst. 
 I'll give you a hundred for them, if you'll say 
 nothing to anybody about it. 
 
 [Curtis pokes his head through cellar 
 door. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Are you finished with the poetry ? If ye 
 ain't, I'll go down-cellar an' draw another 
 quart. 
 
86 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 
 You're perfectly safe now. [To Miss Ki- 
 MANDER, giving her money. .] There ! 
 
 {Enter Cuetis. 
 
 Miss Kimandee. 
 
 [To Loed Bunn.] And my interview with 
 you — my two colyums of choice anecdote an' 
 miscellany ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 Make it up as you go along. I'll bet it will 
 be about as truthful and intelligent as the ones 
 they do sometimes print. Anything, anything ! 
 I'll stand for it. 
 
 Miss Kimandee. 
 As intelligent, an' as true ! Wait until you 
 read it, that's all ! 
 
 [Cuetis gives her tin pail. 
 
 Loed Buistn. 
 
 [Pushing Miss Kimandee toward door.] 
 There, there ! Run along ! Print anything ! 
 Say I'm a reformed pirate, or a professional 
 Hindoo poker-player — that I was born on the 
 tail of a comet, or in an air-ship — anything ! 
 Anything ! Only go ! 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 87 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 Lord Bunn ! Lord Bunn ! Come here a mo- 
 ment. Come quick ! 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 [Advancing toward Curtis, wAa is looking 
 out of window at rights What is it ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Isn't that a table-cover waving from the 
 gable window ? 
 
 [Cuetis puts on his overcoat and hat. 
 
 Lord Bonn. 
 No, that's only the shutter swinging. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Sure? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 No doubt about it. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Well, it'd be terrible to miss it. 
 
 [Curtis takes off overcoat and hangs up 
 hat. During this dialogue Miss Ki- 
 mander has stealthily crept back to 
 cellar door, entered cellar, and closed 
 door after her. 
 
88 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 LORD BUNN. 
 
 Mr. Woodward 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 "Wait. Just a second. Are you certain that 
 isn't a table-cover ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Quite certain. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, go on. I'm awfully disappointed, 
 though. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 I had the honor to make you a proposal a 
 short time ago 
 
 Curtis. 
 Yes. I had the honor to hear it. Lord Bunn, 
 I've a, hundred good objections. The first is that 
 you haven't spoken to my daughter. You've 
 gone about it in the good old English way — 
 oh, perfectly proper 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 
 But, I assure you, if that's the only objec- 
 tion 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Not at all. Once your father and I, as you 
 must know 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 89 
 
 LoED BuKKT. 
 Wasn't that a perfectly legitimate business 
 deal ? And besides I thought the wrangle was 
 amicably adjusting itself. 
 
 Cuktis. 
 Oh, I don't mean that. I haven't a whimper 
 to make. No, no ! At the same time, I've got 
 a proper look into your father's character. I 
 couldn't have my girl going into a family that's 
 too proud to receive her. 
 
 Loed Binsnsr. 
 
 That's just what I'm here for. I have his 
 blessing and his consent. 
 
 Ctjetis. 
 You were a leetle hasty about getting the 
 consent, but the blessing won't hurt you a 
 mite. Your father thought my Ruth was the 
 daughter of a rich man — so she was. But 
 would he give his consent under the present 
 circumstances? You needn't speak. I know. 
 Finally, and here's the clincher — Ruth's en- 
 gaged to young Yalentine Quincy, son of Blast- 
 Furnace Quincy, the steel man. There's a 
 family to welcome her with only an extra 
 gingham gown for all her dowry. 
 
90 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Engaged ! To Yalentine Quincy ! Engaged ! 
 She never [Pauses suddenly. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 I have never heard Miss Woodward say any- 
 thing that would lead me to believe she was 
 engaged. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Why should she ? You wouldn't expect her 
 to shout it from the housetops ? Your propo- 
 sition is hopeless. You're offering me a cold- 
 blooded matrimonial arrangement with a girl 
 to whom you've never given a hint of your 
 sentiments, a girl that wouldn't be received by 
 your family, and a girl that's already promised 
 to another man. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 But if I am willing to take my chances with 
 Mr. Quincy 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Lord Bunn, you are forgetting yourself. Let's 
 
 change a painful subject. Talk of an}^thing 
 
 else — weather, crops, politics, business — no, not 
 
 business. I haven't any business, or won't have 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 9 1 
 
 by to-morrow. Let's talk dinner. [Going to 
 window.] Seems to me it's about time that 
 table-cover got into action. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Mr. Woodward, suppose you could send word 
 to your partner? Suppose I could reach my 
 father 
 
 Curtis. 
 JSTo, no ! I will ask no favors from you or 
 from him. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 I'm talking cold business. I suppose you 
 could arrange for good security on a loan ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 \_Eagerly.~] Lord Bunn, if I could only lay 
 hands on a telephone, I could produce security 
 that the Bank of England wouldn't shy at. If 
 I could only start the telegraph ticking, I'd 
 save myself in spite of that old idiot Perkins. 
 [Impressively tapping Lord Bunn on the chest.~\ 
 Give me a hundred words on the wire, and I'll 
 raise up twenty thousand dollars with every 
 word. A hundred words ! But what's the use 
 of talking ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Write me your hundred words and I'll get 
 them on the wire at Loon Station. 
 
92 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Curtis. 
 Have you found a telephone working ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 No. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Then how '11 you reach Loon Station, eh ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Under the circumstances, that's a question 
 with few answers. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Only two. I know 'em by heart — only a 
 bird or a man on snow-shoes. 
 
 Lord Bunist. 
 Only a man on snow-shoes — or a bird. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Eagerly.~\ You have found a snow-shoe 
 man ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 
 No, but I've found a — that is, you know I 
 never like to brag about my accomplishments, 
 and I believe I never told you I learned snow- 
 shoeing when a boy in Canada ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 93 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 No, sir. You certainly never did. I'm really 
 surprised to hear it now. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 
 [Pichmg up basket with pigeons and laying 
 it on counter^] Oh, I know a few other things 
 that would surprise you, too. As you say, I 
 never told you I could walk on snow-shoes. 
 
 Cuktis. 
 Never, I assure you. You're resolved to go ? 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 I've got some business of my own to attend 
 to, and your telegram won't be any extra weight 
 — that is, not much, you know. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 {Sitting down at counter, drawing writing 
 materials toward him and beginning to write.'] 
 I'm profoundly grateful, of course. 
 
 Loed Buisnsr. 
 I may give you a chance to show your grati- 
 tude. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 [JRising and tearing up paper he has been 
 writing on.~\ That's enough. Not to save my 
 fortune would I sell my girl's happiness. 
 
94 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Well, well ! Let me go without thought of 
 reward. Give me the telegram. This is sim- 
 ply a matter between good fellows. 
 
 Curtis. 
 {Sitting down again to write.'] There's no 
 personal obligation binding on me in that direc- 
 tion ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 None whatever. 
 
 Curtis. 
 And you'll telegraph your father not to press 
 the Transatlantic Securities loan — your propo- 
 sition, you know ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 
 My propo Oh, yes ! Mine altogether, 
 
 of course ! 
 
 [Curtis gives Lord Bunn paper, which 
 he puts in his pocket. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 All correct, Mr. Woodward. I'm going 
 down to Seth Kimander's to fix up the snow- 
 shoes — or the bird, you know. Ha, ha ! 
 
 [As Lord Bunn goes toward centre door, 
 a snore is heard from the cellar. Lord 
 Bunn" turns suddenly, and both speak 
 at once. 
 
six miles from a lemon 95 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Did you speak ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 What did you say ? 
 
 Both. 
 
 No, no ; nothing ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 I feel some compunction 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Don't. Keally isn't worth while. 
 
 [Lord Bunn picks up the basket with the 
 pigeons. 
 
 Curtis. 
 That's right. Take her back her basket. I 
 don't harbor any petty spite against the fool 
 critter. 
 
 Lord Binsnsr. 
 Good-bye ! 
 
 [McitLom) Buisns", centre. Curtis stands 
 a moment watching him, and then comes 
 m and closes the door. Stands irreso- 
 lute. Goes to door, then bach again. 
 Finally goes to door, opens it, and 
 calls, very faintly. 
 
96 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Curtis. 
 LordBunn. Comeback. Comeback. [Shuts 
 door and returns.'] "Well, I've done my best. 
 Lord knows I called him back. [Irresolute 
 again.] Oh, pshaw ! I'm not going to have a 
 fit of hysterics! [Snore from cellar. Curtis 
 goes to cellar door, ope?is it, and calls.] Kitty ! 
 Kitty ! Come, Puss ! Come out of that ! 
 
 [JVb cat appearing, Curtis shuts cellar 
 door. Enter Ruth, centre door. 
 
 Ruth. 
 Why, Father ! Does storekeeping take away 
 your appetite ? The signal for you and Lord 
 Bunn has been waving for ten minutes. Where 
 is Lord Bunn? 
 
 Curtis. 
 He w T as just about going on an errand. I'll 
 see if I can't get him. Might as well have din- 
 ner before he starts. 
 
 Ruth. 
 Starts ? For where, in this place and in this 
 weather ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Yes; that's so, ain't it? See here, Ruth. 
 You just keep an eye on the store while I'm 
 gone. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 97 
 
 KUTH. 
 [Clasping her hands.'] Father, my fondest 
 dream when I was a little girl was to keep a 
 country store and have unlimited ginger-snaps 
 and peppermint- sticks. And now here's my 
 dream come true, and I don't dare take advan- 
 tage of it — because I'd spoil my appetite. 
 [Laughs.] Don't be gone long, Father. 
 
 Curtis. 
 E b, no ! Back directly. 
 
 [Exit Curtis, left. Ruth takes up jar 
 of peppermint-sticks, holds it to the 
 light in her left hand, clasps her right 
 hand across her bosom in mock admi- 
 ration and longing, and then, with a 
 laugh and a shake of her head, she re- 
 places the jar on the shelf Enter 
 Peter, centre, followed by Freder- 
 icks. Fredericks pauses at the 
 door and calls back over her shoulder. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Drive right along to the mill. Get the oats 
 and come back here for me. Understand? 
 Lively, now ! [She enters and shuts door. 
 
 Ruth. 
 Oh, Peter ! 
 
98 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Petee. 
 
 [Kissing her.] Heigho, Baby ! 
 
 KUTH. 
 
 Miss Pomeroy, I hope you didn't think I was 
 rude to you yesterday ? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 Rude ? You couldn't be rude if you tried. 
 Will you let me kiss you, dear ? 
 
 Ruth. 
 Willingly ! [.They embrace. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 Well, I'm glad some of your folks are hu- 
 man, Peter. And I do think I'd get along 
 famously with your father. My ! That nar- 
 rows, down the inhuman ones pretty fine, 
 doesn't it? [To Ruth.] Never mind, my 
 dear. Your mother is probably right as she 
 sees it — only we are wearing different spec- 
 tacles. Where's Mr. Woodward ? I've a pre- 
 cious charge to give into his keeping. 
 
 [Cuetis enters from left very hastily, 
 
 but softly, looking back of him and 
 
 closing door carefully. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Well, well! 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 99 
 
 EUTH. 
 
 Didn't you find him, Father ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Still looking toward doorJ] No, he found 
 me — was laying for me just outside, appar- 
 ently. But I think I've lost him. 
 
 Kuth. 
 Lost Lord Bunn ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 No, no! Not Lord Bunn. How are you, 
 Peter, my boy ? Miss Pomeroy ? It's a crazy 
 old fellow who insists upon giving me the hotel 
 down the road. This is the blamedest place 
 for gittin' presented with things. 
 
 [Mechanically fixes Sheriff's oadge. 
 
 Fredericks. 
 Mr. Woodward, I want to give you — — 
 
 Curtis. 
 I won't have it. I don't care what it is. I'll 
 go to jail before I'll take another thing in this 
 town. 
 
 Fredericks. 
 He isn't an it— it's a him ! It's Peter ! 
 
 Kuth. 
 Do you really mean you've given up Peter ? 
 
IOO SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 [Swinging up on to counter.'] We've given 
 each other up. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Now, I call that sense. 
 
 Euth. 
 Oh, Mother will be so glad — but I'm sorry. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 You needn't waste any sympathy on us. 
 I've done with Peter in a business way. I've 
 discharged him. 
 
 Petee. 
 Bounced from only job I ever had. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 You see, Peter can eat more than he's worth. 
 Of course, he has a few little objections on his 
 side. 
 
 Petee. 
 Sleep in cold attic. Get up four o'clock. 
 Butler for ten fat cows. Ugh ! 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 The fact is, Peter as a hired man is simply 
 impossible, and for a boss, well, maybe I'm — a 
 little difficult. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 101 
 
 Peter. 
 Rotten ! 
 
 Fredericks. 
 But as a husband, I think Peter will do. 
 And he says that merely as a wife I shall be — 
 maybe 
 
 Peter. 
 O.K. 
 
 Fredericks. 
 
 I'd rather lose everything I have than lose 
 Peter. And though I won't marry into a 
 family that won't have me unless I can furnish 
 at least two respectable parents, I'll wait for 
 Peter until the end of time. 
 
 Peter. 
 Long wait. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 Peter is my ideal of a husband. Most women 
 object to a man fussing around in the kitchen. 
 Now, I should object to a man fussing around 
 my farm. There'd be trouble right away. I'm 
 firmly convinced Peter won't get obnoxiously 
 energetic. And really, I think a heap of him. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 It's no use 
 
102 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Oh, that isn't what I came for, As my hired 
 man, Peter could stay at the farm. Discharged, 
 of course, he can't. You keep a stiff upper lip, 
 Peter. Don't say a word 
 
 Cuetis. 
 He won't if he can help it. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 We'll hope your mother's hard heart will 
 melt. Peter, do step to the door and see if that 
 lazy fellow is coming back from the mill. Dear, 
 dear ! They talk of the servant-girl problem ! 
 If they only knew what we poor women have 
 to put up with in the hired-man line! And 
 
 I tell you what, Pa Woodward Now, 
 
 don't look shocked. If you're going to know 
 me any length of time you must be prepared to 
 get electrified often, and hard — and sudden ! 
 Eh, Peter ? I lack repose. I lack a good many 
 things, and repose is one of them. But I'm 
 getting fond of you, and if you improve on 
 acquaintance, I'm going to adopt you as my 
 father, whether you become my real father-in- 
 law or not. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Adopted ! Heavens ! 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 103 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 You're an orphan, aren't you? Everybody 
 knows that the first one to say "tag" to an 
 orphan can adopt it. Don't worry about it 
 any longer. I like you ! 
 
 Cuetis. 
 This beats all ! Here I'm Sheriff against my 
 will, Chief of the Fire Department in spite of 
 myself, and adopted as a father without a word 
 to say about it ! [Enter O. B. Jackson.] 
 There's my maniac. Here, you, just take your 
 old hotel somewhere else. I don't want it. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Mornin', young sir. Mornin', young madam. 
 Mornin', Miss Fredericka. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Oh, let me introduce you. This, Mr. Wood- 
 ward, is Mr. O. B. Jackson, known to me and 
 known to be generally the richest man in town, 
 and the meanest, and proud of both titles. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Don't ye go to callin' me names, young miss. 
 I'll not have it. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 I'm not calling you names. I'm simply re- 
 lating a fact — just as I should say, " This is the 
 
104 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 coldest day in the year," " This is the only store 
 in the village," so I say, " This is the meanest 
 man in Staceyville," and you can't deny it. 
 
 Jackson. 
 [WhminglyJ] Because I want what's mine 
 be rights, everybody abuses me. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Truth is not abuse. I believe if you had a 
 family you'd sell them for a dollar. Sell them ? 
 You'd pay a dime to have them kidnapped ! 
 
 Cuetis. 
 I don't seem to remember you, Mr. Jackson. 
 Can't place you. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 O. B.'s a stranger in town, Sheriff. Been 
 here only twenty years or so. 
 
 [Feedeeicka joins Petee and Ktjth 
 at centre door, and beckons to a far- 
 away teamster, who evidently does not 
 see her. She stamps her foot impa- 
 tiently and reenters, closing door. 
 Meanwhile 
 
 Jackson. 
 I've seed lots of folks run from Sheriffs, but 
 you're the only Sheriff I ever seed run from 
 folks. I tell ye I got a job for ye. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 105 
 
 Curtis. 
 A job ? I've got too many jobs now, I have. 
 
 Jackson. 
 [Producing papers. .] You knowed it, or you 
 wouldn't 'a' run. I tell you I got an attach- 
 ment agin the Eagle Hotel, an' I want you 
 should seize it for me. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Now, now, now, Mr. 0. B. Jackson ! Can't 
 you see I've got my hands full running this 
 store ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 The store's an individual concern. This thing 
 here [tapping papers] is the majesty of the law. 
 
 Curtis. 
 I want to state right now, if I've forgotten 
 to mention it before, that this is the durndest 
 spot for gittin' things handed out to you that 
 you don't want and don't know how to let 
 go of o 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 [Advancing to Curtis and taking paper from 
 his hand.] Attaching the hotel again, O. B. ? 
 It's a regular habit with him, Sheriff. He does 
 it every so often. 
 
106 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Jackson. 
 I only want what's me own. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 You'll have a perfectly lovely time, Sheriff. 
 The last one that seized it resigned because the 
 boarders insisted on staying the week out and 
 he had to run the hotel for them. I'll drop 
 over and see how you're getting along and 
 help you with the dishes — for the servants will 
 board, too, to work out their wages. That's 
 the way it usually goes, doesn't it, O. B. ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 Wal, most ginerally. 
 
 Curtis. 
 I won't do it. I set my foot down 
 
 Jackson. 
 Oh, very well ! There's a law expressly pro- 
 vided for S heriff s that refuse their duty. There's 
 a law for that ! 
 
 [Enter Seth Kimander, centre, carry- 
 mg a gun. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Go down and see the Justice of the Peace, 
 Sheriff, and find out if you can't shake it off. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 107 
 
 CURTIS. 
 That might be a good idea in any town but 
 this. I'll try it, but I believe things here can't 
 be shook. {Advancing to left door andpausingJ\ 
 What did Lucius Peck say — that I'd probably 
 be in jail in a week ! {Exit Curtis at left. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 Everybody's agin me, jest because I want my 
 dues. [Talking disgustedly at Seth.] Yah! 
 There's another of 'em now ! [Dances in front 
 o/'Seth, shaking his finger under Seth's ?w><s0.] 
 Don't you go for to deny it ! Don't ye dare, 
 Seth Kimander ! 
 
 Seth. 
 
 [ Undisturbed.'] Mebbe I won't ef you tell 
 
 me what 'tis, an' mebbe I will. Anybody seen 
 
 Sister Kizzie round lately? She ain't come 
 
 home yit. [Snore from cellar. 
 
 Jackson. 
 "Where's that six dollars an' forty cents, an' 
 eight months' interest you owe me ? When are 
 you goin' to pay me, hey ? 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Don't you ever think of anything but dollars 
 and cents, O. B. ? 
 
108 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Seth. 
 [Feeling in his pocket.] I'm a-goin' to pay 
 ye now. 
 
 Jackson. 
 {Taken aback. ] Now ? Huh ! Now ? 
 
 Seth. 
 
 Ya-as, now. I'm a-goin' to discharge this 
 debt of six dollars an' forty cents by givin' you 
 as good a swarm o' bees as they is in the woods, 
 an' the interest will begin to commence when 
 you try to git 'em into a hive. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 Bees ! You'll pay me in bees ? You'll pay 
 me in cash. I refuse to take bees in payment 
 of my six dollars an' forty cents an' eight months' 
 interest. 
 
 Seth. 
 The interest's liable to last ye more'n eight 
 months ef ye don't handle 'em light. Here's 
 one I brung ye for a sample. [Tenders bee to 
 Jackson, who draws back.] Thunder! Ye 
 needn't be so scairt. He's friz tight. Can't 
 work his stinger till he's thawed out. No? 
 Wal, your six dollars an' forty cents' wuth o' 
 bees an' forty-six dollars' wuth o' interest is 
 waitin' for ye whenever you should want to go 
 for 'em. An' say, bee-stings is mighty good for 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 09 
 
 rheumatics. D'you hear? For rheumatics. 
 What I want now is about ten cents' wuth o' 
 plug tobacco. [Lays bee on box near stove. 
 
 Petee. 
 [Going around behmd counter.] No bees, 
 Seth. 
 
 Seth. 
 
 How'll ye trade for one o' Kizzie's napkin- 
 rings made outer hoss-hair ? No ? [Reaching 
 in pocket.] Cologny bottle made outer the 
 neck-bone of a caow ? No ? Motto, " God 
 Bless Our Home," made outer dried June-bugs ? 
 No? [Fondlvng breech of rifle.'] Wal, then, 
 you kin chalk it up on the slate. I jest got to 
 have that plug. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Better chalk it up, Peter. 
 
 Petee. 
 [Dodging gun.] It's chalked ! 
 
 [Petee gives tobacco to Seth. Enter 
 Mbs. Woodwaed at centre. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Where is your father, Euth ? The food will 
 be in cinders. [Sees Petee.] Peter, you're 
 just in time for dinner. 
 
 [She is about to sit on box, when Seth 
 motions her away and points to bee. 
 
1 10 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 I've been worrying so about you, Peter. 
 [Looking around she sees Feedeeicka.] Oh, 
 pardon me, Miss Pomeroy. [ Very frigidly.] 
 I beg you will not let me interfere with any of 
 your arrangements. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Never mind me, Mrs. Woodward. I'm 
 going home to dinner — alone. I've released 
 Peter. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 [Advancing toward Feedeeicka.] You 
 dear, good, generous, self-sacrificing girl ! 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 [Standing with arms folded.'] As a hired 
 man, merely. I retain my interest in him as 
 my prospective husband. 
 
 Kuth. 
 [Hastily.'] Oh, Mother! Let me present 
 Mr. O. B. Jackson, who has just given Father 
 the hotel to run. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 The hotel ! How do you do, Mr. Jackson ? 
 
six miles from a lemon 1 1 1 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 [Rising slowly from his seat, which Seth 
 slips into.'] Jest tolerable, ma'am. I'm kinked 
 up dreadful with rheumatics. I don't s'pose 
 I'll ever git over it. There's no cure on earth, 
 I'm afraid, for old O. B. 
 
 Seth. 
 Hain't I jest been a-tellin' you bee-stings is 
 good for rheumatics ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 [He is about to seat himself, but observing 
 Seth in his chair he scowls at him and goes 
 over to box, bending over to sit down.] No, no ! 
 Nobody but the good Lord kin ever help old 
 O. B. Nothing on earth will put back the 
 springs into old O. B.'s legs! [Jackson sits 
 on bee for a second. Then he rises with a 
 whoop of anguish, throws off coat and vest 
 and attacks suspenders^] Help ! Help ! I'm 
 stabbed ! Somebody help me shuck my pants ! 
 
 Seth. 
 [Rising and grabbing Jackson.] Not here ! 
 You kin shuck 'em in the cellar I 
 
 [Seth propels Jackson toward cellar, 
 at right, throios him in and closes door. 
 Immediately a terrific feminine shriek 
 is heard, and Miss Kimander enters 
 
112 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 from cellar, forcibly ejecting Jack- 
 son, whom she rushes to centre door 
 and throios out, Peter opening the 
 door for her, and Jackson tugging at 
 his suspenders. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 
 Well, I declare! My gracious me! Who 
 sicked that old lunatic onto me ? Curtis Wood- 
 ward, you're at the bottom of this ! You'd bet- 
 ter hide ! I'll fix you ! I'll go straight home 
 an' write two colyums of choice anecdote an' 
 miscellany that'll make your ears scorch. [To 
 Seth.] What are you so tickled about, you 
 long-legged idiot? Hain't you got no more 
 spunk'n to set an' grin like a pup gittin' his 
 back scratched while your poor, lone, onpro- 
 tected sister is snubjected to sech insults? 
 [Suddenly highly vindictive.'] Wait till you 
 git home ! I'll serve you worse'n two colyums 
 of choice anecdote an' miscellany when I have 
 you alone ! [Exit Miss Kimander at centre. 
 
 Seth. 
 [Rising and advancing toward left door. 
 Enter Curtis.] Guess I'd better git thar 
 afore her, or she'll hev the toe-nails outer all 
 my hounds to make sofa-cushions of. Some- 
 times I even ketch her lookin' kinder queer at 
 me ! [Exit Seth. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 113 
 
 CURTIS. 
 
 No use. I'll have to go ahead and seize it. 
 Where's that ancient shilling-squeezer? I've 
 got a first-rate article of law I want to explain 
 to him. 
 
 Mes. Woodward. 
 Come, Curtis ; your food will be spoiled. 
 Where is Lord Bunn ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Oh, yes. He's gone on an errand. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Well, the dinner can't wait. When he comes 
 back he'll know he's to follow you home. 
 
 Ruth. 
 [At window, right] Which way did he go, 
 Father ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 I think he said he had a little business over 
 in Loon Station. 
 
 All. 
 Loon Station ! 
 
 Fredericka. 
 You don't mean to say that Lord Bunn has 
 started for Loon Station on foot ? 
 
1 14 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 KUTH. 
 
 Oh, Father ! He has never been so rash as 
 that? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, I tried to persuade him not to — actu- 
 ally called him back after he'd started, but he 
 simply %oould go. 
 
 Ruth. 
 Father ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 {Guiltily^ Well, daughter ? 
 
 Ruth. 
 Did you ask him to go ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Oh, no — not to say ask him. 
 
 Ruth. 
 Did he go on your account ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, partly. 
 
 Ruth. 
 Heavens! [To Fredericka.] Tell me, 
 tell me ! Could he possibly get there alive ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 115 
 
 Fkedekicka. 
 [Shaking her head.] Never ! It's impossible. 
 [Ruth throws herself into a chair de- 
 spairingly, her hack to the rest. 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 Why, Euth ! I never thought you cared 
 
 Ruth. 
 Cared ! Don't talk to me ! Don't speak to 
 me ! If he comes to harm on your account, 
 
 I'll never {Breaking down.] Oh, Father ! 
 
 I didn't mean to speak so wickedly. Forgive 
 me! [Rising, to Fkedekicka.] Can't we 
 reach him some way — somehow ? 
 
 Fkedekicka. 
 If he hasn't reached the mountains yet, my 
 mare might overtake him. If he has, — why, 
 she can't. 
 
 Cuktis. 
 This is my business. Will you lend me your 
 horse, young lady, and show me the way ? 
 
 Fkedekicka. 
 I'll drive you myself. [Sound of sleigh-hells 
 outside.] There's my lazy fellow now. Come ! 
 We haven't any time to lose. 
 
Il6 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Curtis ! You can't ! Oh, Curtis, you must 
 not! 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 I must. And if we don't overtake him I'll 
 follow him over the mountains. [To Euth.] 
 I didn't know, my dear. I'm going to do my 
 best to bring him back. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Oh, Miss Pomeroy! You'll bring my hus- 
 band back safe ? 
 
 [Tableau, with Curtis putting on over- 
 coat and muffler with heroic gesture^ 
 Mrs. Woodward and Kuth cling- 
 ing to him. Peter is at window. 
 
 Peter. 
 Eubbish ! 
 
 [Peter goes to centre door, holds it open 
 expectantly, and enter Lord Bunn 
 carrying tvjo baskets, which he places 
 on floor at rear. He is followed by 
 Jackson, who occasionally rubs the 
 spot where the bee stung him. Puth 
 and Mrs. Woodward drop Curtis 
 and run to Lord Buot. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 117 
 
 Curtis. 
 "Well, I'm awfully glad to see you, Lord 
 Bunn ; but you've spoiled as interesting a relief 
 expedition as I ever heard of. Did you have 
 to turn back ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 To tell the truth, I never started. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Never started ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 And moreover, never intended to start. You 
 see I've got a couple of carrier-pigeons that I 
 bought from Miss Kimander 
 
 Curtis. 
 You said you were going yourself. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Pardon me. You insisted that I was, and I 
 didn't like to contradict you. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Sir, you were doing it to influence me to — 
 to — [glancing at Ruth] you know what. I tell 
 you now, that if I had as many reasons for 
 favoring you as I have against you, I'd never 
 give my consent to a man who has so heart- 
 lessly humbugged me and made me ridiculous. 
 
Il8 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 EUTH. 
 But, Father, Lord Bunn didn't make me 
 ridiculous, and it isn't you he wants to marry ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 What, what ! 
 
 Kuth. 
 
 Oh, where's the use of pretending? I - 
 
 [Turns away.] Oh, I canH say it ! 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 [Advancing toward Ruth, taking her hand 
 and facing Curtis.] Let me say it for you. 
 You see, sir, I tried the American plan before 
 I ventured on the British fashion, and, by 
 George ! it worked ! I ask you to forgive a 
 man desperately in earnest for having seemed 
 to deceive you even so far as that. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 I am astonished! Here! I'll give a hun- 
 dred dollars for a carrier-pigeon ! A thousand ! 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 No use. I've cornered the market. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 They're Seth's pigeons, an' Seth owes me 
 money. Sheriff, seize them birds for me, an' 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON IIQ 
 
 help yourself to 'em — at a thousand apiece — or 
 I'll give ye the two for fifteen hundred. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Seth's already paid you — in bees. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 He's nearly kilt me, an' I'll have the law on 
 him. 
 
 Feedericka. 
 
 You refuse the bees ? Then you can't take 
 any other live-stock you fancy. Either the 
 cash or a trade, and he's offered you one trade 
 already. That may not be good law, but it's 
 common sense. 
 
 [Jackson has dropped behind to look 
 into the baskets. 
 
 Lord Bctnn. 
 
 And look here, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is, 
 I promise that if you touch my property you'll 
 go to jail, but you'll go to the hospital first. 
 Hands off ! 
 
 [Jackson reluctantly moves away from 
 the pigeons. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Ah ! That reminds me ! [To Jackson.] 
 You very fluently quoted the law to me just 
 now, my friend ? 
 
120 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Jackson. 
 Sheriff's law I know by heart. 
 
 Curtis. 
 You are not ignorant, then, of that part al- 
 lowing the Sheriff at need to call upon any 
 bystander for assistance ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 [Carelessly.'] Oh, yes. If you hev any 
 trouble you kin git help fast enough. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 [Raising right arm.~\ Then, by the sacred 
 majesty of the law of this Commonwealth, I, 
 Curtis Woodward, Sheriff of this County and 
 Chief of the Amalgamated Pump-Cart Number 
 One, do demand of you, O. B. Jackson, that 
 you aid me in seizing and maintaining this 
 hotel. 
 
 Fredericks 
 Serve you right ! 
 
 Peter. 
 
 Stung again ! 
 
 Jackson. 
 No, I can't! I only want what's mine by 
 rights ! 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 121 
 
 CUETIS. 
 You'll get it. How are you on holy-stonin' 
 the floor with a scrubbin'-brush ? For by all 
 the gods of Sheriffs rolled in a bunch, you'll 
 have a broken back an' housemaid's knee fore 
 an' aft when / git through with ye. You re- 
 fuse? 
 
 Jackson. 
 Now, I didn't go so fur. I know the law. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 But if you were a mind-reader, Sheriff, he'd be 
 doing lock-step in half an hour. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Run the hotel, eh? I'll run you! Well, 
 Lord Bunn ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 
 Mr. Woodward, I give you your choice. In 
 this basket [pointing] are your dispatch and 
 mine to my father, asking him not to press the 
 loan. In that [ pointing] is a telegram from me 
 urging him to push it to the wall. I hate to 
 take advantage of you, but unless you give your 
 consent to my marriage with your daughter, 
 I'll let the other pigeon go. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 I like a lord with spunk. 
 
122 six miles from a lemon 
 
 Peter. 
 Eawther strong ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [Clasping her hands.] Oh, Curtis ! 
 
 Ruth. 
 Oh, Father ! 
 
 [Jackson has meanwhile sneaked bach 
 to the baskets. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 I appear to be in an unpopular minority. 
 You've all forgotten one thing, however. 
 
 Lord Bukn. 
 One thing ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Valentine Quincy. 
 
 Ruth. 
 Father, Valentine Quincy and I never 
 
 Lord Bunjst. 
 [Holding up his hand.] One moment. I 
 agree to resign all pretensions to Miss Wood- 
 ward's hand in case Mr. Quincy claims her. 
 
 Ruth. 
 Oh, Bunny i 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 23 
 
 Curtis. 
 That's middling fair. Let me think. One 
 of those baskets— sure you know which is 
 which ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Quite sure. The one with the red ribbon is 
 the wrong one. 
 
 [As Curtis speaks, Jackson takes the 
 red ribbon off one basket and ties it on 
 the other, changing the position of bas- 
 kets accordingly. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 One of 'em holds my salvation, and one my 
 dam — t'other thing. I don't feel as if I can 
 blame you, Lord Bunn. I'd have done as much 
 myself, I do believe. But as it is, why ! You 
 can loose whichever bird you choose. [Lord 
 Bunn takes up basket without red ribbon and 
 moves toward centre door. All follow him.'] And 
 
 if everything comes out all right — if I say 
 
 \_All stand at open door, while Lord 
 Bunn, just outside, apparently releases 
 pigeon. All stand watching its flight. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE. — At the Eagle Tavern, the same after- 
 noon. The office of the hotel is shown — a 
 typical country hotel, with desk at the rear, 
 opening at left. It is just at right of cen- 
 tre. There is a chair behind it, a register 
 on the desk, and several speaking-tubes. At 
 left of centre is a round table, sparsely 
 strewn with newspapers. Several chairs 
 about it. Door at right leading to rest of 
 the hotel. Alongside it a door leading to 
 the cellar. 
 
 Peter discovered, seated behind desk, feet on 
 register, reading paper and nodding, just 
 on the border of sleep. A bell rings. Peter 
 lazily lifts speaking-tube in front of him, 
 calls " Hello ! " and listens for response. 
 
 Peter. 
 
 [Speaking up tube.'] Cold ? Forget it ! 
 [Puts tube to his ear. Murmurs reprovingly 
 into tube.~\ Such language ! Tut, tut ! [Another 
 ring. Peter lifts another tube and listens.'] 
 Yes, ma'am. 
 
 [Strikes call-bell languidly and calls 
 " Front " in a mild voice, drops tube, 
 124 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 25 
 
 yawns, continues reading paper, and 
 evidently does not care whether 
 " Front " answers or not. The bell 
 rings violently. Peter dozes. Enter 
 Curtis, from right, silk hat on, apron 
 from neck to heels, and carrying pan 
 of dishes. As he enters he calls back 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Got to dry 'em somewhere. Better be handy 
 to the bell, hadn't I ? [Puts dish-pan on table. 
 Bell rings again. Curtis looks toward desk 
 and sees Peter asleep. 1 Peter ! [Peter does 
 not stir. Curtis calls more loudly r .] Oh, 
 Peter ! [Peter still motionless. Curtis care- 
 fully places a large platter on the floor and 
 drops a dish on it. Peter sits up slowly, bell 
 rings, and he listens at tube.'] Peter, while this 
 keeping a hotel ain't what it's cracked up to be, 
 still if I only had your end of the job I think I 
 could stagger along under it. Where's that 
 hired girl ? Gits lazier an' lazier every minute. 
 Hurry up, now ! \_Crosses to inner door and 
 beckons. Enter Jackson with pail and mop, 
 looking disreputable. Jackson puts down the 
 pail, straightens up, and rubs his back. Cur- 
 tis crosses to table and picks up a towel with a 
 plate in it. Hands towel and plate to Jackson.] 
 Here ! I want you to git onto the job. 
 
126 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 [Ctjetis and Jackson cross to meet at 
 centre, and Curtis hands Jackson 
 the towel, in doing which he drops the 
 plate. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 [Crying.] There's another plate gone ! Didn't 
 I tell you every time you smash a dish it's three 
 to fourteen cents out of my pocket ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 That don't worry me as much as you might 
 think. 
 
 Jackson. 
 How're you goin' to feed the boarders if you 
 break all the crockery ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 You've an intelligent mind, O. B., even if it 
 does think backwards. That never occurred to 
 me. For two cents I'd push the hull tableful 
 over. 
 
 [Jackson, with a cry of alarm, rushes 
 to table, places himself in front of it, 
 and " shoos " at Curtis with towel. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 Don't you dast ! Don't you dast to touch it ! 
 \Fusses with dishes, whimpering. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON \2J 
 
 Curtis. 
 Now, weep no more, O. B. I didn't call you 
 in here because it tickles me to see you weep. 
 It don't. But I like to gaze upon you wrastlin' 
 with the work. At it, man ! At it ! [Seats 
 himself on chair nearest desk, picks up paper 
 and commences reading it.'] This hotel life, 
 O. B., this bein' compelled to sit idly by an' see 
 you mishandlin' that pottery-ware, is very ex- 
 haustin'. [Beading aloud from paper.] "Hu- 
 bert Fox informs us that although turned 
 ninety-two he has so fur this winter 
 
 thrashed " Confound that paper ! [Dashes 
 
 it on floor, .] I've read it through four times al- 
 ready, includin' the patent-medicine ads. They 
 make an old man of me. How do you like the 
 hotel business, Peter ? 
 
 Peter. 
 Fine. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Rising and leaning over desk.] You like 
 what folks call workin' for a livin', eh ? [Bell 
 rings and Curtis picks up speaking-tube and 
 listens. Then talks into tube.] Fifteen min- 
 utes ? Too bad. [To Peter.] Lady in Num- 
 ber 18 wants her afternoon tea. 
 
 Peter. 
 [Languidly striking call-bell^] Front. 
 
128 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 CUETIS. 
 Let me teach you your business. Here ! 
 [Settles silk hat firmly on his head, gives call- 
 bell a whack and shouts loudly.'] Front ! 
 [Jackson starts and drops a plate.] There's 
 another fourteen cents gone to thunder. How 
 do you ever expect to get rich quick at this 
 game if you throw money away like that ? 
 Lady in Number 18 wants cup of tea and bis- 
 cuits. Lively, now ! 
 
 [Jackson sits on floor, rubbing his legs 
 and belloioing. 
 
 Jackson. 
 I ain't a-goin' to climb to the top floor for 
 nobody. I jest can't ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Now, pay attention, O. B. You decline to 
 assist me, an' as Sheriff I'll put you in the cala- 
 boose, an' as Chief of the Fire Department I'll 
 play the hose on you when I git you thar — an' 
 I'll have the President of the Dorcas Society 
 come an' sing hymns to you. Now, trot ! 
 
 Jackson. 
 [^Rising.] Say, do you know who that is in 
 Number 18 ? That's the ex-potato peeler lady 
 stay in' on to even up for her wages. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 29 
 
 CUKTXS. 
 
 I don't care if it's Mary Queens of Scots. 
 She wants her tea, an' she's a-goin' to have it. 
 Who's runnin' this place, anyway ? You've 
 elected me skipper, an' you've got to skip as I 
 call the figures. I'll have no mutiny aboard 
 this craft. [Boars.] Git! [J acksoin' hastily 
 goes out at inner door, Curtis looking after him 
 with satisfaction?] That's one of the few pleas- 
 ures of this mess — to see that old miser sweat 
 blood. Otherwise — Peter, I've always sorter 
 looked down on men runnin' hotels as below 
 me in intellect, but never agin. What with 
 
 kicking boarders, incompetent help {Looks 
 
 at thermometer and turns up coat-collar.'] Je- 
 hoshaphat ! Look at this for a temperature ! 
 {Grabs speaking-tube.] Here, you, down there ! 
 Yes, you ! If you don't throw on a little more 
 hot juice this tavern will turn into a skating- 
 rink. [Listens, then calls down tube.] Now, 
 now ! If you have anything to say you come 
 right up here on the spar-deck an' say it. 
 [Hanging up tube.] I ain't a-goin' to take no 
 back talk from a tin trumpet. [Ring at bell. 
 Curtis grabs the other speaking -tube and lis- 
 tens, then speaks into it.] Number 14, if you're 
 cold, you can make a few laps around the room 
 and warm up. [Bell rings again. Curtis lis- 
 tens at other end of tube, and takes off his hat to 
 answer.] Yes, ma'am. He's on the way up. 
 
130 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 [Bell rings again. Curtis listens at other 
 tube, then speaks through it, putting his hat 
 firmly on as he does so.] That you again, 
 Number 14? If I come up there I'll warm 
 you ! [Listens. Galls back.] Oh, don't men- 
 tion it. [Hangs up tube. Enter Loed Bunn 
 from cellar, grimy, dressed in overalls, with 
 cigarette and monocle, and carrying coal-shovel.'] 
 Lord Bunn, if I weren't paying you something 
 less than nothing a day I'd fire you on the spot. 
 Is this the way you tend furnace? Go look 
 at that thermometer. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 I want to tell you, Mr. Woodward 
 
 [Loed Bunk is about to seat himself. 
 CuETlS stops him. 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 Here, don't soil all the furniture. [Cuetis 
 spreads newspaper on chair. Loed Bunn sits 
 down. Cuetis lifts each of Lord Bunn's/^ 
 and puts a newspaper under each one, and 
 gingerly takes shovel a?id puts it out at door. 
 Enter Ruth, from right, and begins to pile 
 dishes in pan. She is dressed plainly and 
 wears an apron. Cuetis, to Loed Bunn.] 
 Now, if you feel to home, go ahead. What's 
 the trouble ? Hours too long ? Pay too short ? 
 You ain't on strike, I hope ? [Enter Jackson, 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 131 
 
 carrying tray which he rests on table near Loed 
 Bunn. Curtis continues.'] Because if you are 
 on strike I'll have to exercise my prerogatives 
 as Sheriff and lock you up in the ice-house until 
 you're ready to stoke again, and meanwhile 
 O. B.'ll have to tend furnace. 
 
 [Jackson grabs up tray and runs to 
 Loed Bunn, crying. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Oh, Your Honor ! Your Lordship ! Don't 
 let him put no more trials on a heart-broken 
 old nigger slave ! 
 
 Cuetis. 
 There, now, O. B., that'll be about all from 
 you! We don't want no exhibition of fancy 
 water-works. 
 
 [Loed Bunn helps himself to a handful 
 of sandwiches and a bottle on Jack- 
 son's tray, takes a drink from bottle 
 and then a bite. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 That's for Number 4! He'll leave if he 
 don't git it ! 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 Stoking furnace is bloomin' dry work. You 
 tell Number 4 you gave his beer and sand- 
 
132 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 wiches to a man that needed them more than 
 he did. 
 
 Jackson. 
 \Movkig toward inner door.'] It's a con- 
 spiracy! I'll have the hull crew of you in- 
 dicted ! {Exit Jackson with empty tray. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 
 It is needless, Mr. Woodward, to remind you 
 
 of my motives in volunteering 
 
 [Kuth looks at Lord Bunn with an 
 encouraging smile. Curtis turns 
 toward her, and she turns her back 
 on him. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 No ; we can skip that, I guess. Come, what's 
 your complaint ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 No complaint ; but I have something to tell 
 you, and I don't know how you'll take it. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, I guess I'll take it like I've taken 
 everything else that's lying around loose in 
 this town. I'll kick hard, but I suppose I'll 
 have to board and lodge it in the end. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 33 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 You recall our sending out the pigeon this 
 morning ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Recall it ! It's hung to me like the smell of 
 onions. I've thought of nothing else since. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 And the message meant everything to me. 
 If it reached the telegraph office as it was 
 meant it should [A pause. 
 
 Curtis. 
 As it was meant it should? Is there any 
 reasonable doubt about it ? 
 
 Lord Buito. 
 [Rismg.~] Mr. Woodward, I don't know how 
 it happened, but the wrong pigeon got away. 
 
 [Ruth clasps her hands and looks appeal- 
 ingly at Curtis. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Quietly. ~\ With your telegram to squeeze 
 me? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 But I found it out an hour after, and let the 
 right one go. 
 
1 34 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 CURTIS. 
 Lord Bunn, this can't be a scheme to humil- 
 iate me further. I will do you that justice. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Believe me, no, Mr. Woodward. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 If that wrong pigeon got there first, and of 
 course he did with that start, I'm done. You 
 know that ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 I'm afraid so. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, get back to your shovelling. It's get- 
 ting cold. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 But won't you let me 
 
 Curtis. 
 No. Outside of Valentine's claim, I don't 
 mind owning that I had a sort of sneaking re- 
 gard for you. But I won't let you have my 
 girl if she must go to you as a pauper's daugh- 
 ter — and made one by you. 
 
 Euth. 
 But dear Father 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 35 
 
 CUETIS. 
 
 [Crossing to Kuth.] Come, now, Kuth, we 
 must show some spirit. 
 
 [Peter rises heavily, turns up collar 
 and moves toward outside door. 
 
 Peter. 
 Call me back when the furnace-man and the 
 kitchen-maid go. 
 
 [Peter says this over his shoulder as he 
 reaches door. Unnoticed by him Seth 
 has entered, and stands just inside the 
 door, with his gun held bolt upright 
 before him, the butt on the floor. As 
 Peter turns to go, his eyes are about 
 on a level with the tip of the gun- 
 barrels, and he makes a sudden swing 
 around to the door as if on a pivot, 
 keeping his face close to the gun-bar- 
 rels as if afraid to take his eyes off 
 them, and so makes exit backward. 
 
 Seth. 
 
 [Coming down stage.~\ I thought to have 
 brung ye a treat, miss, but [holding up frag- 
 ments of a bird ] they hain't enough of this left 
 to feed a hungry kitten. I s'pose the remains'll 
 have to go to Xizzie to be made into a neck- 
 tie, or a door-mat, or suthin. But ef I hadn't 
 
136 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 a-been so clost, you'd 'a' had a fine little pigeon- 
 pie all to yourself. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Pigeon-pie ! 
 
 Lord Butstn. 
 [Crossing to Seth arid stooping with his 
 hands on his knees to look more closely at the 
 bird.'] Great Scott, you simpleton! You've 
 killed one of your own pigeons — one of my own 
 pigeons ! 
 
 Seth. 
 
 [Scratching his head.] I thought he looked 
 darn familiar ! 
 
 [Curtis looks at Lord Bunn. Kuth 
 crosses to Lord Bunjst and Seth. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Pointing to bird.] Which ? 
 
 [Lord Bunn wearily passes his hand 
 across his forehead and nods his head. 
 
 Kuth. 
 Mr. Kimander 
 
 Seth. 
 
 Oh, yes, — yes ! That's me ! Kinder startled 
 me. Ain't been called Mister Kimander before 
 in my life, so fur as I kin remember. Yet so it 
 is, an' so I be, Mr. Kimander. Wal, miss ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 37 
 
 KUTH. 
 Wlien did you kill this pigeon ? 
 
 Seth. 
 Wal, I been huntin' 'round most all day, off 
 an' on, sence I left the store. It might 'a' been 
 five hours ago — no, three's more likely — or was 
 it this morning? I dunno, ma'am. I'll be 
 honest with ye. I dunno. But still, I think 
 
 Curtis. 
 Shut up, you — you flounder ! You know, or 
 you don't know ? 
 
 Seth. 
 What I say I'll stick to. I dunno, an' that's 
 honest. 
 
 Loed Bunn. 
 Kather chilly, isn't it ? Fancy I'd better go 
 down and shovel coal. 
 
 [Enter Jackson with sandwiches on tray. 
 Buns around Loed Bunn to avoid 
 him, and drops sandwiches on floor. 
 Grabs them up hastily and runs behind 
 Seth for protection. Exit Loed Bunjst 
 at cellar door, and Ruth at inner door, 
 with pan of dishes. Seth is about to 
 leave when Jackson catches him by 
 the sleeve. 
 
I 38 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 Don't ye go, Seth. Sheriff, my other inter- 
 ests is a-sufferin', an' I want to git away. Why 
 can't you empanel Seth to do my work until I 
 git back ? I'll make it all right with ye, Seth. 
 I'll — yes, by gum ! I'll give ye fifteen cents to 
 take my place for three hours. 
 
 Seth. 
 
 What ! Me, a free-born American citizen, 
 swab up floors an' mess around with sangwiches 
 three hours for fifteen cents ? Not for fifteen 
 million dollars. My job of deliverin' telegrams 
 is jest about enough to keep me runnin' nicely. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Shucks ! There ain't no telegrams to be de- 
 livered now. 
 
 Seth. 
 But there will be afore night. The wires is 
 hummin' business. Must 'a' mended the break 
 over Loon Station way. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Eagerly. ~] There may be telegrams coming 
 in ? Wait for me, Seth. [Puts on coat and 
 mittens. Winds " comforter " about neck. To 
 Jackson.] You stay here an' keep house, d'ye 
 mind ? An' ef I hear any more nonsense about 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 39 
 
 not enjoyin' your job, you know what you'll 
 catch. You like the place, don't you ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 Wa-a-a-al 
 
 Cuetis. 
 What ! 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 [Crying into towel.] Oh, yes. Extremely. 
 Very, very much. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 Don't let your joy overcome you so. [Fol- 
 lowing Seth to door.) All right, Seth. 
 
 [Exeunt Cuetis and Seth. 
 
 Jackson. 
 How long is this bondage a-goin' to continue ? 
 Oh, that I should ever come to this ! Me, the 
 richest man in the hull county, actin' as kitchen 
 help to a shoddy third-rate tavern ! [Bell rings. 
 Jackson continues, shaking his fist at bell.'] 
 King, darn ye ! That's it ! Ring ! Why don't 
 ye ring some more ? 
 
 [Enter Frederick A from outside. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Why, how funny ! I never heard of any one 
 ringing to get into a hotel. Why aren't you 
 
140 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 out in front to welcome the coming, speed the 
 parting guest ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 You might as well begin to part right away. 
 You can't come here to board. I won't have 
 it. There's too dinged many here now. Might 
 as well order my tombstun to once an' be done 
 with it. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Oh, you couldn't prevent my coming if I 
 wanted to. But I'm not going to stay. I've 
 only called to have a word with my Pa. 
 "Where is he ? 
 
 [Feedeeicka crosses to table and sits 
 down in chair, facing front, pulling 
 off her gloves. Jackson stands look- 
 ing at her. 
 
 Jackson. 
 [Shakily.] Who? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Pa. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Your father ? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Yes, my adopted father, the Sheriff. Tell 
 him I'm here. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 141 
 
 Jackson. 
 That's it ! Order me around ! Don't let my 
 feelings stop you. Wipe your feet on poor old 
 0. B. He hain't got no friends. 
 
 [Jackson weeps. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 [^Rising and crossing to him.'] Why, O. B., 
 I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. If I did 
 hurt them I apologize. Where's Mr. Wood- 
 ward ? I'll go to him myself. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 He's give me a little spell of peace. He's 
 gone out, an' I hope to Moses he never comes 
 back. To think what I've stood from that 
 man ! 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 From the Sheriff? Nonsense! The kind- 
 est-hearted man I ever saw. 
 
 Jackson. 
 You hain't acquainted with his heart since 
 he took up the hotel business. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Why, I believe he'd do anything I asked him. 
 
142 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Jackson. 
 I wish to goodness you'd ask him to turn me 
 loose. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 Oh, he couldn't do that. 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 Make him let me alone, then. He's been 
 a-bullyin' me to that extent I'm fair mad. I 
 canH stand it, an' I won't. 
 
 Feedericka. 
 Oh, you'll get used to a little thing like that. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Used to it ! A little thing like that ? Why, 
 he treats me worse'n a slave — as if I hadn't no 
 human feelin's. It's fun for him, but for me ! 
 Doesn't he think I've got sentiments to be trod- 
 den on, an' old bones to weary ? I'm a joke to 
 him, an' to everybody else. Jest because I 
 want what's my own I'm the butt of all. Miss 
 Fredericka [sitting down in chair and hiding 
 his face in his apron], I'm a miserable old man, 
 with not a friend in the world, and here I'm 
 treated at my time of life like Tom Fool, an' 
 everybody cackles at me. Oh, Miss Fred- 
 ericka ! Don't they see — can't they see that 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 143 
 
 I'm suffering ? But no ! I'm only old 0. B., 
 the town miser, and the common laughing- 
 stock. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 Mr. Jackson, I've sometimes made fun of 
 you 
 
 Jackson. 
 Yoa have, an' you oughter be ashamed to 
 say it. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 [Earnestly.'] I am, but I'm not afraid to 
 confess it. I'll not laugh at you again. As to 
 Mr. Woodward 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 Miss Fredericka, do you think you could 
 
 soften him? It isn't only the work, but I 
 
 crave human sympathy instead of ridicule, and 
 
 I tell you truly, I haven't a friend in the town. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 You poor old soul ! There's my hand on it 
 that you have at least one. 
 
 [Reaches out her hand. 
 
 Jackson. 
 [Taking her hand.~] Miss Fredericka 
 
144 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 Yes? 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 You're so good — could you say so to me even 
 if I had done you wrong ? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 I think so — yes, freely. 
 
 Jackson. 
 [Moving away to centre and he&ping his back 
 to her.~\ Well, I have. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 You have ? What was it ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 The greatest wrong, almost, that one could 
 
 do to another. You've been living, so to speak, 
 
 under a cloud all your life. Could you forgive 
 
 the man who put you there and left you there ? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 What do you mean ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 [Facing her.'] It was so long ago. When I 
 came here I was poor — desperate poor. My 
 wife had just died, and I didn't know where to 
 turn to find bread for the little one I brought 
 with me. 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 145 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Your little one ! Your wife ! 
 
 Jackson. 
 
 Yes, Fredericka, my wife and your mother. 
 No need to go over what I did. When I saw 
 you so well taken care of — I never had loved 
 you as some people love their children, and I 
 was glad to be rid of a burden. JSTo one knew 
 I had come here with a child, and so — and 
 so 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 And so you left me to bear whatever shame 
 could come ! 
 
 Jackson. 
 You were as good as the daughter of Squire 
 Pomeroy, and so comfortable — and if I owned 
 you, where was your inheritance — and I didn't 
 appear to need you, or you me — until now, un- 
 beknownst, you gave me the first kind word 
 I've had in all these years. [Timidly.'] Maybe 
 I've done wrong to tell you now ? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 No, I don't think so. Wait ! Listen ! You 
 say my mother — my mother ! — was your wife ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 My true wedded wife. I can prove that easy. 
 
146 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 My mother ! 
 
 Jackson. 
 [Sniffling.'] You don't seem to be thinking 
 much of your father. 
 
 Fredeeicka. 
 
 You can't sa} r I forced this on you, you 
 know. / didn't want any father. I was well 
 enough off as I was. And really, Mr. Jackson, 
 you are nothing to go into ecstasies over, now 
 are you ? Of course, in the good way, I rever- 
 ence you and I have affection for you — and all 
 that sort of thing [waving her hand]. But as 
 
 a matter of fact Oh, you are so different 
 
 from the father I always pictured to myself. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Wal, a father with a marriage certificate 
 ain't to be despised, is he ? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 I shudder to think what you would be with- 
 out the certificate. There ! I am grateful to 
 you, of course. 
 
 Jackson. 
 And you forgive me ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 47 
 
 Fredericks. 
 Forgive you? I'm very thankful to you. 
 I've had a perfectly lovely time without you, 
 and you've done just right — you're discovered 
 exactly in the nick of time. 
 
 [Enter Mrs. Woodward, at inner door. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Mr. Woodward's gone down to the telegraph 
 office, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Will you tell him when he comes in that I 
 want to see him ? [Turns to leave. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 One moment, Mrs. Woodward. [To Jack- 
 son.] You may go, Mr. Jackson. [Jackson 
 leaves the room. Fredericka continues , to 
 Mrs. Woodward.] Won't you wait ? I want 
 to speak to you so much ! [Mrs. Woodward 
 remains stiffly standing, her hands crossed in 
 front of her.] It's a serious subject, Mrs. 
 Woodward — you can guess what it is. Won't 
 you sit down ? [Mrs. Woodward and Fred- 
 ericka sit facing each other. ] I am no diplo- 
 matist, Mrs. Woodward. I come to the point 
 at once. Do you think you are acting wisely 
 with Peter ? 
 
148 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [Stiffly.'] Do I understand that you propose 
 teaching me my duty toward my children ? 
 
 Fredericka. 
 There it is. You persist in regarding Peter 
 as a child. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Is this necessary ? Are you not paining us 
 both by referring to something that had better 
 be forgotten ? 
 
 Fredericka. 
 But I canH forget, and Peter, for all his 
 stolidity, can't forget either. If you only knew 
 what a loving nature he hides under that slow, 
 phlegmatic air ! 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 [Slightly mollified.] My dear young lady ! 
 Fancy you telling me anything about my own 
 son ! I have not watched my boy from the 
 cradle up not to know what he is. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 You speak of Peter as a child. Does not 
 your experience tell you that if children are 
 refused homely, sensible goodies, they will hun- 
 ger for other things much worse ? That if you 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 49 
 
 lock up the molasses taffy and the cookies they 
 will steal chocolate-creams and plum-cake when 
 you are not looking ? 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 
 Why, Miss Pomeroy, what do you know 
 about such things ? 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 
 Common sense, my dear Mrs. Woodward. 
 You must confess that I am right. Your son 
 — I want to be perfectly frank with you — your 
 son is, I believe, I know, very fond of me. If 
 you absolutely forbid him to think of me, to 
 whom are you driving him ? I at least am a 
 good woman. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Oh, don't say that, Miss Pomeroy! If I 
 thought that! If I only thought it pos- 
 sible 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Look into your knowledge of men and 
 women, and then tell me I am wrong. Are 
 you so indifferent to your boy's happiness ? 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Miss Pomeroy, I have three objects in life. 
 For myself, I do not care. But if I may see 
 
150 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Peter happy, and Kuth, and their father, my 
 cup of content is full. 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 And you believe that by opposing Peter's 
 wish to marry a good woman — oh, I make so 
 bold as to say so myself — you are securing his 
 happiness ? Think ! 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 Oh, if it were only — if it were only not 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Mrs. Woodward, a woman is not to be cher- 
 ished like a jewel or thrown away like a rag as 
 she knows or does not know her parents. 
 Either I myself am worthy of your son's love, 
 or I am not. Put yourself in my position. 
 Suppose, through no fault of your own, you had 
 been barred from marrying the man you loved. 
 Suppose you had seen him, careless of conse- 
 quences, going to the dogs because he could not 
 marry you. How many lives would have been 
 wrecked ! Look at me from your own stand- 
 point — for I love Peter — I love your son. I 
 will be true and good to him. Our one wish is 
 to make him happy — you as his mother and I 
 as his wife. If his happiness is your desire, how 
 can you refuse him to me ? Can you look 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 151 
 
 without a shudder at the consequences of sep- 
 arating us ? Ah ! You appealed to me, as his 
 mother, to give him up. I appeal to you, as 
 his sweetheart, to join hands with me in mak- 
 ing him a good and a contented man ! 
 
 [Both rise. Feedeeicka stretches out 
 her hands to Mes. Woodward, and 
 Mes. Woodward, after a pause, 
 clasps her in her arms. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 My dear ! My dear ! You may be — you are 
 right ! My dear ! My clear ! 
 
 [Enter Petee, blowing on his hands, 
 collar turned up. Both women rush 
 at him and clasp him in their arms, 
 exclaiming, " Peter ! " 
 
 Petee. 
 [To Mes. "Woodwaed.] Acting like a gen- 
 tleman, Mother. [Shakes hands with her. To 
 Feedeeicka.] Smart old girl ! [Kisses her.] 
 Everybody satisfied ? 
 
 Both. 
 
 Yes, yes ! 
 
 Peter. 
 Why these tears ? 
 
152 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Both. 
 Oh, Peter ! I'm so happy ! Oh, Peter ! 
 Dear Peter ! 
 
 [Both about to embrace Peter again, but 
 he wards them off with uplifted hand. 
 
 Peter. 
 
 Back up ! 
 
 [Outer door is thrown violently open, and 
 in rushes Jackson, who turns to hold 
 it open for Miss Kimander, who also 
 enters running. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [Holding up a telegram^ Where's Curtis? 
 Where's the Sheriff ? Where's Lord Bunn ? 
 Where is that critter Curt ? 
 
 [Enter Curtis humedlyfrom cent/re. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Here I am, Kizzie. You're certainly a won- 
 der as a sprinter. 
 
 Miss Kimaistder. 
 Where's the Lord ? Hey, Lord, where are 
 ye? [Goes to inner door and pokes head in."] 
 Hey, there, your Majesty ! [Noise from cellar 
 as of some one falling. Miss Kimander runs 
 to cellar door and Ruth enters in amazement at 
 inner door.] You down cellar, Lord Bunn ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 153 
 
 Come up, come up an' hear the glad tidings — 
 glad tidings from afar. \To Curtis, handing 
 him telegram.'] There's a precious piece of news 
 for ye. Read it, do. For I can't keep in 
 another minute. If you don't read it right 
 away I'll forgit my professional etiquetty an' 
 tell what's in it. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 You're worse than a lady janitor with a pos- 
 tal card. If you don't behave I'll put you in 
 the hen-coop, as sure as I'm Sheriff. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 
 You will, eh ? Better read that, first. 
 
 [Enter Lord BuNN,/wm cellar, grimy, 
 and with shovel and monocle, as before. 
 
 Lord Bumt. 
 "What's the row ? 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 
 Mercy me ! Mercy sakes ! Be you Lord 
 Bunn ? I want to know ! Mercy me ! Curt, 
 if you don't read that telegram I'll bust ! 
 
 Curtis. » 
 
 [Leisurely opening telegram?^ Your fate and 
 mine are in here, likely, Lord Bunn, my boy. 
 And I will say this for you. As a lord, I don't 
 know how you compare with the average, not 
 
154 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 having known many specimens ; but as a coal- 
 heaver you'll pass, and the boarders ought to 
 give you a testimonial. 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 [Going up to Euth.] I have no bleeding 
 heart to lay at your feet, Ruth, but I've got a 
 dozen big blisters — and they hurt like the 
 deuce. 
 
 Curtis. 
 [Stops in opening telegram.'] But don't for- 
 get Valentine Quincy ! 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Oh, damn Valentine Quincy ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Not at all, not at all. I've given my word 
 on that, and my word is as good as my bond — 
 maybe better, now. [Ruth turns away de- 
 spairingly. Curtis, reading telegram^] Hur- 
 rah ! [Lord Bunn is about to hiss Ruth, 
 when Curtis stops him, and reads telegram 
 aloud.'] " Your appointment as Sheriff illegal. 
 Please turn over office to Lucius Peck. Hol- 
 colm, Governor." Hooray ! Lucius ! Hey, 
 where's Lucius ? [Curtis tears off shields as 
 Lucius enters from left. Curtis, running to 
 him, pins the two badges on him, and hands him 
 telegram, saying.] There you are, Lucius ! 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 55 
 
 Sheriff, Fire Department, hotel, everything! 
 With all my accumulated honors I thee endow 
 — an' you kin hev 0. B., too. Whish ! 
 
 [Shoos Jackson toward Lucius. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 [To Curtis.] Where's Lord Bunn's tele- 
 gram? 
 
 Curtis. 
 You gave me only one. 
 
 Lucius. 
 
 Mebbe this is it. I picked it up outside. 
 
 [Hands telegram to Lord Bunn. 
 
 Lord Buistn. 
 Allow me. [Opens telegram. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Weren't there any other telegrams for me, 
 Kizzie ? 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Mercy sakes ! Ain't one enough ? Losing 
 your place all of a sudden like that? I 
 shouldn't think you'd want any more of the 
 sort. Don't be greedy ! 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Heigho ! You remember my elopers ? 
 
156 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Curtis, 
 Elopers ? We're not bothering over elopers. 
 This is no time for light summer fiction. What 
 we need is more telegrams. 
 
 Ruth. 
 
 Oh, tell us about them. Did they manage 
 to get married without you ? 
 
 Lord Bunn. 
 Listen, all listen — Mr. Woodward, won't you 
 please listen ? Mrs. Woodward, I know you're 
 interested in the romantic young couple? 
 {Reads .] " On the third instant, in an effect- 
 ive if hasty manner, by a greatly hurried but 
 undoubted clergyman, the daughter of an emi- 
 nent brewer and the only son of a distinguished 
 and much disgusted steel magnate. We beat 
 them by a head. Yours, happily [pauses'] 
 Thomasine and — Valentine Quincy." 
 
 [Lord Bunn and Ruth move toward 
 each other. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Stepping between them.'] Why, young sir, 
 you seem to take it for granted that I've given 
 my consent ? 
 
 Ruth. 
 Father, you know you did ! 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 57 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 I really don't see how you can dispute it 
 gracefully now, Curtis. 
 
 Curtis. 
 I do. Kuth, would you marry this man 
 when you don't know whether his monkey- 
 shines with those infernal pigeons have bank- 
 rupted your father ? Kb, no ! Peter, in the 
 midst of this general joy, with only the one 
 trifling thing undetermined [looks hard at Lord 
 BuNlsr, who draws his hand in an embarrassed 
 way across his nose] of whether I am a pauper 
 or a millionaire — a mere trifle— I'm awfully 
 sorry for you, my son. 
 
 Peter. 
 What for? 
 
 Curtis. 
 Well, everybody but you and me seems to 
 get some sort of satisfaction out of it all, 
 
 but 
 
 Peter. 
 
 [Taking Mrs. Woodward by the hand and 
 leading her before Curtis.] Speak your piece. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 Oh, Curtis ! It didn't seem maybe just right, 
 and I don't know if it's just right as it is, 
 but 
 
158 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Curtis. 
 You've consented ? [To Peter and Fred- 
 erick a.] Bless you, my children ! 
 
 Jackson. 
 Ain't I to be consulted, too ? 
 
 Curtis. 
 What ! When the Sheriff— or the ex-Sheriff 
 — gives his only son in marriage, has he got to 
 consult with the second-assistant mop-handle of 
 a bankrupt hotel ? It's bad enough as it is to 
 have a furnace-man trying to break into the 
 family. 
 
 Fredericka. 
 
 {Demurely '.] He thinks he ought to be con- 
 sulted just because he's my father. 
 
 All. 
 
 Your father ! 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 [Rapidly. ~\ And to put it delicately the 
 husband of her mother ? 
 
 Jackson. 
 [Taking paper from his pocket. ,] There's 
 the marriage certificate. 
 
 Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 {Embracing Fredericka.] My dear girl! 
 And you knew it all the time ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 59 
 
 Feedeeicka. 
 Only just before we talked together. There 
 he is. / didn't want him, and I hope yon en- 
 joy him now you've got him. 
 
 Jackson. 
 I won't go near you to bother you, Fred- 
 ericka. 
 
 Mes. Woodwaed. 
 But, my dear, we're delighted to have him — 
 at a distance, of course. He was all but indis- 
 pensable. 
 
 Cuetis. 
 
 Kizzie, don't you think you'd better get back 
 to the telegraph office ? 
 
 [Miss Kimandee has been scribbling in 
 her note-booh. 
 
 Miss Kimaistdee. 
 
 Oh, I wouldn't have missed this for any- 
 thing. Your losing your place, your daughter 
 marryin' a duke, your son's sweetheart the long- 
 lost daughter of the richest man in town 
 
 Cuetis. 
 You send that balderdash to the papers and 
 I'll publish it that you're O. B.'s long-lost wife, 
 and give him fifty cents to swear to it. 
 
 [Miter Seth with basket. 
 
160 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 Seth. 
 Kizzie, here's one of your homers that jest 
 come in with a message. [Miss Kimander 
 runs to him and peeps in basket.] You under- 
 stand, folks, a homer's a pigeon that's been 
 trained to fly home. This one come from 
 Loon Station. You understand this ain't the 
 one I shot. JSTo. Homers 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 Seth, we will spare your remarks on natural 
 history until a more appropriate season. Where 
 is the message that bird has brought ? 
 
 Miss Kimaistder. 
 
 {Rising from her knees at the side of the 
 basket.] I can't find it. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Lost? 
 
 Seth. 
 ISTaw. I took it off for safe-keeping. I got 
 it. [Searches pocket with vacant stare, then his 
 hat. Curtis is all impatience. Seth con- 
 tinues^] Why, here 'tis, in my hand all the 
 time! 
 
 Curtis. 
 Who's it for ? 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 161 
 
 Seth. 
 
 Wal, the operator at Loon Station copied it 
 down, but forgot the address. Might be for 
 most anybody, and mightn't be for nobody. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 
 Give it to me. I know what it is. An order 
 for two colyums more of interestin' anecdote 
 an' miscellany. Hand it to me. 
 
 Curtis. 
 
 More likely for me. Give it here, Seth, and 
 I'll look it over. 
 
 [Miss Kimander snatches at the mes- 
 sage, and Curtis puts out his hand 
 for it. Seth holds it high above his 
 head, and leaps on the hotel desk. The 
 others crowd around the desk. 
 
 Jackson. 
 I'll give you ten cents for it, Seth. I bet it's 
 a telegram to say he's Sheriff agin. 
 
 Seth. 
 
 How much am I bid ? How much ? Goin' 
 at ten cents. 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 Don't you dast to give up that telegram, 
 Seth Kimander, without me seein' it, or you'll 
 hear from me at home. 
 
1 62 SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 
 
 [Meanwhile Fredericka has gone behind 
 the desk, stepped on a chair, and noio 
 snatches the telegram from Seth and 
 pushes him off desk. She glances at 
 the message and then gives it to Curtis, 
 who reads it. Curtis keeps silence, 
 looking around at the group of expect- 
 ant faces. Then he turns to Lord 
 Bunn a?id shakes hands with him. 
 Lord Bunn instantly kisses Ruth, 
 leaving a smudge on her nose, and as 
 the others laugh, Ruth puts her hands 
 to her face and runs off pursued by 
 Lord Bunn. 
 
 Curtis. 
 Come, Dolly. Home and pack up. We take 
 the first train out for New York. [Mrs. 
 Woodward leaves room and Curtis, follow- 
 ing her, turns on threshold and addresses 
 Lucius.] Lucius, we'll all come up here to 
 board next summer if you'll promise to keep 
 O B. as your hired girl. 
 
 [Exit Curtis, laughing. Lucius, chuck- 
 ling, sits down at table and throws one 
 leg over it. Miss Kimander cuffs 
 Seth, and exits, saying 
 
 Miss Kimander. 
 You jest wait till you get home, Seth Ki- 
 
SIX MILES FROM A LEMON 1 63 
 
 mander. When I once start in you'll feel 
 worse'n a hull Sunday supplement ! 
 
 Seth. 
 
 Eeckon I'd better reach them hound-pups 
 afore she does. 
 
 [Seth shakes hands with Peter and 
 exit. Bell rings. Jackson goes to 
 attend to it. 
 
 Jackson. 
 Number 6 wants his supper? Jest wait a 
 minute. [To Peter.] Peter, kindly remove 
 your lady. The language I'm a-goin' to use to 
 Number 6 ain't goin' to be fit for no lady to hear. 
 [Peter exit with Fredericka. Jackson con- 
 tinues at speaking-tube. ~\ That you, Number 6 ? 
 John, the ash-man, ain't it? Oh, yes. Wal, 
 hold the pipe to your ear. Got it? Close, 
 now. Don't let it drop. Sure you're hunched 
 right up agin it so's not to lose a word ? Yes ? 
 [Curtain begins to descend.] Wal, now, listen ! 
 [Draws back, takes a good breath, puts 
 mouth to tube, and 
 
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