1922 :d; '>>::■[ ■<,, m 'oiH(, '''^';. ':'' .:;i'llin:.R' '■■ ^f\ "' ^^ %.*>'"' ^0 «>> " ■ ^y AC), iV>^ pTHE WREN By BOOTH TARKINGTON FRENCH, 2M0 Wcit 38th St, New"Y«rk THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. The faniious c»medy in threo act», by Anne Warner. 7 maka, i females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2Ji hours. This 13 a gej>uinely fuaay comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt Mary," "Jack," her lively nephew; "Lucinda," a New England an- cient maid of all work; "Jack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" loves; "Joshua," Aunt Mary's hired man, etc. "Aunt Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on tour for over two years, and it is sure to be a bis success wherever pro- dttced. We stronsijr recommend it Price, 60 Cents. MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. A pleasinfir comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of •The TailorrMade Man." 6 males, 6 feraaJes. One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2^ hours. Mr. Smith chose for his Initial comedy the complications arising from the endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude peopled by hyphenated names — a theme permittini; innumerable com- plications, according to the spirit of the writer. This nujst successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. Ftske with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. MRS. TEMPLE'S TELEGRAM. A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and WM- Itaot Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands throu(h- «at the three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2^ hours. "Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there i« aa abundance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any ele- ment of offence. As noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh, what » tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive." There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time tlie ctirtain rises until it makes the linai drop the fun is fast and furious. A very exceptional farce. Price, 60 Cent*. THE NEW CO-ED. A cemiAf ia four acts, by Marie Doran, authsr of "Tempett and Snwshiae," etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number •( hoya Mid girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One tMterier ami ene exterior scene, but can be easily played in one inte< nor eeeaie. Ccwtumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. The theme of this play is the coming of a new studeot to the col- kce, iier reieeption by the scholars, her trials and fmal triumph. racre arc three espMially Kood girls' parts. Lctty, Madge and Ketelie, irat the others have plenty to do. "Punch" Doolittle a«4 Geerve Washington Watts, a gentleman of color, are two particuiady MsA csnutdljr ekaracters. We catt strongly roconunend "The New Ce'M" t* fcigk spbools «nd amateurs. Price, 30 Centik (Til* Abov« Are Subject to Reyaity When Produced) SAMUei. FRENCH, 2»-30 West 3Jtth Str«st, New York City M«w Mil itfUm Ddscriffriyi Catiiopi m\*i Frn on KmhwH THE WREN A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS BY BOOTH TARKINGTON Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French All Rights Reserved CAUTION. — Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that "THE WREN," being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States and Great Britain, is subject to a royalty, and anyone presenting the play without the consent of the author of his authorized agents will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications for the amateur acting rights must be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York. Ap- plications for the professional acting rights must be made to George C. Tyler, New Amsterdam Theatre Building, West 42nd .Street, New York. New York SAMUEL FRENCH Publisher 28-30 West 38th Street London SAMUEL FRENCH 20 Southampton Street London Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book without a valid contract for production first having been obtained from the publisher, confers no right or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play publicly or in private for gain or charity. In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance, representation, produc- tion, recitation, or public reading may be given except by special arrangement with Samuel French, 38-30 West 38th Street, New York. This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of Twenty-Five Dollars for each perform- ance, payable to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York, one week before the date when the play is given. Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play: "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French of New York." Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any infringement of the author's rights, as follows : "Section 4966 : — Any person publicly performing or rep- resenting any dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical compositions, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dol- lars for every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon con- viction shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year."— U. S. Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3. ©CID 62541 OCT 21 -22 '"' The following is a copj'' of the play-bill of the first per- formance of ';THE WREN." GAIETY THEATRE, NEW YORK, October lo. 1921 THE WREN A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS BY BOOTH TARKINGTON (Direction of George C. Tyler and A. L. Erlanger) THE CAST Cap"n Olds George Fazvcetf Mrs. Freehart Marion Abbott Frazee John Flood Francis Sam Reed Mrs. Frazee Pauline Armifage Roddy Leslie Howard Seeby Helen Hayes The Scene of the three acts is "Cap'n Olds Place" on the New England coast. The time, an afternoon and evening and the following morning. THE WREN ACT I The former central hall and parlor and "sitting- room" of a New England farm-house. The partitions have been removed and the hall, the parlor and the sitting-room have been thrown into one — a large "living-room." The result, cheerful enough, is rather interesting ; some- thing of the "atmosphere" of traditional Netv England is evident; though it is not produced by "heirlooms" and "quaint old furniture" that have never "been out of the family." The former double front doors of the house (pan- eled) have' been rubbed down and stained to a dark flat tone; then made dully lustrous. They are in the back zvall (c.) making the Entrance, center. They stand open; just up of them- is a narrow platform — the veranda that has been added to the house. Up of the veranda can be seen a strip of lawn-, the top of the low hill on which the house stands. Then, less than half a mile away is the placid summer sea; a glimpse of creamy shallow surf on a pale yellow beach crowned with long green grass — such a beach and landscape as one gets not far seaward of the State Road a mile or two northeast of Ogden- quit. 5 6 THE WREN Dozvn R. is a\ioor; up r. (in r. wall) is another and there are corresponding doors up l. and down L. in L. wall. These doors are dark, similar to double doors up c, and the woodwork about them is ivory in tint similar to the wainscoting. The zvalls have been well considered. There is a lozv, paneled wood ''dado" or wainscoting, about three-and-a-half feet high; it Is n deep ivory in color, and the tone is not cold. Above this, is a "Colonial Landscape" wall-paper, of very good design — probably from Italian iSth Century blocks, though it is a modern repro- duction. The zvalls should not be painted above the wainscoting; actual "Landscape Wall-pa- per" should be used, put on and then tinted over with a Sienna zvash. A whole hack drop is not needed, as only a hacking screen may he set up of c.E. Foliage, hills, castles, pagodas, figures and birds are seen in it — especially great quantities of foliage — hut none of it is obtru- sive ; it is rather hrozvnish, or "Sienna," and is kept "quiet," is never cold in tone though never very warm, either. From the ceiling there hangs an oil-lamp lustre — about 1850 to '65 — not an opulent one, not "suggesting dames and beaux," but sufficiently graceful. There are two win- dows in the rear wall, balancing each other; they have oblong panes, six up and three across; are curtained with chintz and inexpensive machine lace. There are two rather hard paintings of square-rigged ships, framed in nar- rozv gilt; one is on l. wall; the other, r. Against r. wall, down, is a Chippendale reproduc- tion, a wall table or consol, with wax fruit under a glass dome. This is beneath the ship paint- ing R. There is a small sofa of "Colonial" de- THE WREN 7 sign R.c. and up of if, against the back of the sofa, a small stiffish table with a lustre oil- lamp, converted to electricity, and of the "1850 period." l.c. is a "gate-leg" table with a "Col- onial" cover; some books upon it. A Chippen- dale "highboy" is against the wall down l. under the ship painting l. Up, against l. wall is a small ivriting desk, a "Colonial" reproduction. There is a small upright piano up l. the back obliquely toward us; almost covering the back is an old Italian brocade or embroidery, mellow and pleasant, r. in the corner, is a small round "tavern table" with a bowl of flowers; and there are a few flowers (not a great hot-house bunch) on the table l.c. The chairs used are rather stiffish; farmer "Colonial." The room is pleasant, but there is something a little rigid and sparse about it; the furniture is not luxurious — it is not "New Englandy" ; one con- cession is an upholstered (chintz) rocker l.c. near the "gate-leg" table. The effect is not at all that of the summer resort cottage interior, or country-house interior, familiar to the stage. Upon the veranda is an old man in a wheel chair; the upright type of chair; it can be moved by the occupant turning the wheels by hand. The old man has white hair and a white mustache, not a fashionable mustache, but yet not a scraggly one. His complexion is rather mot- tled and his eyes are waiery; he has been stout and hearty before becoming an invalid. He wears silver spectacles, a sea officer's old dark blue cap — about the same as a shabby yachting cap — a double breasted old dark sack coat; a S, THE WREN celluloid collar and a narrow black hozv tie; a white shirt; a heavy plated watch-chain, doubled, across his waistcoat. His legs are con- cealed by an old rug, zvhich is placed about them, and there is a little old shawl about his shoul- ders. When he speaks, he does so simply and zvithout any special mannerism; a light cough interrupts him- at times. There is a suggestion of the Maine coast cadence and accent. He is smoking; his back is three quarters to front. A few moments after the rise of the curtain he puts his cigar out by smothering the fire against the lid of a little metal box he takes from his coat pocket. He puts the stump in this box carefully, and returns the box to his pocket. Then he shivers a little and decides to come indoors. He tur^s one wheel, turning the chair, then propels the chair forward. He runs a wheel against the door frame and is jammed. Backs off, but is jammed again. He says, in a muttering voice, "Damn chair!" and jams a third time. An old fashioned brass dinner bell (the brass very bright) hangs to the arm, of his chair by a string. He rings it. Waits. Rings again. Then after a moment, Mrs. Freehart enters down R. She is a stoutish, phlegmatic and expression- less woman of fifty or more; dressed in ser- viceable working- clothes suitable for a country boarding-house cook. Her sleeves are rolled up and she wipes her hands on a checked apron as she comes in. Mrs. Freehart, (In dull voice as she enters) Wha'chu want, Cap'n? THE WREN 9 Captain. I always do jam in this door. Where's Seeby? (His voice is strong, but tremulous.) Mrs. Freehart. Out helpin' Francis with the weedin'. (Her accent is clearly New England's; the short "i" ; in the four words above in which it occurs, it is rather marked, but not stressed; differ- ent from the Midland "help'n," "weed'n," and "Fransus.'') Captain. Well, you git me in, then. It comes on a little smart from sou' — sou'-east a bit ago. (As she comes to him and takes hold of the chair-hack.) Nothin' 'cept a little breeze, but I chill dreadful easy, since I had my stroke. (Getting out a white hand- kerchief and applying it to his nose.) Mrs. Freehart. (Pushing him in) Well, we all got to go some time, Cap'n. (To l. of table r.) Captain. (A little crisply) I ain't gone yet! (Puts his handkerchief away. Mrs. Freehart folds rug, put it on chair r. of c. door.) There, leggo. I can take care myself now. (His eye has been struck by the piano, as she wheeled him in, and now he points to it.) Who done that? Mrs. Freehart. Done what? Captain. Put that on the piano. Mrs. Freehart. Seeby did. Captain. You know what that is she's put on it? Mrs. Freehart. (She crosses l. to brocade) Got it out of your sea-trunk in the garrit. (Exam- ining the old fabric on piano.) Captain. I bought that off a smuggler in the port o' Marseilles — Marseile-ya they call it — ^in eighteen hundred an' eighty-one. I was first mate the ship "Lucy Jones." She was a slow ship, the "Lucy Jones" was. Who told Seeby she could take an' git that out my sea-trunk ? lo THE WREN Mrs. Freehart. She was showin' the things in it to the he-boarder. That artist. Captain. D'he tell her to put it on the piano? Mrs. Freehart. Guess he did. Captain. (Not exactly grumbling but comment- ing ivithout pleasure as he looks about the room) Yes ; he's told her lots o' things, she's fixed the place different on account of. (Looking at the table doxvn -R.) Last season he told her to git them wax peaches — goin' back to old fashions. Sh'd think an artist 'd be more up-to-date ! Mrs. Freehart. (At c.E.j Want the doors closed? (She is preparing to leave him and go off R.) Captain. No. Let 'em open. ('Mrs. Freehart has happened to glance off from c. to r. and her attention is arrested.) Mrs. Freehart. (Calling off) Hee-uh! (This is Maine for "Here" and is known to the ears, if not to the active consciousness, of all tourists and summerers familiar with the seaboard. Mrs. Free- hart repeats it, raising her voice.) Hee-uh! Captain. What's matter? (He really says "Matfuh" ; the 'Ys" are snubbed by these people, but not in the Southern manner. The Captain says "fuh" instead of "for," etc. So do Mrs. Freehart and Francis.^ Mrs. Freehart. (Calling off) You're goin' t' th' back o' the house ! Come t' this door hee-uh ! Captain. Who is it? Mrs. Freehart. Guess he might want to room an' meal. He's got a bag, but it's too early in the season for pedluhs. Captain. / won't buy nothin' ofif him. ('Frazee appears outside e.g. and comes up on the veranda. He is a good looking city business- THE WREN II man, in his thirties; rather serious, capable of acting with great determination; a man of no inconsiderable strength. He is dressed as a "city business-man" would dress, of course; but his hat is a soft ''town or country hat" ; it is too early for him to wear strazv. His shoes and the bottoms of his trousers are dusty, and he carries a rather large traveling-bog — not a new one.) Frazee. Is this Captain Olds' place? (^Mrs. Freeh ART gestures towards the Captain. Frazee comes toward^ him.) Are you the landlord? Captain. (Looking at the bag) I ain't goin' buy anythin' off o' ye. (Not offensively, but zvith a quiet that would never yield.) Frazee. (Understanding him, but not smiling) A Mrs. Frazee is staying here, isn't she ? Captain. (Still non-committal) Mrs. Frazee? Yes, she is. Rooms and meals here. Frazee. I'm Mr. Frazee. I walked over from the station. Captain. Oh ; — Mrs. Frazee's husband. Goin' to stay some time? You want to double up with Mrs. Frazee ? Frazee. (Setting down his bag) I'd like a room adjoining hers. I thought as it's so early in the season there'd be no trouble Captain. (Interrupting) Seeby'll fix it. My- self I don't 'tend to c?^tails much. I had kind of a stroke, fourteenth last October, a little after three in the afternoon. Mrs. Freehart. (Impersonally) Yes. We all have to go some time. Captain. (More testily than when he said this before) I ain't gone yet, please ! You go tell Seeby what this gentleman wants, Mrs. Freehart. (She 12 THE WREN goes out down r. Captain stares after her some- what unfavorably. He explains her to FrazeeJ Her, she's cookin' here ; name's Mrs. Freehart. Too gabby, too ! Frazee. (Looking about) I thought perhaps my wife might be somewhere (He turns up.) Captain. She ain't in. an' I'd' know's I could tell you where to find 'er. Frazee. (A little disappointed) Oh. Captain. Might's well set down. ('Frazee sits R. of table.) Mrs. Freehart's got to git word to Seeb}'' which room you can have, an' Seeby's gar- denin'. Trunk ? Frazee. Yes ; at the station. Captain. Seeby'll have it fetched fer ye. Up to July we run with kind of a light staff — jest Mrs. Freehart and a head bell-boy, or porter — as you might call him. The boarders don't thick up, to speak of, not till July. It's nice an' quiet now. Frazee. Yes ; that's what Mrs. Frazee heard wlien she decided to come here. Her nerves had got pretty bad last winter. Captain. (Rather fatuously) Well, this is good place to rest 'em in. As you say, there ain't nothin' to tax 'em, so to speak. So far, we ain't had but one other boarder, 'cep'n your wife. Frazee. (Looking thoughtful ) Only one other. (Not a question.) Still here? Captain. (Nodding) Artist. He was here all last season too — came down from Canada — Canucks, we call 'em — goes outdoors and paints all day long. Everything by hand. (Not a stressed point, but casual.) Frazee. I think my wife mentioned there was a young Canadian painter here in one of her earlier letters ; I think she mentioned his name — Tet me see THE WREN 13 Captain. Roddy. Mr. Hugh Roddy. These paintin's he makes, sometime they look a good deal like what he makes 'em of. Yessir. you take one. of 'em, an' take an' look at it, an' pretty often you can tell just about what it's of. (Pauses.) Sold a couple of 'em, last year, he says. (Contemplative tone, not pointed on the emphasis; Captain doesn't really doubt the sale. Dtirijtg this speech Frazee has taken a cigar case from his pocket; he is not sure that smoking is prohibited.) Frazee, Is it all right to ? Captain. Yes ; you can smoke here. Frazee. (Offering the case; rises) Will you ? Captain. (Taking a cigar) Thank ye. ('Frazee strikes a match; he lights the Captain's and his ozvn cigar. Captain looks at the cigar, saying amiably.) As you say, I guess that's too long a smoke ; it's close on time for my nap ; I'll jest make it a little one. (He puts the cigar in his pocket; takes the box from another pocket, selects a stub zmth some care, and lights it.) Yes ; this Mr. Roddy, the artist, he came in April, this year. Frazee. (Seeming preoccupied and froivning slightly as he smokes, noiv glances at Captain and then away) I'm glad my wife found such a quiet place. Captain. Yes? Two-lhree-four weeks in our climate, that's all anybuddy needs to fix 'em. You cal'late to stay some time? Frazee. I'm not sure. I'm a pretty busy man. (Cross L, to L. of table. Captain is noxv artfully finding out about Frazee. J Captain. I guess so. In — in some business or other, likely? Frazee. I manufacture machinery for cotton mills. (Crosses to R.j 14 THE WREN Captain. (Nodding casually) That's what I thought ; — likely. Frazee. (Quietly, but preoccupied) The fact is (Breaks off, then goes on.) My wife wrote me some time ago this place agreed with her, but I wanted to see for myself. I thought I'd just come and Captain. (Affably) Natcha'ly, natcha'ly. She — she didn't mention anythin' to us, your comin'. Frazee. (Smiling) I didn't find I could get away until yesterday, I thought I'd surprise her. (Speaks with a little hesitation — though smiling.) Captain. I see. Frazee. You say you think she seems better than when she came? (Sits in chair r. of fable.) Captain. Yes ; seems so. Frazee. Well, that's rather a relief to me. I'd been worrying a little lately for fear Captain. (Reassuringly) Oh, she's hearty. Why, some days she goes out all day with this Mr. Roddy ; carries heavy bundles for him to use in his paintin'. Frazee. (Someivhat surprised) She does, really ? Captain. (Still heartily reassuring him and speaking rather rapidly) She walked six mile, day before yesterday ; he was paintin' down at Porpoise Cove, an' she walked three mile there an' three mile back to carry his lunch to him. (Going on quickly, in the same affable and reassuring tone.) I dunno where they are to-day, but they'll be back soon now. It's gittin' on the afternoon an' they use'ly show up 'bout this time. Frazee. "Usually"? (He does not point the zvord at all strongly; but is thoughtful. As he speaks, he rises and goes up, looking off as though thinking he might see his wife. He continues.) I suppose my wife may have mentioned she'd been THE WREN 15 suffering from — ah — depression — before she came here. Captain. (Amused and surprised) She wasf Frazee. You say she seems more cheerful? Captain. Cheerful? My! Pounds the plana by the hour. (Then, complacently.) Mr. Roddy, he's got quite a strong fancy for music. Frazee. (Halts in turning up, checked by this. He has begun to attach some significance to the Captain^s genuinely artless remark; and he shows this — slightly — by his tone) He has? Captain. My ; yes ! Guess he'd set f 'rever if Mrs. Frazee'd play to him ! f Frazee turits tip and looks off. Mrs. Freehart enters down r.J Mrs. Freehart. (As she opens the door, ad- dressing Frazee rapidly in a monotone) Seeby says tell you she'll have your room ready for you in a jiffy. Francis comin' see about trunk. ('Francis enters down r. from, behind Mrs. Free- hart. He is a tanned and weather-beaten, thin, elderly, rather plaintive looking man, gray haired and smooth shaven; he stoops a little and has a thin, elderly tenor voice. He wears dusty overalls, dusty heavy shoes, a worn, dust-col- ored figured shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, showing his tanned arms. He wears an old black waistcoat — showing a plated watch- chain — but no coat or hat. As he comes in he has to cross below Mrs. Freehart; her back is toward him, and he gives her a hearty slap between the shoulder blades with his left hand. He goes straight on, not even looking at her, and apparently unaware of this action. She also seems unaware of it; and the Captain (i^.c.) and Frazee (Up c.) looking up again — though he has turned his head for a moment at 1 6 THE WREN Mrs. Freehart's speech — do not see this casual slap. Mrs. Freehart goes out down r., paying no attention to Francis. It should be noted that the Captain, Mrs. Freehart and Fran- cis habitually speak rapidly; they do not drawl.) Francis. (As he comes toward c.) Seeby says f me hitch up the buckboard, fetch a trunk. (He speaks and looks expressionlessly .) Captain. Then why n't chu do's she says, Fran- cis? Francis. Whuzza tickit ? (He means "Where is the ticket" i.e., trunk check.) Captain. (As his back is toward Frazee and Frazee's back is toward him, he calls) Hee-uh ! see hee-uh ! ('Frazee looks at him and comes down; Captain continuing.) This is Francis. (Crosses to c. Francis's name is always spoken in the New England way, the "a" half-broad, and the "i" short. It should be noted, too, that broad "a" is always shortened in words like "father," "car," etc.) He's the bell-boy, or more like a porter, as you say. Wants your trunk check. Frazee. Oh, yes. (Gives Francis the check and a half-dollar ; Francis acknowledges the latter by a short expressionless nod. and seems very slightly to chew upon something minute zmth his front teeth. Frazee goes on, to Captain.J Ah — Fve been ten hours on the train and if I could go to my room (He speaks tentatively with a gesture toward his bag.) Francis. (With a brief gesture toward l.) She's upstairs puttin' the bed-clo'es on the bed. Frazee. (A little mystified) I see. Francis. She'll fix ye. Captain. (Nodding) Yes. You see, sense I had my stroke (He speaks the zvord always THE WREN 17 with a little importance, having really a hint of Mr. Pepy's pride in being "cut for the stone" ; and he makes a tiny pause after delivering the word, to give it weight, hut this time Francis takes him up, interrupting before he can go on.) Francis. (With complacency) Yes, as the sayin' is; we all got to go some time. Captain. (Dryly; annoyed) Yes, an' some mebbe 'fore I do. Francis. (Going to Frazeej Cap'n's s'prized whole commun'ty. Like my fathuh ! (Father.) My fathuh had a stroke ; then he took an' lingered on us child'en close on sixteen months. Captain. (With an expression of distaste) You go up t' th' station fetch that trunk. ^Frazee comes down L.j Francis. Seeby says wait take his valise up t' his room. She's comin' down hee-uh. (Sidewise nod of his head to l. as he speaks to Frazee. j She's gotche fixed. (Takes suit case.) Captain. (Nodding reassuringly) Yes. Seeb)^'ll look after ye. (The door up l. opens, and Eusebia Olds — Seeby — enters there. She is only nineteen or tiventy, but a responsible ivatchfulness and gravity of expression — and a slight stoop that comes upon her at times — suggest that she has a great deal to do and much to look out for; that already, in fact, she is rather hard-worked and a little care- worn. Shp is a New England girl; a "State o' Maine" girl of the coast ; and she is well enough "educated" — she teaches school in the winter, herself — and she has graduated at the town High School; has had a year at a school in Port- land. Her hair is wavy, but is "done^' simply; her clothes are good and not "out of style" ; but i8 THE WREN are not "smart." She gets fashions, of course, from the magazines. Her present dress is very simple, of a dark material; and she wears an apron. Her voice is charming; as sometimes a Maine coast woman's voice is charming; there are traces sometimes, of the Maine pronuncia- tion and cadence; she always shortens the prop- erly broad "a" for instance, calling the Captain "fathuh." She comes in, leaving the door open behind her, as Frazeb and Francis are to go out that zvay. She speaks to Francis in a voice very slightly "hushed" or suppressed. She is really excited in a troubled way, but is sup- pressing it. She gives Frazee a slight bow, not a quick one, hoivever; looking at him with grave interest.) Seeby. Your room is ready. The — porter will show you. (She pauses the slightest bit before say- ing the word "porter" and looks at Francis, who goes to the door l. with the bag.) Frazee. (Starting to follow) Thanks. Seeby. (In the same voice and with a slight movement to indicate her father) Fm Miss Olds. The rate for the room is three dollars a day, if you take it by the day. By the week it's eighteen. Frazee. (i.., sjniling faintly) Vm not sure just how long I can stay. May I decide that point later? Seeby. (Quietly) Certainly, ('Frazee looks at her while Francis speaks.) Francis. (Going out up l.) This way. Frazee. (To Seeby J Thank you. (He nods and goes out up l.) Seeby. (Watches him. When he has disappeared from front vieiv she crosses to the open door up l., still seeming to look after him. Then she slowly closes the door, and speaks apparently to herself. THE WREN 19 slowly and thoughtfully) So that's Mr. Frazee! (The zvord "Mister" very slightly stressed.) Captain. (Has again extinguished the stub of cigar, and though it is now very small, he decides to put it back in the box, and does so as he speaks) Yes, sir ; that's Mr. Frazee. Good man, too — cotton- mill m'sheen'ry. Why, it looks to me ; they're nice off. I could tell first time I looked at her, she's one them women leads a easy life, Innapenent. Seeby. (Thoughtfully, at table) Yes — she seems independent. (She has rested a hand on the table, looking down at it absently; then she looks up.) She isn't expecting him. Captain. (Cheerfully) No. He's goin' to give her a surprise. Seeby. (Going up to look off ; as if toward Mrs. Frazee; speaks gravely) I think likely he will. (In all these speeches she feels and means more than appears on the surface.) Captain. (Upon a thought, twisting chair) Hee-uh! Seeby, who told you you might git that Marsile-ya embrawd'ry out my sea-trunk ? (Gestur- ing to piano.) Seeby. (Suddenly looking at him sharply and frowning) Father! (To back of door for whisk broom. She really says "fathuh.") Captain. (Surprised) What? Seeby. (Going toward the "high-boy" but look- ing at the Captain disapprovingly) Father, you've been dropping ashes in your lap again. (Brushes ashes into waste basket.) Captain. (Slightly querulous) Well, I didn't want to put 'em on the floor! (As if putting them on the floor were putting them in the last possible place.) Seeby. (Gesturing to table as she applies the wisp to him) But there's the ash-tray. (Points l. 20 THE WREN This business quiet and serious, though she is really only avoiding his question about the piano drapery.) Captain. Well, this Mr. Frazee was usin' it. You ain't answered me who told you you could stick that Marsile-ya embrawd'ry on the piana. Seeby. (Gravely after glancing at it) Yes. It's beautiful there. Captain. (A little peevish) I knoiv who! Mr. Roddy told you to do that. ^Mrs. Freehart enters r. looking uninterested; she has a zuooden spoon and a mixing-bowl of light dough, for the strawberry short-cake, in her hands. She remains near the door.) Mrs. Freehart. Is this light enough? Seebv. Yes, that's all right. Mrs. Freehart. Well, I see her husband's here. Seeby. Well ? Mrs. Freehart. First time I laid eyes on her, I expected he'd look about like that. Seeby. Like what? Mrs. Freehart. Like he ought to of knowed better. Seeby. I believe you'll need all your mind on the short-cake, Mrs. Freehart. Mrs. Freehart. (Languidly) Oh, my mind ain't on nawthiir. (To Seeby.) Think this looks light enough ? (^Francis, up, pause.) Seeby. (Absently, looking at it) Oh, yes. that's all right. Francis. (With a glance and thumb to upward) He's takin' a bath. Mrs. Freehart. Cities must be awful dirty. First thing they do when they git here, nine out o' ten of 'em go git right in water. Francis. (Shaking his head) Yes. I guess they THE WREN 21 like it because they don't haf to make their Hvin' by it. (Changing his tone to affected casualness.) Well, I guess he's a nice man, though. Talked to me right nice and common. Mrs. Freehart. (Casually, indifferent) What you make out he'd do if he'd git mad — any thin' resky ? Seebv. (Coldly) What are you talking about? Mrs. Freehart. Nawthin' — I jest wondered what kind of a man he'd turn out to be if he did git upset about somethin' or other. Don't s'pose he's heard anythin'. Seeby. What is there for him to hear? Mrs. Freehart. Nawthin'. Francis. (Ltghtlv satirical) Oh, no ! nawthin' 'tall! Seeby. (Turning to look at him) Are you still here, Francis? Francis. Oh! (Exit to up l.) Mrs. Freehart. Well, s'pose he hasn't said any- thing yet. Seeby. Who ? Mrs. Freehart. Mrs. Frazee's husband. Seeby. What do you expect him to say and what about ? (Then, as Mrs. Freehart is promptly about to speak, Seeby' checks her.) Never mind — don't you think that had better be in the oven, Mrs. Free- hart? Mrs. Freehart. (Going casually) Oh, I wasn't hardly lookin' for any news, yet. (Exit r. Seeby stares after her gravely.) Captain. What's she mean, news? What news ' is she looking for, account of this Mr. Frazee takin' a bath ? Seeby'. Nothing — she and Francis just like to talk about nothing. Captain. I sh'd say so! Guess a man's got a 22 THE WREN right to take a bath if he's a mind to, without it's being called news! Seeby. They didn't mean anything. (Concluding with the whisk.) There! (With gentle severity.) Did you spill any on the floor? Captain. (Briefly) N' I didn't. (As she goes with the whisk hack to the "high-hoy" he continues querulously.) I was readin' a magazine where it says th' young folks nowadays have got all so bold ; they don't respeck their parents an' th' Bible. Bold ; that's what they are. Seeby. (Brings some sezving from the door; thoughtfully , closing the drazver) I would like to be a little bold, if I had time and knew how. ('Cap- tain grunts and shakes his head; as Francis enters up L.) Francis. (As he enters, referring to upstairs L.j He's goin' take a bath. (Jn 'hath" he uses a rather broad "a" — not quite "ah" hozuevcr.) Seeby. (Getting some sewing — napkins she is hemming, from, another drazver of the "high-boy") Close the door, Francis. Always close 'em behind you. (Patiently, hut a little like a school teacher.) And remember to open his trunk for him when you bring it. Francis. (Closing the door and going up) Til rememb'r it, Seeby. I already remembered t' open 'is valise for 'im. He seemed t' 'predate it, too. (Exit cheerfully c. to r.) Captain. H'm. (A ruminative sound.) Awed, too ! (He means "odd.") Seeby. (Sezving) What's odd. Father? Captain. This Mr. Frazee. Told me he was frettin' 'count of his woman. Seeby. (Looking at him quickly) About Mrs. Frazee ? Captain. Yes. 'Bout her health. THE WREN 23 Seeby. (As if somewhat incredulous) About her health ? Captain. Yes — and her the very picture of it! An' I told 'im so, so I told him ! Seeby. (Looking again at her work, speaks with- out emphasis) No. I don't think he need fret about that. (She feels, hozvever, that he might fret about other things.) Captain. She might 'a' looked kind o' peaked the first two-three days after she come — but I told him, "By Glory," I says, "she's strong; why. she can walk six or eight or ten miles any day and carry this here artist's lunch or his paints for him," I says. ('Captain implies nothing.) Seeby. (Looking at him) You did? Did you tell Mr. Frazee that, father? (Verv slight emphasis on "that.") Captain. (Fretfully) Yes did. Whatche peckin' at me for nowF Any reason I shouldn't tell a man how well his wife's lookin'? Seeby. (Slowly) No. I guess it's just as well. Captain. (Pettishly — almost childishly) Always tryin' to make out I done somethin' out the way ! Seeby. (Gently, but casually, as this happens frequently and she is used to it) No, no. Captain. (Insisting feebly) You do. Always tryin' to make me out a goob ! You do. Seeby. Had eight childern an' you had to be the only one to live ! (He sniffs.) Seeby. (At a thought) What time is it, father? Captain. (Looking at his watch) It's twenty before six. (His voice is plaintively reproachful, and he sniffs again.) Seeby. (Getting up and putting her sewing on the table by the sofa r.c, speaks quietly; patience in her voice) That's what's the matter with you. (She 24 THE WREN hears something outdoors — rises.) You're late for your nap before supper. Captain. (Peevish, almost whimpering) No, I doe' ivant to go yet. Ain't that Mrs. Frazee an' Mr. Roddy comin' home out yon? I can hear 'em. (Laughter is heard at a distance.) Seeby. (About to push his chair) Yes, they're coming. So you'd better Captain. (Like a wilful child) I want to be the one to tell her husband's hee-uh. Seeby. (Seriously, quickly) No. You mustn't. Captain. Why not? Seeby. He said he wanted to surprise her, didn't he? Captain. Well, I want Seeby. (Seriously) No ; you mustn't mention it. Captain. (Pettishly; childishly) Oh, pshaw! (This dialogue has been rapid.) Seeby. You mustn't. (The laughter outside, not noisy, is of fzvo people, a man and a zvoman; it becomes a little louder and Roddy and Clara ('Mrs. Frazee^ rush in C.E., Roddy appearing first. He is a finely handsome, healthy young man; about twenty- six; graceful, nervous, "temperamental" and "high strung" ; quick in change of extreme moods. He has no outward sign of being an "artist'' : his hair is not long; his soft collar is conventional — though rather wilted now; he wears knickerbockers; his shoes and stockings are dusty; his shirt is not just from a dressing- case. His sleeves are rolled up; his coat is over his arm; his cap in his trouser's pocket. He carries a fair-sised stretched canvas ; a scraped palette: a folding easel (an old one); a large THE WREN -D tin paint box. About his neck is a chain of daisies. Clara is an extremely handsome wo- man of twenty- four or twenty-five ; she is of a fine, "highbred," type; and she also is "tempera- mental." She is tall, graceful, of a "fine figure" and "attractive." She wears a short "sport skirt," tall zvalking-boots, a shirt-waist with the sleeves rolled up; a "sport hat"; her shoes, stockings and skirt are dusty; there is a "daisy chain" about her throat. She carries an old camp-stool and a lunch basket nozv fidl of zvild flowers. Both she and Roddy have the appear- ance of persons who have been picnicing in the open all day. They are flushed, healthy, and in the liveliest spirits — as ready to laugh as happy children. They come on with a rush, laughing. Roddy comes first, pretending a flight. Clara runs after him pelting him wtih handfuls of buttercups and daisies which he pretends to dodge. Seeby at once leaves the Captain r.c. — she has been wheeling him to r.e. — and hur- ries, silently, to pick up the raining flowers. Roddy dodges to r. then l. where Clara pushes him into a chair and puts daisies in his