PS 635 ^ .Z9 n5558 5 Copy 1 "* ^ What Would Mrs. JJaethinkaF Say? What Would Mr§. IeUM San? A COMEDIETTA By DAN MILLIKIN BROWN & WHITAKER Hamilton, Ohio 1903 THE LIBRARY OF \ CONGRESS, i Two Copies Receivot.' ' AUG 19 1803 Copytight Entry Ivus:^ 1 i- /-sf (?3 CLASS C ^ XXcNo % -r ^ ^ COPY B, COPyWRIGHT, 1903 BY DAN MILLIKIN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED DRAMATIS PERSONAE Judge Aspenleaf Mrs. Aspenleaf Doctor Macthinkar Reginald Aspenleaf Penelope Macthinkar Owen Marie Scene: — A large Sitting-room in Judge Aspenleaf 's Mansion. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Curtain goes u^ to the notes of a hand-organ, loud arid strident. Reginald is seen in a rolling chair, -with pilloivs and afghan. OiAjen is attending him. They are discovered at the left uj^^er fart of the stage, zvhere a -wiridoxv is seen or suggested. Reg. ( Whining- most dismally^ Take me away; oh, do take me away from that noise! Ow. Yes, sir; I will, sir. ^He wheels the chair down to the center.) 'T is awful music, sir. Reg. Close the window, Owen; please do. You must want me to die! Call that music! ^Oiven flies to close the window?) Don't shake the floor so. Don't make so much noise. You know I can't stand noise. Don't the doctor say so, you big brute? Ow. He does, sir. The sound of the organ dies azvay as if i?i the distance. Reg. Is the Italian going away? Ow. {Goes very lightly to make an observation.) He is, sir, — him and the other monkey. Reg. Oh, don't try to be funny. You know I can't endure that when I am so weak. Don't I hear another noise? Ow. 'T is only a horse, sir. Reg. How can you say only? You know the tread of a horse is dreadful — simply dreadful! Oh, dear! I believe the horse is stopping. Ow. 'T is sir. 'T is Doctor Macthinkar gettin' out of it. Reg. No, no, no, no! Out of the carriage, you mean. Ow. Yes, sir. The horse never c'd get out of the carriage, sir. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Reg. Oh, dear, Owen; I wish you would stop that deluge of "sirs." It's very tiresome. Ow. Yes, sir; 't is sir, indeed, sir. Reg. There you go again. Can't you say plain yes and be done with it? Ow. Oh, yes, sir. That's aisy, sir. Reg. And plain, no? Ow. Oh, yes, sir, — no, sir, I mean, sir. Yes, sir; I can say NO, sir. Reginald heats the air feebly, in despair. Reg. Was that really the doctor? Ow. ^Runs once more to the wmdow.) 'T was indeed, sir. He must be in the house by this. Reg. I won't see him! Go tell him so! He can't do me any good. Go tell him! Ow. Oh, he's the dear man, sir, and the friend of the family; an' y' know, sir, it's not for me, Enter Mrs. As^penleaf R. U. She flies to Reginald, strokes his brozv and stools to kiss him xvhile she gushes over him. He dodges and moans. Mrs. a. How's my darling boy this morning? Feeling better since the last little nap, I know. Kiss its mother good morning. E7iter Judge Asfenleaf, R. U. Asp. Ah, Reginald! Feeling better this morning, I know. He touches R''s hand as he passes to L. and sits near the zvindotv. Reg. Go on, Owen, I say! Don't touch me, Mother! You irritate me continually. " I won't see that fool doctor this morning. I must have some quiet, I tell you. Mrs. A. flutters over him caressingly, ?ioiv on one side of the chair and nozv on the other, as he turns his head from side to side, dodging her. Mrs. a. Oh, Reggie, dear, don't say you won't see the dear old Doctor. He is such a good friend of ours, and he has been so patient with you. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Reg. Confound his patience! Haven't I been patient with him? Asp. {Coming- forward.) Macthinkar is making a very careful study of your case, Reginald. Reg. Confound his study! I'm no case! I want to be let alone, I tell you! Mrs. a. And Reggie, dear, he has such a lovely daughter, and she has just come home from Europe, and she's so accomplished. Reg. Confound his daughter! Mrs. a. Yes, love; anything you say. She came home yesterday, a perfect beauty they say; and the dear old Doctor will hardly let her leave him for a minute. Reg. Let him have her! Or let the devil fly away with her! I don't want her. Ow. {Has edged away to R. F., grinning.) See, now, where nervous prostration will bring a man! A. Reginald, you must be a little reasonable, sick or well. You need never see the girl, unless you want to, but you must see her father. I do not wish to cross you in anything, but I must say with all the firmness of an Aspenleaf, that I expect my son to treat my friend with courtesy in my house. Owen! {Glancing backward to R. U.) See if you cannot be of some assistance to the doctor. Enter Dr. Mact. ivith a satchel in each hand., a ■polished box under one arm and a large cylinder' under the other. He is also embarrassed by a cane. Eyideavoring to 7'em.ove his hat, he drops the cylinder zvith a clang. Otven and Judge A. relieve him of his other impedimetits. Mact. sinks into a chair at F. , mops himself zvith hand- kerchief and reaches for his patienVs hand. It is petu- lantly zuithdrazvn. He has already made sundry ejacu- lations a7id begins talking as he sits doTvti. Mact. Ah, bless me sowl! I had not expectit to come in so noisily. How's the sick lad? {Reginald flings a corner of the afghan over his face, but the Doctor is oblivious.) Aspenleaf, my good friend, I am constrained to remark 'at ye have the battery on its end and {A. fnakes haste to correct the position of What Would Mrs. MacthinKar Say? the box.) we are without information as to the effect upon the polarity of the current. Electric- ity is a wonderful phenomenon, Mrs. Aspenleaf. Mrs. a. Isn't it just too funny what they can do with electricity? And you're going to try it on Reggie, aren't you. I know he'll be delighted! Reggie kicks violently. Mact. Aye, he will. The treatment I have devised causes a violent tickling and sometimes the sensation of something crawling upon the skin, but it can hardly be called painful. Reggie groans. Ultimately, if life is prolonged, the treatment is absolutely exhilaratin'. Owen, y' have yon cylin- der of oxygen where the temperature is excessive? It has the sound of an empty can, but strange to say the vessel is full of oxygen gas at a pressure of aboot seventy or eighty atmospheres. A. Why, Macthinkar, no vessel can stand such a pressure! The statutes will apply to the shipper of such a deadly thing and to common carriers as well. {He moves away while talking.) Mact. Aye, but the carriers only accept yon cylinder under special contracts, and the shipper puts on a tag especially cautioning all against jarring and high temperature. 'Tis verra dangersome. Otven has the cylifider iii his arms^ closely hugged. While he expatiates, Macthinkar raps it zvith his kymckles. The tzvo Asfenleafs retii'e far u^ the stage, one to the right and the other to the left. All talk at once, the cue bei?ig Macthittkaj-'s remark to Otven, Dinna hug the can so tightly, man; ye'll have it warmer every minute!" {He continues^ "And dinna drop it, either! You should be calm and gentle in the handling of all terrible explosives. Me heart was in me mouth a bit ago when I dropped the thing. I could tell ye, lad, a tale of a careless, lubberly sort of a thing (a porter he was), who had the entire abdominal parietes blown away by compressed gases. He would not obey orders, What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? an' now he sees his mistake in the better land wheer I hope we're all goin, lad." {Meanwhile Owen is pi^otesting and begging,^ "I'm not huggin' it, Doctor. I'm not hot, I tell you. I have a chill on me. Take it from me. Doctor, for the love o' mercy. Me parents is old, an' I'm thinkin' of marriage, etc., etc." {in his fa7' corner of the stage Judge Aspenleaf roars,) ' In the name of all common sense, why did you bring that condemned thing here? Have it out, Macthinkar; I don't ASK it, understand; I command it! A man's house is his castle, and I simply will not permit these dangerous experiments, no matter how kindly they are meant. Take the infernal thing out!" (Mrs. Aspenleaf flutters over to the Judge, then down to Reginald's chair, then scurries back to her safe corner, where she holds her fan opeii and peers arou7td it at the infernal machine?) ** You're quite right, my dear. It is an outrage to bring such a thing into the house, and so funny of Doctor Mac- thinkar. Do we agitate you, Reggie, dear? Com- pose yourself! Don't lose control of yourself! Remember that you are an Aspenleaf. We will have the thing out in a moment, if it doesn't blow up. Be brave, Reggie, dear! {Meaiiwhile Reginald has been feebly crying^ "Take it away, take it away! 'Twill make a noise when it goes off, and I hate noise! Take it away, Doctor! Keep still, all of you! I won't use his old gas, anyway! Take me away!" The uproar ceases zvhen Macthinkar takes the cylinder and produces a ivrench. Ozve?i and Reggie coyitinue their deprecatory groans. Macthinkar sits, gives the 2V7'e7ich afeiv turns a7id remarks. Me good people, ye have been unduly agitated. I have inadvertently bro't an empty cylinder and left the charged cylinder at me office. Judge A., Mrs. A., atid Ozuen graducdly come out of their corners, for Ozvenfied to the extreme zving zvheyi relieved , of his burdeyi, and Macthinkar continues. The cylinder is betvueen his legs as he sits at ease, and he occasionally 10 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? ta^s it zvith the zvrench, and each clangi7ig souyid causes Reggie to tzvist i?i his chair. Takin' ye good people all 'round, ye remind me verra much of a circumstance at happent in me native village, aboot ten miles from the birthplace o' Bobbie Burns. Ma father told me it when I was no more than eight years old, and I still think it verra amusin'. Reginald has feehly becko7ied Ozuen to his chair. Otven bends over him to receive his com7na7ids. He slotvly moves the chair u;p the stage. The tale is aboot a man who had twalve dowters. Ow. (Aside.) It's the same old story, sir. Exeii7it Regi7iald and Ozve7i, slozvly, at R. U. The As-penleafs are zvell forivard, liste7iing to Doctor Macthi7ikar. Mact. Aye, there were twalve dowters, and no son. A. Wife, we must switch him off, some way. It takes fif- teen minutes for that story to come to an end. Mrs. a. Doctor, I think it is time for some tea, just to settle our nerves. {,She strikes a bell.) What do you say to a cup of our tea from Russia? A. Brewed in Russian style. Doctor. Mrs. a. With a slice of lemon in it, Doctor. A. And a spoonful of rum. Doctor. Mact. A spoonful! I thowt the Russians were heavy drinkers. But to my story: Ente7' Ma7'ie. A. Very well. You shall put in the rum to suit yourself. Mrs. a. Marie, bring us some tea — the Russian tea. Marie. Will madame have ze rumm, also. Mact. Assuredly! Bring the rum, tho' ye forget the tea. They sta7-e at each other, each evide7itly aynused. Exit Marie. Who is the little curlew? A. That's Mrs. Aspenleaf's latest maid — not the last, I fear. This time it is a French production. She What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 11 has a French tongue, French heels, and plain American common sense. Mact. I have a smattering of French. I must furbish it up and have some polyglot conversation with her. It will greatly improve my linguistics. A. Well, maybe, maybe! But what would Mrs. Mac- thinkar say? Marie retur7is and serves the tea, slightly hindered, from time to tim.e, by Mrs. As^enleaf. Where's the boy? Mrs. a. Well, if that isn't the funniest thing. Owen has wheeled him out, and we never noticed it. A. Good for him, isn't it. Doctor Macthinkar? It's pleasant on the porch. He may g^i an appetite there. Mact. Ah! I was aboot to make minute inquiry as to his appetite. A. I think it's near zero. What do you say, my dear? Mrs. a. Oh, I do not believe he can live long on his present diet. He doesn't eat more than a cha- meleon every day. Mact. A chamele Mrs. a. Oh, positively, no. Doctor. The poor, dear little darlings! It's a shame to bring the little things away from Florida and — other tropical countries, Doctor. Mact. Yes, yes; but as to his appetite, Mrs. a. Why I've told you all about it: I said that he ate no more than a chameleon. Mact. Aye, you said one each day! Now de gustibzis 7ion dispitandnm, but I must say I would not eat one of the miserable reptiles, — no matter how cooked, — not for the half of auld Scotland! Mrs. a. Oh, I didn't mean that. Reggie don't eat cha- meleons. What I mean is — is, Don't you know, they eat flies? 12 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Mact. (^Sorely puzzled.) Aye, — they — eat — flies?. He futs aivay Ms tea and zuafers zvith ayi expression of extreme disgust. Mrs. a. Maybe one, maybe three or four in a day, just according to luck, don't you know? Sometimes no flies for a week. Mact. Aye, that may be. ^Desperately puzzled?} Mrs. a. Well, what I meant was, Reggie doesn't eat so many — so much, I mean. Mact. Ah, now I begin to comprehend your metaphor. A. Oh, you'll do, Macthinkar! You'll understand her by night. How bright the Scotch are! Mact. She was not so pairfectly lucid as sometimes, and I began to entertain apprehensions that the lad was reptilio-carnivorous and perhaps insectivorous. Mrs. a. Mercy on us, Doctor! Is that very bad? A. Oh, don't worry over a little complication until it comes, my dear. Now, Macthinkar, will you let me offer you a hint about the boy? Mact. Surely, surely! Wisdom sometimes comes from the mouths of babes and — A. Yes, I know. I've noticed something like that in court. And Baalam's ass might possibly illuminate a medical society's discussions. But what I wanted to suggest to you is that Reggie doesn't sleep enough. Mact. Aye, tell me of that. I had thought the insomnia was somewhat palliatit by the last remedies. A. No, I don't get that impression. Mrs. a. He doesn't sleep at all. A. Oh, come now! That's an extravagant way of Mrs. a. No, he does not; and to witness his sufferings is just killing me. Night after night I watch the poor boy lying there, and as I listen to his heavy breathing, Mact. Ah, then he's asleep. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 13 Mrs. a. No, Doctor! Not at all! That's Reggie's way of breathing when he's longing and waiting for the sleep that never comes. The poor boy told me- — —so, himself. {Weeps) You know. Doctor, a mother cannot be deceived about her child. Can she, love? I don't blame you. Doctor, if you don't see things as I do. You've never been a mother, Doctor; have you, Doctor? She covers her eyes zvith her handkerchief and rocks to ayidfro. Macthj?ikar rises, gazes u^zuard and stretches his hand tOTJuard the heavens. Mact. Madame, as the all-seeing God is my witness, I HAVE not! A. {in pare?tt/iesis.) No, you don't look it, Macthinkar! Mrs. a. {Dabbing her eyes.) But did you ever lie awake all thro' a long night, like my poor boy, and did you ever count the clock all night long, clear round, and round, and round, {She is overcome by the horror of it and covers her face with her hands.) A. {Aside, and smiling.) "Round and round and round:" that would be just thirty-six hours from evening to morning! Mact. Madame, in me profeyshional duties I have counted the clock to my sorrow, when, but for some con- siderations of philanthropy, I would have been in my bed, oblivious. As for my clock at home, it attends to its own countin' while I sleep like a good Christian and a weary physician. But now, my dear friend, compose yourself, and answer me this further interrogatory: Is the lad troubled with dreams? A. {Aside.) Dreams! He's an old fox! Mrs. a. Oh, yes, Doctor; the most terrible dreams. Sometimes he merely groans in his sleep; some- times he starts up and calls out for help, so terri- fied he is. A. Why, Macthinkar, you'd be a great cross-examiner. Mrs. a. I can't think his rest does him any good, that way, do you, Doctor? He must have some 14 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? unbroken rest, don't you think? It is just heart- breaking to see him dream. Mact. Aye, it must be so, indeed; especially when he is absolutely sleepless. Mrs. a. C Turns upon her husband, who has laughed aloud)) Now, what's the matter? What did I say? It's funny you always laugh when I am crying. A. I know right well you would not wish me to take you seriously, my dear. But let us have the boy in again. Ring for Marie. She ri7igs. I think it better Reginald should meet the Doctor. Enter Marie. Marie, go tell Mr. Reginald that we would like to speak with him. Exit Marie. Mact. An' now, before he comes in, I would like to give ye the nature of his complaint. Ye must not be unduly disturbed by insomnia, or by this or that symptom. Behind all the symptoms you notice is the general condition of neurasthenia, A. ( Very wisely) To be sure, to be sure. Mrs. a. Oh, Doctor, you've been concealing this from us! That's incurable! I just know it is! Mact. Madame, compose y'rself; 't is no disease at all; 'tis simply a natural sequence of a lowered tonus of the entire complicated nervous apparatus, the ganglionic system included, and that is due, most commonly, to a diminished constructive metamor- phosis and to a diminished retrograde metamor- phosis as well. You get my meanin' ? A. Perfectly, perfectly! Mrs. a. Oh, Doctor, it must be simply delightful to study such wonderful things. I have always said that if I were to begin life anew I should certainly be a physician. Mact. {Struck dumb, at first, recovers hi??iself. Aspenleaf laughs sardonically.) Verra weel! Now the lad, What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? IS in the first place, wants absolute repose of mind. Secondly, he must have some passive exercise given by a masseur. Thirdly, he wants nourish- ment such as I ma}^ prescribe, and this must be gently forced upon him by authority. But first of all, he must have absolute mental repose. He's frettin' and fumin' and damnin', and this must be done away with. So, on all accounts, he must HAVE A COMPETENT NURSE! Mrs. a. Oh, Doctor, I don't think that will do at all. You put ME in the care of a nurse, (don't you know?) and she simply set me wild. Oh, dear, but I can still recall her everlasting talk. A. Come, now, my love! Be just to her; I was obliged to check you many times in the day. You did the talking. Mrs. a. Well, I had to — I was so lonely. Oh, but the things she did to me, — to make me comfortable! And kept writing it all down, too! That was the most insolent thing! One night she wrote that I was hyste^rical! A. Well, there are nurses, — and nurses. Mact. And 't is only by the help of a stranger that I can induce in the lad that absolute repose of mind, — that lowered rate of intellection, — A. I understand, — absolute vacuity, — mind empty for a time, — Weir Mitchell, you know, my dear. Mact. You're on the right track, Aspenleaf, and Mrs. a. Well, can't I do that? Can't I empty his poor mind? Who so well as his mother? I'll stay with him day and night. A. No, don't argue the matter, dear. Enter Owen, sloivly pushing Reginald in the rolling chair. Enter Marie, also, a moment later. We must back the Doctor up. We must have a nurse, quiet and competent. Let's hear more from vou, Doctor. 16 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Reg. {Whinhtg) I won't have another nurse! They're a lot of clacking fools! Mrs. a. There, love! Do you hear, Doctor? He wants his own mother's onliest care, and he shall have it! {Hysterically.) A. Be firm, wife. Hear the Doctor. Mact. Naw, lad, ye must listen to reason. Reg. Reason be hanged! I want to be let alone! Alone! Do you hear? No one must talk to me! Mact. Verra weel, then! ^Impatiently?) I suppose you must have a deaf-mute nurse. Reg. Yes, I will; yes I will! {Molto appassionato.) A. Impossible, m}^ boy! Macthinkar's only Reg. Send her to me, send her to me! I won't taste food till you do! She's quiet, thank God! Send her to me! You said you would! Mact. I'll do it, lad. Only be still: these violent pertur- bations Mrs. a. Why, how perfectly funny! Reggie, dear, Reg. At last, at last, ^ there's hope! I'll get well! She'll save me! Even now, I get the grace of her gentle, quiet presence. {llis voice loses the shrill quality of hysteria. He clasps his hands in ecstasy.) Mact. Naw, wait a bit, lad, until we confer upon this matter. I was, perhaps, unduly precipitate, Reg. ^Screafning.) No! I say no! ! Send me the deaf- mute nurse! You said you would. Doctor! I have your word! Wheel me out, Owen! Can't you see that I'm gasping? {He fli7igs open his lo^tnging jacket and his shirt-collar.) Air, air! Quiet, quiet! The deaf-mute nurse! {Laughing hysterically^ Ozve7i rushes him 7ip to center door. Marie capers about and fajis him zvith her apron. Wait, Owen! Turn me round! God bless you. Doctor! You 've saved me! It 's noise that's killing me, and endless fuss! Give me rest, give me peace, or I'll die, PU die! What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 17 Mrs. A. runs to him sobbiyjg. He Jli7igs her avuay. O-wen zuheels him out at center. At that moment the hand- orgayi is heard, fortissimo. Ozven returns Tjuith his bur- den, and rushes the chair over to R. Reggie, zvith a radia?it coiuitcnance stretches out his hayids tozvard the Doctor, dozu7i the center of the stage infrojit. Reg. {Exhaitstcd.) Quiet, Doctor! Peace, Doctor! The deaf-mute! Bless you, Doctor! There has been a diminue?ido of the hayid-organ to the va7i- ishing-foint. Ozven pushes out the chair and its cargo; the fassenger is feebly zvazmig beiiedictions on the doctor as it passes from viezv. fudge As^enleaf f>erceives that Marie has lingered suj^erfluous, and he disposes of her by a zvave of the Jtand. Macthinkar sits collapsed. Aspenleaf comes in front of him aiid stands zt'ith his hands in his pockets, his feet flaiited far apart, and so he sialics at the Doctor, half amused. Mrs. Aspcnleaf has gone out zvith her son. Macthinkar raises his head, zvags it mournfidly, looks aloft, then at the floor again, and heaves a gusty sigh. A. Well, what next? Mact. a maadhouse. Meself an inmate. A. Went too fast, didn't you? Mact. Aye, me cursed tongue was ever too nimble. A. And a little too far, eh, old man? Mact. A hundred leagues beyond the extremest limits of any possibeelities of performance. And I gave HIM ME WORRD OF HONOR! A. Know any deaf-mute you could convert into a nurse? Mact. There 's no such girl in the town, — nor in the wide world. And I gave 'im Macthinkar's word of honor! A. Well, then, you miserable old sinner, do you know any nurse you could convert into a deaf-mute? Mact. Impossible, my dear Aspenleaf! Hey? Yes! No! Preposterous! Hoot, mon, there's Penelope. He springs to his feet and half embraces Aspenleaf, shakes his hand and potuids him, on the back. There 's Penelope, I tell you! She can do any- thing! She can untie this snarl. But Aspenleaf, Aspenleaf! 18 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? He sinks again into his chair, a boneless mass. A. Doctor? Mact. Aspenleaf, what wad Mrs. Macthinkar say? A. Well, she doesn't appear in this case. Who's Penelope? Mact. Ma dowter, — ma bairnie, — long absent, and just home from Edinboro. A. Just home from Edinboro! Deaf and dumb? Mact. God forbid, man, unless we have her so for a season. A. Trained nurse? Mact. That she is, and a graduate. A. Will she take the job? Mact. Well, man, she is full of all goodness and gentleness and filial obedience and philanthropy. I shame to submit the case to her. She can tell us her mind with lucidity. She has much of her good mother's conversational powers. A. Oh, hang her conversational powers! We want her to make signs. Mact. Aye, we do. A. Is the girl at home? Shall I — Mact. Alas, poor Penelope! I left her reading in the car- riage, at your door, and here have I been drinking tea A. I'll have her up, instantly. //e moves azvay toward the center entrance. Mact. Aspenleaf! Do not go yet! Give me a bit to col- lect me thoughts before I broach this matter to her. A. Oh, never mind your thoughts. I'll broach the matter before you see her. Exit. Mact. Aspenleaf! Was there ever a man so precipitate? E?iter Mrs. Asi)enleaf in a Jifie state of hysterics. She rushes to the Doctor, Marie at her heels, a?id flings her arms about his neck. At that moment he is making a i>rofound boza and the embrace is a failure. He on one side and Marie on the other assist her to a chair. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 19 Mact. (Aside.) Macthinkar, be a thinkin'! She must not see Penelope yet! Madame, I must implore you to go to your bed. Ye're in such a state that the cerebrum should be lowered. Let me implore you to go away and moderate this grief, and assume the supine po Mrs. a. ( Weeping violently?) Oh — but — he's — laughing, — Doctor, — continually! He, he, he's so over- joyed at your kindness. Mact. He must have his way for a time, madame. Marie, — (isn't it Marie?) Have her away! Have her horizontal! Have her secludit! Her head low, remember — lower than her lower extremities. Marie. Ah, Madame, we mus' obey Monsieur le Docteur. They assist he}' to I'ise and go otit at R. U. Before she is out of sight Aspenleaf and Peiielope come in at C. Mac- thinkar makes frantic signs to them, to remain quiet and to stay otit, and at the sam.e tim,e he is 7'unning to and fro, hurryi7ig Marie and her limp charge. At the last he m.oves the screen to great advantage. You will lean on me, Madame. I am so strong. Exeunt Marie and Mrs. A. Pen. {Airily.) Oh, you horrible old man! You forgot me, you know you did! Left me out there with the coachman while you drank tea! What ails you. Father? Just look at your tie! Why 't is nearly under your ear. Pardon me. Judge Aspenleaf, but this dear old man must be straightened up. She leads him a little zvay dozuyi the stage, adjusts the tie, tosses his hair this zc>ay and that, and gives him a lov- ing tap o?i each cheek. There you are! And Father, Pm so delighted; Judge Aspenleaf vows that he remembers me from long ago, when I was a very little girl. And he says that you have very important business with me. {Airily.) A vciy chilliyig pause. Mact. Go on, Aspenleaf! I cannot! A. The matter relates to my son Reginald, Miss Penelope. 20 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Her radia7it manner vanishes instantly. Erect as an Indian she turns to her father, and after a long and steady look, she gives Asftenleaf f)erinission to ^proceed. Each instant her chin goes higher. Pen. Well, sir! A. We have reason to believe that his health,— perhaps his life, — are in your hands. Pen. {With freezing dignity, a^id a frown.) Sir, must he send ambassadors? Can he not speak for himself? A. {Aside.) Now what have I done? Miss Penelope, my son is sick with an obscure malady which baffles your good father's skill. Pen. {Unbending.) And I am very sorry; but A. If you will allow me to drive straight to the point, he cannot recover without a nurse of unique gifts. Pen. My father can surely recommend one. A. And he has nominated you. Pen. ( Turns to Macthinkar and puts a world of upbi'aiding in one word.) Father! A. It is not alone that my son will require absolute quiet. Aspenleaf takes a long breath before he plunges in. A certain whim of his, induced, I may remark, by your father, must — not — be — crossed. She zinll not so much as raise a7i eyebrozv in interrogatioyi, and tier frozvn deep)ens. He must and will have a deaf-mute nurse! Pen. {Turning to Macthinkar.) Father! A. We think that you have the special knowledge and the mother-wit to play the part. Pen. Sir!^ A. You can save him! Pen. No! No! A. We are helpless and beaten, Miss Penelope. It is upon this very last and most foolish fancy that we build some little hope. Nay, let me tell you that he also shows for the first time in weeks, some hope and desire of recovery. Pen. Is it possible? What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 21 A. Scorn these sick fancies if you will, scout these small hopes of ours, No, no! I must not fret you with a father's pleadings. Turn rather to our wise old counsellor, your honored father and my friend, and your final verdict shall be unchallenged as the oracles of a fair priestess in her sacred temple. He takes her hand, tairesisted. Forgive me if I seem to plead again, but I cannot doubt that my poor boy's life and reason, — his whole destiny, lie in these little hands. He kisses her hands aiid retires, backing azuay from her as from royalty. She turns, gazing as if ujider enchant- ment. Even her arms do not at once fall, btit remain extefided tozvard him. Follozuifig As^enleaf ivith her gaze, she has turned her hack ufon her fathe?". Eiiter Marie at center. She slifs behind the screen, U7iseen. Mact. He}^, Macthinkar! But she's verra like her mother at the same age. Penelofe turns, comes dozvn the stage a fezu steps, con- fro7its her father' and looks bravely into his eyes. Will ye help us, Penelope? Will ye, child? Pen. (^With the utmost veheinence,) Will I play a fool's part, and live a lie before Reginald? No! Mact. She's verra like her mother! He zualks about a small circle and faces her again. Is this my girl 'at went into exile for long years, and slaved night and day, and faced the pestilence, to qualify herself for pure philanthropy? Is this she 'at wrote the brave letters aboot the joy of livin' and dyin' for mankind? Pen. I cannot serve Reginald Aspenleaf . Let that be my answer, now and ever. Mact. Then ye've grace and charity for all mankind save only this boy, child of my best and dearest friends, — him whom I loved as my own son, aye from the hour of his first breath. Pen. I cannot be of an}^ service to him. 22 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Mact. What have ye against him? Pen. Nothing. Mact. Ye could not have aught; ye have not seen him since baby days. Pen. I have. Mact. No, ye're wrong. Pen. Listen to me! You know I had a fever in Edinboro? Mact. Aye; I have Sinclair's notes of the case. Pen. And when the fever had burned out, Sinclair sent me to the Riviera to spend the later winter? Mact. To be sure. Pen. And there I met Reginald Aspenleaf. Mact. Penelope; you never wrote me this. Pen. For good reason I never mentioned him. We wretched young fools made sport of him. He WAS a little odd. His malady was even then creeping upon him, if we callous dullards could have seen the truth. Mact. The poor lad! At the critical time when he needed companionship and reasonable sympathy. Pen. And, Father, I even thought I was aweary of him. Mact. Ye thowt it then; but now ? Pen. Through the very cloud that was over his mind the sweetness and nobility of the boy shone out, Mact. And even yet Pen. But in sweet charity set it down for me that I was a fever-wither'd thing. Father, I did not know myself, nor my poor heart, nor his worth, and, oh, God, I did not know his peril! Mact. Was there more atween ye? Pen. Must I tell you? Mact. Had ye not better? She has been draiving nearer and her zvrath has faded zuhile she has bee?i exculpating- herself. Her head comes to his shoulder and his ar in falls about her zuaist. Had ye not better tell me ? Or maybe your mother ? What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 23 Pen. No, no! You, only you! From the bosom of her dress she snatches a ;pa-per, gives it to her father. She turris aivay ajid leans against a table zc'hile he I'eads. Mact. a brave and honest lover might write such a declar- ation. She returyis the :pafer to its hiding place. And ye refused him? Pen. I did not even answer the note. I made public property of it among my giggling companions. Mact. And you did the like o'that! Pen. And we heard rumors that he was worse, and presently he was gone. M/CT. Girrl, your sin is great! Ye've brought him near to death, and worse. Peiv. But now you see how it is I cannot serve him, tho' I would gladly die to save him. And, now that you know more about him, you can help him, Father? Maci. That I can not. Pen. Oh, God, is it too late? Mact. Be quiet, child! Ye know I am no homeopath, but for this once, like must cure like. If in yon southern land of Italy (the perilous land of love, they say,) the glint of your bonnie eyes or the touch of your warm fingers bred love and mad despair in the poor, sick lad, then he must drink deeper of the same poison to come back to sanity, and strength, and manliness. Pen. Father, do not say that! Mact. On me profeyshional worrd 't is true. Look ye, lass, I was tricked into this comedy by me foolish tongue that outran me judgment and promised the impossible, — a deaf-mute nurse; and I was aboot to join Aspenleaf in prayers that ye'd play the part to save me word of honor. But if you ever toyed with this poor lad's affections, I adjure ye now to nurse him back to health, not for my sake or my honor, but for his succor and your own due 24 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? penance. Ye war to blame, Penelope, I'm thinkin', and there's but one way to set yourself right in the books above. Pen. I cannot, I cannot! What would he think of me? Mact. As of a very competent, robust, afflictit young nurse. Betimes he'll be thinkin' of the chatterin', sallow, emaciatit convalescent whom he met at Monaco, but I doot that he can blend the sick girl^ and the deaf-mute into one. Pen. You think that he would not know me? Mact. Never! Ye've grown in stature, actually, of lat^'. I scarce knew ye at first. An' mind 3'e, he saw /e but after sickness. Pen. He will know me; — he will know me! Mact. No, child, no! Did ye no write to me that yer iair was short? Did not Sinclair cut it off? Pen. Yes, and while we frolicked down in Italy, I wore a blond wig. Mact. Say no more, girl; say no word but that ye will help us. She slozuly extends her hand. He grasps it eagerly. Pen. On the word of a Macthinkar, I will. Mact. And on the word of a Macthinkar, we will soon have him well. But an ill thought conies to me, Penelope. If he got that name of Macthinkar attached to ye, down in Italy, and if he hears it here, again, he will identify ye, and he'll know 3^e for my dowter. Pen. Be cmsy on that head, Father; for it happened that my friends gave me the nickname of Pen, and he always addressed me as Miss Penn. It amused us, and we never undeceived him. His notes to me were so addressed. Mact. Nah isn't that merely providential? Child, I wish we had your nurse's uniform. I'd soon set ye to work. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 25 Pen. It is in the bag in the carriage. Don't you remem- ber we were going to show it to the nurses at the hospital? Mact- Ah, I'm in such a coil that I forgot it. Nah, surely here's the verra forefinger of providence! Have it up immediately! Marie! \He rings the bell.) Put it on before the boy sees ye. It will disguise ye completely. Marie! Marie! Marie slips in from behind the screen. Marie. Monsieur le Docteur. Mact. Will ye have the goodnees to run out to the carriage and fetch the traveling bag, — the larger one. Marie riuis up the stage. Come back here a bit till I make ye acquaintit. This is the new nurse for Mr. Reginald. She's deaf and dumb, you understand, and ye cannot chatter with her; but that's little matter, for you French girls can talk with your hands and feet. Marie regards the nezv nurse ivith somethi72g more than a respectful smile. An' as for the nurse, she can understand a little by the method of lip-reading. See me now. {To Penelope^ This is Marie. D' ye get the name? MARIE! MARIE! Penelope smiles and nods, but Marie laughs outright. Marie. It iz ver' wonderful. Monsieur le Docteur. She runs axvay again, but Mact. stops her. Mact. Marie, ye need not waste any time on the man in the carriage: he's a marrit man an' has fower children. Marie pouts prettily, tJien abruptly passes into a state of grief. Marie. Ah, Monsieur le Docteur, I could crry for one so beautiful w'ich cannot hear nor spik. But she does not cry; she claps her hatid over her mouth and does not quite smother her laughter as she runs atvay . .Exit Marie. Mathinkar and his daughter sink into chairs dejectedly. 26 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Mact. Penelope, I misdoot she suspects us. Pen. I misdoubt she was behind that screen. Mact. i^Goi7ig to i?ispect it.) Aye, we were verra careless. Make friends with her, Penelope. Buy her, if ye must. Wheedle her all ye can. Promise her something: promises have a marvelous power with lasses; a promise is better than purchase. Pen. We can do nothing without her. Mact. Oh, she can merely ruin all if she becomes hostile. Ah, Mrs. Aspenleaf! Enter Mrs. A. Mact. You've come in good time. This is the nurse for Reginald, — the deaf-mute, ye know. Mrs. A. (^Inspe c ting critically.) Why, how funny, Doctor! She looks like a person of intelligence and breeding. Mact. Oh, aye, she does. I will vouch for her, indeed, oh yes, — quite as if she were my own dowter. (Aside.) Now that's verra good. Mrs. a. Oh, I hope that Reggie will be pleased. Men are so funny that way, you know; they want a thing ever and ever so much until they get it, and then the thing they want they don't want. Mact. Oh, he's verra fond of her, — I would say he was, NO What am I sayin'? I mean he will be. Mrs. a. Why, Doctor Macthinkar! Her face is very familiar to me. She turns from one to the other, scayini^ig them most critically. I^think these resemblances are the funniest things, don't you? Now I can't tell, for the life of me, whether she looks like some person I know very well or whether the other person resembles — the one — She is looking at Penelofe so hard that she ca?iJ7ot go on zuith the -pro-position. Do I make signs to her? or has she a slate? Pm sure that Reggie can't endure a slate, because the What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 27 pencil squeaks so. And she can't hear it squeak, either. Mact. Oh, she's quick to comprehend any pantomime. Sometimes, if ye're in a great pinch, ye must write. An' she has a wonderful gift of reading from the lips, if ye get right in front of her and speak slowly. See now! {He brijigs Fe?ielope forward and bawls at her,) This is the Mother of the Boy. Mother; MOTHER, y' know. Penelope bozvs. Mrs. a. Oh, isn't that the most touching thing? Enter Marie zvith the hag. I could cry when I look at her. So intelligent, too. I'm going to kiss you, dear! She kisses Penelope betxveeii the broTUS. Mact. {Aside.) I'm certainly comin' oot a graand liar! Mrs. a. Marie, see that the blue room is in order for the nurse. Marie. {Makes big- eyes and whistles.) Ze blue room! Mrs. a. To be sure, — the front guest-chamber. Exit Ma7'ie. Now, you poor thing, I want you to sit down and, Oh, I will forget that she's deaf. She leads Penelope to a chair, and smiles all sorts of hos- pitality at he7'. There, now! Now, Doctor, tell me all about the dear daughter who has been so long abroad. Do you know, I'm just wild to see her. Macthinkar makes a gesture toivard Petielope, btit checks himself in good time. Won't you ask her to waive ceremony and call on me? I must show her to Reginald. They were such cunning things when they were babies together, — don't you remember? It won't do him any harm to see her, will it? not if she doesn't talk too much to him about old times. Mact. Oh, she'll come; there's no doot o' that; that is to say, — she'll be here. And as for talkin', I have 28 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? strictly charged her, — that is I will charge her, — ah, — not to say a word,— ah, — until some oppor- tune opportunity! (What do you think o' that, Penelope?) Mrs. a. What is she like? Did she grow up tall? Would I know her, do you think? Mact. She's aboot as tall and straight as yon nurse. Mrs. a. But has a better carriage, Doctor? Mact. Oh, I could not say so, precisely. I think yon's a noble lookin' young woman. Mrs. a. Oh, Doctor! What would Mrs. Macthinkar say? Mact. Mrs. Macthinkar? Aye, to be sure! Oh, she'd ne'er accuse me of a flirtation here. She'd say, if she were in possession of all the facts, that I am old enough to be the girl's father. Mrs. a. Oh, I don't know, I don't know. I think I shall have Mrs. Macthinkar in to look at the girl. Mact. No, no! Seriously, if you do that, ye'll spoil all that we hope *to do for Reginald. {Aside.) Now ye're in deep water, Macthinkar! Have a care how ye swim oot! Mrs. a. Oh, I was only teasing. Doctor. Mact. I'll be able to tell ye something verra romantic aboot this nurse, some day, if ye don't introduce' Mrs. Macthinkar into our little comedy. Mrs. a. Comedy? Mact. Aye, we'll call it that, for every little chapter of life is either comedy or tragedy, and it is the whole object of your old friend, Macthinkar, to suppress the tragic, d'ye see? Now, in the case of this girrl, the nurse, Mrs. Macthinkar knows her early history absolutely; an' as for the romantic chapters, she's bound to know them too in good time, if ye only are discreet. Mrs. a. Oh, I won't tell them! You know how close I am about anything that ought to be kept. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 29 Mact. I do that! Ye never repeat romances that have not been told to you, especially those that haven't happent yet. She strikes at him playfully zvith her fan and he smiles g-rtmly. 'Deed but ye remind me of an auld Scotch story, — I think I was aboot narratin' it to you this mornin', but was somehow divertit. 'T is of a poor man who lived at the side of the river Ayr in the immediate viceenity of Robbie Burns' birthplace. Now this poor man had twalve dowters, The telepione, in full viezv at the back of the sta^e, rifi^^s violently. Mrs. A. {Rising.) One moment, Doctor, Mact. No, no! Let the nurse answer it, Mrs. a. {To Penelope) If you will be so good, dear, They both look at Penelope, taho retaiiis her composure finely and moves never a muscle. They burst into laughter together. Oh, you foolish man! To forget that she was deaf! Enter Marie and Ozven. Answer the telephone, Marie. {Marie runs to the 'phone. It rings furiously before she reaches it.) Mact. As I was sayin', he had twalve dowters, and he had no son. Now the first dowter he named Euterpe, — Marie has anszuered the phone and comes dozvn to the front. Marie. Madame, one would spik wiz you. Mrs. A. goes to the 'phone. Mact. The second, Mnemosyne, Mrs. a. What is it? Who? Oh, is it you, Mrs. Mac- thinkar? Yes, dear; the Doctor's here. He'll speak with you in a minute. He is very irritable this morning, but the Doctor has got us a nurse and Reggie's so pleased in anticipation. We're just sure he'll do better. What? Louder! . Mercy on us! Hear me now? I can't talk any louder if the house catches fire. Yes, the 30 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Doctor got us a nurse, and (isn't it just too funny?) she's a deaf-mute. Yes, that's what I said. Deaf and dumb? Why, of course! No, she can't hear a thing. Oh, she's tall and very intelligent looking. 1 should think she was about Reggie's age. Oh, she's really very handsome. Just a little of the dull look, you know, that deaf-mutes have Macthinkar af fears to he looking for his hat and cane. Never heard the Doctor what? Oh! Never heard him mention her? Exit Macthinkar, very hastily ando?i tif-toe. Yes, dear, he's right here. He'll speak to you. Enter Ozven. What say? Oh, you said good-bye? Now isn't it funny, I was just drawing breath to say the same to you? Well, GOOD-bye! Yes. Good-BYE! You'll hold the 'phone a moment, won't you? GooD-bye! She comes dojvn the stage a little zuay. Doctor, Mrs. Macthinkar would like to speak Why, how perfectly funny! He's gone! Well, what will Mrs. Macthinkar say? She returns to the ''phone. Hello! Don't you know when I told you the Doctor was here? Well, he had just gone. Yes, he has; really! I think you may be able to catch him at the hospital in about ten minutes. Yes, oh yes! GooD-bye! What say? Gh! How funny. I said good-bye, too, the very same instant. Oh, do drop in, any time! Reggie is so fond of you. He says he just simply adores the way you express your opinions. And be sure to bring that new-found daughter. If she don't care to see the rest of us, she will be interested in the deaf-and-dumb nurse. Yes, indeed! Oh, GOOD-bye! Yes, and did you ever hear such a sermon? The most ridiculous What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 31 I ever heard. No, I'm afraid I'm detaining you. Well, GOOD-bye, good-BYE! She turns from the '■phone. Owen, take the young lady's traveling bag to the blue room. Ow. Taizey voo, madame. He picks lip the bag. Marie goes into co?ivtdsions. Mrs. a. What did you say, Owen? Ow. I said, Taisey voo, ma'am. Mrs. a. And where did you learn that? Ow. That's Frinch, ma'am. Marie taught it to me. Mrs. a. And what does it mean? Ow. She tould me it meant the same as, With pleasure, ma'am, or the like o' that. Mrs. a. Well, don't do it any more. Ow. She thought it 'd please you, ma'am. Mrs. a. And it does please me to see that girl make a fool of you; but no more French, Owen. Marie, take the young lady to the blue room. You'll have to becken to her. She goes out of one door, laughing, as Ozven goes out of a7iother, shaking his fist at Marie. Penelope has ariseii afid has turned azvay to co7iceal her smiles. She stands stiffly, aivare that Marie is zvith her, yet not daring to face her. Marie peeps first over one shoulder, theti over the other, and giggles audibly; hut Penelope does 7iot move. Marie then comes in fro?it, perks her head on o7ie side a7id gri7is saucily i7i Pe7ielopesface. Pen. That will do, Marie. I think we understand one another. Marie. Mon dieu! Ma'm'selle can spik. Pen. Yes, ma'm'selle can speak. lam no more a deaf- mute than you are a French girl. Let us be honest while we can, Marie. Are you not an American girl? Marie. That's what I am. I've an Irish streak in me, but I'm American. 32 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Pen. And v/here did you get the Parisian accent. Marie. Playin' with Canuck children when Father worked in the marble quarries up in Vermont. Pen. And you keep up false pretenses here, — Marie. Just cause I got started that way and I can't quit. I'm five hundred miles from home and I had no recommendations, and I wanted a job, and I heard that Mrs. Aspenleaf was just crazy for a French maid and wouldn't have any other. I applied for the place and I got it without any questions asked. What are you going to do about it? Pen. Well, until I hear something bad about you, and so long as your French is good enough for Mrs. Aspenleaf, I am going to keep your secret, just as surely as you keep mine. Marie. Well, you can count on me every time for keeping a secret. If there's any sides to this thing, I'm on the side of the old Doctor, and Mr. Reginald. I just believe, you can get him well, and all I want is the glory of helping you- When folks are in love, anyway, I believe in helping 'em along. Pen. Did I say anything about the tender passion? Marie. No, not to me. Pen. To my father? Marie. Yes 'm. Penelofe transfixes the girl by fointi7ig her finger at her. Pen. How do you know I have a father? Marie. Why, didn't you talk to him just now? Pen. Olf, did I? And you were behind the screen? Marie. What screen? Pen. There is but one. Marie. Oh, well, if you mean that screen, Say, you got me that time. Pen. Ah, Marie, Marie! You're a naughty little spy! But help us all you can, and you shall be forgiven, I am sure. Now show me to my room, dear. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 33 Marie runs to L. U. and makes signs, inviting Penelope to folloTV and robe herself. Exeunt, laughing. Enter, R. U., Ozv en 'pushing Reginald' s chair . Ojven zuheels him to the ivi?idozu. Reg. Oh, what's the matter with you, Oney? You know I never want my face to the light. Turn me round, or get me goggles! Oiven turns the chair. Look here! Do you want to land me in a mad- house? Don't rub your hands on the chair, that way. Your hands are as husky as a woodchopper's; they actually rustle. Oh, do get a glycerin lotion, or, Ow- Or cold cream, sir? Reg. Yes, or tar, or anything. And Oney, that wheel has a thick place on it. Flesh and blood can't stand that. Ow. I'll sandpaper it, sir. Reg. Oh! Oh! Oo! Oo! Horrible! Sandpaper! I'll be shuddering all day! Never mention such a thing again! Find my handkerchief! You make me sweat, talking of such terrible thiags! Fan me, please! Not so hard! Just hard enough! Did you see the new nurse? What kind of a thing is she? Ow. She's deef, sir. Reg. Well, don't I know that? Is she homely? Ow. Awful, sir, I think, tho' I hardly ever take notice. Reg. How old is she? Ow. She must be risin' forty or the like o' that; mebbe more or a little less; I raaly ct)uldn't tell without lookin'. Reg. Oh, aren't you a sweet, innocent thing? Enter Judge A. and Mrs. A. Mrs. a. {Rushing upon him.) How's my darling boy? Reg. {Dodging caresses.) I'm a whole lot weaker than 34 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? ever. I can't raise my head the thousandth part of an inch. Please don't, Mother! Enter Penelope in nurse'' s costume. She brings a chafing- dish, etc., on a tray, places it on a table and busies herself there. Judge A. takes a place near her and enters into pantomime occasionally. Mrs. a. You poor, dear, suffering thing! Mamma thought it would like to have its head stroked. Ah, here's our nurse! Isn't it awful, Reggie, to think that she can't hear a word I say, and can't enter into conversation? Wouldn't you rather be dead? And isn't she just the sweetest thing? Penelope is very busy arranging her paraphernalia. Reginald raises his head and tries to see her. Failing in that, he elevates himself on his elbotv afid turns about. Ow. Will you look at that! Mrs. A. makes haste to support him. Reg. {in a state of great excitement.) Mother! Mother! I know her! She is not deaf! I know her! Miss Penn! Miss Penn! Will she not look this way? Father! {A pause.) Miss Penn! Merciful God! She IS deaf! Ow. She is that! A. {Sotto voice.) Bravo! You went thro' that, you can go thro' anything. But he says he knows you? Reg. What prince of all the fools that ever breathed, thought first of putting a deaf-mute in a sick-room? A. Thought you knew her, did you, Reginald? Reg. Yes, but I — did — not. Mrs. a. Of course, not! Shall its mother lay him down? Reg. {Starting up.) Ah, did you see that? No woman btit Miss Penn ever had that poise to the head. It is Miss Penn or her double. Mrs. a. Does she make you nervous, darling boy? If she does, she Reg. Does she make me Yes, but she's good to look at. There's healing for me in merely Penelope comes dozvn the stage torvard Reginald' s chair. A. {Sotto voice.) Steady, now, my girl! What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 35 Penelofie comes smiling to Reginald, takes his hand, opens her zvatch and counts his pulse. Mrs. a. Well, that's one comfort; you can talk while she counts his pulse. Dear old Macthinkar used to frown so, and lose his count, you know, Penelope returns to the table and makes a note of the pulse on her clinical record. A. Now, that I call scientific and rational. Verbal reports don't go here: what we prove, we prove by the record. Penelope comes dozvn agai?i and puts a thermometer in Reginald's mouth. She holds the zvatch open. Reginald makes dreadful itiarticulate sounds. A. Keep your mouth shut! Penelope pinches his lips into a pucker. Ow. Well, she just bangs Banagher! Mrs. a. Who's Banagher? Ow. Indeed, ma'am, I don't rightly know, but Mother used to tell me that Banagher bangs the divil himself. Penelope zvithdratvs the thermometer. She goes again to the table to make notes. Reg. Hold your tongue, Owen! Mrs. a. Yes. It's a good time to "taisey voo." a. You should not speak so before the young lady. Ow. I thought she was deef, sir. Reg. Well, don't think! Be yourself! No good comes of thinking,anyway» — in your case. Penelope has returned to his chair. She puts a finger on Reginald'' s chin, depresses his chin and, thrusting out her tongue, compels him to the same exhibit. The tongue inspected, she nods zvisely, snaps his teeth together, and m,akes a note on the tablet. Ow. {Aside.) Will ye look at that? Reg. By Jove, that's cool! You'd think I was a horse on sale! Mrs. a. Why, that's positively ill-bred! Penelope turns back the afghan, exposes Reginald' s feet, removes one slipper a?id then the other, feels his toes, nods in an I-told-you-so manner, goes up to the table and brings dozvn a hot-zvater bag zuhich she dzdy applies. 36 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Reg. ^Astounded.) By Jove! How'd she know my toes were cold Mrs. a. Now that surely is going to extremes. A. I believe, Reginald, that the unfortunate female had hopes that she could hear those stockings of yours. Don't you think they are pretty loud? Mrs. a. That will do. Judge! It's a poor time for joking. Besides, I bought those stockings for the dear boy, myself. I thought they would brighten up his sick-room a little. A. Oh, well, then, I have nothing to say. You attained success. Penelofe has already gone back to her table and entered up the state of his toes, on the record. She noiv presents it to Reginald and points to the last entry. Reg. Well, if that isn't cool! I am to be asleep, she says, at ten thirty-five. Mrs. a. {Fe7telope, her arm about Mrs. A's wai'sf, leads her to an exit and dismisses her with a smile.) Well, mercy on us! If she hasn't confidence! Do you think you can sleep, Reggie, dear? I believe you can. Feel better, already, don't you, love? The last speeches are delivered as she passes from viezv, Penelope has already made her attack on Judge Aspen- leaf. She starts him on his Journey. A. Reginald, I used to pity you, but now I envy you. She is just so deaf that I will take the opportunity of saying that she's a jewel. Ozven has the em,pty oxygen cylinder in his arms and is dism,issed zvith an imperative gesture. Fenelofe lights the lamp under a chafing-dish. Reg. Ob, one moment. Miss . Bah! I was about to ask her name. Forgot she was deaf. What the dickens is she doing, now? {He twists about to see her.) Hello! Sterilizer? No, it's a chafing- dish! Say, Reggie, dear, this is mighty cosy! {He twists still farther, to see her.) I vow this is my good day: I could hardly lift my head yester- day; now I can raise myself on my elbow. {He does raise himself on his elbow and gazes at Pene- What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 37 lope.) Say, nursie, you do look like Miss Penn, God bless her, wherever she may be! But you're larger and stronger, and, if it isn't treason to a first love to say it, you're a whole lot hand- somer than she ever was— — or ever will be! Penelope is stirring a coticoction -vigorously . Ah, Miss Penn, Miss Penn, you had your sport with the idle invalid, but I'll even up matters yet! ril get well and strong and I'll find you somewhere, well and strong, and I'll capture you yet! You were cruel and capricious, but something tells me that you loved me just a little bit, and that the little flame grew, and that you are thinking of me this very minute. Penelope stirs 7iot quite so vigorously, and she has turned her back tocvard the patient and the audience. Reggie, dear, a deaf-mute nurse is a great inven- tion. It gives me good leave to breathe aloud a dear name that has not crossed my lips for months and months. He takes a long look at Penelope, zvho is stirring very slozvly. He heaves a sigh from the depths. By all the gods at once, she's like her! Ah, nursie, if you could talk, with Miss Penn's voice, I think that I would get well and make love to you! Penelope pours out a vuhite fluid into a pretty bozul. She comes dozvn to his left, sets doiu?i the bozvl, puts a nap- kin under his chi?i, slips her left arm under his pillozu, brt?igs him to a half- sitting posture and feeds him vjitli a spoon. Betzveen the doses he exclaims zuith great enthusiasm. I Clam-broth ! glorified ! Seasoned right Hot enough! Not too hot! Wow, but I feel better! Reggie, this is great! Miss Penn! If you could see me now! Give me that loving-cup! This stuff's too good for a spoon, only me! He drains the cup and in a playful exaggeratioyi of ecstasy he holds it to his lips inverted. Penelqpe taps it zuith her spoon to indicate that the draught has been taken, a7id there's a suspiciofi of afi impeyiding romp zvJien she 38 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? ^ulls it aijuay from him. She places his ^HIotju in such fashion as to leave him, half sitting. Then she mahes an enti-y oyi her tablet. She exhibits the entry a7id he reads. Reg. "Clam-broth, six ounces, taken with relish at ten thirty. Sleep at ten thirty-five." Well, if that isn't the coolest proposition! I don't sleep in day- time and I never will. She's too fresh! But she's just NICE. Penelope gives his pillozvs a slight adjustment. She strokes the hair about his brozus zvith a rhythmic motion^ using first o?ie hand and the7i the other. Say, girl, don't do that! You never were hired for that sort of gymnastics. She gradually changes the stroking to his eyebrovus and STJueeps the tifs of her fingers arouyid the cheeks and under the chin. He squirms vigorously, at first, and then less vigorously. Oh, you merciless wretch! If you only dreamed how ticklish I am about my neck! His hand, raised in protest, rests lightly on hers. Oh, pshaw, now! When do you let up on this? \A pause.) I'd fifty times rather {He yaw?is.) you'd read me to sleep. {A long pause.) Read! Just so. Forgot she was a a deaf- m u t e. W e 1 1, of all r i-d ic - u - 1 o u s, un-speak-a-ble bores, this bangs 'em all! (^He yawns deeply and flings one arm above his head after the manner of one who is mak- ing himself very comfortable.) Nursie's a — ^ — good old dummie; j u s t as ^lo vely ^as PSnelope bends lozv to catch the name, but it does not come. She gently disengages her ha7id from his, leaves him sleep- ing and crosses the stage. She sits near the great table, takes' a note from her bosom and reads it. Pen. How often have I read these lines? And yet I know each pleading word as a nun knows her prayers. Owen. Anything wanted, miss? Oh, I beg pardon, miss: I forgot you were deef. S'pose I must write it. He sits dozvn and ag07iizes over a message zvhich he What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 39 zvrites on a tablet. While ivriting he reads each zvord zvith a draivl, a7id a lotig pazise betzveen zuords. "Mrs. Aspenleaf wants to know if you have a trunk coming, or anything like that?" Penelope takes the tablet, tears off his note, throzvs it on the table, scribbles one herself. If she only could talk as fast as she writes. He takes the tablet, reads her ansztier,;peels it off, throvus it on the table, also. "No TRUNK TO-DAY." I suppose that means a Saratoga to-morrow. Peyielope points to her patient, Ozven ijisfects him at a distance. Well, that does beat my time! Nurse or no nurse, you can work a miracle. She takes uf the tablet again ayid zvrites. Ozven reads after she presents it to him. "Wheel him gently into the alcove bedroom. Do not AWAKEN HIM." Oh, I'll have the tread of a cat. Wouldn't I be the fool o' the world if I had him awake? He's a good fellow, but he's crab- beder than a box o' tigers. Penelope goes over to her patietit. Ozven picks up all the papers from, the table and crams them into his pockets. Then zvith the extremest care he zvheels Reginald 07it. Enter Marie from, the other side, imitatifig his tip-toe azvkzvardness. He does not see her. She pauses a bit until he is safely off the stage. Then she runs dozvn to Penelope at the front. Pen. Oh, girl, let me say something to you or I cannot long exist! Marie. I'll trade places. Miss Macthinkar. I'm dead sick o' my French. We children at home used to imi- tate the broken English of the Canadian French about us, but there was no fun in it after a half hour. Now I've had two weeks of it! Talk o' dyin'! I'd been in my grave if it wasn't for the fun I have makin' fun of Oney. Pen. You find it such great sport? Take care, my girl! Marie. Oh, I say it's better than pickles just to make a monkey of a man. 40 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Pen. Are you a Darwinian, Marie? Marie. No'm. I'm a Catholic; so is Oney. Pen. Bah, I wasn't talking of creeds, my dear; I was thinking of Darwin's theory. Marie. Oh, I know, — I know! He thought y' c'd make a man out of a monkey. Pen. Well, yes; poor Darwin is blamed with that. Marie. Then I'm with him, for I can make a monkey out of a man, — just too easy. Penelope is laughing at the girl. Suddenly her face groivs serious, the?i very afixious, as she tumbles over the articles on the table. Marie. You are looking for something? Pen. Marie, surely 3^ou saw some papers here when you came in? Marie. No. By this time Penelope is STJuiftly turning the leaves of the books on the table. She looks under the table cover and under the table itself. Marie joins in the search in a languid, amused fashion at first, and then very eaerly^ Pen. Owen and I exchanged written messages here, and tossed them on the table. Marie. Well, I don't see why you should be so disturbed, Miss Macthinkar, about notes from Her zeal suddenly fails. Pen. Oh, but there was a note, ah, Marie, another note written me months ago, Marie. By Oney? Pen. No, no! Oh, can't you find it Marie? And can't you understand? Marie. Who wrote it then? Pen. Oh,^help me, Marie: I must find it! Master Regi- nald wrote it. Marie is frantically searching again. Marie. You wouldn't want the Judge to find it? Pen. Oh, no; not for worlds! Marie. Nor Mrs. Aspenleaf? Pen. No, no; not her! Marie. Nor Mrs. Macthinkar? Pen. I had rather die ten thousand deaths! What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 41 Marie. Nor the Doctor? Pen. He has read it. Marie. I didn't think Mr. Reginald was able to write notes? Pen. Oh, Marie! Don't talk! Just search and search and find it! He wrote it in Italy months ago. Marie. ^Thunderstruck?) Oh, mercy me! Does he know you? Pen. Oh, hush, Marie! Just find it! He knew me when I could talk. Find the note, please! He doesn't know me now. Marie. Oh! {She sinks into a chair, absolutely over- whelmed.) Pen. I'll tell you all about it if you'll only help me. She is extending her search to remoter articles of furniture. Marie. (Recovers herself and proceeds to the unravelling of a great mystery.) Who has been in this room since you laid the note on the table? Pen No one but Oney, and I do not remember that he went near the table? Marie. The loafer! Stop huntin'. It's no use. He's the one to search. I'll get 3^our note, Miss Mac- thinkar, if he hasn't eaten it. He's that silly of late that I can do anything with him. Oh, you villain! Just wait till I get my hands on you! She lacerates the zvhole atmosphere zvith her talons. Exit Marie. Pen. What a fool was I to keep it, or, keeping it, not to keep it safe against my heart! That Owen should read it, Oh, horrible! That he should hand it about to people in this house, intolerable! Ah, me! I was so happy to be of use to Reginald! And now so wretched! She falls into a chair, extends her arm,s across the table and buries her head in them,. Enter Oiven and Marie: Ouuen comes backzvard. He is laughing and defending himself as zvell as he can from, the assaults ivhich Marie is making zvith a broom. 42 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Ow. Oh, say, now! Aisey, aisey! Ouch! That time y' got past my guard! Murder! Police! Marie. You will give me th' leetle billet? Ow. You will give me th' leetle kiss? She reverses the broom a7id charges him ivith the handle. He catches the end dexterously and drazvs her to him. The impetuosity of her charge assists him to pass an arm about her zvaist. The broom is 7ioiv out of the action. She tugs at his fingers zuith one hand: the other is at his throat. Occasionally his head flies back as if he TXjere about to part company zuith it. Marie. You s'all geef me ze billet, — ze note! It iss ma'm'selle's! Ow. How do you know I have it about me, spitfire? Give me the kiss. Marie. How do you I haf ze kiss about me? Ow. Cause I'm lookin' at it now. Marie. My kisses arr for my husban'. Many times have I tell you. Ow. Right you are, darlin'! That's me! Gi' me the kiss! Marie. No! Let me, go, you beeg, beeg grrizzlee bear! One vill hear you! Sha-a-me! See! Ze nairse! Ozven had 7tot noticed Penelope. He looks back at her and relaxes his clasp of the girl. With a ttvitch and a tzuist, a push at his throat and a tug at his fingers, Marie frees herself and ru7is dozvn to the left front and puts a table betzueen herself and Ozven. Ozven races about the table pursui?ig Marie. Both are laughing, but he presently falls over a chair zvhich she flings in his zvay. He I'ises zvith difficulty, and limps to a chair at center. There he groayis and caresses his shin assiduously. Marie. I am so sorry of your laig, Meestaire Owen. Ow. {Savagely) Yes, y' are! Marie. {Hei- hand is on his shoulder.) We haf been so loving friends, and now is it that you are so angry? Ow. ( With a dreadful frown which gradually unfolds into an expansive grin.) Yes; — I — am, — not. Penelope rises zvearily. With a gesture of despair she zvalks off slozvly, R. U., as if she neither sazu nor heard the scuffle. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 43 Marie. Poor ma'm'selle! She cannot hear nozzing! Ow. Naw, but she c'n hear something. Marie. Ma'm'selle, ze nairse? Ow. Yes, ma'm'selle, the nurse. She c'n hear a whole lot. Marie. Impossible! She haf not heerd our combat. She lays so still while we are fighting. Ow. [With the affectation of supernatural wisdom.~) Oh, she's heerd nothing, eh? And she lays so still, did she? Lard of mercy, but the spring showers has made y' green! But say, Marie, He has apparently given over all pursuit. Marie grovjs cordial and conciliatory . What makes you say she lays, and the like o' that? I wonder y' don't try to talk English, same as I do. Marie. I should say lie? Ow. Cert. Marie. Oh, Meestaire Owen, you haf so beeyuteeful lan- guage an' so deeficult. Can you to me explain, perhaps? Ow. Oho! Can I to you explain, perhaps? W'y that's what I'm here for. Let me elucidate. Suppose now,^ you told Mrs. Aspenleaf wan o' y'r best fibs, and backed it up wid a whopper. Now, there you lie. Get the idea? All right! But now, on the contrary, She drazus near to him on the left. Marie. Yes, eet iss very interesting. Ow. Supposin' I say, on the contrary, that I'm goin' to sing a song, Marie. Oh, no, Meestaire Owen! Be marecifool! In pretty protest she places her ha?id on his shoulder. Ow. Hold on! I'm not goin' to make a disturbance, and rouse up the whole house. I'm only supposin; you little goslin.' She slips her hand into the side pocket of his jacket and • abstracts a paper. While he continues his discourse, she glances at it, crumples it impatiently, and flings it avuay. 44 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? Now, f r the sake of argumint, s'pose I warble one of me beautiful ditties, — wan o' the songs o' green Ireland, f'r example, or wan composed in France, — your own degenerate country. Suppose I make the burrds of heaven look envious. D' ye see? That's no lie: that's me LAY. See how 'tis? You TELL a lie; I SING a LAY. That's easy! His wpTvard glances have very much favored her f>ocket- ^icking. Marie. Oh, eet iss a charming language! I see, I see! You sing a lay, like ze ole hen which haf laid ze fraish ^%%^ — iss it not so? Ow. Wait a moment, till I collect what little 's left of me mind. Say! yoii're right! The hen is off; you're on. I sing; the hen sings. I have a lay; she has a lay. I have the freshest voice; she has the freshest lay. But, say! Let's change the subject before I go crazy. It's funny about a hen, isn't it? She lays till she sets. Ever think o' that in France, Marie? Marie. S'all we not say, she sits? So like I sit? She places a chair tete-a-tete 07i his right, and sits. Ow. No, we don't say she sits; she just sets, — on her complete lay-out. Marie gets into his right pocket. Marie. An' have we some English words for Monsieur le Chanticleer? Ow. D' ye mean the rooster? Not a word f'r the danged loafer. Y' see he can't neither lay nor set; he just bluffs 'round stan'in' till he goes to roost. Hence the name rooster. Oh, that's easy tellin'! Marie has read another note a7id has Jlung it azuay. She insi?iuates her hand again into ^his -pocket.' Her mouth comes perilously near to his ear and her m,a?iner is layiguishingly deceptive. Marie. An' you will tell me now of ze beeyutifool leedle chicks, Ow. Aw, say, Marie, you're goin' too far into family matters. Keep out o' that, always. We mustn't break into their set. tLofC. What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 45 Marie. But, Meestaire Owen, I mus' ask you one more question. {She goes again into his pocket.) If we have some time two or t'ree eggs of the duck under the ze setter hen, Ow. Hold on', for the love of Heaven, while I have me intellect unimpaired! I'm no hen farmer, I tell you; Pm a professor of the English language, an' tired o' me job. Keep out the duck's eggs! Say, ye mustn't say, setter hen. That jars me turrible! A setter's a kind of a dog. Marie. Meestaire Owen! Ow. Fact! A setter is a birrd-dog, — wan wid long hair. Marie. For the hatching of the eggs of the birds? Oh, how poetic! Ow. Great Jiminy, no! For hunting birrds. Say Marie, let's talk sense a bit. I told you that Father was gettin' old, and he swears I must come down an' take the farm. Y' remember? Marie. You mus' leave us, then? Ow. An' Mother swears she'll murder me if I come home without a wife. Marie. Yes? How iss your laig, now? Ow. Oh, I don't care about a scraped shin. You'd better be thinkin' of my lacerated heart. Come along, and be the farmer's wife! Marie. Hark! Madame calls. She backs azvay toward the center. Mrs. Asfenleaf is heard calling her. She ru7is to center entrance. Yes, Madame! Instantly! Ow. Then throw me the kiss for your husband. She hesitates, then slozuly touches her fingers to her lif>s and bloxvs him a kiss. Then from right and left hands she im.petuously throtvs him tzuo or three more and runs azvay zvith, Marie. Coming, Madame; instantly! Ow. {.Laughing heartily.) Hurroo, hurroo! She's just me own, an' I'm her onliest Oney. By garry, let 46 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? her keep her kiss for her husband! She's right! Mother'd say so. And if he gets it, I get it. Dear, dear! Will you look at the papers she stole? Wonder if I'm too cute for a married man. She got every wan but the right wan. She'd got that if I hadn't it in my pocketbook. Enter Penelofe. She looks about as if to Jind Marie. In pantomime she directs Ozven to tvheel itt Reginald. Exit Penelope. Ozven im,itates her pantomime. Ow. She wants me to wheel him in. Well, when I do I'll be talkin', and when I get to talkin' to Master Reginald, she won't be makin' signs. Oh, no! I'll tell him plain that she's a fraud. Enter Aspenleaf. A. Owen, did you stop at the tailor's. Ow. I did, sir. A. Bring home the suit? Ow. No, sir. He said he was pressed for time but the suit wasn't. ' A. Get it to-morrow. Ow. Could I speak to you about the nurse, sir. A. Certainly. What's her case? Ow. She's a case of false pretenses, sir, in my opinion. A. Come, come, boy! You should not say that! Ow. She's not deef, sir, nor dumb, sir. A. Oh, come now, Owen! Do you think that Macthinkar would be so deceived? Ow. I do ilot, sir. He's too cute for that. He talks to her, sir. A. Ah, you have heard him, Owen? Well, I am told that they are acquainted with each other; they're blood-relations, in fact, and she can understand him a little by lip-read