Putting Up A Prosperous Front -BY- FLOY PASCAL COWAN PRICE 35 CENTS Eldridge Entertainment House Franklin, Oliio ssi Denver, Colo. 944 So. Logan Street MONOLOGS By SEYMOUR S. TIBBALS |irHIS series of character monologs has provided ^^ something funny, yet clean and wholesome, for the boy or man who wants a specialty along the lines of the professional monolog. They are espec- ially adapted for the olio of a minstrel show or as an individual number on a vaudeville program. Have You Ever Noticed That? A tramp monologf. Izzy's Troubles. For a Hebrew character. Waiting for the Alabama Lou. A darkey talking- act; the speaker being a stranded minstrel. Bo Keerfful Si. A Rube monolog. As Ol Wuz Sayin'. For an Irish character. UnJer the Pretzel Brough. Dutch monolog. PRICE 1 5 CENTS EACH. TWO PATRIOTIC MONOLOGS The Stars and Stripes in Flanders. A dramatic reading with a climax that will cause a thrill. Price, 25 cents. When Monty Came Home from the Marne. Suitable for any reader and a number that will be welcome on any program. Price 25 cents. ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE FRANKLIN, OHIO, also 944 S.Iogan, DENVER, COLO. PUTTING UP A PROSPEROUS FRONT By FLOY PASCAL COWAN PRICE 35 CENTS Copyright 1922, Eldridge Entertainment House PUBLISHED BY ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMENT HOUSE B'RANKLiN, Ohio Denver, Colo. CHARACTERS • Mrs. Sherwood Mr. Sherwood, her husband. Maud, her daughter. Mr. Markman, the guest. Mrs. Trask, the neighbor. Mary, the maid. OEC30I922 CID 63209 'VvO \ TMP92-008947 Putting Up A Prosperous Front {Scene — The Sher woods' home. An interesting old living room mellowed by time. Walls dull grey, faded, a little splotched in places, but restful. The rug is frayed at the edges. Old mahogany furniture retains its beau- ty in spite of the tattered and faded rose-colored uphol- stery. A table, center, holds a lamp of lovely design and color, but its fragile shade is cracked and shows a gap in one side wh-ere a piece is broken out. On the right is (t Ttmntel, on the left well-filled book shelves. There are^ doors Hght and left and at the back French windows open upmi a veranda overlooking a garden. In the near distance is a dwelling partly hidden by trees.) {Mrs. Sherwood a small handsome, energetic woman loalks up and down the room in a state of excitement. Maud sta7ids dreamily by the table, a far-away look im, her eyes. She is very fair and beautiful, with a manner denoting simplicity and unworldliness. An open tele- gram is in her hand.) Mrs. S. — There you stand mooning! And he may come at any minute! Maud — (with slow, happy smile) I hope he will. Mrs. S.— But look at this old room, Maud! This tattered, shabby furniture ! That old broken lamp ! What will he think of us? Malid — {demurely) Well, he isn't coming to see the furniture, mother. Mrs, S. — Oh, you've no more worldly sense than your father! Do you think you can win a man like Ar- thur Markman when he sees what a poverty-stricken Putting up a Prosperous Froyit family you have? No man wants to take over the care of a poorhouse. {Desperately.) And there's no time to do anything. Why — oh, why couldn't he have let you know longer ahead that he was coming? Maud — What could we have done, mother? We have no money to furbish things up with — Mrs. S. — Oh, we could have done something. But now ! We must ask him to dinner, of course. The china isn't so bad — but the napkins — Mary will have to do the best ones up. Maud ! Do wake up ! You've got to fix a dress to wear. Oh, how I hate poverty] I hate it! You'll have to wear that old blue chiffon. Maud — {still lost in happy thoughts) It's soiled. Mrs. S. — (exasperated, mimicking MauA's dreamy smile) It's soiled! Well — you can't appear in a wreath of flowers because your only decent dress is soiled. Run and wash it quickly and hang it in the wind. It will dry immediately. Maud — (going slowly from room, readiiig telegram again, Jiappily) "Will motor down, reaching there in afternoon — " Mrs. S. — (looking after her in despair) Hurry, Maud ! Hurry ! (She ivhirls about the room, turning over sofa pil- loios to hide torn places, pushing the most ivorn chairs^ into corners, pulling the best ones forward to points of vantage; hut all the time showing her hopelessness of\ "making things look respectable.) (Mr. Sherwood enters. He is a fine looking old gen- tleman, considerably run doivn at the heels, and showing the effects of long association with the forceful charac- ter of his wife. He is ineffectual but dear. Time has moved on and left him stranded in the past. He has a volume of Plato under his arm and a pipe in his mouth.) Mr. S.— What's the hurry, Becky? Mrs. S. — Maud has just had a telegram from Ar- thur Markman — that rich man she met visiting the Far- Putting up a Prosperous Front radays in the spring. He's coming this afternoon! You know what that means ? That he is interested. That he is coming with intentions. It's her big chance ! Our big chance! To be lifted out of povertj^ — to — to — And look at this room ! Look at the whole place ! He'll think he's come to a poorhouse. Mr. S. — (looking about him with the vague gaze of the student) Why, it's a very comfortable old room, Becky. Mrs. S. — Comfortable! It has gone to pieces. He'll know immediately that we would all be on his hands if he married Maud. It will frighten him away! And — • and — there are no clean napkins good enough — {goes to door right, calling) Marj^, Mary! — And I'll bet you have no clean collar that isn't frayed. Oh! (Mary enters. She is manifestly the maid of aU ivork. The sight of her in soiled apron and with towsled hair hnngs additional woe to Mrs. Sherivood.) Mrs. S. — {sitting down and gazing at her) Mary, a gentleman will be here for dinner. And you'll have to be presentable to serve it. Have you a clean white apron? Mary — Now, Miss Becky, you knows I ain't got no clean apron. Mrs. S. — {ingratiatingly) Well, can't you run and wash one out quickly? And — the best napkins? Mary — {with no enthusiasm) Yes'm, I s'pose I coidd. Mrs. S. — {another thought hitting her hard) Din- ner! There are vegetables in the garden, but — meat! Why do things happen as, they do ? Why did we sell all the spring chickens yesterday instead of tomorrow? Spring chickens would have been so lovely for dinner. All we have to show for the sale is a receipted bill. Ben- edict got the money before we could even see it. Mary — you'll just have to catch that old hen. Mary — ^as if that were too much) Now, Miss Becky, you know that old hen is wild. I'd never catch her 'cept on the roost at night. Putting up a Prosperous Front Mrs. S.— That would do splendidly! **My dear Mr. Markman, please excuse the lateness of dinner. We had to wait till the hen went to sleep before we could put her in the pot." John, can't you help Mary? Oh, can't you for once realize that Plato and all his philosophy are nothing — nothing beside the tragedy of having no meat for an important guest? Mr. S. — (tvith luhimsical smile) All right, Becky. I'll do a Marathon 'round the yard after old Mrs. Ply- mouth. It oughtn't to be difficult. She's about as old as I am. {Mary goes out, plainly disgruntled over the after- noon's prospects.) Mrs. S. — Well, she'll just have to be caught, John. You know quite well the butcher won't let us have a sin- gle thing till we settle our bill. Mr. S. — Looks like to me a city chap would enjoy nothing better than just fresh vegetables from the gar- den. Mrs. S.^ — He might. But it isn't what a guest would enjoy that one has to consider, but what is the proper thing to give him. {As he still stands looking at he7\ quizzically, she cries with sudden descent into plaintive- ness — ) Oh, neither of you help me at all! I have to make all the struggle to keep up appearances fief ore the world. You and Maud are a couple of dreamers. It makes no difference to you what people think of us ! Mr. S. — Why, I do care, Becky. Only — I seem un- able to pretend. I wish I could have been a money-mak- er for your sake. You deserved a man of affairs instead of a good-for-nothing student But J wasn't able to change myself — though I did use to try. Mrs. S. — Well, John, all our troubles will be over if Maud marries Arthur Markman. {She gets up, contin- uing her efforts to better the appearance of the room.) We must put up a prosperous front! Oh, dear — if that lamp shade wasn't broken! John, don't stand looking at Putting up a Prosperous Front me. Go and dress up. Can't you manage to look like a retired banker or — something like that? Mr. S. — I doubt it, Becky. I doubt it seriously. (Steps are heard on the veranda. Mr. Sherwood goes out door right, as Mrs. Trask comes from rear. She is a large artificial blonde, dressed in the very latest fashion, manifestly at great expense. She is without a hat, and her hair is elaborately marcelled and coiffured. Jeivels fit for a ball adorn her neck and ears and rnidgy- fingers. A diamond watch flashes from a plump wrist. Her manner is a mixture of her conception of a grand dame's, and irrepressible instincts toivard vulgarity — • tinged by kiridly feelings.) Mrs Trask — Good afternoon, Mrs. Sherwood. (Mrs S. looks up absent-mindedly , as she tries with frantic haste to sew the tattered edges of the faded bro- cade on the seat of a chair she is kneeling beside.) Mrs. S. — Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Trask? Come in, won't you? I'm too busy to stop. I'm expecting com- pany in a few minutes, and — Mrs. T. — Don't let me stop you, dearie. My! You've got some tear there, haven't you? ( Irrepressible bitt-erness gets the best of Mrs. S., as her eyes linger a mowuent on the resplendent vision in the doorway. Mrs. S. — Several bad tears! It's disgraceful look- ing — the whole room. And a perfectly wonderful man is coming dov/n to see Maud this afternoon. Mrs. T. — Oh, someone she met visiting her pa's swell relatives in the spring? Mrs. S. — {absorbed in her despondent thoughts) It's no use. Mending only makes it worse. Mrs. T.— Nothing happens just right in this world. Here you're worrying always 'cause your things're going to pieces, and you ain't got an orter and chauffer and all. But folks just eat out of your hand, 'cause you and Mr. Sherwood comes from fine old fami- Putting up a Prosperous Front lies. And here's me and Joe havin' all the fine things, and orters and money, and we can't indoose folks here to even eat at our table. Mrs S. — Oh, you mustn't mind these people. They have behaved like horrid snobs. But you and Mr. Trask will make you some good friends. Just be patient. Mrs. T. — I wouldn't have let on how I minded, but you all have been kind and treated us like we was humxan beings. What's all these folks got against us and our soap, anjrway? It's a thing they gotta use — soap is. And Joe's soap is good, with a sweet scent. Mrs. S. — (repressing a smile) Try not to mind, and just go about your affairs. Mrs. T. — I ain't got no affairs now that Joe wants me to play the lady. He don't know what a lonesome business he's put up to me. I pretend to be tickled to pieces living so grand. But I tell you ! When I write all them checks for these here organizations, I ain't doin' it for charity, Mrs. Sherwood; I'm tryin' to buy these lad- ies to come and be a bit sociable and neighborly with me. (She breaks into a good-natured laugh.) It ain't worked yet. They use my checks for the heathen in forrin lands, then pass me the next day and give me this. (She gives a frigid stare, and almost imperceptible nod of the head.) Here's Ed been going to Yale College. He's a good-looking, nice boy. You know he is, Mrs. Sherwood. He's proud, and he ain't chirped. But the poor kid! I bet the real swells have snubbed him 'cause his pa made the soap they wash their faces with. (The tivo edges of silk Mrs. Shenvood is trying to pull together, suddenly rip off, leaving her tvith the strips of the stuff in her hamds.) Mrs. S.— Oh, dear! What shall I do? Oh, its hope- less. I can't make things look respectable! Mrs. T. — I suppose a swell from the city tvould think — Lor! Mrs. Sherwood! What would you think of movin' some of my things over here till he comes and goes? Rugs and all? Putting up a Prosperous Front Mrs. S. — {too ivr etched not to grasp at anything) Oh, could we? Mrs. T.— Easy as falling off a log. My butler and chauffer could bring 'em over. Mrs. S.— We'll have to hurry. He's due at any min- ute. I'll push these things into the little side hall there, and — Mrs. T. — {delighted at having something to do) I'll be right back — ^v^ith my loveliest things. (Mrs. S. picks up the lamp and carries it out door left. As she re-enters, Maud comes from right, holding in her arms a blue chiffon dress literally in shreds.) Mrs. S. — Good heavens! What happened to it? Maud — {placidly) I washed it and hung it out in the yard to dry. It must have been rotten, and the wind — Mrs. S. — Your only pretty dress. You've nothing — Maud — But a muslin. Mrs. S.— Muslin! Oh, dear! Well— fix your hair beautifully. Maybe he won't notice your dress — as he is a man. Hurry! {Exit Maud.) {Mrs. S. ivhirls the chairs and table and rug out of the room into the side hall to left. A butler, bored be-' yond measure and with his dignity insulted, appears at the door from veranda bearing a big rug and a small gilt chair. He is followed by a chauffeur, also bored and in^ stdted, carrying a little onyx-topped table and arm chair matching the other one. They put down the things lan- guidly, and unfold the rug, disclosing a huge pattern of bright apple green and red, and spread it upon the floor. Mrs. T. enters carrying lamp with a gorgeous pink shade and a gaudy but costly vase.) Mrs. T. — Now, Langsford, you and Chalmers hurry back and bring those other chairs and that settee. {She looks around as though she were a queen dis- 10 Putting up a P rospe-roiis Front pensing favors. But underneath the surface is disclosed a touching delight at being allowed to enter into hei\ neighbor's activities.) Mrs. T. — (continuing) Looks a little different, don't it, Mrs. Sherwood? I just love this Louis Cans period stuff. Joe told me when we was buying things for the new house: "Now, honey, don't spare expense. The best ain't none too good for you." You can see I took him at his word. But if it does cost a lot, I always think it pays to get what satisfies your taste. {Mrs. S. draws her hand over her forehead and smiles a bit uncertainly as the effect of the maroon-cov- ered chairs, the pink shade, and the red and apple-green of the rug sinks in upon her.) Mrs. S. — It's all so nice and — and — new. {The honk of an auto is heard.) Oh, dear! That may be Mr. Mark- man! {The tivo rush about excitedly. Mrs. T. gQcs to veranda, gesticulates wildly toward her home. The door- bell rings. Mrs. S. twists her hands in despair.) Mrs. T. — {re-entering from veranda) Lor, just look at them snails, comin' across the garden ! Just look at them snails! Mrs. S. — {almost in hysterics) Well — just so they are coming! {They both go to veranda door and beckon frantic- ally. The two men re-enter more languidly th — The roads are — Mark. — (altogether lost in consternation and be- wilderment, but with his manner perfect) Oh, apple- green! Apple green! Mrs. S. — Apple green? Mark. — Er — apple pie! Er — in apple pie order! Yes, the roads were in apple pie order — (Mr. S. appears at door right. His face is flushed, and there is a black-and-white feather clinging perkily/ to his forelock. Mrs. S. sees him, and despair settles on her face. The guest also is facing him. She has t6 ivatch him approach with the feather aloft on his schol- larly head. His triumphant nod to her says plainly, "We caught her." She goes toward him, quickly, fanning her- self vigorously and succeeds in wafting the feather tOi the floor.) Mrs. S. — (faintly) My husband. (The ttvo men greet each other cordially. Mr. Sher- 14 Putting up a Prosperous Front wood looks about, emdently seeking his customary chair. His eyes encounter the strange nig and furniture. He inibs his eyes and looks again.) Mr. S. — My dear! My eyes are queer. I believe I must have a touch of vertigo. I — Mrs. S. — (getting up hastily) Oh, you're all right, my dear. It's the heat . Maud, perhaps Mr. Markman would enjoy seeing the garden. The rose arbor is espe- cially lovely now, all in bloom. Mark. — (eagerly) I would love to see it. (Markman and Maud go through door to veranda. Mrs. S. sits down wearily.) Mr. S. — But Becky, I tell you there is something the matter with my eyes. I see violent green and red in that old rug. And the chairs — they all look shrivelled up and glittering. That running must have upset me. Mrs. S. — Silly! These are Mrs. Trask's things. She loaned them to me. Mr. S. — Oh, Becky! How could you borrov/ from that terrible woman? The things are terrible, too. Mrs. S. — Well, at least, they aren't shabby. Any- body could tell they cost a lot of money. Mr. S. — (deeply mortified) Yes, money. That makes it all the worse. For him to think we had money and bought hideous things like these. The acme of bad taste. Mrs. S. — I don't care. He won't think a destitute family will be on his hands, anyway. And — (loiping her eyes) you might not have come in with a chicken feath- er in your hair. Mr. S. — (contritely, but with dignity) I'm sorry, Becky. But I'm not used to pursuing chickens. I don't like all this pretense. If he is any sort of man the sight of our old things wouldn't have stopped him if he wanted to m.arry Maud. He'd rather know us as we really are. {He goes out. Mrs. Trask rushes in from the gar- den, flushed, excited, radiant, with a telegram in her hand.) Putting up a Prosperous Front 15 Mrs. T. — Oh, — IVe gotta have my things back right away! This has just come from Ed — He's on his way down with a swell friend. What do you think! One of the Vandergrif ts ! They're goin' to spend the week- end. Ain't it wonderful? A Vandergrif t! Mrs. S. — But you can't take the things back now, Mrs. Trask! My guest is still here. It would be dread- ful— Mrs. T. — Well, I gotta have 'em. Of course! My men are coming right over — Mrs. S. — Oh — my dear Mrs. Trask! Our guest is out there in the arbor. What on earth will he think if he sees the furniture being carried away before his eyes? Oh, you can't want to subject me to that embarrassment! You can't. Mrs. T. — You think I'm going to have a skimpy drawing room when Mr. Vandergrift, my son's friend, arrives? Just to let you put up a front before your daughter's beau? Not much! No telling what'U come to us from this visit. My son'll be invited to their home. So'U we — Joe and me! {Mrs. S. stands utterly still as the other charges ex- citedly about.) Mrs. S. — Mr. Markman will be leaving tonight. Couldn't you — wouldn't it be an easy matter in your big house to avoid taking him into that one room to- night? Then early in the morning — Mrs. T.— Well of all the— No! I don't entertain with no closed doors. I got a spacious house and it must look just grand tonight. Just grand! And we gotta hurry, 'cause Ed telegraphed from somewhere near — where he and Mr. Vandergrift was. (Goes to veranda door, beckoning with both hands toward her home.) My goodness! You act like the things wasn't mine! I'm sorry I loaned 'em. Folks don't appreciate nothing you do for 'em. Mrs. S. — (desperately, as the men are heard step- 16 Putting up a Prosperous Front ping along the gravel path.) Oh, this is too mortifying! I can't — Oh, couldn't your men carry the things out through the front door, along the street? The hedge would then hide them from the garden. Mrs. T. — It's a good deal to ask of my butler and chauffer to carry furniture along the street, but — {as the men enter) I'm going to ask you boys to go out that way 'cause there's a gentleman in the garden. {Mrs. Sherivood, as though the whole scene were in- tolerable, exits door R. The men lazily carry the things out, ichile Mrs. T. hustles excitedly about, and follows them out, carrying lamp.) {Mr. S. enters from veranda. On seeing the room bare, he rubs his eyes, and runs his hand through hist hair, utterly heivildered. Mrs. Sherivood re-enters, cry- ing.) Mr. S.— Why, what's the matter, Becky? Mrs. S. — She carried them back! Son — Vander- grift!— Oh! Mr. S. — (coming up and putting his arm around her) Well, it's far better to have nothing in the room than those hideous things. Don't cry, dear. Mrs. S. — {arousing herself to the necessity for ac- tion) Oh, we must hurry and put the old furniture back. (She looks out of door to garden.) They are safely out of the way for the present. (She begins to push the things in from the hall and he helps.) I must say I think he is a very nervous young man, John, and ill at ease. His conversation is anything but brilliant. Mr. S. — (sitting down in his old chair with a sigh of content and lighting his pipe) Oh, a fellow in love — er — however, they don't seem to be making much head- way. The only words I caught had to do with boating and motoring. In a rose arbor, too. If there is anything Maud cares less about than boating and motoring, I don't know what it is. Mrs. S. — (whose spirits are registering zero) What Putting up a Prosperous Front Yl on ea^rth will he think when he comes in and finds, every- thing in the room different? ' ' Mr. S. — He will rejoice. Mrs. S.— How can you be so unperturbed? Imagine your sensation if you were a guest. You leave a room with one set of furnishings. You return in a few min- utes and there is an entirely different set. What would you think of your hosts? Mr. S.— Well, if the first set were like those of Mrs. Trask's, I'd think they liked me and wanted to spare me further anguish. Mrs. S. — (ivalking to and fro) It is simply unbear- able, John ! We must keep him out of here. It is the only way. We simply can't be made absurd in his eyes. Mr. S.— But how— Mrs. S. — Go out in the garden and stay. If they start to come this way detain them. Show him your bees, or your rhododendrons, or— duck him in the little pond— 'anything ! So you stop him. When dinner is ready bring him through the old conservatory— Mr. S.— But tonight, Becky? You can't make him sit out in the — You know, the mosquitoes — Mrs. S.~(with faint smile) If he's much in love he won't mind the mosquitoes. If he isn't, it won't matter if he does mind. Now, John, don't go dreaming and for- get! Mr. S. — {getting up reluctantly) I'm dreaming now Becky. Having a nightmare. I don't like all this. {Exit.) {The doorbell rings. Mary pokes her head in from door right. Her hair is undone and stands bushily about her face.) Mary— Lor, Miss Becky, I can't answer no doorbell. Fse combin' my hair tc serve dinner — Mrs. S.— I'll go, Mary. Did your dessert come out all right? Mary— Yassum— all 'cept the cream what cuddled some. 18 Putting up a Prosperous Front Mrs. S. — Oh, a little thing like that doesn't matter at all. (Mrs. S. goes out from left, Mary from right. There is silence for a few seconds. Then steps are heard out- sijie on the gravel, and the voices of Mr. Sherwood and Markman chatting pleasantly. This goes on for a mom- ent, then the steps and voices come nearer, and the twd{ wen enter from the veranda, arm in arm, very much ab- sorbed with each other.) Mr. S. — ^Yes, I love that old portrait, myself. Glad you want to look at it again. {They approach the mantel with their eyes lifted to the portrait above it.) Mark. — It's a Stuart, is it not? Mr. S.— Yes. That is my father. Mark. — A fine example of Stuart's work. I noticed it when I was in here, but I wanted to look at it more leisurely. Mr. S.^ — {suddenly realizing that he has done what his wife told him not to) Oh, dear! Er — ^the garden is so lovely — shall we — ? I want to show you my bee-s! (as Markman shoics no enthusiasm for bees) Or my rho- dodendrons. (Desperately, as Markman does not move) Or — or — duck you in the little pond — Mark.— What! Mr. S. — (taking Mm by the arm and urging him to- ward the veranda door) Maud is in the garden — Mark. — No — she went upstairs for something, did- n't she? Mr. S. — (giving way to panic) I'll get her — just a second — excuse me — (Exit door right.) (As soon as he is alone Markman turns quickly, as though the picture had been but a pretext for getting^ back into the room, and begins to look at the furniture. Astonishment spreads over his face, then delight. He bends over one of the old chairs, running his hand tovJk ingVy along the ivood of the back.) Putting 2ip a Prosperous Front 19 Mark. — Beautiful ! Beautiful ! (Maud comes in, and at sight of his rapture drops into a big chair and gives an irrepressible sigh of relief.) Mark. — (turning and seeing her) Oh, I can't help my enthusiasm! (Boyishly) You see, fine old mahog- any is my hobby. Maud— Your hobby!— THIS? Markman — I have some lovely pieces myself, that I've collected with no end of trouble. But nothing so beautiful as this! (Maud sighs again, and a faint smile breaks over her face as she looks at him. She makes such a loveli^, picture ivith her fair head against the dark rich 'WOoc\ of the chair, that he is unable to take his adoring eyesf from her) Markman — (softly) I've dreamed and dreamed of you — as you look now — ^with the lovely old things about you. (He comes slotoly toivard her and bends over her. Her face trembles under his ardent gaze and floods loith answering light. He bends nearer and kisses herl Then sits on arm of chair and slips his arm about her, drawing her face to his shoulder. Takes a ring from his pockety and puts it on her fing&r.) It's a perfect ruby, but — (laughing softly) I wish I could have found something lovelier ! Maud — Oh — ^you couldn't have! Mark. — I could hardly wait to get here — to tell you — to ask you! But — something fell upon my spirits — Maud — It was that awful furniture. (Courageous- ly.) . We were ashamed of these old things because they were so shabby. So we borrowed that — ^that stuff from (pointing through door at back to house across the umy) Then — she insisted on having it back — (They both break into peals of laughter.) (Mr. Sherwood approaches from veranda just as Mrs. S. comes in from left. He squares his shoulders and pats his chest as he directs his wife's gaze to the two irt 20 Puttirig uj? a Prosperous Front the chair, luith an expression that says, "I did it! I brought this to pass." Markman turns his head and sees them, and gets up smiling.) Mark. — Well — you see how things are. May I have her? (Mr. S. shakes his hand cordialhj.) Mrs. S. — I want you to know that Maud and Mr. Shei-wood had nothing to do with borrowing those things. I did it. Everything looked so shabby — (The strain and fatigue of the day have mcide her face look very appealing. A sense of the struggle and hard times she must have had touches Markman. He comes over to her and puts his arm about her shoulders.) Mark. — Never mind ! You are going to have all the lovely new things your heart craves. {Mary comes to door on right wonderfully rigged up, coiffured and aproned, but managing in spite of all to look perfectly absurd.) Mary — Dinner's served. {All smile as they follow her from the room. Mrs. Trask comes in from veranda and beckons to Mrs. S., loho lets the others go on, and turns back.) Mrs. T. — Oh, Mrs. Shei-wood! I'm so sorry I did you that way. I'm ashamed. And there wasn't any use in me gettin' so upset. Why, you won't believe it — but that Mr. Vandergrift is just as plain as you or me! Him and Ed are out in the yard digging fishworms to go fish- in' tomorrow! (They both laugh.) Mrs. S. — Well the day has ended very happily, after all. Maud is engaged. Mrs. T. — (beaming) Oh, dearie! I'm so glad! My pretty things did help, then, didn't they? CURTAIN YOU mi BE GLAD TO KNOW OF THESE NEW PLAYS Training Mary By Mary Shaw Page. A bright 1-act play with sim- ple stage setting. William, husband of Mary, essays to train Mary, especially along the lines of correcting carelessness. As is always the case, William -rets in deep water, but finally wadss out. 2 males, 4 fe- males, and plays about 45 minutes. Price, 25c. The Hired Man's Courtship By Alice Cripps. A short comedy-drama in 2 acts. Captain Edwards tires of wealth and the city, and procures work on Horton's farm, only to find that the farmer's daughter is an o!d sweetheart. Because of an intrigue on the part of the captain's cousin, an es- trangement takes place, which ends happily when the captain finds the source of certain stories and re- futes them. Aunt Hepsey, Jim and Ezra (colored), add comedy to the play. Plays about 45 minutes, and is for 3 males and 3 females. Price, 23c. Merely Anne Marie A comedy in 3 acts by Beulah King. 3 males, 3 r> males. Time, 2V2 hours. The scenes are laid in a fashionable boarding house, and the characters are all distinct types and worth while. A successful play- wright, desiring to escape notoriety, seeks seclusion at Mrs. Teague's and becomes the hero of Anne Ma- rie, the dining room maid. The dialogue is bright, the situations clever and the story ends happily. 35c. A Bit of Scandal By Fannie Barnett Linsky. Comedy-drama in 2 acts. Francina, who is to play at the recital, composes her own number. On the evening of the recital, Mary Sherman, who precedes her on the program, plays Francina's compositions, which she has stolen. The reasons for the theft all come out later and of course, all ends v/ell- Nine characters. Plays about 1 hovir. Price, 3Sc. Miss Burnett Puts One Over By Ethelyn Sexton. A rollicking 1-act girls' play for 6 characters. Barbara's mother has a friend, Ann Bur- nett, who is to visit the girls at college, with the in- tention of giving a generous sum to the school. The girls, wishing o gain her good ' will, practice their "manners." Miss Burnett, however, appears in dis- guise and has much fun at their expense. All ends well and the school gets /the money. Plays about 45 minutes. Easy setting and costumes. Price, 25c. Eldridge Entertainment House FRANKLIN, OHIO also DENVER, COLO. 944 S. Logan St. ■fiiiliii 016 102 809 5 HERE is a list of very clever child- impersonations or good encores for children. The lines are by Margaret Fassitt, the music by Anna and Harry C. Eldridge. They v^ill be winners on your program. Ain't It The Limit? [ _ When You Ask About Your Fixins I soc Both in one number It Santa Shouldn't Come To Me) _ I've Been And Had The Measles I "sa Both in one number I Wish I Had A Ginger-cake [ Our Tvnns f soc Both in one number When Grandpop Was A Boy When Daddy Took Me Up Y In A Tlane Both in one number 50c Eldridge Entertainment House FRANKLIN, OHIO also DENVER, COLO. 944 S. Logan St.