G3 
 1 
 
 GALLIGER 
 
 BY 
 
 RE A WOODMAN, M. A. 
 
 €tt>ri&se Cntertamment Houae 
 
 jf ran Win, ®Wa 
 
GALLIGER 
 
 A Higb School Comedy iQ Three Acts 
 With a Prologue. 
 
 BY 
 
 REA WOODMAN, M. A. 
 
 Author of "The Sweet' Girl Graduates," "His Uncle John," 
 "The Professor" and "Bess Goes to Europe." 
 
 Copyright, 1911, by Rea Woodman. 
 
 Eldridge Entertainment House 
 
 FRANKLIN, OHIO. 
 

 To my good friend and college-mate, Professor Maurice 
 Ricker, of Des Moines, Iowa. As "The Sweet Girl Graduates" 
 was written at his suggestion and for his pupils, it is with pleasurable 
 gratitude that I charge to his account this series of high school plays. 
 
 CCIO 33575 
 
THE PERSONS OF THE COMEDY 
 
 Mrs. Martha Grindem, the Principal's Wife, 
 
 At whose home the Senior Reception is held. 
 
 Professor John Grindem, the Principal Himself, 
 Temporarily in the Background. 
 
 Mrs. William Morton, His Mother-in-Law, 
 Who is so interested, you can't think! 
 
 Mr. Markam Wright, Professor of Science and All That, 
 Who has solemnly promised he will come. 
 
 Margaret Woodward, otherwise "Babe," a capable Freshman, 
 Chairman of the Committee on Refreshments. 
 
 Galliger Gurdy, a Special, Her First Assistant. 
 
 Frank Sawyer, President of the Senior Class. 
 
 Millicent Cameron, Secretary of the Same. 
 
 Bessie Tapping, a Senior. 
 
 Mame Hensell, a Junior. 
 
 Mrs. Bettie Snitters, The Woman with the Mop. 
 
 Mary, the Housemaid. 
 
SYNOPSIS 
 
 Prologue. After school, at the li Rafton High," one week 
 before the Senior Reception. 
 
 "Well, then ask Galliger. He's worth any three com- 
 mittees." 
 
 Act 1. The Library of the Grindem Home, ten o'clock, 
 
 the Morning of the Great Day. 
 "Lay on, Macduff, and confusion 'light on him who says 
 I've done enough!" 
 
 Act II. The Kitchen of the Grindem Home, three o'clock 
 
 the Afternoon of the Same Day. 
 "The front steps have been scrubbed twice, and I have 
 ordered the furnace painted green." 
 
 Act III. The Parlor of the Grindem Home, half-past 
 seven o'clock, the Evening of the Same Day. 
 "They're coming! The whole bunch! Fix your faces!" 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 (The girls' cloakroom of the Rafton High 
 School, one June afternoon after school. A fezv 
 girls' stray belongings scattered around, and a 
 row of summer hats against the wall. Babe 
 W oodzvard is discovered on the only chair, writ- 
 ing in a note-book. Enter Mame Hensell, with 
 an armload of books.) 
 
 Mame. Hello, Babe ! I thought you'd gone home. 
 Galliger's looking for you. 
 
 Babe. Hope he'll find me ! I wish to goodness I 
 could go home. I've a hundred things to do ; why, I 
 don't even know what I'm going to wear tonight ! I'm 
 waiting for that committee. 
 
 Mame. Is n't it hot? What committee? 
 
 Babe, (scratching azvay in the note-book). The Com- 
 mittee on Refreshments for the Senior Reception. This 
 is the third time I've called a meeting. They all claim 
 they're so busy! I guess I'm busy, -too, so far as that 
 goes. 
 
 Mame. (at the mirror) . Who's on it? 
 
 Babe. Bob Stevens and Alice Furley, — only three of 
 us. 
 
 Mame. In a committee of three one ought to be sick 
 and one out of town. Then there can be something done. 
 I saw Alice Furley going home an hour ago. 
 
 Babe, (turning to inspect the row of hats). Yes, sir, 
 her hat's gone! I don't believe she wants to do any- 
 thing! She promised she'd be here now. She'd rather 
 parade up and down Main Street with Clay Sanders ! 
 
 Mame. (inspecting her "back hair'). She was with 
 Clay Sanders all right. 
 
 Babe. I'll wager she was ! All right, then, she does 
 n't have to do anything! I don't need a brick wall to 
 fall on me I What time is it? 
 
Maine. Nearly five. Graham kept us over time. He 
 gets worse every day. 
 
 Babe. Nearly five! And we were to meet at four! 
 
 Maine. What are you going to have? 
 
 Babe. I don't know. That is, I have n't decided. 
 The committee has n't done a thing — not a thing! 
 
 Mame. I can't do anything with my hair. I always 
 dread to wash it on that account. Why don't you go 
 ahead and do as you please? I would. The chairman 
 always has to do it all, anyway. 
 
 Babe. I suppose I'll have to, but it makes me tired. 
 
 (Enter Bkssie Tapping, looking somezvhat the 
 worse for wear.) 
 
 Bess, {throwing down her books). That chemistry 
 exam was a fright ! I never heard of half the things ! 
 I'll bet I did n't pass! He must have sat up nights, 
 thinking up things that were n't in the book ! . 
 
 Mame. (taking her hat from the wall). He always 
 does that, they say. Last year he flunked thirty-seven 
 out of forty-two. Don't you remember? There was 
 an awful fuss about it. 
 
 Bess. Well, I know one he'll flunk this year, all right ! 
 Babe. What do you people want, — peppermint 
 creams or English walnuts? 
 
 Bess, (on the bench, hunting something in a big 
 book). Both, of course. Why? What? When? 
 
 Babe. At your Reception. I'm Chairman of the 
 Eatin's. 
 
 Bess. I thought Galliger was. He says he knows 
 what we're going to have. 
 
 Mame. (smoothing the ribbons of her hat). That's 
 just his blow. He does n't, at all. He always claims to 
 know everything. 
 
 Babe. Which will you have, I said, peppermint creams 
 or nuts? 
 
 Bess, (turning pages and pages). You mean with 
 the ice cream? 
 
 6 
 
Babe, {shutting her note-book with force). Do they 
 usually serve peppermint creams with the soup? 
 Mame. Who's going to serve? 
 
 Babe. The Freshman girls — if they have n't any 
 other engagements ! 
 
 Bess, (triumphantly). There, we never had that 
 third question ! I said we had n't ! Frank says he put 
 down, "See you later. Gone to Atlantic City." I did 
 n't put down anything. Well, I don't care. If I don't 
 pass, I don't, and that's all there is to that, (steps to the 
 mirror). Horrors, my hair! Why did n't you tell me? 
 I look like a scarecrow! (to Babe). Why don't you do 
 as you please ? I would. Let them come to the meetings 
 if they want to have any say. 
 
 Babe. But think what there is to do ! It's easy 
 enough to talk, but who's going to tend to the dishes 
 and the chairs and the napkins and — and everything! 
 And who's going to help me in the kitchen ? They want 
 deviled-ham sandwiches ; who's going to make them ? 
 
 Mame. (pinning on her hat, peeping over Bess's 
 shoulder). Get Galliger to help you. He's got time. 
 
 Bess, (her mouth full of hairpins). I reckon Galli- 
 ger'll be on deck. He usually is. And he can do any- 
 thing, you know. But he says that exam about floored 
 him. 
 
 Babe, (scornfully, strapping up her' books). What 
 can a boy do? I want somebody that can do things. 
 
 Mame. Well, then ask Galliger. He's worth any 
 three committees. If it had n't been for him, the Junior 
 party would have been a fizzle. 
 
 Bess. Oh, girls, have you seen those cretonne hats 
 at Cohen's ? They're perfectly lovely, and so swell ! 
 
 Babe. How much? 
 
 Bess, (pinning on her hat carelessly) . Only a dollar 
 forty-nine. I'm going to get me one. I think I'll get 
 pink roses — the sweetest pink you ever saw! 
 
 Mame. I want one, but I've been broke for a week. 
 (goes toward the door). I must go see about that cheese- 
 
 7 
 
cloth. Suppose I order a bolt? They've promised to 
 take back what we don't use, if it is n't soiled. 
 
 Babe, (at the mirror). I'm so tired I don't care how 
 I look, (yazvning). I'd like to sleep a week! Yes, I 
 think a bolt will be enough. 
 
 Mame. Galliger said he'd put it up for us. Well, so 
 long. See you tonight. Oh, what are you girls going 
 to wear? 
 
 Babe, (yazvning) . I have n't had time to think. 
 
 (Bnter Miujcent Cameron, with her hat and books.) 
 
 Bess. Did you get out alive? 
 
 Millie, (sinking on the bench limply). That was the 
 hardest exam I ever took in my life. I'm about col- 
 lapsed. Did you get the third? 
 
 Bess, (in the door). No, nor the fifth, nor the sixth, 
 nor the ninth. 
 
 Babe, (taking up her hat). Ye Gods, what did you 
 get? 
 
 Bess, (with a giggle). Got left, I reckon. Come 
 on, Mame, I'm going your way. 
 
 Mame. Millie, are you going tonight? 
 
 Millie. If I survive that exam. 
 
 Bess. Oh, what do you care? Everybody always 
 takes chemisty twice. Well, we'll see you later. So 
 long! (The girls go.) 
 
 Babe. Say, who's on the Decoration Committee? 
 
 Millie. I came to look for my hatpins. I can't keep 
 a thing in this place. Decoration Committee for what? 
 
 Babe. The Senior Reception. Who's on it, I said? 
 
 Millie, (hunting her hatpins). Frank Sawyer and 
 Fannie Farren and Mame and me. But Fannie can't 
 serve. Galliger said he'd help. 
 
 Babe, (zvith cold surprise). Oh, he did? 
 
 Millie. Yes, when Fannie said she could n't, you 
 know, he offered. He's a dandy about helping at the 
 last minute. 
 
 8 
 
Babe. It's a good thing somebody is. Everything will 
 have to be done at the last minute. 
 
 Millie. There's plenty of time. Nothing can be done 
 until Thursday morning. 
 
 Babe. Mrs. Grindem^s awfully nice about it; she says 
 she'll turn the house over to us, and we can fix it as we 
 like. Are you going my way? 
 
 {There is a tremendous bravado of whistling in the hall.) 
 
 Mame. Guess that's Galliger. He's waiting for you. 
 He told me to tell you to hurry. I forgot. 
 
 Babe. Well. I should say you did. {The shrill whist- 
 ling comes nearer and nearer, till -finally Galliger stands 
 in the door, zvhistling imp erturb ably .) Galliger, for pity 
 sakes ! I can't hear myself think ! 
 
 Galliger. {peering into the room). So these are the 
 sacred precincts ! Fair sylvan bowers, where oft my 
 sisters played! 
 
 Babe. Galliger, will you help on the Refreshment 
 Committee ? 
 
 Galliger. {still gazing in curiously). I should call 
 your quarters commodious, but not elegant. Are you 
 girls going home this week or next? 
 
 Millie. I thought I'd go this week. How about you, 
 Babe? 
 
 Babe. I said, Galliger, will you help me on the Re- 
 freshment Committee? 
 
 Galliger. Don't be imperious ; it ill becomes a peti- 
 tioner. I might, if I were properly approached. Who's 
 who? If so, to what extent? 
 
 Babe. The Senior Reception, you know. Nobody 
 will do a thing. I can't even get the Committee to- 
 gether. 
 
 Galliger. The Committee will probably do better 
 apart. Come on, everybody, let's have a chocolate soda, 
 and consider the matter. It may be that you can retain 
 my services — for a consideration. 
 
 Millie, {as she follozvs Babe from the room, and over 
 her shoulder, with a light shrug). I should n't be sur- 
 prised. 
 
 9 
 
ACT I 
 
 (The Library of the Grindem Home, ten 
 o'clock, the Morning of the Great Day. Pro- 
 fessor Grindem at his desk, in his shirt sleeves. 
 The room in perfect order and scholarly quiet.) 
 
 Grindem. (leaning back in his swivel chair). The 
 further ahead I get, the further behind I am. The Board 
 must think I am twenty men! (reads aloud, wearily, 
 from a paper he takes up at random). "Be it further 
 ordered by the Board of Education, in regular session 
 assembled, that the Principal do prepare, or cause to be 
 prepared, for the use of the Board in such manner as said 
 Board shall see fit, by Friday morning next — " (gives 
 vent to a prolonged zvhistle). Well, will you listen to 
 that! It's news to me! "Friday morning next." Dated 
 June 5th, and today's Thursday! They want it tomor- 
 row ! I guess I might as well jump into Hogan's Creek 
 and be done with it. (reads aloud from paper). 
 by Friday morning next a detailed account of — " 
 
 (Bnter Mary, rather untidy.) 
 
 Mary, (polishing her face as she comes). Perfesser, 
 do you want to see — 
 
 Grindem. (not without irritation). You dry your 
 face on your apron? No, I certainly do not. Why don't 
 you use a towel? 
 
 Mary, (giggling in confusion) . Oh, excuse me. I 
 forgot my face was dirty till I seen you. We have n't 
 got no time to wash around this house. I aint set down 
 since 5 o'clock. 
 
 Grindem. (turning his attention to the paper he 
 holds). Has the sheriff taken all the chairs? 
 
 Mary, (giggling)- Not yet. And they's just come 
 a wagonload more. 
 
 Grindem. (frowning at the paper). A wagonload of 
 chairs ? 
 
 Mary. Yessir. For the doin's tonight, you know. 
 
 10 
 
Grindem. (looking up). No, I do not know. What 
 "doin's?" 
 
 Mary, (jerking her thumb in a backward direction). 
 The scholars — over from the school, of course. They're 
 goin' to have their party here. 
 
 Grindem. The scholars — ? Oh, you mean the Senior 
 Reception? This is the night. I had forgotten — tem- 
 porarily. 
 
 Mary. Yessir, they're all here now, gettin' the house 
 ready, and a-changin' everything. 
 
 (Enter Professor Wright, hat in hand.) 
 
 Wright. I beg your pardon, but I thought the girl 
 had forgotten all about me. 
 
 Alary, (somewhat abashed). Perfesser Wright. 
 
 Grindem. (smiling a little). Yes, I see it is Pro- 
 fessor Wright. (Mary retires with much soberness). 
 Good morning, W r right. I'm glad to see you. Sit down 
 here, and tell me what to do about this Reynolds mat- 
 ter. Fd forgotten all about it till a minute ago. The 
 Board has requested a full report by tomorrow morning 
 — tomorrow, if you please ! It will take a week to get 
 the facts. Here are some things bearing on it. (gives 
 some papers.) 
 
 Wright, (seating himself, always at ease with men). 
 I came to see you about that. Thompson has worked 
 up considerable feeling on the subject, and we must do 
 something, and do it quick. 
 
 Grindem. Yes, I know it. See what you can make 
 out of that first letter there. I can't tell what the man's 
 getting at — or getting away from ! ( Grindem turns to 
 his desk, and Wright cons the letter. Presently their 
 preoccupation is interrupted by a light voice, from the 
 
 next room, "Well, then tell her to get lady fingers 
 
 No, four dozen Yes, four dozen. 3 ' Then, enter 
 
 Babe Woodward, wearing a fetching little dust cap, a 
 * white apron, and carrying a bundle and a zvork-bag.) 
 Babe, (advancing with becoming hesitation). Good 
 morning, Professor, (bows to Wright). 
 
 11 
 
Grindem. Good morning, Miss Margaret. Pardon 
 me. (Gravely, he reaches for his coat, and slips it on). 
 
 Babe. I beg your pardon, Professor, I did n't know 
 you were here. Mrs. Grindem said she thought you were 
 at the office. 
 
 Grindem. (quite solemnly). No, I am here. What 
 may I do for you? 
 
 Babe. We are so sorry to trouble you, Professor, but 
 you know tonight is the Senior Reception, and we have 
 to have — (Wright rises from his chair). 
 
 Grindem. Don't go, Wright. We must get this mat- 
 ter straightened out. — What about the Senior Reception, 
 Miss Margaret? 
 
 Babe. Why, we want — that is, you see we have de- 
 cided to have the refreshments served in here, and so if 
 we could have this room for a little while — 
 
 Grindem. (in dismay). The refreshments in here? 
 In my study? 
 
 Babe. Oh, it'll be fine! All in green and white, you 
 know; the walls draped here, — and there, — everywhere! 
 You won't know your study tonight! 
 
 Grindem. (dejectedly). No, I suppose not, — nor to- 
 morrow, either. (He begins to bundle his papers to- 
 gether hastily). 
 
 Babe, (archly, to Wright). Are you so particular 
 about your study, Professor Wright? 
 
 Wright. Oh, yes, Miss Woodward. I am even — er 
 more so, I assure you. 
 
 Babe. "More so?" You are? Supposing I should 
 come marching into your study with a big, big bundle 
 like this, and a work-bag, and say I'd come to decorate 
 it, — to hang cheesecloth everywhere, what would you do ? 
 
 Wright, (painfully embarrassed) . I should be very 
 sorry to see — I mean I should be very sorry to have — 
 er to have you — 
 
 Babe. Why, Professor Wright! 
 
 Wright, (dropping his hat and papers). You un- 
 
 12 
 
derstand me, Miss — I mean you misunderstand me, Miss 
 Woodward. I was about to say that I should be sorry 
 to see my study turned into a— a cafe. 
 
 Grindem. (turning from his desk). Well, all I ask 
 is that you won't disturb my desk, Miss Margaret. 
 
 Babe. Just a bunch of roses on it, please, Professor. 
 Oh, such beautiful ones ! I've ordered them on purpose. 
 Galliger wanted red ones — said he'd get them himself. 
 Galliger always thinks he knows best what you like. But 
 I said, "No, sir, nobody gets roses for Prof.'s desk but 
 me, and I'm going to get white ones." I thought I 
 would put them right there, may I ? That's where you 
 always look when you are listening to people and think- 
 ing about something else. And tomorrow morning, when 
 you look up and try to think of something you've for- 
 gotten, why, then there they'll be! 
 
 Grindem. (relenting a little). I should like that, I 
 think. I'm sure I can recall what I've forgotten then. 
 (to Wright). Come, Professor, let's seek "a lodge in 
 some vast wilderness." (The men zvalk toward the door.) 
 
 Babe. It's awfully good of you to give up your study, 
 Professor, awfully good. You won't peep in until to- 
 night, will you? Please don't. I want you to be sur- 
 prised. 
 
 Grindem. (at the door). Oh, I'll be surprised all 
 right. (The men go.) 
 
 Babe, (solus, sizing up the room anxiously). Dear 
 old Prof., that was nice of him. I know he just hates 
 to go. . . Green and pink would go better with this 
 room. Bess said the woodwork was white. I knew it 
 was n't. I suppose she was thinking of the parlor; she 
 is always thinking of something else. (unrolls the 
 cheesecloth from the bundle). Maine ought to be here. 
 I can't do everything . . .We can put this table in the 
 hall, that, and the desk chair. There won't be any place 
 for the palms. I wonder if I dare shove that desk along 
 a little ways? (She tries to push it.) Ugh, it's heavy 
 as lead ! Maybe Galliger can move it. If we could get 
 two chairs there! (tries again to move the desk). Can't 
 
 13 
 
be done. Even Professor Wright could n't squeeze in 
 there. He's more afraid of girls than I am of rats, and 
 that's saying a good deal. I don't mind mice, but I'm 
 so afraid of rats. 
 
 (Enter Mam£ Hdns^li, and Bsss Tapping, hatted 
 and gloved.) 
 
 Babe. Hello, thought you were going to be here at 9 
 o'clock so smart ! 
 
 Maine, (sinking into a chair) . Has that woman 
 come? (takes off her hat.) 
 
 Babe, (beginning to carry books from the table to 
 the desk). What woman? — Bess, don't you think green 
 and white is too delicate for this room? I thought you 
 said the woodwork was white. 
 
 Bess, (figuring in a tiny notebook). I did n't say 
 anything about the woodwork. You know as much 
 about this room as I do. There, I knew it! That man 
 did n't give me the right change. I've a notion to go 
 right back. Would you or would n't you? 
 
 Mame. (fanning herself zvith her hat). How much 
 are you but? 
 
 Bess, (still figuring industriously). Nine cents, I 
 think. Four and five is nine. Yes, nine cents. Would 
 you go back or would n't you? 
 
 Babe. You'd better get to work. I've got to go to 
 the kitchen right off, and this room has to be decorated, 
 and the hall, and the parlor — there is n't anything done. 
 
 Mame. (fanning lazily). It's a hot morning all right. 
 If you don't take things easier, you'll have rush of blood 
 to the head, (opens a small paper sack). Have a lemon 
 drop. 
 
 Babe, (stacking books). No, thank you. I have all 
 summer to eat lemon drops. 
 
 Mame. This room won't be hard to fix. And the 
 parlor's about done. Frank Sawyer's superintending. 
 You know what a fine superintendent he makes. 
 
 Babe, (picking up the cheesecloth, and making some 
 rapid eye calculations). Who's he superintending? 
 
 14 
 
Mame. Millie Cameron, mostly. 
 
 Babe. So she's arrived, has she? Then things will 
 go off like a charm. 
 
 Bess, (with a sigh). It's only seven cents. 
 
 Mame. That cheesecloth's too narrow. We should 
 n't have cut it. — Only seven what, Bess? 
 
 Bess. Seven cents that man cheated me out of. I 
 reckon I'll let it slide. But I'll tell him about it when 
 I go there ; you see if I don't ! — Where is that to go ? 
 It's awfully flimsy, is n't it? 
 
 Mame. (measuring the cloth). Did you expect it 
 would be starched? Galliger says it's to be festooned. 
 
 Bess, (serenely rocking and eating lemon drops). 
 Festooned it is, then, if Galliger says so. 
 
 Mame. Galliger is Commander-in-Chief. He acts as 
 if this were his reception. And he gets flightier every 
 day. Why, he told me yesterday that Professor Wright 
 has been engaged three times ! The idea ! When he's 
 so afraid of girls that he can't look at one straight ! 
 
 Bess. Maybe that's what makes him so scared. Three 
 times is a good many. 
 
 Mame. Yes, maybe that's what ails him. But most 
 likely Galliger made it up. He ought to cash in his 
 imagination. 
 
 Babe, (sitting down, her hands full of trailing cheese- 
 cloth). I don't care if Wright's been engaged a hundred 
 times, you people ought n't to knock Galliger. He's 
 worked like a dog for your old reception ! 
 
 Mame. (cutting narrow strips of cloth). Yes, I've 
 a picture of him working like a dog. What's he doing? 
 
 Babe, (threading her needle). He's been borrowing 
 dishes all morning, and he sent the chairs up, and he's 
 been running errands like a race horse, and — and every- 
 thing. The Senior Reception's nothing to him, I guess. 
 
 Mame. (fashioning a rosette of cloth). He is n't 
 doing it for the Seniors. Catch Galliger. Millie Cam- 
 eron calls him your "First Assistant." 
 
 15 
 
Babe, (tossing her pretty head) . He probably is, 
 then. She ought to know. — Bess, why don't you do 
 something? It's getting late. 
 
 Bess, (straightening her hat, always awry). I've got 
 to go back down town. I forgot that baby ribbon. Come 
 on, Mame. 
 
 Mame. (sewing very earnestly). I can't. It's too 
 hot. Besides, I'm tired. I've chased all over town for 
 that woman. She ought to have been here at 9 o'clock. 
 
 Babe. What woman? — Bess, do you see the scissors? 
 
 Mame. The scrub woman. I lost her address, and 
 had to traipse all around that end of town. 
 
 Bess. Is that what you were doing? What do we 
 want of a scrub woman? 
 
 Babe, (sweetly and tranquilly). She can be Millie 
 Cameron's First Assistant. — Bess, you go ask Mrs. 
 Grindem for the stepladder. And borrow her work- 
 basket. We have n't thread enough. 
 
 Bess. I can't stay, honest. I just came to say that 
 the souvenirs are n't done, and we're out of ribbon. 
 
 Mame. Out of ribbon? Well what do you know 
 about that? You had three bolts. 
 
 Bess. Well, it gave out last night. What would 
 you do? 
 
 Babe, (with spacious sarcasm). I would sit in a 
 rocking chair, and rock and rock, and sing, "Shall we 
 gather at the river?" 
 
 (Mrs. Snitters appears at the door, with bucket 
 
 and mop.) 
 
 Mrs. S. Beg parding, young wemmin, but is this the 
 liberry? 
 
 Mame. Oh, Mrs. Snitters, come right in. This is 
 the room, (to Babe). This is the woman I've hired to 
 help Mary, you know. 
 
 Mrs. S. (advancing with dignity). I am the lady 
 wot she engaged for to scrub the floors. I wus reg'- 
 
 16 
 
larly engaged, and I am capable to do the work. I only 
 asted to know is this the liberry. 
 Babe, (slozvh). Oh, yes, I see. 
 
 Maine, (eyeing Mrs. Snitters uneasily). Did you 
 see Mary? 
 
 Mrs. S. (loftily). The young woman with the bib 
 apron? She tole me to go to the liberry, and see the 
 young wemmin. 
 
 Babe. It's too late to scrub the floor now, even if it 
 needed it, which it does n't. 
 
 Mame. (edging toward the door). I think I'd bet- 
 ter go with Bess, and help her finish the souvenirs. 
 
 Babe. You'd better put this woman to work. I don't 
 know what to do with her. You hired her. I'm not on 
 the Decoration Committee. 
 
 Mame. (drawing on her gloves). But if the sou- 
 venirs are n't done, there'll be trouble. — Mrs. Snitters, 
 Miss Woodward will direct you what to do. 
 
 Babe, (zurathfully) . There's trouble already. I can't 
 put up this cheesecloth alone. 
 
 Bess, (giggling, in the door). Get Galliger to help 
 you. 
 
 Mrs. S. Again I ast, is this the room I am to scrub? 
 Babe, (glaring at the girls). I suppose so, Mrs. Kit- 
 ters. This is the library. 
 
 Mrs. S. (impressively). My name is Snitters. Bet- 
 tie Snitters. Born Bettie Bowersocks. There ain't no 
 more respestabler name in Rafton than Bowersocks. My 
 father bore the name all his life — God rest him! — and 
 never found no fault with it. And my husband belonged 
 to the Snitterses of Columbus, and no more honorabler 
 man than — 
 
 Mame. So long, Babe. We'll be back in about an 
 hour. (The girls go, giggling). 
 
 Babe. Now, Mrs. Snitters, it does n't seem to me 
 that this room needs anything. What else can you do? 
 I think there is n't any scrubbing. 
 
 17 
 
(Gaujger appears at the door, and stands, unobserved.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {striking an attitude). In the sanity of me 
 own home I can do anything. My poor husband useter 
 say that he never seen a more handier woman. But when 
 I go out by the day all I do is to scrub. Scrubbing is 
 my speciallity. 
 
 Babe, {bending over her sewing). But if there is 
 no scrubbing to do, Mrs. Snitters, and we found some 
 other way you could help us, you would now, would n't 
 you? 
 
 Mrs. S. I wus engaged by that young woman to 
 scrub, and I am bound for to keep my contract. I alius 
 does my dooty as far as I kin see it. My father wus a 
 man that alius done his dooty. Never no man was more 
 indisposed to do his dooty, than my father, Hezekiah 
 Bowersocks. Many's the time I've heerd him say, his 
 arms acrost like this, {the mop crashes to the floor), 
 says he, his arms acrost, "The man that don't do his 
 dooty is no man. That man can never assassinate with 
 me and mine." Many's the time I've heerd him say, his 
 arms acrost — 
 
 Babe. As I was about to say, Mrs. Snitters, if you 
 had come three hours earlier, there might have been 
 some scrubbing for you to do. But now, I don't know — 
 
 (GaUvIG^r advances into the room.) 
 
 Galliger. Good morning, Miss Woodward. Your 
 humble and detached servant^ {picks up the mop). Per- 
 mit me, Madam, {to Babe). Are you making an ascen- 
 sion robe? 
 
 Babe. I'll need one if somebody does n't help me. I 
 ougr$ to be in the kitchen this minute. Look, that's all 
 I've aone this morning, — carry a few books from the 
 table to the desk. 
 
 Galliger. {grinning). Prof's desk? 
 
 Babe, {shrugging). Prof's desk. Poor man, he 
 might as well have stayed, for all I've got done. Mame's 
 gone — she and Bess did n't do a thing but giggle ! 
 
 18 
 
Galliger. Cheer up. The Red Cross has dispatched 
 three warships to the rescue. That cap is very fetching. 
 But if you could wear it a little more on one side — just 
 a trifle— • 
 
 Babe, {indignantly straightening her dust cap). Oh, 
 it's all very well to stand there and criticize other people ! 
 Why don't you do something? 
 
 Galliger. {rolling up his sleeves and rumpling his 
 hair). Fair damsel, I come, I come! Lay on Macduff, 
 and confusion 'light on him who says I've done enough! 
 I'm ready to do anything, everything, nothing! 
 
 Mrs. S. {much struck with Galliger s charms). That's 
 the way to talk. You remind me of my father, young 
 man. I relly think you favor him about the eyes. He 
 wus alius ready for to do his dooty. He useter say, a- 
 crossin' his arms this a-way — 
 
 Babe, {desperately). Mrs. Snitters, how long will it 
 take you to mop this floor? 
 
 Mrs. S. {measuring the floor with her professional 
 eye). Well, I think, so far as I can decimate it, off-hand, 
 it will take about thirty minutes. 
 
 Galliger. You are n't going to mop this floor, I hope? 
 It does n't need anything. It's beautiful. I can see my 
 face in it this minute — or I could if my face were lower 
 down. 
 
 Mrs. S. It's a very good floor, young man, but I am 
 indisposed for to do my dooty. 
 
 Babe. But it is n't your duty to mop a floor that does 
 n't need it, Mrs. Kitters. 
 
 Mrs. S. {with patient dignity). Mrs. Snitters, if 
 you please. 
 
 Babe. I beg pardon, Mrs. Snitters. 
 
 Mrs. S. {with arms akimbo, her head a-cock). Now 
 let me tell you that no Bowersock born ever deluded his 
 dooty in no sich way. I wus engaged for this day, and 
 paid in advancement. Says the young woman wot en- 
 gaged me, says that young woman: "We'll pay you 
 
 19 
 
when the work is done, for I don't know how much there 
 is to do." "No," says I, with firmness and derision, "No, 
 I alius ast for my pay before I does the work. No pay, 
 no work," says I. And when she seed my derision, she 
 seed it was no use to arguify. (She fishes some coins 
 from a remote and obscure pocket). There it is. One 
 dollar and a half, good United States. I wus engaged 
 for to do a day's work, and paid liberal for the same. 
 Scrubbin' is my work. I wasn't engaged to play the 
 pianny. 
 
 Galliger. (gravely). I presume that is true, Mrs 
 Snitters. 
 
 (Enter Mrs. Grindem.) 
 
 Babe. Oh, Mrs. Grindem, do settle this ! I am so 
 mortified ! It seems Mame thought we ought to help 
 your maid out, — there being so much extra work, and all 
 that, you know, and she hired this woman — 
 
 Mrs. S. (with a conrtsey, dropping her mop in the 
 effort). Mrs. Bettie Snitters, Madam, at your service. 
 
 Mrs. G. Ah, you are the woman the young ladies got 
 to help us out? 
 
 Mrs. S. I am the scrub lady as wus reg-larly engaged 
 by them two young wommin as wus just here. And I 
 am come purpared for to do my dooty. 
 
 Galliger. (picking up the mop). Permit me, Mrs. 
 Snitters. 
 
 Babe. You see we did n't know, Mrs. Grindem,— 
 that is, we thought that she — or I mean, Mame thought — 
 
 Mrs. G. Don't be distressed, my dear Miss Margaret. 
 Ii: was lovely of you young ladies, very thoughtful, I'm 
 sure, and I appreciate it. But poor Mary is in a dread- 
 ful way. She has been getting the house ready for the 
 party for at least three days. She's very enthusiastic. 
 Why, she actually got up at 5 o'clock this morning to 
 shine the front door knobs ! 
 
 Galliger. The Committee on the Distribution of Bou- 
 quets will not forget Mary. I'll give the matter my per- 
 sonal attention. 
 
 20 
 
Babe. The house is in beautiful condition, Mrs. 
 Grindem. It's too bad. I don't know how to apoligize 
 for our rudeness. But you must decide about this; it's 
 your house. 
 
 Mrs. G. (smiling). Not today, Miss Margaret. I've 
 turned it over entirely to you young folks. I am a guest, 
 as Miss Cameron says, in my own house. 
 
 Galliger. (his hand on his heart). Miss Cameron is 
 always graceful. Permit us to tender you the freedom 
 of the city. 
 
 Babe. But what shall I do? This woman will scrub — ■ 
 Galliger. Ask Mary if she can't help her. I'll bet 
 Mary's doing ten different things right this minute ! 
 
 Babe. Galliger, that's an inspiration ! Mrs. Snitters, 
 come with me. 
 
 (Enter Mrs. Morton, hastily.) 
 
 Mrs. G. What's the matter, Mother? 
 
 Mrs. M. The house is so upset ! Have you seen my 
 reading glasses? I've looked high and low for them. 
 {nods curtly to Galliger and Babe). 
 
 Mrs. G. Have you looked in the dining-room? 
 
 Mrs. M. (plaintively). I can't get into the dining- 
 room; they're decorating it. I thought I would sit out 
 on the porch and read the paper. There's no place else 
 to sit. 
 
 Mrs. G. Maybe they're in the kitchen. You had them 
 when you hulled the strawberries for breakfast, you 
 know. Have you looked on the dresser? 
 
 Mrs. M. (wearily, turning to go). I can't look in 
 the kitchen. Mary's scrubbing the floor. (Mrs. Snit- 
 ters gesticulates violently to Babe). I guess I'll take a 
 walk, but it's so hot in the sun. 
 
 Mrs. G. No, you stay here, mother. Let me look for 
 them. (Mrs. Morton sits down with a gusty sigh, and 
 Mrs. Grindem hurries out.) 
 
 Babe, (sewing away). Poor Mrs. Morton, it's too 
 bad. But it's only once a year, you know. 
 
 21 
 
Mrs. S. (in some agitation). Let me scrub the 
 kitching floor, and let the girl in the bib apron (looks 
 daggers at Galliger) do them other nine things to onct! 
 
 Babe. Yes, you can do that, Mrs. Snitters. That's 
 an excellent idea. — Galliger, you sit down here and finish 
 these rosettes. There are only seven more to make. 
 Sew them around this way, then fix them on the cheese- 
 cloth. This way. See? Every two yards; use the 
 yard measure, to be sure, gather it up, and fasten a ro- 
 sette there. See, like" this one. Sew it over and over. 
 They must n't drop off, first thing. 
 
 Galliger. I see. Complicated as the idea is, I think 
 I grasp it in its entirety. (Sits down and gathers tip 
 the cheesecloth). From Errand Boy to House Decora- 
 tor. The Story of a Short Life. In Five Volumes. 
 Profusely Illustrated. Half Calf, $2.50. Why, I can 
 do this with my hand tied behind me. 
 
 Babe. Well, do it right. — Mrs. Morton, you will ex- 
 cuse me, I know. — Come, Mrs. Snitters. (They go, 
 Mrs Snitters with much clatter.) 
 
 Galliger. (sewing away with much earnestness). 
 That woman comes of a family of famous scrubbers. 
 They have scrubbed for the best families here and abroad. 
 She even hinted that she had scrubbed for the nobility, 
 — or at least that her great grandmother had. But of 
 course that was years ago when the nobility was not so 
 stuck up. When the dirt got too thick they up and called 
 in a Bowersocks and had it scrubbed off. Of course 
 there's nothing disgraceful in dirt — a little dirt. It's 
 only the accumulation that becomes a — a menace to 
 society. 
 
 Mrs. M. (fanning herself complacently with a news- 
 paper). Who is the woman? Do you know her family? 
 
 Galliger. (intent upon threading his needle). Yes, 
 we've known them for years. That is, we've known of 
 them. Of course the two families never visited back 
 and forth of any account. 
 
 Mrs. M. (serenely) . Of course not. 
 
 Galliger. (with much gravity). Well, this woman's 
 
 22 
 
father, Hezekiah Bowersock, was a fine character. He 
 used to stand like those pictures of Napoleon at St. 
 Helena, his arms folded, you know, and — 
 
 Mrs. M. Bowersocks ! Why, I know some people of 
 that name! Do you suppose they are related to the 
 Bowersockses of Newton? She's a D. A. R. 
 
 Galliger. {measuring cheesecloth with exact nicety). 
 It's probably a branch of the same family. 
 
 Mrs. M. Poor soul ! And now she's a scrub woman ! 
 These misfortunes in our first families are appalling! And 
 how nobly she bears it ! I thought there was something 
 remarkable about her face. What happened her father? 
 
 Galliger. {leaning back). This woman's father, Heze- 
 kiah Bowersocks, was a lieutenant under General Long- 
 street, and during the war his family suffered — 
 
 Mrs. M. But the Bowersockses are a Northern fam- 
 ily. 
 
 Galliger. {zvith empressement) . That was the queer 
 thing about this man. Raised in the North, amid all the 
 luxury of — er — boundless wealth, he sympathized with 
 the South, and when war was declared he — he offered 
 his services to the Confederacy. 
 
 Mrs. M. {with a gratified sigh). He evidently was 
 a thoroughly honest man. It would be well for the coun- 
 try if there were more like him. 
 
 Galliger. It certainly would, Madam. I have often 
 thought that what this country needs is honest men, 
 strong, capable, Sar-seeing men. 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes, men of conviction. I have said so my- 
 self. But go on about her father. 
 
 Galliger. Oh yes. Well, — er: — what was I saying 
 about her father 
 
 Mrs. M. You were saying he offered his services to 
 the Confederacy — 
 
 Galliger. {resuming his zvork). Yes, he offered his 
 services to the Confederacy, and when he returned after 
 the war he found— 
 
 23 
 
{Enter Mrs. Grindem.) 
 
 Mrs. G. Mother, here are your glasses. And here's 
 the paper. Now you can sit on the porch. — Still at 
 work, I see, Mr. Gurdy? 
 
 Mrs. M. {rising zvith evident reluctance) . I'm afraid 
 he has been losing time, but he has entertained me beau- 
 tifully. I had forgotten all about my glasses. — Some 
 other time, Mr. Galliger, you must tell me the rest of 
 the story. 
 
 Galliger. {rising). With pleasure, Mrs. Morton, 
 with pleasure. 
 
 Mrs. M. (sweeping tozvard the door in her grand 
 zvay). We shall see you tonight, of course, Mr. Gal- 
 liger? 
 
 Galliger. {bozving). Oh, certainly, Mrs. Morton. 
 Mrs. M. Goodbye till then. {The ladies go.) 
 Galliger. {reseating himself). Gullible old party. I 
 always thought Longstreet was a Northern general, but 
 maybe she's right. It's a good thing Mrs. Grindem 
 appeared. I was about spun out. . . I wonder how 
 many thousand yards of this stuff there are ? I've sewed 
 about six miles of it, I think. (He stitches away soberly 
 for a little, then in comes Mary in a high state of exas- 
 peration.) 
 
 Mary. Where's that young lady in the pink dress? 
 
 Galliger. (imp erturb ably). She's probably still in the 
 pink dress. 
 
 Mary. I want to see her right off. I won't stand 
 this no longer, so there ! 
 
 Galliger. Stand which ? Sit down while you're stand- 
 ing it, why don't you? 
 
 Mary. I want that young lady in the pink dress. 
 
 Galliger. (suspending his work, and gazing at her 
 thoughtfully). Pink dress — pink dress. Has n't she 
 any other personal peculiarity? 
 
 Mary, (beginning to cry). I don't remember any- 
 only she has the b — b — beautifullest eyes ! 
 
 24 
 
Galliger. Oh, you mean Miss Woodward. I don't 
 know where she is. Why? 
 
 Mary. She's got to come and t — take that Mrs. Frit- 
 ters away. She wants to scrub the kitching, and it's been 
 scrubbed. I jes' got through, and it aint even dry yet. 
 I guess I know how to scrub. I was n't raised in a barn 
 myself ! She comes in with her bucket, and sniffs, and 
 walks around this way (illustrates) , and talks about hei 
 "dooty." She's afraid she won't get to keep that money ; 
 that's what's the matter with her! Wanting to scrub 
 the kitching again ! I won't stand it, so there ! 
 
 Galliger. Well, well, be quiet about it. We'll murder 
 her in secret, and hide her in the woodshed. What can 
 Miss W r oodward do when you find her? 
 
 Alary. She can send her home. I won't stand it. 
 I'll pack my trunk and go first ! 
 
 (Enter Mrs. Snitters, mop in hand.) 
 
 Mrs. S. (advancing with confidence). All right, 
 pack yer trunk. I aint indisposed to keep any self- 
 respectin' girl from packin' her trunk. Pack it an' wel- 
 come. I only ast the privilege of doin' my dooty. I was 
 hired to scrub an' — 
 
 Mary, (tossing her head). I'm tired of hearin' about 
 your old "dooty !" I guess other people do their "dooty" 
 as well as you ! 
 
 Galliger. (pacifically). It seems to me, under the 
 circumstances — 
 
 Mrs. S. (to Mary). I won't be talked back to by 
 any young woman of your size ! I never permit imper- 
 ence, young woman, mind that. 
 
 Mary. Oh, you don't ! And how do you help your- 
 self, Madam? You'll be talked back to jes' as much as 
 I want to say, Mrs. Fritters, I tell you those. If you 
 think there was n't any work done in this house till you 
 come, you're off your base, that's all I got to say. 
 
 Galliger. (more pacifically) . Mrs. Fritters, it would 
 be much the better way — 
 
 Mrs. S. (zvrathfully) . Young man, my name is Snit- 
 
 25 
 
ters ; S-n-i-t-t-e-r-s. I thank you for to call me by my 
 name, (wheeling on Mary). I never said there was 
 n't. 
 
 Mary, (loftily). Well, you intimidated it. It's all 
 the same. 
 
 Mrs. S. (advancing toward her). I did n't intimi- 
 date no sich thing. I aint a woman to intimidate 
 things. What I mean I say right out. 
 
 Mary, (advancing a step). You did. 
 
 Mrs. S. (firmly). I did n't. 
 
 Galliger. (rising, the cheesecloth clinging to him as a 
 drapery). Mrs. Snitters, if you will kindly come with 
 me — 
 
 Mrs. S. (to Mary). If you say I intimidated there 
 wus n't no work done in this house, yOu say what 
 aint so. 
 
 Mary. You did. 
 
 Mrs. S. (grasping her mop more firmly). You say 
 I say what aint so. 
 
 Mary, (backing off a little). You did, you did, you 
 did! 
 
 Mrs. S. (following her, the mop upraised). I won't 
 stand for your imperence. (Mary dodges, turns, and 
 escapes through the door, closely pursued by the vengeful 
 Mrs. Snitters.) 
 
 Galliger (dashes after them, the cheesecloth clinging 
 to him). The Lord save us! 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 26 
 
ACT II 
 
 {The Kitchen of the Grindem Home, three 
 o'clock, the Afternoon of the Same Day. The 
 usual effects of "a doin's" present in the varie- 
 gated confusion. Bab£ Woodward, in an enor- 
 mous gingham apron, Washing dishes, Gaujger 
 drying them.) 
 
 Babe, {bathing a plate with a long-handled dish 
 mop). I think these dishes are awfully ugly. 
 
 Galliger. So do I, but it's the only kind he'd let me 
 have. I picked out some mighty swell ones, with houses 
 on 'em and saw bucks, and trees, but he said he did n't 
 rent them. 
 
 Babe. Saw-bucks ! For pity sakes ! Are you sure 
 they were saw-bucks? 
 
 Galliger. {polishing a plate with great flourish). I 
 guess I know a saw-buck when I see one. 
 
 Babe, {after a meditative pause and cessation from 
 zvork). Saw-bucks. What color were they? 
 
 Galliger. {leaning resignedly against the table). Blue 
 — the blue like your mother used to wash with. Give 
 me another plate. 
 
 Babe. Oh, you mean delft! That's beautiful. I 
 should say the man would n't rent his delft ware! 
 They're windmills, not sawbucks. Holland windmills. 
 
 Galliger. Windmills ! That's just like a girl ! Be- 
 cause it's a swell pattern, girls call 'em windmills ! 
 
 Babe. I guess I know a windmill when I see one. 
 
 Galliger. Oh, yes, I suppose you've seen millions of 
 'em in Holland! Hurry up! You've bathed that plate 
 long enough. 
 
 Babe, {successfully landing the plate). You let me 
 alone. I'm washing these dishes. We've got to be very, 
 very particular. How do we know who had them last? 
 
 Galliger. If it's such a big job, why did n't you let 
 Mary do it? 
 
 Babe. It is n't a big job; it's a particular job. We 
 
 27 
 
have n't any idea who ate off these dishes last. Besides, 
 I think we girls should do the extra work. 
 
 Galliger. Why don't you let Mrs. Snitters do it? By 
 the way, where is that Daughter of the Revolution? 
 
 Babe. Revolution against dirt, you mean? I left her 
 arguing with Mary about the proper way to wash win- 
 dows. 
 
 Galliger. Who's washing windows at this time of 
 day? 
 
 Babe. Nobody, only Mrs. Snitters said it ought to be 
 done one way, and Mary said it ought to be done another 
 way. Mary would rather die than agree with her. I 
 suppose there's only one way to wash windows. 
 
 Galliger. There'll be bloodshed. You mark my 
 words. I only narrowly averted it this morning. {He 
 walks to a chair). I'll sit down between acts. When 
 you've finished bathing the next plate, let me know. 
 
 {Strumming an imaginary guitar, he sings with fervor). 
 
 "... And 'twas from Aunt Dinah's quilting party 
 I was seeing Nellie home." 
 
 Babe. I thought you were going to dry these dishes. 
 
 Galliger. I am drying those dishes. I have dried 
 every dish that you have washed, and I hope to live long 
 enough to dry the rest. But I have a right to amuse 
 myself in the intervals of honest toil. If you want more 
 continuous service, let us have more continuous plates. 
 {sings). "I was seeing Nellie home . . .It was from 
 Aunt Dinah's quilting party I was seeing Nellie home." 
 Is the next plate ready ? I say, Central, hello ! . 
 Hello ! Give me Professor Grindem's, please . . . Has 
 the lady finished the next plate ? . . . She has ? I thank 
 you. {He goes to the table). Ah, an accumulation of 
 three ! Here's where we get in some heavy work ! 
 
 (Enter Mary.) 
 
 Mary. Miss, Perfesser Wright says may he speak to 
 you jes' a minute? 
 
 Babe. Professor Wright? Are you sure he said me? 
 
 28 
 
Mary. Yessum, Miss Woodward, he said, and he 
 says it's very particular. 
 
 Babe. - Oh, my goodness \ And look at me ! I'm a 
 fright! {tries to untie her apron). 
 
 Mary. Lemme finish them dishes, Miss. I ain't got 
 a thing to do now. 
 
 Babe. Galliger, untie this knot. — Mary, you go and 
 tell him I'll be there in a minute. Where is he? 
 
 Mary. A-standin' in the front hall. There aint any- 
 wheres he can set down. (goes). 
 
 Babe. Hurry up. How do I look? 
 
 Galliger. Not any worse than usual, I think. Stand 
 still, why don't you? 
 
 Babe. Hurry up. I suppose he's in a rush. I can't 
 imagine what he wants. 
 
 Galliger. (struggling with the knot). No, a girl's 
 imagination usually fails at such a crisis. I'll have to 
 cut it. Wait till I get my knife . 
 
 Babe, (darting out of reach). Horrors, you must 
 n't cut it ! It's Mrs. Grindem's. And I can't wear it. 
 I'm fright enough without this. I'll have to slip it over 
 my head. There, now, look at my hair ! I'm in a pretty 
 condition to see Professor Wright ! It's a pity you could 
 n't untie a simple knot ! 
 
 Galliger. (starting for the door). I'll go tell him 
 you're in a dead faint. 
 
 Babe. Galliger Gurdy, you stay right here! I'll go 
 myself. (She flirts out.) 
 
 Galliger. (gazing into space). Now what the dick- 
 ens does Wright want to see Babe Woodward for? (He 
 polishes a plate absently, his thoughts elsewhere.) 
 
 (Bnter Mrs Grindem, holding her handkerchief 
 to her head.) 
 
 Mrs. G. I thought Miss Margaret was here. 
 
 Galliger. (starting from his preoccupation). Oh, 
 Mrs. Grindem, pardon me. Why, what is the matter? 
 Do sit down, (brings a chair). 
 
 29 
 
Mrs. G. No, I must go and lie down awhile. It's 
 nothing but a little headache. 
 
 Galliger. But let me get you something. I'll run to 
 the drug store in a jiffy. There's lots of things for 
 headache. I often get them for mother. 
 
 Mrs. G. No, I thank you. It's just one of my nerv- 
 ous headaches. The least excitement brings them on. 
 
 Galliger. But do sit down. {She does.) And please 
 let me get you something. You must n't be sick tonight, 
 you know. It would spoil the reception. Do you ever 
 take headache tablets? 
 
 Mrs. G. No, I never take anything. Two hours' 
 sleep will make me all right. 
 
 Galliger (getting a glass of ivater). Won't you have 
 some water? Will you be able to stand in line tonight, 
 •do you think? 
 
 Mrs. G. Yes, indeed. Don't mention that I am sick. 
 I came to speak to Miss Margaret. 
 
 Galliger. She'll be here in a minute, but you can 
 leave any message with me. 
 
 Mrs. G. Then will you please tell her that I think 
 it would be best to pay that Mrs. Fritters, and dismiss 
 her. 
 
 Galliger. What's the matter? Is she rowing with 
 Mary? 
 
 Mrs. G. Yes, or Mary's rowing with her. Anyway, 
 they don't get on, and I think she had better go home. 
 She doesn't seem to be a very— er — versatile woman. 
 Galliger. Does she insist upon scrubbing? 
 Mrs. G. {wearily). Oh, yes, it seems she's a won- 
 derful scrubber, and she blows about what she can do, 
 and Mary blows back, and then they have it. And 
 Mother — Mrs. Morton, you know, has got some crazy 
 notion in her head about the poor woman — thinks she 
 knows some of Mrs. Fritter's people in Newton. Oh 
 dear, it's so ridiculous! Mother says she's related to 
 the Bowersocks family. 
 
 30 
 
Galliger. (respectfully). Yes, Ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. G. (rising.) I can't have Mother talking to the 
 charwoman, you know. How would it look? She'll 
 have to go, and then, maybe, I can get a little peace. 
 I don't dare leave Mother a minute while that woman 
 is in the house — she'd waylay her and ask what relation 
 she is to the Bowersock's family. Where do you sup- 
 pose she got the notion ? 
 
 Galliger. I can't imagine. Hasn't she — er told you? 
 
 Mrs. G. I haven't asked her. It's too ridiculous. 
 You'll please tell Miss Margaret? 
 
 Galliger. I will, Mrs. Grindem. Hadn't I better go 
 with you? 
 
 Mrs. G. No, thank you. I don't want anybody to 
 know I have a headache. 
 
 Galliger. I'll hunt up Miss Woodward, ( They go) 
 
 (Bnter, from the opposite door, Miuj£ Cameron and 
 Frank Sawyer.) 
 
 Millie. Why, there's nobody here ! You said they 
 were washing dishes ! 
 
 Frank. They were washing dishes, Miss Secretary, 
 not thirty minutes ago. And here are the dishes. 
 
 Millie. It looks as if they had left unexpectedly. She 
 just stepped out of that apron. 
 
 Frank, (contemplating Babe's apron on the floor). 
 Gone but not forgotten. Sacred to the memory of Babe 
 Woodward, who departed this kitchen June 9th, 1909 at 
 half-past three o'clock. Verily, their works do follow 
 them. 
 
 Millie, (who has been peeping into divers open bags 
 on the table). It certainly looks like a party 'round 
 here. Lump sugar. Lump sugar. Peppermint creams. 
 Macaroons. Mr. President, may I have a macaroon? 
 
 Frank. Help yourself, Miss Secretary. Who made 
 up the bill of particulars? 
 
 Millie. Babe Woodward. She is Chairman of the 
 Committee on Refreshments. 
 
 31 
 
Frank, (peeping into the bags). Thought Galliger 
 was. English walnuts. My favorite .confection. 
 
 Millie. He is not on the Committee — officially. Did 
 you say English walnuts? 
 
 Frank. Oh, I suppose he belongs to the Kitchen 
 Cabinet. The walnuts are n't cracked, but here is a can 
 of deviled ham. Will you partake? 
 
 Millie. Oh, here's a chocolate cake ! 
 
 Frank, (looking into the box). Let's cut it. I dare 
 you ! We ought to sample it, anyway. I am the Presi- 
 dent of this class, (rummages in the table drawer). 
 
 Millie. The peppermint creams are very good. What 
 are you doing? 
 
 Frank. Looking for a knife to cut that cake. I hate 
 to eat it all. (shuts the drazver with a bang.) Gee whiz, 
 there goes the sugar ! Catch it ! 
 
 Millie. You'll catch it! It's mostly on the table. 
 Here, let me take it up. Give me a spoon. Quick! If 
 Babe Woodward sees this they'll be all kinds of trouble. 
 
 Frank. Can't they use it again ? Hurry up. Suppose 
 we don't cut the cake. 
 
 Millie, (shrugging her shoulders). Suppose we 
 don't. I think it'll be just as well. 
 
 Frank. Have another macaroon. 
 
 (Enter Gaijjger, whistling softly.) 
 
 Galiger. (stopping all over, all at once). Hello! 
 
 Frank. Hello, Galliger! We thought you had de- 
 serted the ship. 
 
 Galliger. (standing still, but all-observing). Not 
 yet. I just stepped out to quell a mutiny in the steerage. 
 What are you doing? Taking an inventory? 
 
 Frank, (taking a macaroon arily). Miss Secretary 
 and I are making a tour of inspection. We are now 
 testing the rations. The parlor is ready. The library is 
 decorated. The dining-room progresses. The front 
 steps have been scrubbed twice, and I have ordered the 
 furnace painted green. What can you report ? 
 
 32 
 
Galliger. (saluting). Mr. President; I have the hon- 
 or to report : — 
 
 1 chocolate cake, 2 pound cakes, 4 dozen macaroons, 
 (minus the number Miss Cameron has recently eaten), 
 enough lady fingers to go 'round, I hope coffee, sugar, 
 (in bags and on the floor), deviled ham, pickles, pepper- 
 mints, olives, paper napkins, spoons, bread and butter 
 to match, and ice cream m transit. All of which, Mr. 
 President, I have the honor to report as not injurious to 
 the most delicate constitution. Malted milk will be 
 served to Freshmen, instead of coffee, and those prefer- 
 ring prunes to pickles will be shown the door. 
 Respectfullv submitted, 
 GALLIGER GURDY, R. S. V. P. 
 
 Millie. Mr. President, I have eaten three macaroons 
 and two peppermint creams. 
 
 Frank. Do you wish to make a minority report? 
 (Re-enter Babe.) 
 
 Galliger (bowing to Babe). Mr. President and Miss 
 Secretary on an official tour of inspection. In your ab- 
 sence I made the report. 
 
 Babe, (calmly, picking up her apron). What report? 
 
 Galliger. The report of the Committee on Refresh- 
 ments. 
 
 Babe, (going to the dishpan). Well, I hope it was 
 satisfactory. 
 
 Frank. It was, perfectly so, Miss Woodward. I com- 
 mend your pains. As they say in Shakespeare, "Well 
 done, thou good and faithful servant." 
 
 Babe, (coolly and impersonally). They say a good 
 many things in Shakespeare. — Galliger, we've got to 
 finish these dishes. 
 
 Galliger. The water's stone cold. 
 
 Millie. Well, since you're getting along so nicely, I 
 think we had better go. 
 
 Frank We will visit other — and less pleasant — fields 
 of endeavor. What time are you all going home? 
 
 33 
 
Galliger. Oh, about five, I guess, (to Babe). Are 
 n't you? 
 
 Babe, (with virtuous severity). I shall go when I 
 get through with my work, not before. 
 
 Frank, (chanting) . "Dare to be a Daniel, 
 
 Dare to stand alone, 
 Dare to have a purpose firm, 
 Dare to make it known !" 
 Babe. You'd better go put up those ribbons, Frank 
 Sawyer. The dining-room is n't nearly finished. 
 
 Frank. Those dost counsel well. So long. We'll see 
 you at five, remember. My treat at the first soda foun- 
 tain. 
 
 Millie. Galliger, don't forget to subtract those three 
 macaroons. (They go.) 
 
 Babe, (washing dishes). Did Millie Cameron help 
 herself to macaroons? 
 
 Galliger. (cheerfully). No, Frank hooked some. 
 
 Babe. I'm glad they did n't find the chocolate creams. 
 I see they upset the sugar. 
 
 Galliger. (with nonchalant irrelevance) . By the way, 
 what did Wright want? 
 
 Babe. He wanted to know if he could send me some 
 flowers for tonight. 
 
 Galliger. He did? He did? The addlepate ! (drops 
 a plate with a crash). 
 
 Babe, (surveying the ruins). We'll have to pay for 
 that. 
 
 Galliger. I'll pay for it. I can pay for three bushels 
 of stone plates, if necessary. 
 
 Babe. Now, supposing it had been Mrs. Grindem's 
 best china? I knew how it would be. You ought to 
 be more careful. 
 
 Galliger. But it is n't Mrs. Grindem's best china, so 
 what's the use of saying that? What did you tell him? 
 
 Babe. Tell who? 
 
 34 
 
Galligcr. Wright. 
 
 Babe. Oh, Professor Wright? About the flowers, 
 you mean? I told him yes. 
 
 Galliger. (slowly, gazing at her as if she were n't 
 there at all). You told him that he could— could send 
 you flowers for tonight? 
 
 Babe, (cheerfully). That's all the dishes. Thank you 
 very much. I'm glad they're done. (She bustles around, 
 doing things, Galliger standing still, looking at noth- 
 ing in particular). Do you know, really, I hate to wash 
 dishes, just hate to. 
 
 Galliger. (slowly). You told him that he could— 
 could send you flowers for tonight? 
 Babe, (airily). Why not? 
 
 Galliger. Because you told me that I might send you 
 flowers for tonight. 
 
 Babe. Can a girl ever have too many flowers? 
 
 Galliger. (dropping the tea towel in a heap, and 
 turning to the door). Maybe not. But she can have 
 too many — subscribers. 
 
 Babe. Galliger, you're a goose. 
 
 Galliger. (at the door). I am. I think there is no 
 question about that. 
 
 Babe. Come back, and I'll tell you about it. 
 
 Galliger. You have told me about it. 
 
 Babe. I have n't told you the truth about it. 
 
 Galliger. (his back to her). How do I know, now, 
 what is the truth? How am I to know when you are 
 telling the truth hereafter? 
 
 Babe. Galliger, you can't say things like that to me. 
 I don't tell lies. (Galliger does not answer). I was 
 . . . I was joking about the flowers. 
 
 Galliger (turning like a flash). Honest, Babe Wood- 
 ward? 
 
 Babe. Honest ? 
 
 Galliger (solemnly). Cross your heart and hope to 
 die? 
 
 35 
 
Babe, (quite as solemnly). Cross my heart and hope 
 to die. 
 
 Galliger. (starting for her). How was it! Tell me. 
 
 Babe, (taking refuge behind the table). Oh, he wanted 
 to know if I thought it would be proper for him to send 
 Mrs. Grindem some flowers for tonight, as she is host- 
 ess and all that, you know. He is so horribly cautious 
 he had to consult somebdy. And he was so scared he 
 could hardly talk. He'll die of fright yet, that man. 
 
 Galliger (joyously, starting around the table). And 
 you told him — 
 
 Babe, (springing in the opposite direction). I told 
 him it would (dodging him adroitly) would be a very 
 nice thing for him to do. And I really think it would, 
 don't you? 
 
 Galliger. (dodging around desperately) . I think you 
 are a — 
 
 (Hnter Mrs. Morton, with a small pasteboard box.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Another cake, addressed to The Chairman 
 of the Refreshment Committee. That's you, is n't it, 
 Mr. Galliger? 
 
 Galliger. No, Miss Woodward is Chairman of the 
 Committee. I'm not anything in particular. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, excuse me, I thought it was you. 
 Can't I do something to help you? I'm so interested, 
 you can't think! 
 
 Babe. Why, no, thank you, Mrs. Morton, I believe 
 not. Everything is about done. 
 
 Mrs. M. (looking at the table). I'm sure I can help 
 you. I used to be very fond of spreading sandwiches. 
 Always at a picnic I was the one to spread the sand- 
 wiches, because I spread the butter on both slices, and 
 the boys liked that. This all reminds me of the times 
 we used to have at home. I was a very popular girl- 
 very popular. Mother used to say it was a shame the 
 way I used to get so many flowers. Some of the girls 
 did n't get any from year's end to year's end. But that 
 
 36 
 
is the way of the world; some have so much and some 
 have so little. 
 
 Galliger. Yes, Madam, it is so indeed. 
 
 Mrs. M. (to Babe). Are you going to have sand- 
 wiches ? 
 
 Babe. Yes, Mrs. Morton, but I don't want to spread 
 them until tonight. It's so hard to keep them fresh. 
 
 Mrs. M. We could keep them in a stone jar. You 
 ought n't to leave everything till the last minute. It's 
 after four now. 
 
 Babe. But I'll have to be in the kitchen most of the 
 time, anyway. 
 
 Galliger. I don't see why you have to be in the kitchen 
 most of the time. Let Mrs. Morton help you with them. 
 It'll be a big job. 
 
 Babe, (with a wicked smile). I tell you what you 
 can do, Mrs. Morton. You can help Galliger crack these 
 walnuts. You take the hulls off after he cracks them, 
 you know. Would you like to do that? 
 
 Galliger (looking butcher knives at Babe). Oh, I 
 would n't think of letting Mrs. Morton do such heavy 
 work. 
 
 Babe, (with that same wicked smile). Mrs. Mor- 
 ton is right; we must n't leave everything to the last 
 minute. — Sit right here, Mrs. Morton. Let me put this 
 apron on you. Oh, that's all right; I'm done with it, 
 thank you, and it's nice and clean. (Galliger zvatches 
 these preparations zvtih covert dismay). Now, keep 
 this dish in your lap for the nuts, and this — here — for 
 the shells, (to Galliger). Do you want a hammer, or 
 will you crack them with the cracker? 
 
 Galliger. You are n't going to make poor Mrs. Mor- 
 ton pick out two pounds of English walnuts, are you? 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, but I like to do it. I've been hoping 
 all day that somebody would let me do something. — 
 Where are you going to sit, Mr. Galliger? 
 
 Babe, (pleasantly). Oh, it does n't matter much 
 where he sits. Boys can perch 'most anywhere. (She 
 
 37 
 
clears a chair of its freight of parcels.) Here, Galliger, 
 sit here. Do you need an apron? 
 
 Galliger. Anything will do me. I use a nailkeg at 
 home. 
 
 Mrs. M. (holding the dish expectantly, eager to be- 
 gin). A nailkeg! Just fancy! Do you like it better 
 than a chair? 
 
 Galliger. Lots better. Got used to it when I was 
 a child. 
 
 Babe. Sit down, Galliger. We have n't any nail- 
 kegs. Now, please try not to break them. That is, get 
 them out in while halves. Please be careful. 
 
 Galliger. (helplessly). Whole halves. Twice two is 
 five. All right, drive on. Are you all ready, Mrs. Mor- 
 ton?; 
 
 Babe, (fussing about them in extreme solicitude). 
 Are you comfortable, Mrs. Morton? If you are tired, 
 stop. Galliger can finish them. — Galliger, I told you 
 to be careful. You mashed that one. We w r ant to serve 
 them whole, I said. 
 
 Galliger. (looking more than he says).- I mashed 
 my finger, too. I would like to have it served whole, if 
 you don't mind. I'd rather have the hammer and a flat- 
 iron, then I can mash my knee all I want to. 
 
 Babe, (supplying him with both). There now, go 
 easy. They are n't rocks. Well, if you people are all 
 right, I'll go help in the dining-room. Remember, Mrs. 
 Morton, if you get tired, you are to quit. 
 
 Mrs. M. I won't get tired. I am only too glad to 
 help you. 
 
 Babe. Don't work too hard, remember. (Goes.) 
 
 Mrs. M. I'm so glad to be able to do something for 
 the party. Everybody has been so busy today. Every- 
 body but me. Oh, that reminds me. I wanted to talk 
 to that Mrs. Snitters ; to try and draw her out, you know, 
 but I could n't get an opportunity. Somebody was al- 
 ways around. I think she looks a little like Fanny Bow- 
 ersocks, the third daughter. She has the same sort of 
 
 38 
 
nose. Noses tell so much. Why, I've see a nose run 
 through three generations— and through a whole photo- 
 graph album of dead relations. 
 
 Galliger. {cracking nuts). Yes, Mrs. Morton. 
 
 Mrs. M. But I don't know that noses tell more than 
 chins. What do you think? Some people say that fam- 
 ily likeness is mostly in the chin. I've read that in lots 
 of books. But you can't believe everything in books. 
 Now I have my mother's chin right over again, and so 
 has Martha. 
 
 Galliger. (cracking nuts). Yes, Mrs. Morton. 
 
 Mrs. M. (cheerfully, innocently). But you really 
 can't tell much about chins, or noses, either, so far as 
 that goes. It does n't matter what a man's chin is, or 
 which grandfather's chin he has, if his principles are 
 good. That's what I believe; it's his principles that 
 count, not his chin. Though of course if he has n't any 
 chin, he is n't likely to have any principles. Paul Slide 
 had n't any chin, and you know how he turned out. 
 Have you read that book? 
 
 Galliger. (cracking nuts). No, Mrs. Morton. 
 
 Mrs. M. You have n't read "Sweet Cicely?" Oh, 
 you must. It's a very good book for boys, (rises). I'll 
 bring you that book right now while I think of it. It 
 won't take but a minute. You keep right on cracking; 
 I can catch up. And you must promise me to read every 
 word. 
 
 Galliger. Yes, Mrs. Morton. Thank you. (She 
 goes. In a second, Frank Sawyer steps in the doorway, 
 smiling blandly.) 
 
 Frank. Five o'clock, Galliger. 
 
 Galliger. (without looking up). I know it. Go on. 
 Don't wait. I'll be along. 
 
 Frank. What's the matter? 
 
 Galliger. STUNG ! ' 
 
 CURTAIN 
 39 
 
ACT III 
 
 (The Parlor of the Grindem Home, at half- 
 past seven, the Evening of the Same Day. Two 
 or three chairs in the room, and pennants and 
 flowers. Professor Wright is discovered sitting 
 on the edge of a chair, waiting for something — 
 anything! — to happen. Enter MiujE Cameron, 
 in evening gown.) 
 
 Millie. Good evening, Professor. Are you alone? 
 
 Wright, (rising as one piece). Yes, Miss Cameron, 
 or that is, there is nobody with me. 
 
 Millie, (seating herself). Mrs. Grindem will be down 
 in a minute. She asked me to tell you. You know she 
 has had to fight a headache all afternoon. 
 
 Wright, (reseating himself with much uncertainty) . 
 Yes, I — er — that is, Miss Woodward told me that Mrs. 
 Grindem was — er indisposed. I was glad to be inform- 
 ed — or I mean I was sorry to be informed she was ill, 
 but I was glad to be — er advised of the fact. That is, I 
 would say I was happy not to be kept in ignorance of — 
 er the fact of her indisposition. 
 
 Millie, (toying with a tiny fan). Oh, yes, she's all 
 right now. I suppose it was the excitement. We've had 
 such a day ! How do you like the decorations ? 
 
 Wright, (moping his glowing brow). I think they 
 are very remarkable. 
 
 Millie. "Remarkable?" Oh, Professor! And we 
 tried so hard ! I spent most of the day on the stepladder, 
 though I did come down for luncheon. I thought you 
 would say, "They are beautiful !" But you never flatter 
 people — not even when they expect it. How do you 
 mean they are "remarkable?" 
 
 Wright, (looking toward the door). Remarkably 
 beautiful, Miss Cameron. You did not permit me to 
 finish. I consider the artistic effect — er most artistic. 
 
 Millie. Well, I certainly am glad you think so. I 
 was quite frightened. I thought, "Well, if Professor 
 Wright, with his cultivated taste, does n't like them — 
 
 40 
 
Wright, (hastily). I — I have no cultivated taste, 
 Miss Cameron, I do assure you. I beg you to believe 
 — I do earnestly beg you to believe that I — er disclaim 
 any such possession. I should not dream of assuming 
 any such — er superiority. 
 
 Millie, (fanning herself in a very elegant manner). 
 Ah, Professor, you are too modest. We all know your 
 taste. That's the reason I was so depressed when I 
 thought you did n't like them. You know we like to 
 please the people who will appreciate — 
 
 (Enter Bessie Tapping, in haste, putting on her 
 long gloves.) 
 
 Bess. Well, I've had the time of my life tonight! I 
 don't know whether it's today or the day before yester- 
 day ! Everything went wrong — you know how things 
 do sometimes. I did n't get the souvenirs done until 
 after six, and then my dress did n't come, and did n't 
 come, and did n't come ! We had to 'phone for it twice. 
 I was in a perfect stew ! Mrs. Mitchell can never make 
 another dress for me. You hear me say ! 
 
 Millie. There's plenty of time. It is n't eight yet. 
 
 Bess. Well, I should hope it was n't ! — Professor, 
 will you button my gloves? Please. I'm so nervous 
 I never can. 
 
 Wright, (rising). I shall be — er delighted, Miss 
 Tapping. 
 
 Bess. They're awfully tight. We ought to have a 
 buttonhook. They're my sister's ; I could n't find mine 
 high nor low. Go on, don't mind hurting me. My arms 
 are so burned that I just got to wear them. Mother 
 says the next time the Seniors give a Reception, she's 
 going to leave town. Ough ! Don't button the first 
 button. Try the next one. 
 
 Wright. That was the next one. I hesitate, Miss 
 Tapping, to compress your wrist to the necessary ex- 
 tent — 
 
 Bess. Oh, don't mind me. Go on, button the first 
 one. I reckon I can stand it. I got to, that's all. (To 
 
 41 
 
Millie). You look awful nice, honest you do; and so' 
 cool and comfortable. Is my back hair all right? 
 
 Millie, (rising). Turn around. I like your dress. 
 
 Bess. I'm glad you do. Goodness knows, I've wor- 
 ried enough about it. But how is my hair? (She re- 
 volves slowly, Wright following her, bent over the 
 glove. ) 
 
 Millie. It looks all right, but is it safe? 
 
 Bess. What do you mean by "safe?" It's as safe as 
 anybody's, I reckon. It can't fall off, if that's what you 
 mean. It's all mine — all fast to my head, you know. 
 
 Wright. If you do not stand still, Miss Tapping, I 
 shall not be able — 
 
 Bess, (who has been cranning her neck to see her 
 hair in a distant mirror). Oh, I beg your pardon, Peo- 
 fessor Wright. Of course you can't. My, that's tight, 
 is n't it? 
 
 Wright, (straightening up). It is very much — er 
 compressed, Miss Tapping. I should say — you will par- 
 don my giving expression to a personal opinion, I should 
 say you were unwise to risk injuring your health in this 
 way. The wrist, as you are doubtless aware, is very 
 sensitive to the . slightest pressure, and — 
 
 (Enter Mam£ Hens^ix, as from the street.) 
 
 Bess. Hello, Mame, did you just come? 
 
 Mame. (bowing distantly to Wright). Yes, and I 
 thought I'd never make it in the world. I'm tired enough 
 to drop. Where's the Chairman of the Refreshment 
 Committee? 
 
 Bess. In the kitchen, spreading sandwiches. Any- 
 thing wrong? (to Wright). I think this one is worse 
 than the other, don't you? 
 
 Wright. I am of the opinion that such is the case. 
 
 (Mame smiles at Millie, and goes out.) 
 
 Millie. Why don't you use a string? A white one 
 would n't show, do you think? 
 
 42 
 
(Enter Galuger, hat in hand.) 
 
 Galliger. Good evening, Professor. Ladies, I hope 
 I see you well. You certainly look the part. Where's 
 everybody? I miss Mary's pleasant smile and repre- 
 hensible grammar. Is n't she going to 'tend the door? 
 It's wide open now. 
 
 Bess. Later on she is, of course. She's helping Babe 
 in the kitchen now. 
 
 Galliger.. Miss Woodward in the kitchen? Can such 
 things be? What's she doing? I labored nineteen hours 
 this afternoon solely that Miss Woodward might get out 
 of the kitchen. 
 
 Millie. She is n't cracking walnuts, I'm sure. They're 
 all cracked. 
 
 Galliger. Please do not speak of walnuts. The sub- 
 ject's a painful one to me. See that thumb? It has n't 
 a bit of feeling. It won't be in commission for a week. 
 —May I ask, Professor Wright, the precise nature of 
 Miss Tapping's trouble? 
 
 Wright, (straightening up). I am buttoning Miss 
 Tapping's glove. 
 
 Galliger. Ah, pardon me. I apprehended it was of 
 a more serious nature. 
 
 (Enter Babe: Woodward, an enveloping white apron 
 over her pretty evening gown.) 
 
 Babe. How many sandwiches do you think I ought 
 tc make? 
 
 Galliger. Enough to go 'round three times. 
 
 Babe. Did n't you have any dinner? — Good evening, 
 Professor Wright. I'm glad you've come. I was afraid 
 you would forget. Where's Mrs. Grindem? Who put 
 those red roses there? The combination's awful! Bess, 
 your hair's coming down. 
 
 Bess. Oh no it is n't. It only looks as if it would. 
 It's all the rage.— Thank you, Professor, (sinks into a 
 chair) . I'm worn to a thread, I declare. 
 
 Babe, (readjusting a vase of red roses). Everybody 
 ought to be here. It's nearly eight o'clock. Mary wants 
 
 43 
 
to wear a long white apron, after we went and got her 
 that cute little round one ! 
 
 Galliger. {who has been talking aside with Millie). 
 Mrs. Snitters has been the ruination of Mary. I felt it 
 would be so. I said to myself this morning, after Mrs. 
 Snitters told us about her family, I said, "Herein do I 
 behold Mary's finish !" — I believe you did not meet Mrs. 
 Snitters, Professor Wright? 
 
 Wright. I believe not, Galliger. That is, I do not 
 at present recall meeting any such — er person. 
 
 Galliger. Yours is the loss, Professor, yours is the 
 loss. I think I can say without exaggeration that I never 
 met a lady of more remarkable talents. I had the pleas- 
 ure, this morning, of an hour's conversation — 
 
 {Enter Mrs. Grindem.) 
 
 "See, see, our honored hostess!" Mrs. Grindenij yours 
 to command. 
 
 Mrs. G. Good evening, everybody. Professor Wright, 
 we are very glad to see you. {She talks with him, apart.) 
 
 Babe. Where is Professor? You people ought to be 
 in line this minute. Galliger, go get him. 
 
 Galliger. I don't think I ought to get him. This is 
 his house. He knows enough to come when he's ready. 
 
 Babe. And the President is n't here. I never knew 
 Frank Sawyer to be on time in my life ! Suppose some- 
 body were to come! 
 
 Bess, {adjusting hairpins). The invitations said 
 eight o'clock. I think we ought to get in line. 
 
 Galliger. You can't get in line without Prof. 
 
 Mrs. G. {turning to the group). Mr. Grindem is 
 dressing. He got home late. Of course the Board had 
 to meet. The Board always meets when we want him 
 home early. 
 
 Galliger. Mrs. Grindem, have you a slicker in the 
 house ? 
 
 Mrs. G. A slicker, Mr. Gurdy? I have n't seen a 
 slicker for years and years. What do you want with a 
 slicker ? 
 
 44 
 
Galliger. I want to borrow it for Miss Woodward. 
 Poor girl, she is ashamed of her dress, and that apron 
 does n't quite cover it. 
 
 Wright, {with unexpected spirit). I think Miss 
 Woodward looks very charming in that apron. I am 
 rather fond of aprons. 
 
 Babe, {beaming on him). Thank you, Professor. 
 I'm glad somebody appreciates the cook. You shall 
 have a rose for that. {She takes one from a vase, and 
 pins it in his coat lapel.) Do you like to spread sand- 
 wiches ? 
 
 Galliger. {zvith more haste than politeness). Oh, I 
 forgot, I promised to help you with those sandwiches. 
 Come on, we may as well get them done. 
 
 (Frank Sawyer appears at the door.) 
 Babe. Frank Sawyer, do you know what time it is? 
 Frank. Time for the party. Why are n't you people 
 in line to receive me? {He comes into the room). Good 
 evening, Mrs. Grindem. You look as if you had never 
 heard tell of a headache, {shakes hands wtih Profes- 
 sor Wright). Is the party about ready to begin to com- 
 mence ? , 
 
 Millie, {turning from Galliger). I think we ought 
 to arrange the line. Somebody might come, you know. 
 
 Bess. Don't let's have any line. They're so stiff and 
 ridiculous. 
 
 Frank. It would n't be a reception without a line. 
 The line is what distinguishes the reception from any 
 other form of merry-making. 
 
 Galliger. The clothes line, you mean, I presume. 
 
 Frank. Speaking of clothes, is that your hat, my son?" 
 
 Galliger. This hat? Why, do you want to borrow it? 
 
 Frank. I thought we might use it for exhibition pur- 
 poses. That seems to be your idea. 
 
 Galliger. Really, Mr. President, I had n't thought 
 about it. I suppose a man may hold his hat in his hand 
 without laying claim to an idea of that magnitude. 
 
 45 
 
(Enter Professor Grindem.) 
 
 Babe, (flying at him). Professor, you stand there. 
 
 Grindem. (bowing to the young ladies). What am 
 I to stand here for, 'way off from everybody? I'd much 
 rather go over there and stand by Miss Cameron. 
 
 Frank, (stepping to Millie's side). Permit me to be 
 your proxy, Professor. 
 
 Gal. Be as foxy as you want to, but don't queer the 
 deal, (to Babe). Go on with the line. 
 
 Babe. We're getting the line formed, you know. 
 You're to stand at the head, (places him in position). 
 
 Gimdem. (meekly). Oh, I am. 
 
 Bess. I think Mrs. Grindem ought to stand first. 
 She's hostess. — Don't you think you ought, Mrs. 
 Grindem ? 
 
 Mrs. G. (who has been talking aside with Wright). 
 Whatever you think. Why not let the President stand 
 first? It's the Senior Class receiving, really. 
 
 Babe, (gazing from one to the other) . It's the Senior 
 Reception, and Mrs. Grindem is hostess, but (an affec- 
 tionate and eloquent pause) Professor is Professor. 
 
 Galliger. Amen ! Professor is Professor, therefore 
 he comes first. First in war, first in peace, and first in 
 the line of his fellow-sufferers. 
 
 Frank. Everybody in favor of Prof.'s standing first 
 in line, signify — 
 
 Millie. That's no way to settle it. We ought to do 
 the proper thing. Plas n't anybody a book on etiquette? 
 
 Galliger. (searching his pockets). Mine must be in 
 my other coat. That's the trouble of having two coats. 
 
 Frank. I have a Complete Letter Writer at home. 
 
 Grindem. (gravely). What we need is a book on 
 precedents. Surely Blackstone has something on the 
 subject. 
 
 Galliger. Ruth Ashmore could put us right. Only, 
 she's dead. Poor girl, she knew everything! 
 
 46 
 
- Bess, (who has been arguing with Babe on the side). 
 The hostess should always come first in her own house. 
 If the President were here, he would come after Mrs. 
 Grindem. 
 
 Frank. I hare not demanded to come before Mrs. 
 Grindem, have i? 
 
 Babe, (scornfully). She means the President of the 
 United States, not you. — Mrs. Grindem, stand first, 
 please. 
 
 Frank, (offering his arm to Mrs. Grindem). Permit 
 me to escort you to the place of execution. 
 
 (Enter Mame Hens ell, and Mrs. Morton, quite gorge- 
 ously got up.) 
 
 Mrs. M. (surveying the room through her lorgnette) . 
 Well, well, are you all here ? Is n't this delightful ! It 
 reminds me of Byron's beautiful lines : 
 
 "There was a sound of revelry by night, 
 And Belgium's capital had gathered all her beauty 
 and her chivalry." 
 
 Galliger. " . . .And bright the lamps shown o'er 
 fair women and—" (with a shrug) an assortment of men 
 and boys." 
 
 Mrs. M. (gazing about delightedly). How pretty 
 the room looks! Good evening, Professor Wright. — ■ 
 How soon will the party come? 
 
 Babe. Before we get this line fixed, I'll wager. Now, 
 Professor Wright, you next. 
 
 Millie. Mrs. Morton ought to stand next to Profes- 
 sor. 
 
 Bess. No, next to Mrs. Grindem. That's the place 
 of honor. 
 
 Frank. Let me go home and get my Complete Letter 
 Writer. It's on page 632, at the bottom of the page. 
 
 Babe, (frowning at Frank). Don't be silly. — Yes, 
 I think so, too. Right here, Mrs. Morton. 
 
 Frank, (offering his arm to Mrs. Morton). Allow 
 me to escort you, Madam. 
 
 47 
 
Mrs. M. Escort me where? I'm not going any 
 place. 
 
 Babe. He means stand in line, Mrs. Morton. 
 
 Mrs. M. In line for what? 
 
 Galliger. Promotion, we hope, Mrs. Morton. 
 
 Mame. Maybe Mrs. Morton doesn't want to stand 
 in line? (She consults with Babe f aside.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, you mean a reception line. Why didn't 
 you say so? I'm afraid I would faint this warm night. 
 Once, at a reception, when I was in line — it was a very 
 warm night, you know ; much warmer than tonight, and 
 very sultry — sticky, — that sort of night. I think it was 
 in July. No, it couldn't have been July, because the re- 
 ception was given for the Governor, and nobody ever 
 receives the Governor in the summer time. Maybe it 
 was in — 
 
 Galliger. (in response to a gesture telegram from 
 Babe). No, Governors are not usually considered re- 
 spectable in the summer. I tell you, Mrs. Morton, you 
 sit here, apart from the riff raff, as it were, on a throne. 
 
 Mrs. G. Yes, Mother, that will be nice for you. Then 
 you can see everything, and not get tired. (Mrs. Morton 
 is duly enthroned.) 
 
 Babe, (taking Wright by the arm). Professor 
 Wright, you must stand closer to Professor. Where is 
 Professor Graham? 
 
 Galliger. (arranging Mrs. Morton's footstool.) He'll 
 be here about nine. I forgot to tell you. He had to kill 
 a man at eight o'clock. 
 
 Mrs. M. Kill a man? Why, what do you mean, Mr. 
 Galliger ? 
 
 Babe. He does n't mean anything, Mrs. Morton. 
 Don't pay any attention to him. 
 
 Grindem (zvith a sigh). I think you ought to serve 
 coffee between elections. I'm getting weak. 
 
 Mrs. M. (from her throne). Poor John! Why don't 
 you lean against something? 
 
 48 
 
Babe. Mame, go get some punch. It's awfully hard 
 to stand so long. — Frank, you next. Right here. {Mame 
 goes out.) 
 
 Bess. We ought to leave a place for Professor Gra- 
 ham and his wife, ought n't we? 
 
 Grindem. Nature abhors a vacuum. 
 
 Galliger. You are referring to President Sawyer 
 here? 
 
 Millie. Listen ! Hark ! I thought I heard somebody 
 coming] (Babe takes off her apron, and everybody 
 grows self -conscious.) There, they've gone past. 
 
 Galliger. My, what a relief ! 
 
 (Re-enter Mame Henseu,, with a tray of punch cups.) 
 
 Grindem. (taking a cup). You have saved my life. 
 I wish it were liquid beefsteak. (Mame goes down the 
 line.) 
 
 Mrs. M. It's a beautiful color. Of course it is n't 
 wine, Mr. Galliger? 
 
 Galliger. Strawberry cordial, Mrs. Morton, with the 
 straw left out. "The cup that cheers, but not inebrates." 
 
 Babe. Frank, you and Miss Secretary next. 
 
 Frank, (to Millie). Miss Secretary, allow me. 
 (They start forward.) 
 
 Galliger. (chants the "I -ohengrin"). 
 
 "Guided by us, thrice happy pair 
 Enter this doorway, 'tis love that invites; 
 All that is brave, all that is fair, 
 Love, now triumphant, forever unites." 
 
 Babe. Galliger, subside. We've got to hurry. Now, 
 Bess, you next. 
 
 Galliger. I'd like to do the elegant, Bess, but I am 
 subsided. 
 
 Bess, (taking her place). Who's going to open the 
 door? 
 
 Galliger. I am. I've been living on that honor for a 
 month. (Mame collects the punch cups.) 
 
 49 
 
Mrs. M. Mercy, you are n't going to shut the door, 
 I hope? We'll all melt ! 
 
 Babe. No, he means he's going to announce the 
 guests. 
 
 Galliger. {stepping briskly to the door.) It is e'en 
 so. Mrs. Morton, I will now give you a little exhibition 
 of yours truly in his Lord High Chamberlain stunt. — 
 Mame > go out and come in as if you were company. 
 (Mame goes, taking the tray and Babe's apron.) You 
 people get in line there. Professor Wright, you're out 
 of plumb. That's better. Prof., if you could look a lit- 
 tle more cheerful, it would enhance the general effect. 
 After all, the occasion is not one for tears, (calls through 
 the door, "In a minute, Countess!"). Miss Woodward, 
 will you please put my hat out of sight? It's a blot on 
 the landscape. — Mrs. Morton, you observe that all is in 
 readiness. The line is statuesque, the ladies admirable. 
 (through the door, "Countess, are you ready?"). Now, 
 here is where I get in my heavy work. (He opens the 
 door with a sweep). The Lady Florabella, Countess San 
 de Faustino, Mistress of the Robes of Her late Majesty, 
 the Queen of Chili Con Carne. (Mame sails in, with 
 Babe's apron for a court train, and carrying a child's 
 parasol.) Ladies and gentlemen, the Countess! 
 
 Mrs. M. (applauding with her fan). Mr. Galliger, 
 you are very funny. 
 
 Grindem. Lady Florabella, we are delighted to wel- 
 come you to America. (Mame goes down the line with 
 an exaggerated elegance.) 
 
 Prank. I kiss your hand, Countess. (The door bell 
 rings. ) 
 
 Babe. There's somebody! Galliger, shut the doorf 
 (steps and voices are heard in the hall). Is Mary there? 
 Listen ! 
 
 Mrs. G. (listening). That's Mary's voice. She is 
 charmed with her part in the reception. 
 
 Galliger. Who's going to take charge of 'em when 
 they come to the jumping-off place? 
 
 Babe. What do you mean? (adjusting their posi- 
 
 50 
 
tions). Stand closer, you people. There. Don't have 
 any gaps in the line. 
 
 Frank. No, let the people have the gaps — if there 
 must be gaps ! 
 
 Millie. Yes, people always look like lost sheep when 
 they come to the end of a reception line. 
 
 Girndem. (sighing). They will probably feel worse 
 than they look. 
 
 Babe. But the line's got to end somewhere. 
 
 Galliger. That's the point. The line ought to melt 
 away, not end with a jolt. What we need is a transi- 
 tional paragraph, as Miss McCurdy would say. 
 
 Wright, (who has been talking zvith Mrs. Grindem) . 
 Let Miss Woodward be the transitional paragraph. 
 
 Babe. But I've got to be in the kitchen at first. Mame, 
 you stand next to Bess, and get them started. 
 
 Mame. (drazving on her gloves). Started where? 
 
 Babe, ("fixing things" right and left). Introduce 
 them to Mrs. Morton, yon know, and — oh, keep them 
 from looking lonesome — keep them stirring about. 
 
 Galliger. And stirred up. Listen! (He listens at 
 the door). I think they're coming down! (The bell 
 rings again and again.) 
 
 Bess. Listen ! There's somebody else ! I wish they'd 
 all come down at once. It's not so embarrassing. 
 
 Babe, (starting out). Remember, Mame, it all hangs 
 on you to get them away from the line gracefully. Keep 
 them moving. — Stand closer, Professor Wright. — And 
 Bess, you must n't budge from the line. — Frank, you see 
 that she stays there. (Goes.) 
 
 Bess. I reckon I'll stay here all right. My gloves are 
 almost killing me. 
 
 Frank, (readjusting his necktie). Oh vanity, the 
 crimes that are committed in thy name ! 
 
 Galliger. (listening at door). There must be a hun- 
 dred people upstairs. I trust you hid your valuables, 
 Mrs* Grindem? 
 
 51 
 
25 1911 
 
 Bess. I'll bet they're coming down in a bunch. Is 
 my hair all right? 
 
 Grindem. {changing his zv eight to the other foot). 
 What inducement can we offer to get them to come 
 down, do you think? 
 
 Galliger. The girls are powdering their noses, I sup- 
 pose. Are you all ready? 
 
 Bess. Now, Mrs. Morton, I'll shove them along to 
 Mame, and you must help her, you know. 
 
 Frank. Railroad them right through. Don't stop to 
 talk, you girls. 
 
 Galliger. No, this is no time to be sociable. > (Listens. 
 Then, with suppressed excitement.) They're coming! 
 The whole bunch ! Fix your faces ! ( The line stiffens. 
 Galliger flings open the door with much eclat.) Mr. 
 Theodore Hartridge and the Misses Hartridge. Mr. Har- 
 rison Taylor. (As the guests advance gravely into the 
 room, a terrific — an appalling! — crash of falling crockery 
 is heard. The receiving smiles freeze, but in an instant 
 Mrs. Grindem, recovering, extends her hand, smiling 
 serenely.) 
 
 Galliger. (aside). "Mistress of herself though China 
 fall !" 
 
 ( As the guests go down the line, very slow curtain.) 
 
 52 
 
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