PS 3545 .H757 S8 1921 Copy 1 The Sympathy of the People BY John Pratt Whitman The Four Seas Company Boston RESERVE STORAGE COLLECTION "TO'*' %0^ THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE A DRAMA OF TODAY BY JOHN PRATT WHITMAN Boston The Four Seas Company 1921 Copyright, 1920, by ^O^ 3^45" John Pratt Whitman v^ P^vS*^ Copyright, 1921, by Thp: Four Seas Company Q<:>PYRiaHT OfFl?g- THE FOUR SEAS PRESS BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A. FEB !0 192l PREFACE The plot of "The Sympathy of the People" was suggested and inspired by the now historic policeman's strike in Boston on September 9, 1919. Like all plays and works of fiction there is no attempt to adhere to facts either in the course of events or in the characters portrayed. In the Boston police strike there was no important love affair, no Lucy Knowles, no Dennis Wiggs, no Grimes, and no banks were broken into. In Boston today there are many, who like Samuel Gompers, believe the disastrous strike was "framed" in order to allow labor to ride to a fall, as it apparently did. No event could have been staged — if it were staged — with greater genius and with results more far-reaching in the struggle between capital and labor. From coast to coast there set in a reaction against labor which did much to carry a conservative president into office, with the illustrious governor of Massachusetts for second place. Of course, a considerable portion of substantial Boston denies vehemently any preconceived plot to injure the labor unions and the labor movement generally. Who is right or who is wrong in the controversy the author does not pretend to say. He saw a possible plot; he took advantage of a great drama enacted in real life; and he shaped a dramatic story in a faraway town which would make a thrilling and absorbing play. Here is an attempt to give amusement; to depict real human characters; to provide wholesome fun; and to mirror deep and absorbing love in artistic and dramatic form — for, after all, "THE PLAY'S THE THING!" "The Sympathy of the People'* A Drama of Today — In Four Acts Cast of Characters: GKIMES Veteran Bookkeeper in Bank LIZZIE Woman of All Work SAMMIE .Village Newsboy LUCY KNOWLES Niece of Banker Knowles, Employed in Bank IRA HATHAWAY Special Bank Officer — Guardian of People's Money ROBERT P. KNOWLES President and Director of Mapleton Bank DENNIS W. WIGGS. . Farm Hand, Timid in the Dark MRS. DENNIS WIGGS Wife of Dennis, and Head of the Family JASON Mill Hand, TONY PATRONI • Mill Hand TOM WALSH Head of Metal Trades Union PRESTON MORTON Manufacturer, and Head of Munition Factory JUDGE DAVID HILTON President of Red Lands Oil Company BILL KRAMER. Editor and Owner of Loganville Courier SPIKE Confederate, Crook DUMPY Confederate, Crook DESPERADO Nameless, and a Bad One PAL • Devil 's Assistant BANK CASHIER MAGGIE The Crook BILLINGS, ANNA SWARTZ, HENNESSY, WIDOW SMITH, ABE MORRIS, Mill Hands JOE MILLER Sheriff CITIZENS, BANK CUSTOMERS, ETC. Scene — The Interior of the Mapleton Bank. Extending across rear is the grill with two cashiers' windows. Through the decorative iron work may be seen the outer bank, two large plate glass windows framing a pleasant landscape. At the right of the grUl is the large safe. At the left end of grill is a gate connecting the inner with the outer bank. Off left, not in view, is front door to which is attached a bell. The sound of the opening of door is important. A banker's desk with swivel chair and other chairs are left. On opposite side of room is a desk and typewriter; a tall desk holding the bank ledgers, and by it is a high stool. There is a door down left, and two doors right leading to offices. It is early morning, the window cur- tains are still down, and a night light burns. The door is heard to open, and Grimes, the veteran bookkeeper, ap- pears and enters inner bank. He is a man of fifty, iron gray, stoop- ing shoulders, prematurely wrinkled, thin, and apologetic. His dress and entire make-up are scrupulously neat. He has a tired appearance. His hat and coat he hangs on a rack, and he then goes to his ledger to work after turn- ing on the electric light above his head. Lizzie, the scrub woman and general cleaner, enters. She has a coal hod in one hand and duster in the other. She is a middle-aged woman, not foreign in appearance, a village personage who has had a common school education, and is the mother of a healthy family THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE of children. She is sympathetic and motherly, and is surprised to see Grimes at his desk so early. LIZZIE — You are at your hooks ear'y, Mr. Grimes? GRIMES— (He is rather deaf)— Eh? LIZZIE — (Louder) — You are in early, Mr. Grimes. GRIMES — My hooks wouldn't bal- ance last night, and I worked till twelve. LIZZIE— (Puzzled)— Balance is it? They are sure heavy enough to balance anything of their size. What do you mean by balance? GRIMES — The books have to show where the money is. If they don't they can't balance. There has to be as much on the books as there is in the safe. There is thirty cents out some- where. LIZZIE — Is that all it is? and you working night and day to find it. Why don't you stop looking in those old musty books for it and search the floor and under the rugs? GRIMES— What's that? LIZZIE — (Loudly, while she gets out her pocketbook.) If it's thirty cents will balance your books, here it is and welcome you are. (Hauds Grimes change.) GRIMES— (Eefusing.) You don't un- derstand, Lizzie; the books show that there is tliirty cents more in the bank than these figures account for. You see — LIZZIE — Oh, if it would make it any easier, I'll take that extra thirty pennies and say nothin' about it, and you can go home an finish your sleep. GRIMES — You can't help in that way. (With a gesture of impatience hands Lizzie a paper upon which many columns of figures have been seribbled.) Lizzie, if you can find where I have missed tliirty cents you might become a bank auditor. LIZZIE — When I was in school they called me the champion adder. GRIMES — (Does not liear what Lizzie has said.) Mr. Knowles is al- ways out of patience when he can't begin the day with the books straight; he gets very angry. It isn't pleasant, Lizzie, not pleasant at all. (Forgets Lizzie, and burie'* liead in books, hears nothing.) LIZZIE— (Sitting in chair left.) Shows by face and fingers she' is trying to add. Aloud.) Four and eight, and six, and two, and — ^My soul, what a lot of money — oh, I'm aU mixed up — and I the grand adder that I was. (Counts on fingers.) It's no use; it's too much to keep in one person's head. There is no balance in these figers, Mr. Grimes. Balance, balance — how can anything balance in this bank any- way? How does your salary balance wit' that of Mr. Knowles? And how does my daily wages balance with all the money in that safe? You say, Mr. Knowles wiU be angry to learn that thirty cents is gone; he hasn't any balance, that's sure. Ten and three is thirteen — there are too many thirteens in these figers; thirteens don't go with me. Eight and six is — there's another thirteen. There's a combination in this bank that don't balance — two and two is four; I like figers when they come like that — There is Miss Lucy, Banker Knowles' own niece, workin' here like a slave. I'll begin at the top and run down — eight and nine is seventeen, and six is (counts slowly) twenty-three — another hoodoo. Miss Lucy is one fine young lady, and she's got two grand young men both trjrin' to balance with her at the same time. That's a three combination that work's bad for one — I wonder which will be the one — twenty-three and seven are thirty — (Takes pencil from Knowles' desk and copies figures on another page of paper). Ned Errickson looks to me as though he was tipping the scales and holdin' Miss Lucy's heart over there in France; there is more glory in killin' folks on the other side of the world than protectin' the bank at home like Ira Hathaway does. Them that stay at home have precious little chance to show whether they are brave or not. If Ira could only brace up and show what's in him he might have a show, bein' he's right here on the ground — these fresh figers are better, I can see 'em plainer — five and five and three. This looks bad, Mr. Grimes (Looks to- wards Grimes, who has not heard any- thing. She goes over to him and speaks loudly.) Do they balance yet, Mr. Grimes? GRIMES— Not yet. LIZZIE — I'm sorry for you, Mr. THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE Grimes; and Mr. Knowles comin' any moment. Why don't you go where they wouldn't drive you so hard over thirty cents? GRIMES — I have been twenty years in this bank, Lizzie, and Mr. Knowles is a just and honest man even if he is hard at times. It is because he is fair that I stay and work for him. I had rather starve than work for a man who isn't square. If Mr. Knowles should ever do anything like that I would send in my — what am I talking about, he never would. Bell rings. Enter Sammie, Newsboy.) SAMMIE — Mr. Knowles' paper. Shall I leave it on his desk? LIZZIE — (Taking up figures again.) I reckon, but don't bother. Mr. Grimes and I are balancing the books, before the boss comes in and gets mad. Eight and four is twelve, and one — (counting on fingers). SAMMIE — If it's addin' iigures, I am the man you are looking for. I'm a star mathematician, second year High. You say it's got to be done before Mr. Knowles comes in or he'll be peeved. All right, give me one of them — those papers. (Takes paper.) Gee, is aU this money in the bank? (In loud voice.) Tliirty-two and fifteen is — are — forty-seven, and eleven are fifty- eight, and sixty -five is — (scratches head). (Outside door is heard to open.) LIZZIE — Oh, there he comes. Now we'll catch it for not havin' the books balanced. Six and six are thirteen, and two more is two more, and nine is nine more, and, oh dear, I'm aU mixed up and don't know which are dollars and what is sense. SAMMIE — Twenty and thirty-two are fifty-two and eighteen are — is — LIZZIE — Twenty-two and two is twenty-four, and — (counts on fingers). LUCY— (Enter Lucy Knowles. She stands smiling and amazed. She is a comely girl with a charming manner, a girl of culture and education, combined with quick sympathies and executive ability. Her first appearance shows her a friend worth having.) I declare, what is all the figgerin"? Is this a regular arithmetic lesson? SAMMIE — We thought you was — were — Mr. Knowles, and the books wasn't balanced, and — LIZZIE — It was like this, Miss Lucy. Mr. Grimes worked here till twelve last night, and his books wouldn't bal- ance, and he came early to see if he couldn't make 'em come out right, and we was helpin' him. He don't know what has become of thirty cents. LUCY— Oh, that's it, is it? (Goes to Grimes, who has not noticed what has been taking place.) Lizzie tells me you are shy thirty cents; can I help you? GRIMES — (Looking up with grati- tude.) I should be most grateful. My books show too much, and I can't put my finger on the trouble. LUCY — (Runs over figures.) These add aU right. Have you yesterday's checks? (Grimes brings package of checks.) (She runs over them.) Here's your mistake. Grimes, and it's really my fault; I meant to warn you yester- day of this check. That is a one, but someone started to make a four, and you copied it as four. Are you sure that your difference is thirty cents? GRIMES— (Relieved.) Thank you, Miss Lucy. You seem to be the one who always pulls me out of a hole. Your uncle never allows excuses. SAMMIE — Hurrah! We've balanced the books. Come, Mrs. Mack, I guess you and I can go now. LUCY — Hold on, Sammie, I want a paper. (Gives five cents. Boy starts to make change.) Never mind the change, Sam; your work on the books is surely worth three cents. LIZZIE — Not much more I guess. SAMMIE — WeU, your figerin' didn't get you very far. LIZZIE — (Nettled.) I was consid- ered the best at figgererin' in school where I went. (Following Sam out, both disputing about their respective merits in arithmetic. Lucy opens her typewriter desk and dusts machine. Ira Hathaway enters from left. Tall, pleasant appearing man wearing the uniform of a special officer. He limps slightly. He is guardian of the bank and has charge of all details of the building. A responsible position re- Cjuiring intelligence and even courage.) IRA — Good morning. Miss Lucy; morning Grimes. (Goes to large win- dows and pulls shades letting in a flood of morning sunshine. He puts out hall light, and then takes his tools and be- gins to fix catch on door into grill. He whistles softly.) THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE LUCY — You are in good spirits. Has the simshine got into your tongue? IRA — Did you ever hear of anyone whistling to keep up his spirits? LUCY — You are a fine actor then, and should join our dramatic club. Our play comes off next week, "The Lion and the Mouse. ' ' What kind of a mouse do you think I'll make? IRA — (Stopping work and coming a few steps toward Lucy.) I don't ex- actly think of you as a mouse, and I've seen you talking to your uncle in a way quite different from a mouse. No; you are not my idea of a mouse, and I ought to know. LUCY — (Looks about with apprehen- sion.) I abominate the little wretches. Do you mean there are mice in this bank? IRA — No, I don't remember that I ever saw a mouse here, but in my pal- ace-de-royal over the shed there are plenty. I think some fond mother has set up a nest in my corn husk mattress, by the soiuid. LUCY — That sounds pleasant, but really I am in earnest about our dra- matic club. Since all the boys went to camp and overseas we have the hardest time to get any men to do the male parts. Couldn't you come to the hall next Thursday evening? IRA — Are you joking. Miss Lucy? AVhat time do you think an officer like me has to join in good times? My job is here every night in the week, and your uncle has told me more than once that I am to trust to no substitute. LUCY — How many hours do you work ansrway? IRA — I am on duty from seventy to eighty hours each week, and I hard- ly know a holiday unless someone re- minds me. LUCY — That isn't right; you ought to have at least one night a week to go to a dance, or to a social where you can forget everything but a good time. IRA — That sounds fine when you talk about it like that, but I have my bread and butter to earn, and then there is mother, so here I am tied to my post with some quiet time to read. The books you have lent me, Lucy, are just like friends. LUCY— Have you finished "Co-op- erative Banking"? I want to read it again. IRA — Yes, I'll go and get it right now. (Runs out door left.) (Lucy reads her paper.) LUCY — Mr, Grimes. (Louder.) Grimes, come here a minute. (Grimes comes to Lucy.) Here is something that might interest you. (Shows Grimes ad- vertisement in paper of audi-phone. He shakes his liead skeptically. Reads.) ' ' The audiphone guarantees a distinct sound, and will bring hearing back to nine out of ten. If given a thorough try it will gather up the minutest sounds and transmit them to the audi- tory nerves. Give it a fair try, and if it fails, return the instrument at our expense. ' ' GRIMES — I haven't any faith in such a contrivance. LUCY — I'll order that for you on trial if you will promise to follow my directions for at least two weeks. GRIMES — If you really want the sat- isfaction of seeing it fail, I'll do the best I can to show you it's no use. I'll go through with it I suppose. LUCY — It isn't a question whether you will go through it, but whether SOUND will go through it, and that is worth trying. It's a bargain. Grimes? (Grimes shakes hands and goes back to books.) (Lucy starts to write order on typewriter.) Wouldn't it be wonder- ful if you could get your hearing. Grimes? (Grimes does not hear.) (Ira returns with book. Gives it to Lucy.) That's my idea of business, everybody having a share and respon- sibility. IRA — It is a wonderful idea. What do you say? Let's start a co-operative bank. You be the banker, and I drum up trade. LUCY — We'll make a specialty of financing co-operative movements. We might get an entire village into one big co-operative company and then — IRA — And then what? LUCY — Be told by the wise bankers like my uncle that we are foolish dreamers. IRA — Suppose he shoiUd, what dif- ference would it make, if an entire vil- lage shared in the good things instead of one or two families? LUCY — I shaU lend you no more books, young man, depend on that. No such idealism has a ghost of a chance of realization. Socialism may be an ideal, but (imitating uncle) men are far THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE too selfish to live on any such theory; as my uncle would say. IRA — I certainly don't see any op- portunity of carrying anything out in this bank like co-operation. The salaries we get show how much your xmcle wants to share his profits with us. LUCY — Don't try to get me into an economic controversy. I hear uncle rave so often over what he calls roh- hery by employes, confiscation of legiti- mate profits by labor delegates, hold- ups, he calls them, that I refuse to take sides. lEA — But they bring more to the bank. LUCY — That is just it; as a banker who takes those savings and loans out money for rates from 5 to 100 per cent, he is not half so angry as he is as part owner in the factory. lEA — How does it make you feel, Lucy, when those factory girls, hardly able to speak English, bring in their wages? LUCY — Many of them are getting more than I do. Uncle says my job is respectable and worth something be- cause of the position it gives me in Mapleton. I had rather be less respect- able and have more money. IRA — That is exactly what I told your uncle, and he grew angry. We bank employes have to take our pay in respectability; about four dollars worth of respectability with every three dol- lars in wages. I have hinted to your uncle, and I have frankly asked him a dozen times to raise ray salary, but he won't do a thing. LUCY — (Turning; and facing Ira.) The trouble with you, Ira, is that you are altogether too meek with uncle. I've heard you speaking about the con- dition of the room he gives you, and I have also heard you putting the matter of wages up to Mm. You don't know how to talk to such a man. What he needs occasionally a good bowling out. Such men do not appreciate meek- ness. I advise you to go at him like you meant business. IRA — Talk as though I woiild strike if he didn't pay attention to my re- quests? LUCY — Certainly, why not? IRA — That's all well enough, but you know perfectly well the reason I'm not in the factory or in the hay field is because I am not physically able to do the work.. What job could I get if I left here? If it were not for mother I might take a chance, but as things are I ha,ve to stick and make the best of it. LUCY — You are too timid, Ira Hath- away, and if you keep on in this mouse fashion you'll never get a raise or a better room. I know that men are the rarest articles in the market just now, and there isn't anyone who could or v/ould take your place. Of course, if uncle wanted to pay mill wages he might get someone, but even then there are few who would work so many hours. You have the whip hand if you only knev/ it and had the courage to face the music. IRA — You have no right to say that I am not brave and lack courage. I'd be in the trenches with Ned Errickson and all the rest of them if they would have accepted me. You know that, Lucy. LUCY — It isn't only in the trenches courage is required. If Ned were here at home he would be finding some way to show the red blood that is in liim. It isn't only fighting at the front a girl admires. The fact is. I can't bear to think of our village boys killing anyone. I wish war would leave the killing out, and I hope Ned wont have to kill any of those poor deluded (shudders) enemy. Just now the world needs courage at home as much as abroad, and it is a scarce article, Ira. MAIL CARRIER— (Outside). Mail. LUCY — There is the mail, bring it in, please, there may be word from Ned. (Ira brings in mail. Lucy looks it over and is disappointed as she finds nothing from Ned. Knowles, the bank- er, enters and is seen for a moment in the rear of the bank. Ira works indus- triously on his lock, while Lucy ex- amines mail. Knowles enters inner bank and proceeds to take off wraps. Talks to Ira without looking at him.) (Knowles is a typical appearing country banker wearing a gray suit. He is gray about the temples and is clean shaven. He is rather thick set, and his every move, look and gesture betrays him to be a money maker and a worshipper of the dollar. When inside the grill he speaks with irritation, im- periously, as an autocrat in his own domain.) KNOWLES— What is the matter THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE With the sidewalk, Ira? It's indecent, absolutely indecent with old papers and leaves right up to the doorway. I should be ashamed to have a customer see that filth. I suppose you know the sidewalk is one of your lookouts? IRA — Yes, sir; I was intending to get right at it. KNOWLES— WeU, do it at once; and hereafter make it one of your first chores — (looking significantly at Lucy) — and postpone your social calls. (Ira starts to make reply, but thinks better of it and goes out front.) (Knowles sits at his desk.) Come, Lucy, let's have the mail. I ought to be hearing from those oil shares. They tell me the Red Lands are beginning to spurt. LUCY — Here are your letters and pa- pers, uncle, and there is one from the Red Lands Oil Company. KNOWLES — (Tearing letter open hastily and reading.) No, Higgins says the big day has not yet arrived, but a strike is looked for any moment. There's millions out there, Lucy, and Judge Hilton is one of the shrewdest financial organizers in the world. I told him once he would carry the earth in his vest pocket some day, and he knows how to handle labor better than any man living. (Discovers postal sticking to another envelope.) (Reads.) "We are in the thick of it now, Lucy, I can tell you " HeUo, what kind of business is this? It strikes me as queer banking. It's from Ned Errick- son; so, ho, and it is addressed to Miss Lucy Knowles. (Lucy takes postal eagerly.) I think it would be better, young lady, if your gentlemen friends and soldiers doing duty in France would address you at home. LUCY — Oh, uncle, Ned has been in a big engagement, and has come through without a scratch and with honors. How wonderful! He must own a charmed life. KNOWLES— (Looking with kindly interest at Lucy.) I am inclined to be- lieve he does own a charmed life, but that particular life may be right here in Mapleton instead of in the trenches. LUCY — I don't know what you mean. Ned and I have never been in- timate, but I do admire him for his spirit and courage. Somehow, I like to believe he wouldn't be rough and cruel like some soldiers I have read about. (Ira has entered and stands silently in the rear, while Lucy is speaking of Ned and bravery. He is evidently much moved. When she fin- ishes speaking he comes down to the banker with determination written on his face, and indicated by his bearing.) KNOWLES— (Taking no notice of Ira.) You needn't hesitate, Lucy. He is one of the finest young men in this town, and with a great future before him. If it's pluck and bravery you like, he's got his fuU share of both. You can take it from me, if he finds himself in a nest of Hvms it will be one sad day for his enemies, or they will find him dead at his post. There isn't a man with his courage in these parts. IRA — May I have a word with you, sir, on business? KNOWLES— (Nettled at interrup- tion, but seeing that Ira is determined, motions Lucy to her desk.) Must we be alone? Would you prefer the young lady retire? IRA — I should like to be alone with you, sir. KNOWLES — (Looks curiously at Ira, and then motions for Lucy to re- tire.) (She takes her papers and goes out, but gives Ira an understanding look as she does so.) LUCY — Very well, uncle, I shall be in the next room if you want me. KNOWLES — (Sorting papers a mo- ment, then looking keenly at the young man in front of him.) Well, what is it? This is a busy morning, as you know, and the mill people will be here with their pay envelopes before long. Be brief. IRA — I want to speak about that room of mine again. KNOWLES— (With rising anger.) So that's it, is it. What's the matter with that room anyway? I'm getting sick and tired of your complaints. That room over the shed is better than most of the people in this town enjoy, to say nothing of the mill hands. I sup- pose you want quarters in a parlor of the Ritz Carlton or some other New York hotel. IRA — No, I do not. I want justice and fair treatment. I make it my busi- ness to guard tliis bank faithfully, and you trust me, and you know I would not leave my post in the face of dan- ger — you know that. THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE KNOWLES — Well, that is what you are paid for aren't you? IRA — Look here, Mr. Knowles, I've been special officer and general superin- tendent of this bank for six years, and in all that time you haven't given me a decent room to live in, and you know it. I'm tired of playing meek. I've asked you to give that room a good papering, to put new matting on the floor, and to replace that corn husk mattress with something more com- fortable. There are lots of mice in that shed and worse in the walls. KNOWLES — Someone has been put- ting notions in your head, and you bet- ter get rid of ideas which wUl make you continually discontented. You have got along pretty well in that room and I guess you can continue without much inconvenience as you are; how- ever, I'll go so far as to send Martha down some day to look the place over and report what she thinks should be done. IRA — (Exasperated.) Mr. Knowles, you have said that to me at least a half-dozen times, but Martha never comes. I won't be contented with be- ing put off any longer. KNOWLES— (Whistles.) You won't, eh? IRA — No, sir, I won't; and now we are talking, I might as well relieve my mind on the matter of salary, too. KNOWLES — You are coming it strong. What's the big idea now? A palace to live in and a hundred dollars a week? IRA — I want a living wage, that's what I want, sir. KNOWLES— A living wage. Oh, I know where you got that phrase. Front some of those waps who aren't worth fifteen dollars a week, but who are pulling down thirty-five a week in the factory. So, the walking delegates have been talking a living wage to you, have they? IRA — I haven't talked to any of them. I don't need to. I tell you I am getting too little from this bank to support myself and my mother proper- ly and in good health. Eighteen dol- lars a week don't buy what it did three years ago, and you know that, sir. My hours are half again as long as the factory hours, and my pay i less. Is that just or right? KNOWLES— Yes, it's both just and right. Wages, my dear young man, de- pend upon supply and demand, and it would be poor business for me to give a man incapacitated to do a full man's work a full man's pay. If you could go into the factory and work alongside the others, you could command their pay, but as you can't, I'm doing you a favor by keeping you in a position that is respectable — a gentleman's position. IRA — I don't care two cents about respectability, as you call it. I want enough to live on, and I want at least one night off in which lo enjoy myself like other young people in the town and factory. KNOWLES— (Getting angry.) I have had enough of this, young man. You better understand when you are well off, and cut out demanding this and that. Suppose your hours are long, your work is largely loafing, with plenty of time to read and talk with your friends. You have a snap, you live on easy street in comparison with real workers and producers. I shall not raise your wages, so get along about your work and let me get to mine. (Starts to look over papers as though interview were over.) IRA — (Stands silent a moment.) I have made up my mind to leave, sir, if you can't see your way to give me a raise and provide better, cleaner quar- ters. KNOWLES — So that is the threat is it? So, the walking delegate has really been talking with you, and whispering his poison in your ear. Very well, you can go when you get ready, and I am inclined to discharge you on the spot. Don't think because the boys are all gone to war, or are working in the fac- tory, that I can't replace you. IRA — By next Thursday afternoon, sir, if you still refuse my just requests, I shall have an answer for you, whether I shall leave or not. KNOWLES— You are a fine type of guardian, aren't you? You have the duty of protecting the people's sav- ings, and because you think help is scarce you talk to me of leaving your trust. You are that sort of a hero are you? All your boasted devotion to duty melts away because you cannot get what you do not earn. You needn't look for anything from me next Thurs- day, so you had better consider very carefully who there is to give you a THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE job, the easy kind of employment whicli one of your disability must have. I think I have said my say ■ — and you (A young country couple enter the bank. Knowles pauses a mo- ment.) You had better think well be- fore you call a strike in the First Na- tional Mapleton bank, young man. It would look well, wouldn't it, in the Logan ville Courier: "The trusted guardian of the Mapleton bank, who for six years has faithfiUly protected the savings of the people, has gone on strike and left the bank without pro- tection." Think it over, Ira. IKA — I have thought it over, and I ask you to do a little tliinking also. (Goes out right.) (Dennis W. Wiggs and Loretta Gil- gum Wiggs stand at cashier's window waiting to be served. They have the awkward appearance of country newly- weds. Both sunburned. They bear their wedding clothes uneasily, and show they are about to take a journey.) KNOWLES — (Going to cashier's window.) Well, well, Dennis and Lo- retta, I suppose the knot is tied, and you are man and wife. DENNIS — (Grinning and giving Lo- retta a squeeze.) We be Mr. Knowles, she's promised to love, honor and obey, and I swore to cherish till death do us part. LORETTA — You ought to have been at the weddin', Mr. Knowles. Mrs. Avery, she fixed up the parlor some- thin' swell; white ribbons, apple blos- soms, asparagrass and red and yeller paper chrystianthums right over where we got hitched. DENNIS — How do you like our rigs, Mr. Knowles? KNOWLES — I can't see, Dennis, the entire effect of your wedding clothes. Suppose you come in and let me have a look at you. LORETTA — Come right in where you keep all your money? Ain't you afraid we'll steal some of it? KNOWLES— I'll take the risk. Step right rn and displ ay yourselves. ( Know] es opens door into bank.) (Dennis and Loretta enter. They are attired in poor taste, with striking bows, ties, stock- ings, etc., not overdone or too gro- tesque.) You are pretty classy. What can I do for you, Dennis? DENNIS — Mr. Knowles, Loretta and I are goin' to see Niagari and to hon- eymoon around them Bridal Falls fer about a week. You see hayin' don't begin right away, and Avery giv us both a week to enjoy married life. KNOWLES — You have come for some money, have you? How much do you want? DENNIS — (With importance.) One hundred dollars — a hundred dollar bill if you've got it. We're goin' it kind o' steep, but mebbe we won't either on us hev another chance for a wedding' trip, and so we are going to hev our fling, ain't we, Loretta? LORETTA — It seems like a heap of money to spend in one week, but, ez Dennis say.s, it's just for onct. KNOWLES— (Goes to safe.) We'U see what we can find. Here's just the bill, right from the United States treasury. It matches your wedding clothes. (Tlie two look at bill with great interest.) Lucy, come see who we have here? (Enter Lucy.) LUCY— What's all this? As I live if it isn't Loretta Gilgum and Dennis Wiggs. What does it mean? LORETTA— (With injured dignity.) I am no longer Miss Gilgum. You are addressin' Mrs. Dennis W. Wiggs. (Bows stif3fiy.) LUCY — Dennis, I congratulate you. Loretta, I hope you will be happy. (Shakes hands.) How fine you both look in s'^our brand new clothes. Come, Loretta, sit down over here by my desk and let me examine your finery. (Lucy and Loretta go right, and the two men left.) DENNIS — I would like to get a look into that big box where you keep all them hundred doUar biUs. KNOWLES — Certainly, come along. (The two examine safe. Loretta also takes a peep.) DENNIS — You must have millions of dollars in that big iron chest. I wouldn't mind hevin what you keep in that cupboard, ha, ha, ha. (Knowles and Dennis return to seats.) KNOWLES — You wUl never get it, Dennis, pitching hay for Avery and milking his cows. Are you getting rich? DENNIS — No, I'm not, Mr. I^owles, and it's damned hard work, too, from six in the mornin' till eight at night, and you can't wear togs like these as you kin in a bank. KNOWLES — How would you like to have a job in the bank, Dennis? THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE DENNIS — It would suit me all right. It would be easier handin' out hundred dollar bills and takin' in the cash than sloppin' the hogs. KNOWLES — I wasn't exactly think- ing about the position of cashier for you because your experience has hardly prepared you for that, but you might make a good watchman if you have the courage. DENNIS — What kind of courage do you mean? KNOWLES — You know, where there is lots of money there may be people about who would like to get it, and who wouldn't care how they got it. DENNIS — (Looking about uneasily.) That's right, Mr. Knowles, I've read of desprate characters blowin' up safes and committin' murder on bank officers. They told me in the post-office yesterday that there are two or three suspicious characters about town, and a-hangin' about the factory. It may be they've got their eyes on this very bank. I wouldn't be afraid in the day time, but I can't stand the pesky dark. I even git the shivers in the barn at night when I'm out very late. KNOV/LES— Of course, you could carry a gun. DENNIS— That would make a differ- ence, but v/hat about Ira? Ain't he fillin' the job all right? He's been here a good many years. KNOWLES — Ira may be leaving next wsek, and I want a real man, a strong upstanding man, one who could handle any intruder in such a way that he would not call again. You are just the man, Dennis; what do you say? DENNIS — (Uneasy and scared over the job.) I'm sorry, Mr. Knowles, but Loretta and I hev set our hearts on this trip to Niagari, and it wouldn't be right to give it up now. I'm much obliged, but they are countin' on me at Avery's to do the hayiti'. KNOWLES— Oh, I didn't mean to keep you from your honeymoon, but suppose I should send for you to come to be here on Thursday afternoon to begin work. How would that suit? DENNIS— (Uneasy.) I ain't got any gun, Mr. Knowles, and I dunno ez I could use one ef I had it. KNOWLES — (Laughing.) That was aU a joke, Dennis. This bank is per- fectly safe day and night. AU the doors and windows are locked and barred. You wouldn't be in the least danger. DENNIS — Thursday would be kinda short for Loretta and me to break up honeymoonin'. KNOWLES— It might be I could let you stay longer, say, till Friday or Sat- urday. DENNIS — I guess I hed better stick to the farm, Mr. Knowles. Fact is, I ain't comfortable in these tight shoes and this derby hat. I b'lieve Avery's cow barn is as far ez — LORETTA— (Who has caught the drift of what has been said) — What are you talking about, Dennis Wiggs? Of course you'll take the job if Mr. Knowles wants you' We can cut our sugarin' off a day or two if necessary. Ef you would feel safer at night I'll stay with you till ye git used to it. I'll show any burglars that Mrs. Loretta. Gilguni Wiggs ain't scared to meet any of them. You'U take the Job, Dennis. DENNIS— Loretta, didn't that min- ister make you promise to love, honor and obey? It looks like you wuz try in' to make me do the obeyin'. LORETTA— Yes, Dernis Wiggs, and it isn't the last time you will obey me if you don't know for yourself what is gcod fer ye. We'll take the position, Mr. IQiowl?,s, and come back Thursday if you say so. KNOWLES — Does that go, Dennis? DENNIS— (Giving hard looks at Lo- retta.) I suppose so ef Loretta hez got her mind set on being a banker. How much is the job wuth? KNOWLES— What does Avery give you? DENNIS — You hev to remember, Mr. Knowles, I've got Loretta to care for now. We couldn't git along on fifty dollars a month and keep. KNOWLES— I'U do the right thing by you and Loretta. What do you say to eighty dollars a month and the two rooms over the shed? If Mrs. Wiggs wants to do the scrub — house- keeping about the bank there will be extra money for you. What do you say? DENNIS — I reckon. KNOWLES— Very well, Dennis, I shall expect you twelve hours after you receive my telegram telling you to come. (Taking roll of bills from pocket.) Here, Dennis, I want to make you a wedding present. There's two dollars to do what you like with. Don't THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE say anything about your new job until after you get my message to come. LUCY— (Taking a or awkwardly.) There was a man in a tattered gown And he was wondrous v/ise; He jumped into a petticoat And camouflaged the town. I see the young man going out with his suit case when I was comin' in. KNOWLES— (Looking up sharply sees that woman is not the regulaf scrubwoman, Lizzie. I don't seem to know you. Why are you here instead of Lizzie? MAGGrlE — (Awkwardly wringing out mop and allowing half the water to run on floor.) You see I hev been stoppin' with Liz for about 5 week. My folks they live in Noo York. It was like this, I-iz went to a party last night and — (giggles) — I guess she had too much cider, so I said to Liz, said I, I'll scrub the bank for you tonight; so here I is instead of Liz. (Gk'gles again.) KNOWLES — See ttat you do your work decently or Lizzie may lose her Job. What is your name? MAGGIE — They call me Maggie. I shouldn't want Liz to lose her job. (Scrubs for a minute.) People hev got a lot a sympathy for your man Hath- away; et least thet's what I hears. ('Scrubs gome more.) It ain't none o' my business, but thet's what they tell me. KITOWLES — No, your business is to get this bank scrubbed and clear out as soon as you can. (Lizzie scrubs en- ergetically.) So they think I have wronged Hathaway, do they? Because I am not willing to raise his pay and provide him with a parlor to live in. They will change thsir minds. MAGGIE — Widow Dean, she's all nerved up for fear somethin' might happen to the bank afore you find a man to take Hathaway 's place. I told her you ought to know what ye are about, but she's plumb skeered. (Works herself toward safe as she scrubs.) 30 THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE KNOWLES— I told her not to worry, that there would be ample protection. If you see her, tell her Banker Knowles has the situation well in hand. MAGGIE — I thought mebbe the new man would be here by now. Perhaps he won't git hero tonight. (Looking keenly at Knowlea.) KNOWLEb — Yd needn't worry. Your business is to get this place clean and then clear out. MAGGIE — If I were a man I might volunteer to stay round here tonight, but I s'pose you don't want no women hangin' round and scarin' off burglars. KNOWLES— Would you dare? I told you the bank is to be protected. MAGGIE — (As she scrubs she exam- ines safe, aufl begins to dust off the combination with great care. Sings again.) There wat) a n.an in a tattered gown And he V"as wondrous wise; He jumped into a petticoat And camouflaged the town. And when he found that he was in He dipped into a pail of suds, And cursed the man who made the duds. KNOWLES — Maggie, you are herft to v/ork and not to sing. MAGGIE— What did you say? KNOWLES — I said you are not here to sing, sing. MAGGIE— (The v.crds sing-sing are too much for Maggie, who nearly col- Kpses against the safe and lets the pail fall to the floor.) KNOWLES— Now, what's the mat- ter? MAGGIE — You said sing-sip.g so kind of sternly, I almost fainted. KNOWLES— I did mean it. Don't sing any more. MAGGIE— (Works a moment and then giggles to self.) KNOWLES — Now what's funny, can't you ksep your jokes to yourself? MAGGIE — I wuz thinkin' how Liz took hsr medicine and pilis. KNOWLES— How did she take them? MAGGIE— In cider. (Giggles.) KNOWLES— You have a low form oi' wit, Maggie. MAGGIE — Thet's because of me pro- fession of scrubbing. Mr. Elnowles. KNOWLES— (Looks with aroused in- terest at this humorous scrubwoman.) So you think my man is right to strikft and leave the people's savings unpro- tected at a time when it is almost im- possible to find anyone to take lu* place? MAGGIE — One hes to live; things are goin' up, and we wage earners hev to stick together. We hev a scrub- women's union down in Noo York. KNOWLES — (Observing the sloppy way Maggie is doing her work.) I thought there must be something of that sort by the way you do your work; the moment the union starts good wo stops. MAGGIE — It's better'n bein' a slave, as Jim Schwartz of the bar- tendsrs' union said to us. KNOWLES — Did your union ever strike, Maggie? MAGGIE — Yep, we went out on a sympathetic strike with the bartend- ers just to help 'em out. You see they'd helped us mor'n once. KNOWLES— Yes, you look as though they had helped yo" considerably. I suppose you know what is going to hap- pen to my man, Ira Hathaway, because he afiiliates with the unions? MAGGIE — He'll get another place. As I told Liz, let him strike when the ira is hot. (Giggles.) KNOWLES— (Disgusted.) You'd do better to talk less and work more. Come, get this floor done. I'll go into the next room; knoch. on the door when you have finished. (Exits with papers. Maggie jumps up from the floor, goes quickly to Knowles' desk, lifts up skirt to get jimmie from hip pocket, and thereby lets audience; into secret of his sex, pries open drawer, takes out card raid copies combination on piece of pa- per. Then replaces card and shuts drawer. Quickly he pulls dress suit cases from under desk and makes sure rhey are empty. He then takes a care- ful look at safe and combination. Then goes to door of oflice where Knowles is. Knocks. MAGGIE— It's did, sir. Takes up J. ail and goes through grill door into outer bank.) KNOWLES— (Con>es in quickly to desk, looko cautiously about to see v,diether Maggie has gone. Draws suit oases from under desk and starts to- ward safe when door bell rings.) KNOWLES— W]:at in ! (Shoves 31 THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE suit cases under desk again; outside door slams as Sammie, 15-year-old high school boy, comes in with evening Courier.) SAM — Paper? KNOWLES — Bring It in, Saminie; any news tonight? SAM— wotliing much, sir. There's an article about Ira Hathaway leav- ing the bank. KNOWLES— (Smiles with satisfac- tion.) What does it say about him, Sammie? Read it to me. SAM — (Eeading m schoolboy fash- ion, stumbling over long words.) Ira Hathaway, special officer for the Mapleton National bank, who has guarded the people's savings for more than six years, has served notice on Banker Ilnowles that he will leave his post this afternoon unless demands for increased wages and better living apartments are granted. As Hathaway has been seen lately in company with union leaders who are known to have radical tendencies, it is generally believed that he is the victim of unwise and vicious cou.nsel. Indeed, Mr. Knowles believes there is a con- certed conspiracy among extremists to form a union of bank employes of Saratoga county, and that a charter has already been granted. While the banker declares he has no prejudice against unions in general he is absolutely opposed to divided con- trol when it comes to those whose diity it is to guard and protect the people's money. Such employes are truly pub- lic servants, and must under no circiun- stances be subject to a strike call. The Mapleton bank holds the savings of hundreds of widows and poor peo- ple who would be left in a pitiful con- dition should anything happen to the vaults. The banker, however, wiU do his best to procure someone in Hath- away 's place and has assured the pub- lic that the situation is weU in hand. Mr. Knowles declared this morning that KNOWLES— That will do, Sam. SAM — Gee! I'm all out of breath. KNOWLES — What are people say- ing about it up town, Sam? SAM — They say you ought to give Ira more money and better rooms, but they think he has no right, to join a union, and they say he ought to stay tiL you find someone to take his place. KNOWLES— Thank you, Sam; here's a quarter for your good reading. (Gives money to Sam.) SAM — Thank you, sir. Good nighty sir. (Exit.) (Knowles is about to take suit cases from under desk, when Mag- gie appears in grill door.) MAGGIE — I am going now; will you pay me for my work? KNOWLES— (Showing disgust at another interruption.) No! What you have done isn't worth anything; your floor is a mess. I'll settle with Lizzie, and you needn't come back.) (Maggie goes out. Knowles goes again to safe and opens it when the outer door bell lings violently.) Oh, hell! Who is it this time? (Presses button which opens front door. Chucks suit cases into safe and shuts safe door. Enter Dennis Wiggs and Loretta quite excited.) LORETTA — How do you do, Mr. lioiowles; v/e thought you would be sur- prised. We got your telegram tellin* us to cum and git here Friday, but I says to Dennis thet mebby we better git home a little ahead o' time, and show you we ain't the kind what let's the grass grow vmder our feet. KNOWLES — I had rather have em- ployes who obey directions, and who do not think they know better than their employer what to do. I sent word to you not to come until Friday, and you didn't see fit to carry out my directions. Is that good business? DENNIS— There, Loretta, didn't I tell you, but you wuz so plum certain. Now mebby Mr. Knowles don't want us and it wud serve us right if^ — KNOWLES— (Evidently much dis- turbed to know what to do with his visitors who have come to upset all his plans.) Did you just come from the train? DENNIS — We walked right here from the station. KNOWLES — Did you meet anyone who knew you? LORETTA — Nope, not a soul, and we didn't even go into the station, but cum right up here hopin' to find you, and v/e are in luck. If you haven't got the rooms fixed up we could go to the hotel for tonight. KNOWLES — Looic here, you two. I wired you not to ccme until Friday, and that is what I meant. I am very much displeased that you thought you 32 THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE knew "best. I really ought to call our bargain off LORETTA — (Beginning to repent to the point of tears.) I am sorry, Mr. Knowles if we did wrong, but we wuz so anxious to take the place that we cum right along, and we have been practicing up, and KNOWLES— Practicing up? What do you mean? LORETTA — Well, you see we met my cousin from Albany, who is a cop, and he showed Dennis how to use the stick and how to handle his revolver. Dennis said he wouldn't be af eared of nobody now, didn't you, Dennis? DENNIS — I didn't make no such boast, but I says that I could give an ^ccount of myself. LORETTA — See, Mr. Knowles, what we got. (Eeaches down in her bag and pulls out a long polished policeman's club.) I guess thet'll stop most any- thing. DENNIS — If it ain't dark; what I'm £i.fraid of is that I cr.s't see what to hit in the d?rk, anf. he might hit me first. LORETTA — Wv never seen Hath- away wearir.' a ^ailge, but my cousin said a badge is as ^cod as a gun some- times, and let's '«m know the law is after 'em.. Ed gave us one of his old ones. Show it to Mr. Knowles, Dennis. (Dennis turns back lapel of coat and displays an old-fashioned police badge. "With stick in his hand and badge in evidence Dennis begins to feel impor- tant and courageous in front of Knowles, and swells out his chest a bit.) KNOWLES — (Looking at his watch. He thinks how he can get rid of Den- nis.) You look all right, Dennis, but the test co^nes when you are facing a gun sometime, held in your face by an- other man. There is not one man in ten thousand who can show courage then. I have a proposal to make to you two. DENNIS — You don't mean you want me to look into the muzzle of a gun? KNOWLES — You came home before your time was up. I know you thought you would please me, but you didn't; you provoked me more than I can tell you. There is an express to Cincinnati in just 15 minutes, but it does not stop here. I'll give you two another day for your honeymoon, and I shall let you have $20 for a real good time. I'll let John run you down to Ridgeway in my car. I do this on condition that you never breathe a word to anyone that you came here tonigiit. When you come back make believe you came by the way of Cincinnati. Will you promise? DENNIS— (Glad of another day's delay.) Of course we will. You're mighty good, and the twenty will come in good. LORETTA — It's a puzzle to me, Mr. Knowles, but if you want iis to go we wiU. KNOWLES— (Taking up phone.) Garage, please? This is Knowles, and I want to speak to John. John, come right round with the car. I want you to take a couple down to Ridgeway to catch the express; you'll have to hurry. (Turning to Dennis.) So, Dennis, you think you are ready for an emergency, do you? DENNIS — Yes, sir, it gives courage to a feller to have a good piece of wood in his hand. I guess I have got as much courage as the next one. KNOWLES — (Taking revolver out of desk drawer.) Do you think you could use that, Dennis? DENNIS — I could learn to bead a man, Mr. Knowles, with a little prac- tice. Is it loaded? KNOWLES — Of course, with six per- fectly good cartridges. I am going to try your courage, Dennis, by pointing this at you. DENNIS — I know you wouldn't shoot, sir, but I — I KNOWLES— Suppose I am a burglar and it is your duty to arrest me. (He backs toward wall where switch button is.) LORETTA— (Getting excited.) Now's your chance, Dennis. Remember George Washington and Napoleon and — go after him. (Dennis does not seem eager to go forward.) KNOWLES — I am going to shoot, I am going to shoot. (Dennis begins to back instead of go- ing forward. Loretta gets behind him and tries to push him forward.) LORETTA — Where's yotir courage, Dennis? Go after him. KNOWLES — (By electric button.) I am going to shoot. ("Pushes button and the bank becomes perfectly dark.) Take care, Dennis. DENNIS— Don't, Mr. Knowles; 83 THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE please don't. Oh, don't shoot. (A chair is heard to overturn and there is noise of scuffling about the room.) KNOWLES— (Turns on lights. Den- nis is discovered over back of safe with coth hands to his ears, the picture of abject terror. Loretta C3ec; him and is completely disgusted.) LORETTA — (Bring£> Dennis down by th ■ arm.) And you said before we got married tha' you would be my hero, my soldier. (P' ks up stick that Dennis has dropped.) DENNIS— (Still weak from fright.) i guess I heel better go back to Avery's, Mr Knowles. Milkin' cows and pitchen hay is my profession, and fighten burglars ain't. KNOWLES — I guess you are right, Dennis. (Auto horn is heard.) But any- way take a day to think it over. Here's the money I promised you. (Hands $20 bill.) Remember, not one word to any- one. There is the machine, you'll have to hurry. LORETTA — (Gathers up her things and starts.) Come on my hero, my sol- dier. (Both go out.) (Knowles, with a sigh of relief goes to safe, opens it and fills both bags with securities and money. Takes out one box, and places a handful of bills in it and places it back in safe. Closes door of safe, but manipulates combination first. Waits a moment and auto horn is heard again. Knowles turns out all lights but one in ?uter bank, goes out and door is heard to close. Auto heard departing, f.nd horn gives sense of distance. After a few moments quiet a tapping is heard at window; it grows louder, and finally a hard blow smashes the plate glass v/indow, but not in sight of audience.) (Three men appear, among whom is Maggie, the crook, in his own man's clothes. One man climbs over the grill ?nd unlocks grill door. Other two come in. They all make for the safe and begin to work with the idea of blow- ing it open. Maggie, the crook, con- centrates on the combination, and in a moment takes ho^d of the handle and opens the door wide.) SPIKE — Maggie, you're a wonder; how did you do it? (All eagerly ex- amine strong boxes in safe, using jim- mies to pry locks open.) MAGGIE — Damn! Cleaned out. Double crossed. I told you. (Boxes and papers are thrown out on the bank floor.) SPIKE — This will cost someone a neat little pile; making fools of us. The guy who swept this safe might a^ left us carfare. DUMPY — Hold on, there is some- thing in this box. (Pries open box and takes out handful of bills.) MAGGIE— What are they? Thou- sand dollar bills? SPIKE — Naw, tenners (counting). Thirty of 'em; a hundred apiece fer doin' the job. Kind of 'em, wasn't it? MAGGIE — Riskin' our precious lives for a hundred! Wait till we make our next call. This job is worth a thousand at least. DUMPY — The old man was shrewd, and beat us to it. SPIKE — (He is the man who held up Ira.) It's a shame I didn't get my fist on any of it when I was so close. MAGGIE — What do you say we go up to the old man's house and make him tell us where it is? SPIKE — Not on your life; he's got the dough where it's safe. You can bet on that. MAGGIE — Suppose I call him up and give him a warnin'? DUMPY — I dare you, Maggie; be a sport. I'll give you a tenner if you do. MAGGIE— lU take the bet. SPIKE — You ain't got the nerve. MAGGIE — (Looks in phone book for number, takes up receiver.) Give me 876 — very important. (Angry voice over phone.) (Maggie puts hand over phone.) He's swearing bloody murder. I'll wait till the storm passes. (In Mag- gie, the woman's, voice.) Is this you, Mr. Knowles? I am Maggie who was doin' your scrubbin' at the bank this evening. What's that? No, I am at Lizzie's. I thought you might want to know what I heard ez I was going home tonight. Ez I cum by a street comer two men was talking kinda low and suspicious, so I hid in a doorway to listen. They wuz saying what a good night it would be to crack the safe in your bank. Yes, honest to God. Yes, I suppose I am foolisli, but I thought you ought to know. What's that? The bank will be adequately protected? (Puts hand over receiver. To com- radees. He says the bank will be ade- quately protected. (All laugh.) I am 34 THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE sorry to hev disturbed you, but I am up givin' Lizzie her pills. (Hangs up receiver.) DUMPY — Now we better make our getaway before the sheriff is waked up. (All elip out.) MAGGIE — (As he goes out looking back at floor). The bank wiU be ade- quately protected. (Exit.) CUETAIN. ACT IV. Scene One Six thirty a. m. Bank is still quite dark. Just before curtain rises distant factory whistle is heard. Mill hands on way to work discover broken win- dow. Voices at first indistinct grow louder and more excited. VOICES — Look at the window of the bank. Smashed — How do you suppose it happened. — Someone crawled in there; look at the footmarks. — Burglars, I bet. (Louder voice) — The bank is robbed; the bank is robbed. ANNA SCHWARTZ— They couldn't break in the safe, could they? JASON BILLINGS — Professionals could do anything. Let's go in. ABE MORRIS — Perhaps the safe has been blown open. WIDOW SMITH— (Beginning to get excited.) Won't someone go in and see if the money is gone. BILLINGS— I'll go in. HENNESSY— Take care you don't cut yourself. (Sounds of entering. Sev- eral people seen entering the bank.) Everjrthing looks all right so far. Look out for yourself, they may be in here yet. TONY PATRONI— Hava they stola my mon? Alia my mon? Let me in. WIDOW SMITH— (Insisting upon coming through broken window.) If my money is gone it will kill me; aU my savings. Oh, my poor children; we may be ruined. ANNA SCHWARTZ— Why don't someone climb over and find out wheth- er the safe has been opened. (As the inner bank is in shadow nothing can be seen. The light in the outer bank casts its wierd radiance on the increas- ing crowd of facees outside the grill.) JASON — I wiU go over if somebody holds the chair. (Starts to climb.) MORRIS — (Pushes against grill door and it swings open. The whole crowd rush in. Abe turns on electric light near safe and reveals floor of bank covered with empty boxes, papers and several empty money bags.) Cleaned out; the safe's empty! HENNESSY— (Picking up empty cash box.) Number 83, that's the un- ion's box, not a cint in it. Sure and there 'U be hell to pay. (To people crowding around.) Stand back can't ye; there's no use pushing like this. Can't ye see it's aU gone? JASON— I'll call up Mr. Knowles. (Goes to phone.) Give me Mr. Knowles the banker. Hurry, please. — This you, Mr. Knowles? I have got bad news for you. Your haak. has been broken into and the safe cleaned out. Yes, sir, the people are frantic. We will wait for you, sir. WIDOW SMITH— I'm a beggar again, and I worked all these years to save. What shall I do? PATRONI— I sava two, three, four hundred doll to senda my wife, and now they stola my mon. HENNESSY— Mr. Morton ought to be called; he's one of the directors of the bank. (Takes up phone.) Give me 15 — ring 3 — I want to speak to Mr. Morton; no, not a minute. Hurry, please? — Mr. Morton, the Mapleton bank has been looted of ivery cint. I thought you ought to know. We found the window broken. In five minutes? All right. (To people.) He will be right over, and he will bring the sheriff. ANNA — I had two hundred dollars, and it took me two years to save, and now where am I? Whose fault is this, that is what I would like to know? JASON — If we can find that out someone will have a big bill to pay. I think I know who is to blame. Hath- away should not have left till Mr. Knowles found someone to take his place. Ira wasn't thinking of us. He wanted a raise, and was willing to leave the bank unprotected to gain his ends. HENNESSY — (Growing angry.) You are right, Jason. Did you see what the Courier said? Listen? (Takes paper out of his pocket and reads.) "Ira Hathaway, special officer for the Maple- ton Bank, who has guarded the people's savings for more than six years, has served notice on Banker Knowles that he will leave his post this afternoon unless demands for increased wages 35 THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE and better living conditions are grant- ed." He did leave, and look at the result. (Continues reading.) "The Mapleton Bank holds the savings of hmidreds of widows — (Widow Smith woei)s) — and poor people who would be left in a piti- ful condition should anytliing happen to the vaults. (The reading stirs up the crowd.) ANNA SCHWARTZ— That's enough for me. I thought he had manliood enough to protect our savings until another watclunan could be found. I said he ought to get more pay, but now look at him; he has ruined us. JASON — He left the bank unprotect- ed, when he must have known there were suspicious characters in town. MRS. SMITH— He must pay me back; I can't lose all my savings; I simply can't. PATRONI— I'll be Got damna; I puncha his head. Here I come to Americ, I work hard, I save aU my mon and then they com and take it rlla. I say damna. (Ncise of approach- ing automobile. Morton and sheriff en- ter. The crowd makes way for the two men, who examine critically.) MORTON— They certainly have made a clean jrb of it, sheriff. SHERIFF MILLER— This looks like a professional job, sir. They must have had the combination, or they would have blown the safe. (Looking at safe.) Here's a place where they began to drill. I don't like to think it of Hathaway, but it looks to me as though he may have given the combina- tion numbers. MORTON— (Wi^u emphasis so all can hear.) It is hard to believe Hath, away would deliberately expose to rob- bers all the savings of those whom he called his friends. But when a m.an tries by threats of a strike to force his employer, then he cannot be trusted; he is a deserter VOICED IN CROWD— Yes, a desert- er. (Lucy Knowles enters out of breath as though she had been running.) LUCY — I have just heard of this aw- ful thing. To think the bank was not safe for a single night. My poor friends, I am heartbroken for you; I know what it means, Mrs. Smith, and Tony, and all of you. Have you any clue, Mr. Miller? SHERIFF— Nothing that would iden- tify anybody, but there is always a chance when Hi Miller is on the job. The thing is to round 'em up before ••-hey spend what they got. HENNESSY— The first thing is to find Ira Hathaway and learn what time he left, where he went and whether he was seen around the bank after he was supposed to go. (Lucy is ab- sorbed in looking over the safe that she does not hear tlie discussion.) SHERIFF MILLER — Does anyone know where Hathaway stayed last night? JASON — Yes, I do; he took a room at Mrs. Shepherd's, and is there yet if he hasn't skipped out, and left town. MILLER— I'U go fetch him. (Exit.) MORTON — Friends, I know Mr. Knowles was trying to hire someone to take Ira's place, but you know how scarce help is. I hardly thought Hath- away was the kind of a man to take advantage of a short labor market. He wouldn't have taken such a step if union leaders had not advised him. Now look at the result. ANNA — He ought to pay us back. PATRONI — I will go to the judga. I will tella him to maka him giva my mon. (Enter Banker Knowles. Ap- pears excited.) KNOWLES— To think that such a thing coiUd happen to the Mapleton bank! It is unbelievable. (Sinks into chair.) HENNESSY — We are all ruined, sor; even the union has lost its funds. (Lizzie the scrub woman enters.) LIZZIE — Is It true that the bank is robbed? And it was you, Mr. Knowles, who told me to save my money and to leave it in the bank. Here I have been slavin' and diggin' for ten years, and never spendin' anything but for neces- sities. KNOWLES— I might have had you stay in the bank last night, Lizzie, but you didn't come and sent Maggie in your place, and I didn't dare trust her. LIZZIE — Maggie, is it? I don't know any Maggie. KNOWLES — Wertjn't you sick last night, and wasn't it you who sent that woman to scrub the bank in your place? LIZZIE — For Lord's sake, Mr. I^owles, what be ye talking about? I was sick, but I didn't send no one, sir. 36 THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE I didn't know the bank had been cleaned. KNOWLES— (Puzzled.) Did anyone telephone to me from your house last night? Speak the truth, Lizzie. LIZZIE — I swear, sir. There's been no one at my house but my four chil- dren and me old man, Ben. That's the God's truth, sir. KNOWLES — So Maggie was a crook. (Sheriff enters with Ira. Crowd looks at him with anger in their faces.) MRS. SMITH — Now he will have to teU us why he left the bank unprotect- ed for burglars to rob. (Ira has a wor- ried and disheveled appearance. He has his suit case.) SHERIFF — There, sir, look at your •work. Do you know you are responsible for this? TONY — (Losing control of himself.) So you leava the bank; you deserta, you leta the burglars loota the bank, you maka me a beggar. I cannot send for my woman. I could killa you, I would (As he rushes toward Ira, Sheriff Miller steps between.) MILLER — That won't do any good, Tony, only make more trouble for you. But it ain't that he don't deserve it. HENNESSY— We aave lost our money, and some of us may have to spend our old age in the poorhouse, and it's you who are to blame, damn you. WIDOW SMITH— Did you think of me and my children when you went on strike last night? You did not, you did not. (Weeps.) IRA — Friends, I can't tell you how sorry I am that this has happened. I know it looks bad. I was told that everything would be aU right, and I gave plenty of warning that I should go. I was told — (Morton breaks in.) MORTON — I know what you were told, young man. Mi. Knowles told me just how matters stood, and how dif- ficult it would be to fill your place. He was in hopes that you would change your mind, and stay on a few days. Why did you listen to Tom Walsh? SHERIFF MILLER— Mr. Morton, I searched his rooms and found this. (Takes literature Walsh had given Ira out of his pocket.) This is what he reads: "Revolution," "A New Eco- nomic System," "The Rebel," "Work- ers Arise," "Own the Industries," "End of the Bourgeois," "Victory and Votes." What does he care for banks, and for those who save? IRA — Believe me, friends, won't you hear what I have to say for my- self? These papers are not mine, but were put in my hands to read. I don't believe most of what is in them. I never stood for revolution. I asked only for what all of your demand, a living wage, and decent rooms to live in. I would have cut off my hand rather than to have had this happen. MORTON — That sounds well, doesn't it? This man leaves his sacred trust, leaves the bank unprotected. He is caught with wild and radical literature m his room. He says it isn't his, but he had it to read, didn't he? ANNA — The Courier called you a de- serter; did you know that? IRA — No, Kramer would not have lied about me. He is fair. I know he sympathized with me, and — ANNA — (Thrusting paper into Ira's hands.) There, read for yourself. IRA— (Reads.) "He shows himself to be indifferent to the welfare of the people of Mapleton; he deserts and be- trays — (Puts hand to head, uncon- sciously touches place where burglar hi-id hit him.) My God, friends! Did Kramer write that? MORTON — It is in his paper, isn't it? He saw what kind of a public trustee you are, and has spoken pretty frankly to his readers. IRA — If Kramer wrote that he has sold his soul and bis press to those who can pay. (Looks meaningly at Morton and Knovdes. Turns to Knowles, who has been apparently numbed by the disaster.) You, Mr. Knowles, why don't you say something? You told me not to worry, that the bank would be protected. Don't let these people think I had no interest in them, and deserted. KNOWLES— (Eises from chair in anger.) How can you appeal to me with this safe staring you in the face? I don't believe you robbed these people directly, but you have betrayed those who have been your friends. If you had cared to you could have learned that I had no one to take your place. I did think I had a man engaged, but no one came. I stand for law and or- der, and that is what the citizens of this coimty stand for, if I know them. 37 THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE I'll have no union dictating over my head when it comes to the safety of the people's savings, and you will find that no hank will tolerate the kind of Independence you believe in. I made a mistake in not staying here in the hank myself last night, and I shall be the one to suffer, because so long as there is breath in my body I shall work to pay back what has been taken. I shall not look for one cent from you though we know you are morally responsible. The people are right. Kramer was right. We bankers and manufacturers, yes, and publishers, too, are not going to let such as you and Tom Walsh run this country. Understand that. You will find every sane and good American lined up behind us in a government based on law and order. Now you can go, and I think these people will agree the sooner you get out of this town the better it will be for yoii. No one will give you a job. You thought you would have the whole community with you and against me. You have played your cards and lost. I should have found ways of improv- ing your condition if you had re- mained, but now wherever you go they will point to you as one who deserted his trust. Hathaway, you have lost your posi- tion, the respect and confidence of the public, and your friends here in Maple- ton. You find yourself absolutely alone. (Lucy who has been in the back of the crowd scarcely noticed now breaks through and takes her stand by Ira's side.) LUCY — No, not alone. Uncle. I am going with him. Friends, this man has asked me to be his wife, and I am proud here and now to tell him before you all who are ready to tear him to pieces that I shall be honored to live and work with him. (Crowd amazed, Ira at first astonished and then over- whelmed.) IRA — Lucy, do you mean that? (Gras]>s lier liand with emotion.) KNOWLES — You can't mean it, Lucy. You have lost your mind. LUCY — No, I was never more sane in my life, but I begin to think it is you who have gone mad. No one feels worse about what has happened than I do, but, friends, it was not Ira's fault. It may be hard to make you see it now, but some day you may under- stand there has been some wicked trickery here somewhere. Do you think he willingly left this bank where he has been so long? I tell you within a few days he risked his life to save this bank and your money, but he is too modest to say anything about it. It was not Tom Walsh who advised Ira to ask for more wages and to de- mand better rooms to live in; it was I. Yes, I told him it was not manly to go on year after year without making a fight for an American standard of liv- ing. (To Knowles) — Why was the bank left unguarded last night. Uncle? You say you were careless; were you not — it is hard for a niece to say it — but 1 think you were criminal. You told me only yesterday the bank had adequate protection. (To the people) — You turn against Ira as though he were a thief, but he is the victim of a power strong enough to crush you if you make great efforts to improve your condition. If you are not meek and contented in your work, you, too, may be called radical and dangerour. (To Uncle) — You make a mistake, sir, to believe you can continue to de- ceive the people in this way; you know in your heart you could have prevented this disaster. KNOWLES— (Stepping forward al- most beside himself with emotion.) Lucy, I am your uncle, your employer and I forbid — LUCY — (Breakins^ in) — Just one mo- ment and I am through. You are no longer my employer, and I am ashamed to call you my uncle. You have done your best to ruin this man in order to carry out some larger issue, which you think vital to your business. You have apparently succeeded. But you are taking a foolish course. You have succeeded in making at least two peo- ple more radical than they would have thought of being. You have made me believe there may be a better sys- tem than one which must stoop to such methods as you are willing to use. WIDOW SMITH— But aU this fine talk don't bring our money back. (Crowd joins in.) CROWD — Naw, talk isn't money. 3S THE SYMPATHY OF THE PEOPLE Let Hathaway bring our savings and then you could give us fine words. HENNESSY— Ira left the bank when there was no one to take his place; you can't get around that, Miss Knowles. You can't talk to people who are ruined; it's money we want. KNOWLES — (Coming toward Lucj' as though to take her by force) — Lucy, you are crazy; I won't let you go with this man. I teU you — IRA — (Stepping m front of him.) Stand back, Mr. Knowles. You have no legal hold over this girl. She is a free American citizen and master of her own labor. If she has made up her mind to go with me, you and all the bankers in the country can't prevent her. (To people) — You won't under- stand. I cannot blame you, perhaps, but the time may come when you will learn who the real culprits are, and who are your true friends. (To Knowles) — You say I have lost, do you? You have turned public opinion against me. It looks as though you had won your game, but the day will come when the truth, like murder, will out. When you say I am alone you make a mistake. I shall take with me out of this town the best and strongest heart in it. I have gained the love and sympathy of one I value a hundred times more than my job here, and the respectability you, Mr. Knowles, thought you conferred on me. I have lost much here in Mapleton, but I have gained a new sense of man- hood, of American independence, of be- lief in myself. I am ready to face the world now. Come, Lucy, we'll leave this town where we are not wanted. Some day there will be another shuJfile to the cards, there will be another chapter to the story and another scene to the play. Come, Lucy, there is a mother wait- ing for us. (Lucy and Ira go out.) TONY — (Who has held in as long as he could, not understanding what was said.) But arn't you a-goin' to giva back my mon? I have lost alia my savings, you leta me be robbed. WIDOW SMITH— Following Ira al- most in hysteria.) Are you going off and do nothing about our money? You don't think of us. HENNESSY— We won't let 'em get away so easy. We will go to the sta- tion with them; then perhaps we may find out where our money is. CROWD— (Following out of bank, growling and behaving as though they thought Ira could teU them where their money is. It looks threatening for Ira.) SHERIFF— I better go along and prevent trouble; I don't want any bloodshed. (Exit.) (Knowles and Morton left alone in the bank.) MORTON— The Judge is a wonder, Knowles. Did you ever see anjrthing so perfect. When people are aroused that way they never reason. They can be led like crazy sheep anywhere. We must get to the papers and send this story to New York and all over the country. As the Judge predicted, the first blow is given, and it should be only the beginning of a whole series of de- feats. They will hardly strike in my factory very soon. This is the biggest thing I ever saw pulled off. KNOWLES— I am glad you can feel that way, Morton. But I — I really loved that girl; why, she was like my own daughter. I may have been hard on her at times, but it was for her good. I suppose you know Grimes gave in his resignation. MORTON— No, you didn't tell me that. KNOWLES— He heard too much of our plans that day. He promised to keep secret, but he left me. This be- gins to look like an empty victory for me. I am growing old, and I am not sure I like to pull the Judge's chest- nuts out of the fire for him. (Telephone rings violently.) Answer it, Morton. I hope nothing has happened to Lucy. (Morton puts received to his ear. The news he hears puts a look of horror on his face. He drops receiver.) MORTON— My God, Knowles; Kramer has shot himself. CURTAIN. The End. 15 (Copyright, 19K-.) 39 %t? LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 873 975 6