t U/3 Kr fPS 3539 .U13 V5 Copy 1 i A PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS THE VILLAGE LAWYER BY ARTHUR LEWIS TUBES ^ PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA SHOEMAKER'S B£ST SELECTIONS For Re^diii|(s mid Redto^ttont No*. I to 27 Now Mkcb 0«aib«t* • » • 90 €^tli •• .. •• • . . St Teachers, Readers, Students, and all persons who have had occasion to use books of this kind, concede this to be the best series of speakers published. The different numbers are compiled by leading elocution- ists of the country, who have exceptional facilities for securing selections, and whose judgment as to their merits is invaluable. No trouble or expense i? spared to obtain the very best readings and recitations, and much material is used by special arrangement with other publishers, thus securing the best selections from such American authors as Longfellow, Holmes, Whittier, Lowell, Emerson, Alice and Phoebe Gary, Mrs. Stowe, and many others. The foremost Eng- lish authors are also represented, as well as the leading French and German writers. This series was formerly called "The Elocution- ist's Annual," the first seventeen numbers being pub- lished under that title. While the primary purpose of these books is to dupply the wants of the public reader and elocution- ist, nowhere else can be found such an attractive col- lection of interesting short stories for home reading. Sold by all booksellers and newsdealers, or mailed upon receipt of price. The Penn Publishing Company 226 5. nth Street, Philadelphia The Village Lawyer A Comedy Drama in Four Acts BY Arthur Lewis Tubbs Author of "Farm Folks," "Home Ties," "The Fruit of His Folly," "The Finger of Scorn," etc. PHILADELPHIA THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 1914 />^ /-. '/ Copyright 1914 by The Penn Publishing Company FEB -4 1914 The Village Lawyer CAST OF CHARACTERS Set^i Barrett the lawyer. David Con ANT a political '^ boss'' James Ferguson his right hand man. Alan Spencer a su??imer boarder. Sam Dill a much married man. Dan Bright learning to be a lawyer. Helen Conant David's daughter. Isabel Underwood from gay Broadway. Angie Barrett sister of Seth. Mrs. Dill not afraid to speak her mind. Lobelia a household factotum. Time of Playing. — About two hours and a half. SYNOPSIS Act I. — Seth Barrett's office, pn an afternoon in August. Love and poHtics. f Act n. — Same as Act I, about a week later. The letters. Act in. — Home of Seth Barrett, the next evening. The heart of a woman. Act IV. — Same as Acts I and II, the following day. The winning hand. NOTICE TO PROFESSIONALS This play is published for the free use of amateurs only. Professional actors or companies wishing to produce it in any form or under any title are forbidden to do so without the consent of the author, who may be addressed in care of the publishers. STORY OF THE PLAY Seth Barrett, a young lawyer, is running for district attorney against David Conant, a political '* boss " of long stand- ing. Conant is incensed at Seth's refusal to withdraw his name from the ticket. Being unscrupulous and un- relenting toward those who thwart his purpose, he commands Seth, who is desperately in love with his daughter, Helen, to cease paying his attentions to her. Seth, early in his college career, sowed a few wild oats and became acquainted with gay Broadway and its habitu6s. He soon awoke to the folly of it all and quite forgets the incidents associated with that period. In some way, however, Conant learns of this, and ne- gotiates with an actress, who knew Seth at this time, in an attempt to make public a greatly magnified account of Seth's past, in order to injure him politically. But despite Conant' s iron will and underhanded methods, love finds a way. Seth is not easily frightened, is firm in his purpose, and plays the game so fairly that Co- nant becomes ashamed of his actions and relents. Inter- woven with the stormy courtship of the village lawyer, a quieter, but none the less earnest, romance runs its course. COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS Seth Barrett. A good-looking, manly young country lawyer, about twenty-eight or thirty, of a jovial, easy- going disposition, but with plenty of vim and spirit. Well educated and mentally keen and sharp-witted. Not easily ruffled or frightened, but still whole-hearted and sympathetic. He wears a plain, neat summer business suit ; may be the same throughout, or a light suit in the first, second and fourth acts and a dark one in the third. David Conant. Typical rural political leader and boss, about fifty years of age ; short, stockily built ; sharp eyes, stern countenance ; severe, unscrupulous and un- relenting toward those who cross his will. Wears plain business suit. James Ferguson. Might be tall and thin, in contrast to Conant, of about the same age. A cringing sycophant, occasionally daring to " speak up," but evidently afraid of Conant, and in his political power. Plain summer suit. Alan Spencer. Dapper young city fellow, of about twenty-three or thereabouts ; handsome, well dressed in neatly fitting summer clothes, with rather fancy shirts and neckties, but all in good taste. He is of the somewhat ''sporty," flashy type, accustomed to the lights and the life of the big city, but by no means fast or offensive. Should be in the good will of the au- dience. Sam Dill. Little old man, much devoted to his domineer- ing wife, and willing to bear all she puts upon him for the sake of an occasional smile. He is about sixty, with thin gray hair, beard or chin whiskers. Comic rural type, without being a caricature. Wears plain, somewhat shabby and none too tidy suit. May be a little better dressed in Act III. Dan Bright. Smart boy of fourteen or fifteen, with all of a real boy's fondness for exciting reading and alhleiic sport. Active, a bit " fresh," but the kind of youngster one likes. Neat suit, showing something of rough usage. PROPERTIES Helen Conant. Refined, attractive girl of about nineteen, rather delicate and timid, showing the effect of severe home discipHne, but withal sweet and winsome. Pretty summer costumes, not elaborate. Isabel Underwood. Tall, stately young woman, some- what past the point of girlhood ; handsome, of a rather bold and conspicuous type of beauty, but not without a suggestion of gentleness and refinement. Evidently the victim of influences and surroundings not conducive to the development of the finer qualities. She wears two or three different costumes, all rather elaborate and fancy, with showy hats, flowers, some jewelry, parasol, hand-bag, etc. Angie Barrett. Ingenue character 3 pretty, vivacious girl of seventeen or eighteen. She wears simple but at- tractive and becoming light summer costumes, hat, etc. Mrs. Dill. Character part. Middle-aged woman of vil- lage gossip variety ; talks very fast, has quick, ener- getic movements. Somewhat '' bossy " and domineer- ing, but not disagreeably so. For comic effect may be considerably larger than her husband — or vice versa, he being much the larger, making her authority over him the more funny by contrast. She is plainly dressed, in first act in ordinary calico or gingham. Acts II and IV, much the same. Act III, a better dress, with a touch of color. Small hat, with feather ; comical efl'ect. Lobelia. Colored character part. Stout, "squatty" figure; the jovial, lovable "old mammy" type. Cal- ico dress, apron, etc., as appropriate to time and scene. PROPERTIES Law books. Cheap, paper-covered dime novel. Calendar, several legal posters and notices on wall. Papers, legal documents, etc., on desk and in drawers. Telephone. Waste paper basket with contents. Pieces of money. Cigars. Postage stamps. Small bundle of letters, stamped, addressed and opened, tied together with string or ribbon ; several other letters similar in size and appearance, also stamped and addressed, but un- opened. Dining-table, white cloth, red spread, few dishes. Broom. Fancy work. Palm leaf fan. Dia- mond engagement ring. Several grocery store packages. 6 SCENE PLOTS Acts I, II, and IV SCENE. — Seth Barrett's Law Office. Entrances r, and L. Window in flat, c. Desk near window, and bookcases up r. and l., where convenient. Chairs on both sides of desk, and in other parts of stage. Act III. Combined dining and living room in home of Seth Barrett. Well furnished, with easy chairs, couch, etc. A dining-room table l. c. Entrances r. and l. The Village Lawyer ACT I SCENE.— /y^/;? roomy the law office of Seth Barrett. Door to street ^., to afiother room l. / window in flat. Desk up c, near window ; large easy chair near it, several other chairs about stage ; law books on desk and shelf or bookcase; calendar, legal notices, etc., on wall; the typical furnishings of young lawyer' s office in country town. Discover Dan Bright seated in easy chair, with feet on table, asleep. On his lap is a large law book, inside of which is a dime novel. Door and window are open. After pause enter Mrs. Dill, r. ; she stands a moment regarding Dan. Mrs. D. Say ! Wake up. ( Goes and rouses Dan, notic- ing dime novel?) You lazy thing, why don't you wake up 'n* tend t* business ? Dan {waking, sleepily). Huh? What? {Recognizes Mrs. D.) Oh, how do. Mis' Dill? Where'd you come from? {Rises, closing book with novel inside.) Mrs. D. What difference does it make where I come from ? What I want t' know is, where' s Seth ? 1 want t' see him. Dan. You mean Mr. Barrett ? Mrs. D. I mean Seth Barrett, that's who I mean. Land, T guess you needn't think I'm goin' t' start in callin' him ''Mister," if he is a lawyer 'n' runnin' for office. I guess I've known Seth Barrett all his life, sence he was a baby, 'n' his folks b'fore him, 'n' I ain't goin' t' start in callin' him " Mister " at this late day. Where is he? Dan. I d' know, exactly. Went down the street a while ago. Said he'd be back in half an hour. More 'n that now. THE VILLAGE LAWYER Mrs. D. 'N' he left you t' run things, I suppose ? A pretty one you be, — read'n' dime novels. Oh, I saw it. Think you'll learn t' be a lawyer read'n' that trash ? Dan. Well, law's too dry. Have t' take it in small doses, 'r it'd choke me. Anything I can do for y', Mis' Dill? Mrs. D. You? The idee! I guess they ain't. I want t' see "Mister" Barrett — on legal business. (^To herself , with determination?) I've stood it jest as long 's I'm goin' to. Dan. Well, then set down to it. {Places chair r. c.) Here's a chair. Mrs. D. Don't you get impudent, young man. I'll tell Seth Barrett I saw you read'n' that dime novel. {She sits.) Dan. 'Tain't a dime novel — only cost a nickel. Besides, he wouldn't care. Reads 'em himself. Mrs. D. Likely story, that is. A lawyer read'n' dime novels ! Dan. Sure. He kep' mine the other day when I wanted it. Said it was great. (Shows her novel.') Look — *' Perfidious Pete ; or, the Bandit Band of Bloody Gulch." Don't that sound exciting? Mrs. D. It sounds scandalous, for a boy like you t' be storin' his mind up with. Seth Barrett ought t' have more sense. I guess if the Democrat c'mmittee knew he reads that trash ! Goin' t' run for District Attorney, I hear ? Dan. Well, if he does he'll get 'lected, spite o' ''Perfidi- ous Pete," I'll bet. Mrs. D. Huh ! I guess "Perfidious Pete" won't haves* much t' say about it as Dave Conant will. Of course, I'd like t' see Seth get it, — but Dave Conant ! He's lord of all he surveys around here, 'n' when it comes t* politics — well, y' might as well try t' beat — I d' know what — 's him. {Pises, restlessly.) But I can't hang around here all day. I come on business, 'n' I should think he'd ought t' be here t' tend to it. Dan. Sure there's nothing I can do. Mis' Dill ? Mrs. D. I guess not ; not unless you grant divorces. Dan. Oh ! You want another divorce — from y'rhusban' ? Mrs. D. Land, who would I want it from ? Think I want lO THE VILLAGE LAWYER a divorce from the town pump ? You'd make a pretty lawyer, you would. As for *' another," what do y' mean by that? Ain't had one yet; but I've made up my mind to get one now. I've stood his shiftlessness as long 's I'm goin' t'. (Angie Barrett appears at window ^ putting head in.) Angie. Good-morning. How d' do, Mrs. Dill? Hello, Dan. Seth in ? Dan. Nope. Out. Be back in a minute. Come on in. Angie. All right, I will. {Disappears.) Mrs. D. Pretty gay piece, if she is his sister. Guess he ain't none too strict with her. {Enter Angie, r.) Angie. Why, Mrs. Dill, I'm surprised to see you here — in a lawyer's office. No legal business, I hope ? Mrs. D. Well, if it is, that's my business, ain't it ? Angie. Why, of course. Excuse me. I didn't mean to pry into it. I was only joking. Mrs. D. Well, I guess a divorce ain't no joking matter. Oh, yes, you might 's well know — it ain't no secret, 'n' I'd jest as soon it be told, seein' it's come to it. I've stood it jest as long 's I'm goin' t'. Me 'n' Sam's got t' part. Angie. Oh, Mrs. Dill, I'm sorry to hear that. I always thought Mr. Dill such a nice man. Mrs. D. Oh, you did ! Well, bein' nice don't buy bread 'n' butter 'n' pay taxes. I'd ruther a man 'd have some gumption 'n t' jest be '' nice." Angie. Why — yes ; but— really, don't you think it could be patched up Mrs. D. No, I don't. It's be'n patched 'n' patched, till they ain't room for another patch. No, I've made up my mind 'n' I mean t' have it. I've stood it long enough. Dan. Don't blame y*, Mis' Dill. A man as lazy as your husband is Mrs. D. Well, I guess it ain't your place t' criticize him, a little upstart like you. Huh ! You'd better look t' home. Dan. Whew ! II THE VILLAGE LAWYER Angis. There, Dan, now will you be good? But I'll be going, and stop on my way back. I'm just going down to the post-office. Mrs. D. S'pose you expect a letter from that city feller. Angie. M'm — well, if I do, it'll be my letter, so you needn't worry about it. (^Laughs mischievously and exits R.) Mrs. D. If she was my girl, I'd give her a good spankin'. Such impudence. {She goes up to window, looks out totuard u Dan is r., by door.') I declare, here comes Dave Conant. Looks like a thunder-cloud, too. I wonder what's up now. Dan. Oh, I suppose something ain't gone t' suit him. If y' cross y'r leg the ways he don't think y* ought to, he gets on his ear. S'pose he's heard about Mr. Barrett's running for District Attorney. Mrs. D. Mebbe that's it. Well, I guess he can't scare Seth Barrett. Dan. You bet he can't. He'll try it, though. (David Co'i^K^i: passes window ; glances in, then enters^.) David {to Dan). Where's your boss ? Dan. You mean Mr. Barrett ? David. Of course I mean Mr. Barrett. Who else should I mean ? Where is he ? Dan. I d' know, Mr. Conant, jest exactly. He went up the street. Be back soon, I guess. David. Well, I want to see him. {Notices Mrs.!}.) Oh, good-afternoon, Mrs. Dill. Patronizing the law nowa- days ? Mrs. D. {seated I., c). Mebbe. Be you? David. Well, if I am, that's my business. Mrs. D. And if I am, that's my business, Dave Conant. Guess I've got jest as much right here as you have. {He glares at her.) Oh, you needn't think you can scare me, if you be the richest man in the county 'n' think you own everybuddy around here jest b'cause you got a little money. Good land, I knew you when you didn't have a cent — 'n* I d' know's you would have now 'f you'd been very p'tic'lar how you got it. David. Say, see here, my fine woman, you'd better be 12 THE VILLAGE LAWYER careful how you let your tongue run. Even a prover- bial gossip may go too far. Mrs. D. So? Well, if I'ln *' proverbial," let me give you a proverb : " Give a rascal rope enough 'n' he'll hang himself." That's a good one for you t' think over, I reckon. David. Pooh ! Even an insult from you isn't worth noticing. (T**:? Dan.) I'll be back. (^Goes -r.) Dan. All right, Mr. Conant. I'll tell him you was here. (David, r., is about to exitj when he meets Seth Barrett, who enters breezily. David comes back to r. c. ; Seth pauses c.) Seth. Why, how d' you do, 'squire ? Glad to see you. And Mrs. Dill, too. My, but I am honored. (To David.) Won't you sit down ? David. No, thanks. Haven't time. Can say what I have to say standing, just as well. Only I wish to speak to you in private — (glancing meanifigly at Mrs. D.) if it is convenient ? Mrs. D. (fiot stirrifig). I was here first. " First come, first served." That's another good proverb. David. But, madam, I have important business. Mrs. D. Well, good land, don't you s'pose I can have im- portant business, too? I s'pose yours is politics. You've heard Seth Barrett is goin' t' run for District Attorney on the Democratic ticket, 'n* you've come t' see 'f you can't scare him out of it — or buy him off. Don't you let him do it, Seth. David. Madam Seth. Why, Mrs. Dill, I Mrs. D. Don't <' Madam" me, nor '^ Mrs. Dill" me, either. I may be a woman, but I know a thing 'r two, and one of 'em is, that some men think they can run the universe, but sooner 'r later they get their come- uppance. I come here t' see you on legal business, Mr. Barrett, *n' — I want t' speak t' you in private — (with a defiant look at David) '' if it is convenient." (David grunts^ angrily, turning away in disgust. Seth bows politely.') Seth. Certainly, Mrs. Dill. I will ask the 'squire to wait. I shall be pleased to have you as a client. 13 THE VILLAGE LAWYER Mrs. D. Well, I d' know's I'm a client, exactly, but I want {Looks at David again, meajiingly.') I'll tell you what, when we are alone. David. Of course, if I am intruding {Goes to r.) I'll call back in a few minutes, Mr. Barrett. Perhaps by that time you will be at liberty. Mrs. D. {rising^ You needn't hurry yourself. What I've got t' say'll take more'n a few minutes. (David smiles superciliously and exits r.) Dan. Gee ! You talked right up t' him, didn't y' ? Mrs. D. Of course I did. He scared his poor, meek little wife t' death, 'n' is makin' life miserable for that daughter of his — 'n' tryin' t' run everybuddy he comes to — but he needn't think I'm afraid of him. Thank goodness, I ain't his wife. But if 1 was By the way, Seth {looking at Dan), I said *' alone," y' know. Seth. Certainly, Mrs. Dill. {To Dan.) Dan, you can go for a while. Be back in half an hour. Dan {getting hat and going r.). All right, Mr. Barrett. {Mischievously, as he gla?ices at Mrs. D.) I'll go down to the store *n' g't that new dime novel we was talkin' about — **The Murders in the Morgue; or, the Midnight Massacre " {Exit, R.) Mrs. D. My, but that boy's a piece. Says you read them dime novels. I should think a lawyer Seth. Ho ! 1 just glanced at one, one day, and he caught me at it. Ever since then he accuses me of reading them. Won't you be seated again, Mrs, Dill, and tell me what I can do for you ? Mrs. D. Thanks. (5//^$-.) I want a divorce. I've stood it jest's long as I'm a-goin' t*. He's the laziest, shifflesest thing 't ever lived, 'n' I'm tired of it. Seth. What — again, Mrs. Dill ? You know, this is about the seventh or eighth time we have talked this matter over. Don't you think Mrs. D. I don't think, I know — that I mean it this time. I know you've patched it up every time b'fore, 'n' made me overlook it 'n' forgive him, but this time he's gone too far. I ain't goin* t' put up with it no longer, and that's all they is about it. 14 THE VILLAGE LAWYER Seth {seated r. c, she c. He regards her with patient good humor). M'm — what has he done now? Mrs. D. It ain't s* much what he's done, it's what he don't do. I want that divorce, 'n' I mean t' have it. If you won't git it for me, I guess they's other lawyers Seth. But you will have to tell me the circumstances, Mrs. Dill, or how can I proceed ? We have to have grounds, you know^ — and evidence. What has Sam done to make you think you are entitled to a divorce from him ? Mrs. D. Entitled ? I guess I'm entitled to it, fast enough. He jest sets around 'n* smokes his pipe, 'r whittles, 'n* won't hardly get a pail o' water 'r bring in an armful o' wood when I tell him to Seth. M'm — did you ever try asking, instead of telling, Mrs. Dill ? Mrs. D. Huh ! I guess you needn't think I'm goin' t' coax Sam Dill t' do anything. Don't I keep boarders, 'n* do sewin' when I have time, 'n' work my fingers to the bone, 'n' then — you expect me t* coax. I'd like t' see m'self ! If I coax, it'll be with the broom-handle or the roll in' pin. Seth. That's just it, Mrs. Dill. You pursue the wrong tactics. Many a man can be persuaded when he can't be driven. Mrs. D. Not Sam Dill. 'T any rate, I ain't the coaxin' kind. No, sir; I'm sick 'n' tired of it, 'n' I've stood it jest as long as I mean to. I want that divorce, 'n' Seth. On what grounds ? Incompatibility of temper ? Mrs. D. No, none of y'r high-soundin' terms — ^jest plain shiftlessness 'n' lack of gumption. How much'U it cost? Seth. M'm — I can't say just now, Mrs. Dill. Will you require alimony? Mrs. D. Good land, can't you handle the case alone? Seth. Why, yes, I Of course. I meant will you require Sam to pay you so much a week ? Mrs. D. Oh ! I thought you meant he was some other lawyer. As for that, I guess it's a lot I'd get out o' Sara Dill. No, all I want's t' get rid of him, 'n' thank- ful for that. (Rises, goes toward r., looks off.) 15 TEE VILLAGE LAWYER Good land, here he comes now ! I wonder what he wants. Seth (rising, looking off). Who, — Sam? So it is. (^Mo- tions L.) Suppose you go in there, Mrs. Dill, while I talk to him a minute Mrs. D. What ! Me hide from Sam Dill ? I guess I ain't afraid t' face him any time Seth. No, of course not; but it might be better. You see, if he knew you were applying for a divorce Why- Mrs. D. Well, of course I don't want him t' know jest yet. I want t' spring it on him as a su' prise. (^Goes L.) But you needn't try t' patch it up, 'cause it can't be done this time. Seth. Oh, no, certainly not ; I understand that perfectly. Mrs. D. No; I've stood it jest as long 's I'm goin' t', 'n' (^Exit L., looking back, just as Sam Dill enters R.) Seth. Why, hello, Sam. How are you ? Sam. Miserable, thank y', Mr. Barrett. Seth. Oh, no ; not " Mister " Barrett. Just Seth, Sam. Sam. Sure. Didn't know but you'd want the " Mister," now you're sett'n' up t' run f'r politics. 'G'inst Dave Conant, too. Some grit, I call it. Hope y' beat him, 'f he is a Republican. Al'ays be'n one m'self, but I'd like t' see Dave Conant licked all holler. Seth. Well, that's what we're going to try to do, Sam. Pretty tough proposition though, I guess. But how's everything up to the house, Sam ? Sam. My house — er — I mean, ^' her " house ? {SitSy l. c.) %^1-a. (Jaughifig). Well, yes, — whose ever house it is. Any boarders now ? Sam. Couple. Expect that feller from the city this week — young Spencer. Dude like, y' know, 't was here last summer. Shined up t' your Angle, y' know. That one. Seth. Oh, yes; nice sort of chap, I thought, though a little fast. How's your wife, Sam ? Well ? Sam. Sure. Wouldn't nothin' dare make her sick, 'nless she said it could. Say, Seth, that's — wal, that's kind o* what I dropped in t' see y' about — her. We don't i6 THE VILLAGE LAWYER seem t' hitch it up very well t'gether. Can't do nothin' t* please, no matter how hard I try. Seth. Do you try, Sara ? Sam. Try ! Should say I do. Make a reg'lar hired girl out o' m'self — washin' dishes 'n' all — reg'lar woman's work — 'n' don't git no thanks for it. Seth. Well, you get a good home — your food, and so forth. Remember that, Sam. Sam. Yes, but 'tain'tthat, though, Seth. I'm discouraged. 'Tain't no good way t'- hve. I married Jane f r love, 'n' I'd love her *s much as I ever did,, if she'd let me. Thought she loved me too, but — {very much affected, wiping eyes) somethin's killed it. Ain't got nothin' t' live for now. What I want, Seth, is t' have y' draw up my will, leavin* everything t' her. O' course I ain't got nothin', but what they is I want her t' have. Seth. Why, Sam, aren't you well ? Sam. Yes, well enough, fur's that goes, 'xcept the lumbago 'n' a few little things like that. But m' heart's affected — breakin' life. (Wipes eyes. Mrs. D. looks out ^..^ surprised, much ifiter- ested, but inclined to be disdainful.) Seth. Why, Sam, do you take it that hard ? But don't worry ; if anything happened to you, she'd get it all, seeing you have no heirs. But I hope it won't come to that, Sam. Sam (risijig). Well, you never c'n tell. Sometimes I feel like hangin' m'self to a rafter in the wood-shed. D' know but I will some day. Lost Jane's love, so they ain't nothin* t' live for. {Enter Mrs. D., l., much perturbed ; almost in tears.) Seth {pretending not to see her). M'm — don't you think you could tell her how you feel ? Sam. No — no, that wouldn't do. Told her enough tim.es. Her love's dead, 'n' that's the end of it. {Going.) Don't be s'prised t' hear there's an end o' me, Seth, any time. Seth. Now, Sam, I hope you won't go and do anything desperate. Sam. That's the way I feel. Nothin' t' live for. 17 THE VILLAGE LAWYER (^He is about to exit r., when Mrs. D. reveals herself , run- ning over to him.) Mrs. D. {brokenly). Oh, — Sam ! Sam {looking at her, pretendi?ig to be very much surprised). Jane ! You here ? Away ! All is over between us. You have broke my heart. Mrs. D. {pleadingly). Oh, Sam, I didn't know you felt that v/ay about it. {Sobs.) Oh, dear, I've mis- judged you, 'n' never knew it. Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! Sam. Yes, you've misjudged me. {Shakes his head sadly.) 'N' oh, how I loved y' ! Mrs. D. " Did," Sam ? Don't say it's all dead ! Don't, Sam, 'r it'll kill me. Sam. Then we'll die t'gether, Jane, like they do in books. Mrs. D. Oh, Sam ! Sam, f rgive me. I'll never speak a cross word to y' agin. I didn't know, Sam; I didn't realize how y' loved me. Oh, Sam ! 'N' I love you too, Sam, — I love y' ! Sam {relenting, but pretending to hesitate). Be — be y' sure, Jane ? Y' mean it this time ? Mrs. D. Y-yes, Sam, I mean it. Sam. Then I'll — I'll f rgive y' — ^jest this once. Mrs. D. Oh, Sam ! {He opens his arms, she sinks into them and buries her face on his shoulder. He looks at Seth, wi?iking. Seth, who is L. c, smiles back. They are c, now start to go out R.) Seth. M'm — by the way, Mrs. Dill, what about that — er — that little matter of business you came to see me about ? Mrs. D. {pausing r.). Business? What Oh, yes — you mean that back board bill. Wal, I guess 1 won't take it up jest now, thanks. Mebbe they'll pay. Come on, Sammy dear. {Holds out her hand to hi?n affectionately ; then glares at Seth, frowning and shaki?ig her head.) Sam {following her). All right, lovey lamb. {Exit Mrs. D., R. ; Sam lingers, speaking slyly to Seth, 7iodding head toward l.) Knew she was in there the hull time — seen her go in. i8 THE VILLAGE LAWYER (^Exit R., chtickling. Seth looks after them, laughing. Angie runs in R., looking back.) Angie. Guess they've made up again, haven't they? Aren't they the limit ? {She has a letter which is opened. ) Seth. Well, that's the way it goes, Angie. That's what it means to get married. But 1 suppose it's worth while quarreling, just for the fun of making up. Angie. I guess it would be better to be in a make-up mood all the time, without the quarreling. Oh, Seth, he's coming back ! (Shows letter.') Seth. Of course there's only one '