as 
 
 NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. 
 
 A Majority of One 
 
 |£ 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1S89, BY WALTER H. BAKER ix, Cu. 
 
piays for /Amateur 5l7eatrieal8. 
 
 BV CSORCe 7^. B3=5:KER, 
 
 Author of ^* Amateur Drafnas,'* "The Mimic Stngre** "The Social Stage,** "The Drtvming- 
 RoojH Stagey ''''Handy Dra7nasy ^''The Exhibition Dramas^'* "A Baker'' s Dozeft^ etc. 
 
 Titles in this Type are New Plays. 
 
 Titlns in thin if/pe at'e Temperance Tlays, 
 
 DRAMAS. 
 
 /;/ Four Acts. 
 
 Better than Gold. 7 male, 4 female 
 char 25 
 
 In Three A cis. 
 
 Our r'»llcs. 6 male, 5 female char. • 15 
 
 The Flower of the Family. 5 
 male, 3 female char 15 
 
 Eniisted fok the War. 7 male, 3 fe- 
 mal^char 15 
 
 My Brother's Keeper. 5 male, 3 fe- 
 male char. 15 
 
 Thi' JAUie Jirtncn tTitf/, 5 male, 3 
 female char • • • • 15 
 
 /;/ T7V0 Acts. 
 Above the Clouds. 7 male, 3 female 
 
 char. •IS 
 
 One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 
 
 4 female char 15 
 
 Amonc; the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 
 
 char 15 
 
 Bread on the Waters. 5 male, 3 female 
 
 char .- , 15 
 
 D nvN BY the Sea, 6 male, .3 female 
 
 char. 
 
 Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. 15 
 The Ijust L.oaf, 5 male, 3 female char. 15 
 
 In One A ct. 
 otand by the Flag. 5 male char. . . 
 Vhc Tempter, 3 male, i female char. 
 
 COMEDIES AND FARCES. 
 
 A Mysterious Disappearance. 4 
 
 male, 3 female char. .,».,,. 
 Paddle Your Owu Canoe. 7 male 
 
 3 female char. . , . . , 
 
 A Drop too Mucli, 4 male, i female 
 
 char - 
 
 A JAttif ?loreCidfr, 5 male, 3 fe-. 
 male char. 
 
 A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 ■ 
 female char , , . 
 
 a'Crvbr ?^ay Die. 3 male, 3 female char. 
 
 '^iEEiNG the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 
 char 
 
 The Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 
 
 The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 
 male char o . . . 
 
 Thirty Minutes for Refreshments. 
 
 4 male, 3 female char. 
 
 We.*re nil Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- 
 male char. ....••••.• 
 
 Mnie Characters Only. 
 A Close Shave. 6 char. ...... 
 
 A Public Rfnefactor. 6 char. . . . 
 
 A Sh>» of Troubles. 8 char. .... 
 
 »5 
 
 ,'5 
 
 15 
 
 IS 
 
 WALTER H. BAKER & CO 
 
 COMEDIES, etc., continued. 
 
 Male Characters Only. 
 
 A Tender Attachment. 7 char. . . 15 
 
 Coals OF Fire. 6 char. ...... 15 
 
 Freedom of THE Press. 8 char. ... 15 
 
 Shall Onr Mother** Vot*^? 1 1 char. 15 
 
 Gentlemen OF THK Jury. 12 char. . . 15 
 
 Humors OF THE Strike. 8 char. . . . js 
 
 My Uncle THE Captain. 6 char. . . . 15 
 
 New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . 15 
 
 The Great Elixir. 9 char 15 
 
 I HK Hypochondriac. 3 char 15 
 
 * /«e Man with the JJemiJohu. 4 
 
 char. 15 
 
 The Runaways. 4 char. ...... 15 
 
 The Thief of Time. 6 char 15 
 
 Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. . • • 15 
 
 female Characters Only. 
 
 A Love OF A Bonnet. 5 char. .... 15 
 
 A Precious Pickle. 6 char 15 
 
 No Cure No Pay. 7 char 15 
 
 The Champion OF Her Sex. 8 char. . 15 
 
 The Create*;t Plague in Life> 8 char. 15 
 
 The Gkkcian Bend. 7 char. .... 15 
 
 The Red Chignon. 6 char 15 
 
 Using THE Weed. 7 char. ..... 15 
 
 ALLcGORIES. 
 
 A rranged/or Music and Tableaux . 
 
 Lighthart's, Pilgrimage. 8 female 
 char. 15 
 
 Tnii Kevolt of the Bees. 9 female 
 cher. Is 
 
 The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 fe- 
 male char ». . 13 
 
 The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- 
 male char. .......... 15 
 
 The War of the Roses. 8 female char. 15 
 
 The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. . 15 
 
 MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 
 
 An Original Idea, i male, i female 15 
 Bonbons; or, the Paint King, 6 male, 
 
 I female char. .';......, 2 1; 
 
 Capuletta; or, Roii,jEO and Julit i i -. 
 
 Restored. 3 male, i female char. 
 Santa Claus* Frolics.. . , . •. . 
 Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Bravi 
 
 and the Fair Imogene. 3 male, . 
 
 female char. . . '. , 
 
 The Merry Christmas of thk O: 
 
 Woman who Lived in a Shof; i - 
 
 The Pedler or Very Nice. 7 
 
 char. ...•...^•..* *^ 
 
 The Seven Ages. A Tableau Enrertai; 
 
 ment. Numerous male and female chn 
 Too Late for the Train. 2 male cha 1 
 The Visions of Freedom. 11 fema 
 
 char , . . 13 
 
 ., 23 Winter St., Boston. 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE 
 
 OR 
 
 LOVE AND MUSHROOMS 
 
 ^ JTarce in ©ne ^ct 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCIS A. HARRIS, M.D, 
 
 FREELY ADAPTED FROM THE GERMAN 
 
 ^l']^^ 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ■ I r - • — ——rmr-mammmmmm\ — -^"^ 
 
 1892 
 
^^1 
 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 TIMOTHY NORCROSS, a retired grocer^ and at this time a candidate for 
 
 the Legislature, 
 A. WARD HEELER . , . . Manager of Nor cross'' campaign 
 
 HENRY MASON Nephew of the opposing candidate 
 
 ALICE HALE Niece of Norcross^ just home from school 
 
 MARY Servant in hotel where Nor cross boards 
 
 Costumes, modern. Time, the present day. 
 
 Copyright, 1892, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE 
 
 Scene. — A room of the country hotel of a New England village. 
 The room is the public parlor^ with doors opening on left nti7n- 
 bered 3 and 4. Also doors at back. Open fireplace with logs 
 not fired. Appropriate furniture. 
 
 {Enter from door l. Norcross and Heeler, the latter with his 
 hat on.) 
 
 Heeler. Now don't you fret your gizzard, Norcross. Every- 
 thing is cut and dried. Your name is as sure to be on the roll of the 
 next Legislature as mine is to be on my tombstone ''Hie Jacket '''* 
 {mispronouncing) '* A. Ward Heeler." 
 
 Norcross (with dignity). Ah, Heeler, there is nothing sure in 
 this world, nothing ! Still, if my fellow-citizens shall deem me the 
 person most worthy to protect their interests in the great and 
 general court, and shall of their own accord elect me, unbiassed by 
 any personal influence, and with no attempt at bribery — by the 
 way, did you open that barrel of ale down at Goat Acre 1 
 
 Heel. To be sure I did. There wasn't a man that did not have 
 a full-blown jag inside of an hour, and everybody was cheering for 
 Norcross. 
 
 Nor. Well, Heeler, if there is one thing more than another 
 that I reprobate, it is the abuse of intoxicating liquor ; yet I am 
 told that the gentle stimulation of malt beverages is not injurious. 
 
 Heel. You won't find it injurious when it comes to voting, I 
 can tell you. 
 
 Nor. I truly hope the ale will have no such effect as to make 
 any man vote against his convictions of what is right — ahem! — 
 what was I saying? — ah, yes — with no efforts at bribery, far be 
 it from me to refuse the call of my country. Patriotism demands of 
 every man any sacrifice, whether he be American by birth, or 
 American by adoption — by the way — you got those Italians natu- 
 ralized in time } 
 
 Heel. Yes ; and paid their poll-tax. 
 
 Nor. That's right. Heeler. See that no man is^prived of the 
 right of suffrage by poverty alone. Yes, sir, evejjji I should be 
 required to give up my comfortable room in this hotel, and should 
 be asked to expatriate myself as a minister to a foreign power, 
 patriotism would force me to it, Heeler ; I feel sure it would. 
 
 3 
 
4 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 Heel. Ah, sir, your principles are well known. 
 
 Nor. I hope you have circulated my views on civil service, — no 
 removals but for cause. 
 
 Heel. But, sir — 
 
 Nor. Oh ! you shall have the post-office. Your work for me 
 would be cause enough for the removal of the other fellow ; but 
 {^for the first thne observing Heeler's hat, and begin^iing very 
 quietly, and gradually working into a passion), Heeler, allow me, 
 in the mildest manner in the world, to inquire in, as I may say, the 
 politest terms possible to a man of refinement and breeding, and 
 a candidate for the general court, why you persist in keeping your 
 infernal hat on your miserable old head .^ Take it off, sir ; take it 
 off. (Heeler rej/toves hat.) There, sir, that is more respectful. 
 I don't wish to be severe, but as a man swears at a mule, I must 
 speak to you in a language that you understand. 
 
 Heel. Yes, sir ; certainly, sir. Excuse me. I forget sometimes. 
 My head is so full of business. You have no idea of the amount 
 of work I have put in in the last fortnight. What with seeing this 
 man and interviewing that one ; talking prohibition to the clergy- 
 men and license to rounders, — and, by the way, I had a hard job with 
 the Metl^odists ; your opponent is a member of that church, — and 
 then the drinks on the sly here, there, and everywhere ; I can hardly 
 tell if I have a head on my shoulders, much less a hat on my head. 
 If it had not been for patriotism and a post-office, I never could 
 have done it — never. {Puts his hat on again.) 
 
 Nor. Then you think I have a sure thing .^^ 
 
 Heel. A good safe majority, believe me. 
 
 Nor. Good enough. I respect you. Heeler — (noticing that 
 Heeler has replaced his hat) and speaking of respect, I am 
 prompted in perfect good humor to remark that if you don't re- 
 move that confounded hat from your pate, I'll kick you out of the 
 room, do you hear.^ 
 
 Heel, (removing hat) . Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Oh, I forgot, there 
 is one thing that is working against you, though. The matter I 
 mentioned last week. 
 
 Nor. What was that ? 
 
 Heel, (embarrassed). Why — er — I — well — the fact that 
 you do not live with your wife. 
 
 Nor. (quietly). Oh, that.? Eh? 
 
 Heel. The opposition are making quite a handle of it. They 
 say, sir, that such a state of things is highly immoral ; that is (put- 
 ting on his hat),\t''s quite awkward to talk about — 
 
 Nor. (aside). And a mighty sight more awkward just at the 
 present time that it is a fact. (Aloud.) I've looked out for that. 
 It's all provided for, and I'll see that it does me no harm. 
 
 Heel, (surprised). Ah ! have you indeed? 
 
 Nor. Yes. Now you go and — (seeing hat) and if you value 
 my esteem, observe me when I say that if I see your gibbering old 
 jaws capped with that beastly old tile in my presence, I'll knock 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. 5 
 
 the Stuffing out of you, even if it does the same to my canvass, 
 hear me ? 
 
 Heel, {taking off haf). Yes, sir. 
 
 Nor. You just get it noised around now that this afternoon my 
 wife and I are going to visit the high school together. 
 
 Heel. But how is it possible ? 
 
 Nor. That's my affair. Just you go and do as I say. 
 
 Heel. That will be a good move. {Going -^ puts on hat.) V\\ 
 hurry. I say — couldn't you manage to take a few children along 
 with you ? 
 
 "Nor. Children ? What the deuce do I want of children? 
 
 Heel. Why, important educational matters are to come before 
 the next Legislature, and the people imagine that a man will 
 take more interest in such matters if he has children of his own. 
 Now Morse, your opponent, has two. 
 
 Nor. I do hate a liar, — that is on principle, — but you may say 
 that I have two — no — make it three children — {sees hat) and 
 with all the composure in the world, I venture to remark that I'll 
 kick your miserable old carcass from here to the park, if you will 
 persist in keeping that greasy old plug on your head another 
 minute (Heeler takes off hat. Quietly) — three children, — 
 Thomas, Richard, and Henry. 
 
 Heel. If we only had them here. Oh, I fancy that Thomas, 
 Richard, and Henry would have great influence with — with, well, 
 Tom, Dick, and Harry. 
 
 Nor. You are laboring with a joke. Heeler. Don't do it ! Hav- 
 ing them here is out of the question. Just ask the people to over- 
 look their inability to be in two places at the same time. Now go. 
 
 {Exit Heeler, door c.) 
 
 I respect the feelings of an enhghtened and intelligent public, 
 and I fully appreciate their careful inspection of the belongings 
 of a candidate. But — children ! What will the idiots want next "^ 
 I've promised to go in for a new park and a new wall around the 
 cemetery, though, as the lamented Jim Fiske said, I can't see 
 what the use of that is. " Those that are in can't get out, and 
 those that are out don't want to get in." However, I've promised 
 all this, and now they want a wife and children. Good job they 
 don't want them to be twins or triplets. Wife be hanged ! or any- 
 thing else unpleasant. I've lived altogether too comfortably since 
 she took a notion to go West with my bookkeeper to wish her back. 
 Still, I won't risk my election for a trifle like that. Luckily she ran 
 away before I came to this town, and since nowadays seeming is 
 as good as being, I've provided a way out of the wife question. 
 Now — 
 
 {Enter at c, Mary.) 
 
 Mary. Excuse me, sir, there is a young lady inquiring for you- 
 ^o^, {turns quickly). Aha! Show her in here. 
 
6 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 Mary {speaking out off stage). Right this way. {Exit.) 
 Nor. Aha ! Here she is — my wife, that is, by proxy ; here 
 
 comes the means to satisfy the free and enlightened public — and 
 
 be hanged to them ! 
 
 {E7tter c, Alice, with wraps, satchel^ etc.y which she puts on 
 table and then embraces Norcross.) 
 
 Alice. How do you do, uncle dear? 
 
 Nor. {mysteriously). Hush ! Not so loud. Don't call me 
 uncle. 
 
 AiACK {astonished). What! 
 
 NOR. I'll explain presently. Who came with you ? 
 
 Alice. Only an old lady who has relatives here. 
 
 NoR. Good enough ! Well, my child, I sent to your boarding- 
 school for you because I want you to render me an important 
 service. 
 
 Alice. Service ? Ah, if you knew what a service has been 
 rendered to me to-day ! I haven't even now recovered from the 
 excitement. 
 
 NoR. Ah? Well, never mind that. Now, my dear — 
 
 Alice {interrupting). A young man who came in the coach 
 with me — 
 
 Nor. Never mind the young man. Now the fact is — 
 
 Alice. But I do mind him. He was a perfect gentleman — 
 just too sweet to live — 
 
 Nor. That is not of the slightest consequence. Now I — 
 
 Alice. Oh, and so brave ! Only for him I should have been 
 killed. 
 
 Nor. What ! Killed ? 
 
 Alice. He saved my life. 
 
 Nor. Who ? 
 
 Alice. This nice young man. 
 
 Nor. Well, much obliged. I'll call on him and thank. him in 
 person. {Aside.) I don't see why a nice young man who goes 
 about saving people's lives should turn up just now. It's very awk- 
 ward. {Aloud.) Now, my child, you know that at some time you 
 will be my heiress, will have all I possess, and to-day I want you to 
 do me a small favor. 
 
 Alice. A favor to you. Of course, dear uncle. 
 
 Nor. Hush ! Don't call me uncle. When you marry, my 
 dear, I'll give you a splendid outfit. But to-day you must do me a 
 trifling favor. 
 
 Alice. Well ? 
 
 Nor. In the first place, you know you have three children. 
 
 Alice {springing back) . What ! 
 
 Nor. {quietly). Three children, — Thomas, Richard, and 
 Henry. All at present away at school. 
 
 Alice. But, my dear uncle. 
 
 Nor. Great Scott ! Will you stop calling me uncle ! You are 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. 7 
 
 my wife. (Alice expresses bewilderment.') So you see, I can't be 
 your uncle if I am your husband. You are simply your aunt, Mrs. 
 Norcross. 
 
 Alice. I don't understand it at all. {Weeping?) I can't be my 
 own aunt. 
 
 ^o^. {looking around hastily) . Hush! Don't cry, or folks will 
 think we don't live happily. Remember 'tis only for a day. To- 
 morrow you shall be my niece again, as before. 
 
 Alice {still crying). But why must I be my aunt ? 
 
 {Enter c, Mary. Goes and gets glasses from sideboard j sees 
 Alice crying; exit shaking her head compassionately.) 
 
 Nor. That's my secret. It is enough for you to know that 
 circumstances in which I am placed render it necessary. It is con- 
 nected with important matters affecting the welfare of the country. 
 So, above all things, keep your mouth shut. I'll do everything for 
 your happiness hereafter, but until to-morrow don't say a word that 
 you're not my wife. Do you understand 1 Not to any one. 
 
 Alice. Well, I won't. It's a bargain, uncle. 
 
 Nor. {nervous). Hush! Don't say uncle. Did you bring 
 your school report with you ? 
 
 Alice. Yes, uncle. 
 
 Nor. {anxious). Goodness gracious ! will you quit that uncle! 
 (Alice in chair. Norcross on table.) 
 
 Alice {aside). If I only could. 
 
 Nor. Call me Timothy. Your own Timothy. Try it once, 
 just once — now — one, two, three. 
 
 Alice {laughs). Yes, my own dear Timothy. 
 
 Nor. Capital ! Capital ! I declare if you keep that up you shall 
 have a sealskin. Now let me see your report. 
 
 Alice {getti^ig paper froin satchel and giving it) . Here it is. 
 
 Nor. {reads). " Mathematics good. Geography good. His- 
 tory good. Language bad." What ! Do you use bad language ? 
 Fie, Fie ! 
 
 Alice. No ; that means foreign language, — French, etc. 
 
 Nor. .Oho, I see. {Reads.) *' Punishments " — 
 
 K\A(Z^ {nervous) . Oh, dear! {Aiace. at k. fro?U, goes up and 
 down.) 
 
 Nor. {reads). "March 5, twenty lines for making faces at the 
 teacher." What's this 1 You make faces at the teacher.'* How 
 disrespectful ! 
 
 Alice. I couldn't help it. She would make such a guy of her- 
 self. No girl could help making fun. 
 
 Nor. Oh ! couldn't she ? Guy was she ? Now what did you 
 do ? Eh ? 
 
 Alice {nervous). Oh ! I — 
 
 Nor. Come, come now, I want to see. Do it again. 
 
 Alice. I don't want to — 
 
8 
 
 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 Nor. I must see. Perhaps you were not punished enough. 
 
 Alice (^putting her fingers to her 7iose). That was all. 
 
 Nor. Ha ! Ha ! Twenty lines for that. Poor thing ! {Reads.) 
 ** April I, fifty lines for pinning a paper on the teacher's back." 
 
 Alice. That was the fault of the day, unc — Timothy dear. 
 
 ISlOR. (/>/eased). So it was. April fool, eh ? (Reads,) ** April 
 lo, one hundred Hues for being caught reading a novel." {Gravely.) 
 What! Do you read novels? 
 
 Alice (con/used). Oh, if he knew I had one in my satchel now ! 
 (Aloud.) Why, you see I was not punished for reading a novel. 
 I was punished for being caught reading. 
 
 Nor. Ah ! You are getting the world's philosophy early, my 
 dear. It^s always the way. We are only punished for being caught. 
 (Sternly ; crosses.) If I hear of your reading novels again I'll send 
 you to a convent. 
 
 Alice. Yes, uncle. 
 
 Nor. (turns). Confound it ! can't you stop saying uncle? 
 
 Alice. Yes, uncle. 
 
 Nor. (stamps feet). There you go again. 
 
 Alice. I didn't mean to, Timothy. 
 
 (Eftter Mary.) 
 
 Your room is ready, 
 
 Mary (coming from Alice's room). 
 Miss 
 
 Nor. Miss ? Miss ? What's got into your head ? This lady 
 (laying his hand on her arm tenderly) is my wife, Mrs. Norcross. 
 
 Mary. Your wife? (Aside.) Aha! That accounts or their 
 quarrelling as soon as they come together. (Aloud to Norcross.) 
 Then you only want one room ? 
 
 Nor. {disconcerted ; up and down) . Yes — Yes — we want two. 
 (Aside to Mary.) My wife snores frightfully. 
 
 Mary. All right. Your wife can have that room next to yours. 
 (Pointing to No. 3.) 
 
 Nor. Thatll just suit. 
 
 Mary. Ah ! what the folks say is true. This is an unhappy 
 marriage. 
 
 Nor. Now, my dear duxy wuxy, go and change your things, 
 and while my little dovey is dressing Pll look over my speech once 
 more. In a quarter of an hour we will take a stroll up to the high 
 school. I want you to see some of the people here — (Alice shuts 
 off speech with her door. Aside) and all of the people here to see 
 you. 
 
 (Exit Norcross into 4 as Alice into 3.) 
 
 Mary. All their hugging and their duxy wuxys don't fool me. 
 They must lead a cat-and-dog life. 
 
 (Enter c, Henry Mason. Arms full,— satchel^ umbrella, 
 overcoat, etc.) 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. 9 
 
 Henry {mysteriously), St — st — my dear, st — 
 
 Mary {ttirns and sees hiin)^ Ah, another traveller! What can 
 I do for you, sir ? 
 
 Henry. My hands are full. Just see if you can find a quarter 
 in my vest pocket. {VIkky feels in pockety and it tickles Henry so 
 that he squirms,) Oh ! Ah ! 
 
 Mary. What's the matter? 
 
 Henry. You tickle me so. 
 
 Mary. Here's the quarter. {Producing it.) 
 
 Henry. All right. Just hold onto it. Tell me, didn't two 
 young ladies stop here just now? — one of them say about sixty. 
 
 Mary {laughs). Yes, sir, 2. young lady oi sixty did stop here. 
 
 Henry. You know what I mean. See if you can't find another 
 quarter. {VIaky feels ; same business.) 
 
 Mary. Here it is. 
 
 Henry. Just hold onto it, will you. Where is she now ? 
 
 Mary. Who? The sixty? 
 
 Henry. No. The other. 
 
 Mary {pointing to No. 3). She's in there in her room. 
 
 Henry. Take me to her at once. {Going towards 3.) 
 
 Mary {running in front of door). No, sir ; not if I know it. 
 For shame, sir! she's dressing. 
 
 Henry. What! You won't? 
 
 Mary. Not for the world. 
 
 Henry. Have you got those quarters? 
 
 Mary. Yes. 
 
 Henry. Then oblige me by putting them back into my vest 
 pocket. (Mary does it ; same btisiness of squirjning.) 
 
 Mary. There they be. Law, how ticklish you be ! 
 
 Henry. Now I want a room. 
 
 Mary. Very well, sir. 
 
 Henry. And I — 1 am very thirsty. Do bring me a glass of 
 beer. 
 
 Mary. Beer ? Why this is a temperance house ! 
 
 Henry. Temperance^ eh ? Then bring me a whiskey punch, 
 
 Mary. What do you mean ? • 
 
 Henry. Oh, I know these te7nperance hotels ! There is plenty 
 of drink to be had, only the quality is mighty bad and the price 
 higher. 
 
 Mary. Really, sir, we do not keep any liquor. 
 
 Henry. All ri<jht, then. Bring me a glass of milk. {Signifi- 
 cantly.) Milk. Do you understand ? 
 
 Mary. Directly, sir. {Puts Alice's properties on chair; 
 Henry puts his on table ; Mary at door.) That's a queer sort of 
 man anyway. {Exit c.) 
 
 Henry. Then I shall see her again. By Jove ! That's good 
 luck. Ah ! little did I think when Uncle Jonas Morse wrote to me 
 to come home and vote for him at the coming election, what an 
 
lO A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 adventure I should have on the way. Little did I think when I 
 started partially with the intention^of offering my heart and my 
 hand to my Cousin Nellie, that I should lose the heart aforesaid 
 before I saw her. Yet Fate was in the way. Fate in the shape of 
 a lumbering old coach, which contained besides myself two ladies, 
 one of uncertain age, or rather of a confoundedly certain age, and 
 the other an angel. I declare, the little feather on the back of her 
 hat might have been the tip of one of her wings for all I know. 
 Such a trim little figure ! such lovely features ! Eyes, heavenly ; 
 nose, heavenly, or at least with aspirations that way, for it was 
 turned up just the least in the world ; hps that looked like cherries. 
 I wish I knew if they tasted like them, and a foot — such a foot! 
 A good, stout little foot too, for she tried it. At the rise of a long 
 hill the driver asked if we would get out and walk. The party of 
 the first part, I mean the old lady, was asleep and snoring. I got 
 out ; the young woman got out too. We walked together, and she 
 plucked flowers. I helped her till she had ^ whole handful of 
 buttercups and daisies, and I nearly as many, when suddenly there 
 broke through the bushes by the roadside an animal. ** Oh, 
 heavens! " she cried, "a wild bull! " I sprang forward to protect 
 her, to save her at the risk of my own life, when the beast sidled 
 up to me and tried to get the buttercups from my hand. It was 
 only a playful calf, or rather a young steer, who wanted a nibble. 
 Quite harmless and very good natured. I gave him the flowers 
 and he walked away. When I looked for the angel, she lay in a 
 swoon upon the ground. Presently she came to, and asked the 
 usual questions as to her whereabouts, and finally remarked {i7nu 
 tating), " I remember now ;" insisted on calling me her saviour, pre- 
 server, and things of that sort. Of course I did not object, and the 
 rest of our trip was occupied by her in expressing her gratitude in 
 the liveliest manner by words, looks, and in fact sighs. They say 
 *'Come weal, come woe ; "with me it was,*^ Come veal, come joy." We 
 divided an orange, and she devoured my heart with every slice, while 
 I devoured her with my eyes. Mighty sour too. I mean the slices, 
 not the eyes. Heigho ! Cousift Nellie, you've lost one chance for a 
 husband. Uncle Jonas shall have my vote, but the call of kinship 
 can go no farther, or at least no father-in-law. 
 
 {Enter Alice from No. 3 ; costume slightly changed. At first 
 she does not observe Henry.) 
 
 Henry {aside'). There's my angel. {Takes up satchel and 
 kisses it. A loud ^ Miss, permit me. 
 
 Alice {startled). Oh ! My gracious ! How you startled me ! 
 {With feeling.) Oh, my preserver ! 
 
 Henry. It strikes me that instead oi preserving you, I really got 
 yovL out o^ ^pickle. {Alicy. looks sober. Aside.) She does not see 
 the joke, /thought it wasn't bad. {Aloud; with feeling.) You 
 left your satchel in the coach ; I would have gladly kept it as a 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. II 
 
 souvenir of an occasion only too sweet and too short, wlien that 
 lovely hair — (Alice takes cnie end of bag and crosses^ and Henry 
 keeps the other end^ as if to help her.^ 
 
 Alice. My goodness ! you haven't opened it, have you ? That 
 hair isn't mine. It's my aunt's — a new switch I bought her. It's 
 a perfect match ; you can't tell which is switch. 
 
 Henry. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! very good. (Alice looks sober.) 
 Why, she didn't mean it. / thought it wasn't bad; I'll try. You 
 say news which she sent for. Ah, the news which I would send 
 for. 
 
 Alice {taking satchel). You are too kind. Is it not odd that we 
 meet so soon again ? 
 
 Henry. Odd .? Even so. (Alice looks grave. Aside.) She 
 doesn't see that either, /thought it wasn't <^^<^. {Aloud.) Yet 
 not strange. How can the poor moth keep away from the flame 
 that has once dazzled him 1 I am the moth ; you are the flame — 
 no, I mean candle — no, confound it! flame is the better word. 
 {Aloud.) Yes, the flame. 
 
 Alice. How complimentary you are ! 
 
 Henry. Ah, can I ever forget that ride, that orange we ate 
 together! 
 
 Alice {naive). Yes, wasn't it sour.? and so many seeds. But 
 I, too, can never forget that to you I owe my life. 
 
 Henry. Oh! That calf! 
 
 Alice. What ? 
 
 Henry. I say that calf— never imagined that when he grew to 
 be a raving bull he would cause me so much — 
 
 Alice. Pain ? Did he then hurt you ? 
 
 Henry. Pain ? Yes ; that is — no, joy. He shot me through 
 the heart. {Aside.) What an ass I am making of myself ! 
 
 Alice. The bull shot you through the heart ? 
 
 Henry. No ; I mean he ought to be shot through the calf — 
 I mean heart. {Wiping his forehead.) 
 
 Alice {feelingly). And you risked your life for me ! 
 
 Henry {aside). O blessed calf! {Aloud.) I beg you'll say 
 no more about it. Realh', you embarrass me, Miss ! I believe 
 frankness is the best. I am blunt, but truthful. I — I — love 
 you — love you more than tongue can tell. 
 
 Alice. Oh, my! how you do talk! Yet the assistance you 
 gave me — your courao^e — 
 
 Henry. Always thinking of that calf — I mean bull. The fact 
 is, I am always making a bull about that calf. (Alice smiles. 
 Aside.) ' Ah ! she does see that ; /thought it wasn't bad. {Aloud.) 
 Let's say no more about my service. Truly my intentions are most 
 honorable. I have asked you to marry me after full consideration. 
 My name is Henry Mason, and — now — what do you say ? 
 
 Alice. I certainly owe you a debt of gratitude, but still I am 
 not exactly free to decide. I am not yet of age — and — and — 
 then I hardly know you — 
 
12 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 Henry. Then let me ask the consent of your relatives. As I 
 say, my name is Henry Mason ; I have a good home and two thou- 
 sand a year. Every one here knows me. My property is here. 
 My relatives are here. Indeed, that's why/ am here now, — to 
 vote in the election that is going on. 
 
 Alice (at a loss). Well, really — 
 
 {Enter from 4, Norcross, rnantcscript in hand,) 
 
 Nor. Are you ready, my love ? 
 
 Alice (aside). Oh, dear ! I forgot all about uncle. 
 
 Henry (aside). Ah ! The papa, that's evident. Now to get his 
 consent. 
 
 Nor. (aside /^ Alice). Who is this gentleman ? 
 
 Alice (confused) . Oh ! He — he — he's a very influential citi- 
 zen here. 
 
 Nor. (aside, taking off hat) . By Jove! suppose I try the effect 
 of my speech. (Puts on his glasses. Henry ^////Norcross ap- 
 proach each other ^ one with head up and the other dow?t, and, strik- 
 ing an attitude^ both speak at the same time.y 
 
 Alice, (aside). What are they going to do ? 
 
 Henry. Respected sir, not without diffidence do I venture — 
 
 Nor. Sir, on an occasion like the present — (Both stop a7id 
 look at each other, theji repeat as before.) 
 
 Henry. Respected sir, not without diffidence do I venture — 
 
 Nor. Sir, on an occasion like the present — (Both stop.) 
 
 Nor. (with dignity, refen^ifig to his manuscript) . On an occa- 
 sion Hke the present, when the country expects every man to do his 
 duty, I have resolved to sacrifice my temporary comfort to my 
 country's call. I am a self-made man ; I lay no claim to the advan- 
 tages which others may have, but I do profess to have an honest 
 heart, a heart entirely devoted to the welfare of the commonwealth. 
 
 Henry (aside). What the devil is all this ? 
 
 Nor. And especially at this particular time, to this particular 
 deestrick, and I shall consider that its claims are paramount to any 
 selfish considerations. I am more than happy now, and with a 
 wife whom I worship, with three darling children, — Thomas, Rich- 
 ard, and James (referring to MS.), I mean Henry, now unfortu- 
 nately away at school, I might well refuse the honor of an election 
 to the Legislature and — (looks at MS. some ti?ne ; confused.) 
 
 Henry (aside). Jupiter! He's the opponent of Uncle Jonas in 
 the election. 
 
 Nor. (finds place). Legislature. But, sir, wife and children 
 must give way before the call of duty, and — (Looks at MS.) 
 
 Henry. Respected sir, not without diffidence do I venture — 
 
 Nor. (raising voice). And — and honor, — duty and honor. I 
 would not wish to influence your vote against your will, still I must 
 ask the careful consideration of the claims of one who can con- 
 scientiously say ** Homo stnn.'" Yes, sir, " Homo sum.'''' I boast 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. I3 
 
 not. I am a plain, blunt man, and I speak the truth. {Lays 
 speech on chimney-piece^ 
 
 Henry. So 1 see. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, 
 so help me, Moses ! {Aside.) Ah, Uncie Jonas, I fear I can't 
 help you now. My vote must go to my prospective father-in-law. 
 {Aloud.) I respect your sentiments. You shall have my vote. 
 
 Nor. {shaking his hand). I thank you, sir. In these times 
 every man must go in for the Union — 
 
 Henry. Union ? Yes, sir ; and therefore allow me to say 
 {strikes attitude)^ respected sir, not without diffidence do I ven- 
 ture — 
 
 Nor. {interrnpting). Excuse me, sir: excuse me, my dear sir ; 
 I have very important business to attend to. Come along, my dar- 
 ling. {Stops.) Oh, stay ! Allow me, my dear sir, to introduce 
 to you my wife — 
 
 Henry {astounded). Wife .^ 
 
 Nor. Mrs. Norcross as is, Miss Hale as was. 
 
 Alice {aside). But, dear uncle. 
 
 Nor. Hush ! Call me Timothy. {Gives his arm.) Good- 
 morning, good-morning. 
 
 {Exeimt Alice and Norcross c.) 
 
 Henry {gazing after thein blankly). His wife ! Can it be that 
 she is married ? And yet she gave me encouragement, actually 
 seemed fond of me, and she a married woman. {Reflecting.) Ah, 
 I see — it was an electioneering trick. She was using her ''influ- 
 ence." Letting me make love to her. And she with three 
 children. Well, it won't work. My vote goes to Uncle Jonas. 
 And I listened to his drivel, his speech, ass that I was! Confound 
 that calf! I wish I had never seen it. Yet, I do love her. One 
 can't shake off love so easily when once it has possession. That 
 orange — damn the orange! it certainly was sour; at all events 
 these grapes are, and most decidedly forbidden fruit. {Goes to 
 windoiv.) There she goes. Jove I she is looking back at this 
 window, too. 
 
 {Enter Mary with milk.) 
 
 Mary. Here's your milk, sir. 
 
 Henry {taking it). All right. Now to drown my sorrows 
 in the sparkling cup. {Tastes it.) Why, confound it, it is milk ! 
 
 Mary. Yes, sir, mostly milk. They do say our milkman do 
 rinse his cans very freely. 
 
 Henry {giving it back to her). Well, put it down ; I'm sure / 
 can't put it down, and when you put it down, chalk it up ; no doubt 
 it's chalked up enough already. I mean put it in my bill. (Mary 
 puts it on chi7n7iey -piece ; about to go.) Wait — see here, my dear. 
 
 Mary {comi7tg back). Well, sir, what is it ? 
 
 Henry. Do you know the gentleman who just went out ? 
 
 Mary {sighing). YWml Dear, dear, yes. 
 
14 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 Henry. Dear ? dear? why dear, dear, my dear? 
 
 Mary. I sigh to think how unhappy they are. 
 
 Henry. Unhappy ? Is she unhappy ? How do you know? 
 
 Mary. Hush ! 1 mustn't talk about it. Servants mustn't be 
 gossips. But folks will talk. Oh, such a life as they live ! Most 
 always apart. 
 
 Henry. Nothing so dreadful in that. 
 
 Mary. No, perhaps not, when you consider that she snores 
 frightfully. 
 
 Henry. Snores ? My angel — I mean /tzs angel snores ? 
 
 Mary. Yes; and they quarrel so when they are together! 
 They had hardly met this morning when they began. 
 
 Henry. To quarrel ? Tell me, tell me. 
 
 Mary. I don't know what it was. But I heard something 
 about a sealskin. He was angry. She cried. He stamped his 
 feet. She did also. Goodness knows he's a brute — that old chap; 
 I should not blame her if she wished he was — (^Indicating under 
 the sod.) 
 
 Henry. Well, well, — was what ? 
 
 Mary. Well, that he was put on ice to cool off. {Laughs.) 
 
 Henry {taking his tiaps). Pshaw ! 
 
 {Exit Mary, laughing,) 
 
 Heavens, what a v/orld ! The woman I love unhappy. Her hus- 
 band a brute. The devil tempts me. No; get thee behind me, a 
 good ways behind me, you imp of darkness. It shall be my cousin 
 after all. I will go and throw myself at her feet. 
 
 {Enter c, Alice.) 
 
 hiAZY. {aside) . He is still here. How dreadful that he thinks 
 I am married, and I can say nothing to undeceive him, nothing till 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Henry {seeing her; aside). Three children, — Thomas, Rich- 
 ard, and James, — all away at school. {Gesture of despair.) 
 
 Alice. He does not speak to me. He is angry. (^Coughs.) 
 
 Henry {aside). She coughs — yet somehow she does not look 
 consumptive ; I don't know why, but she don't. {Turns.) Ah, 
 Mrs. Norcross, so soon returned ? 
 
 Alice. Dear, me ! how you startled me ! 
 
 Henry. Madam, why did you deceive me.^ Why did you 
 allow the tendrils of love to twine about my calf — I mean my 
 heart. Why did you not say, stay, sir, I have a husband and more 
 or less children? Had you said stay, I would have gone ; that is, 
 I mean I never would have gone — on to say what I did say, when 
 you did not say stay — {Confused.) 
 
 Alice. Oh! if you only knew — 
 
 Henry. Knew? Knew what, Mrs. Norcross ? 
 
 Alice {aside). "Mrs. Norcross." How fearfully horrid to be 
 called Mrs. Norcross ! 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. 1 5 
 
 Henry. For your sake I abandoned a lovely girl, a girl with 
 light blue hair and golden eyes, I mean — never mind what I mean. 
 It is not yet too late ; I will go to her and ask her to love me once 
 more. 
 
 Alice. No, no. Don't go to her. Don't beg her to love you 
 once more. I beg you don't. 
 
 Henry. What, shall 1 for your sake, and for that of your hus- 
 band and the indefinite children, pass my days in single wretched- 
 ness ? 
 
 Alice (das/i/ulfy). No. 
 
 Henry. No ? Do 3^ou mean, then, that I shall go on loving 
 you ? 
 
 Alice {bashfully). Yes. 
 
 Henry. Well, this is a staggerer ! But you know I ought not 
 to love you. (Alice looks straight ahead. Aside.) She's strug- 
 gling with her emotions. {Aloud.) Pardon the suggestion, but it 
 occurs to me that your husband might prove a slight obstacle to 
 our happiness. 
 
 Alice {quickly). Oh ! only for a little while, a very little while, 
 
 Henry {aside). I declare this coolness is amazing. {Aloud.) 
 Then Mr. Norcross is in poor health 1 
 
 Alice. Oh, no! He's well enough. But that's no matter. 
 Only have patience. Give me a little time. 
 
 Henry. Patience ? Yes. But I'll be shot if I see through this 
 business. Now if you were only a widow — 
 
 Alice. Ah ! matters can change very much in twenty-four 
 hours. Only have patience f©r four and twenty hours. 
 
 Henry. Four and twenty hours ! But tell me — 
 
 Alice. Oh, I've said too much already! {Mysteriously^ 
 Don't ask me any more questions. I'll soon be rid of my husband. 
 {Exit into No. 3.) 
 
 Henry. Well, I atn in the dark, that's a fact. Get rid of him? 
 Now if nature in the shape of apoplexy, or gout in the stomach, 
 should step in to the rescue ; but, confound it ! the old fellow don't 
 look it. Death is the lot of all. I suppose his turn will come 
 some time — {Starting.) Great Heavens ! suppose she intends to 
 supply the place of nature. What did she say ? *' Rid of him,'* 
 ** Twenty-four hours." Yet she seems innocent and harmless as a 
 dove. Innocuous as the rose or violet. Yet there are even flowers 
 which are as deadly as beautiful. Why, now I think, the delicate 
 and toothsome mushroom, the gentle truffle, is most nearly like the 
 deadly toadstool. '* Rid of him," *' Four and twenty hours." {Shud- 
 ders.) No. I'll fly to my Cousin Nellie. {Enter Mary. Henry 
 takes up bags, etc.) 
 
 Mary. Your room is ready now, sir. 
 
 Henry. Don't want it. Going to leave. 
 
 Mary. What ? So soon ? 
 
 Henry. See here, my dear, my hands are full. See if you can 
 find a quarter in my vest pocket. {Aside.) I must try to save 
 
l6 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 the unhappy man. {Alo7id.) Oh ! {Squirms, Mary takes out a 
 qiiarter.^ See if you can't find another. (Mary does it with 
 same business. Mary laughs.) Now hold on to them and hsten. 
 If Mr. Norcross wants anything to eat or drink, mind, you give 
 him nothing — absolutely nothing. Say there isn't anything in 
 the house. 
 
 Mary. What do you mean ? 
 
 Henry. At most, only a glass of water, nothing else. 
 
 Mary. But he'll starve to death. 
 
 Henry. That's so ; he may as well be poisoned as to starve to 
 death. Let him have eggs then. Boiled eggs, and nothing else. 
 
 Mary. I won't do it. They would turn me out of the house. 
 
 Henry. You won't .'^ Then put back that money into my 
 pocket. 
 
 Mary. You told me to hold on to it, and I'm going to. 
 
 {Exit Mary laughing.) 
 
 Henry. Well, as a guardian angel she did not pan out very 
 well. What shall I do? They'll suspect me of being an accessory 
 before the fact. I see the storm gathering about my devoted head. 
 I will fly — fly to the arms of my Uncle Jonas — and yet my love for 
 this woman — I am bound to this spot, bound in calf as it were. 
 Damn that calf! I wish I had never seen it. Stay, I must save 
 this poor devil of a Norcross. Simply out of common humanity. 
 {Puts down his bundles. Takes out a pocket note-book and writes.) 
 Sir, your life is in danger. I beg of you to drink nothing, to eat 
 nothing, unless it be eggs, eggs boilfed, and these only when you 
 have removed the shells yourself; signed, *' A Friend of Humanity." 
 {Tears out leaf.) Now how shall I get it to him ? {Looks around^ 
 Aha !, his speech. {Takes it.) I'll put it in there. {Does so.) Now 
 I hope to goodness he'll read that speech over again soon ! 
 
 {Enter Norcross c) 
 
 Nor. {joyful). Aha! my speech was just the thing. I had 
 no idea what an impression it would make. Morse is just done for. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Henry {comes to hiin slowly ajtd mysteriously). Do you know, 
 sir, that he who laughs before breakfast may cry before supper 1 
 
 Nor. {surprised). What do you mean ? 
 
 Henry {aside). He does not look sick. {Aloud.) Sir, be 
 frank with me. Tell me honestly, how do you feel.'* 
 
 Nor. First rate, first rate. 
 
 Henry. Haven't you a pain anywhere? {Feeling of him.) 
 Here for instance? Or here ? 
 
 ^o^, {getting away). No, sir ; not a bit. {Aside.) What the 
 deuce is he up to? 
 
 Henry {aside). My suspicions are correct. {Aloud.) Really 
 no pain? Here, perhaps? {Feeling of his ribs.) 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. I7 
 
 Nor. {getting away). See here, sir, do I look like a gentleman? 
 
 Henry. Why, of course ; yes. 
 
 Nor. {similar business as that with Heeler) . Well, sir, allow 
 me to insinuate in a thoroughly respectful and gentlemanly manner 
 that though I have had the pleasure ot knowing you but a short 
 time, I shall still feel at liberty, if you don't take your cursed sharp 
 claws out of my ribs, to wring your infernal neck, you little sun of 
 a gun ! 
 
 Henry {astonished). What! {Milder^ Ah, sir, if you only 
 knew I Remember no one can read the book of Fate. 
 
 Nor. What's that to me t 
 
 Henry {pointing to MS.), Rewrite that speech ; rewrite that 
 speech. 
 
 Nor. Well, this is the worst crank I have struck in my life. 
 
 Henry. Well, long life to you, Norcross. Long life to you. 
 Do you hear f You'll bear witness that I wished you a long life. 
 {Gathers bundles and takes hat.) 
 
 Nor. {uneasy). See here. What do you mean ? Is my life in 
 danger? 
 
 Henry {sighs). Poor devil ! Well, I'll ease my conscience by 
 voting for him. That will remove suspicions from 7ne, Long life 
 to you, Norcross. 
 
 Nor. {stops hi7n). What do you mean? 
 
 Henry {mysteriously). Rewrite your speech, unhappy man. 
 Rewrite your speech. {Exit c.) 
 
 Nor. Now, what the dickens has he to do with my speech ? 
 He must be — 
 
 {Enter c. Heeler, excited^ 
 
 Heel. Ten thousand furies ! 
 
 Nor. What's the matter iiow f 
 
 Heel. Everything is lost. 
 
 Nor. {seeing Heeler's hat on his head). Now, Heeler, without 
 the slightest ill-will toward you, and entirely free from excitement, I 
 beg most politely to inquire why in my presence you will persist 
 in keeping that confounded greasy old hat on your miserable head? 
 {Kicks at him, and Heeler dodges.) Take it off. Take it off. 
 (Heeler does so.) 
 
 Heel. You have made a frightful blunder in accepting that 
 invitation to lunch at the Phillipses'. 
 
 Nor. What? Why? How so? 
 
 Heel. Why, the people who are not invited are mad, and they'll 
 vote against you. 
 
 Nor. The devil they will ! Then I won't go to the Phillipses'. 
 
 Heel. Then they'll be angry, and you'll lose their votes. 
 
 Nor. What can I do ? I can't go and stay away too. If I was 
 only twins. 
 
 Heel, {reflecting). Ah ! here's where your faithful Heeler comes 
 
1 8 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 to the rescue. I have fixed it. I have found a way out of it 
 (Calls.) Mary! Mary! bring me some tea. (Enter Mary.) 
 Bring me some tea. (^Exit Mary.) 
 
 Nor. Tea? 
 
 Heel. I said you were ill, had been eating some mushrooms, 
 and they had poisoned you. So you see the Phillipses can^t be 
 angry, and the others can't either. 
 
 Nor. Heeler, you are a trump, a regular right bower, as it were, 
 a knave of trumps. 
 
 Heel. Now you must play the invalid. 
 
 Nor. Of course. {Takes off his coat; calls,) Alice! Alice! 
 Bring me my dressing-gown. 
 
 {Enter from her room Alice, who goes into his and brings gown?) 
 
 Alice. Dear me ! what is the matter.? 
 
 Heel. Mr. Norcross is very ill. 
 
 Nor. Yes ; I ate some mushrooms and they poisoned me. 
 
 Alice. Oh, dear! 
 
 Heel. Now I'll be off and circulate the story. {Exit c.) 
 
 Nor. Do I look very pale, my child? 
 
 Alice. I can't say you do. Is there anything you want ? 
 
 Nor. I only want to look pale. {Sits in arin-chair near fire- 
 place; takes tall pointed night -cap out of dressing-gown pocket; 
 gives it to Alice.) Here, put on my night-cap for me, will you? 
 
 Alice {doing so). Yes, yes ; TU do it. But, what is the matter 
 with you, uncle dear? 
 
 Nor. Hush ! '* Dear Timothy,^^ remember. It's nothing my 
 child. It's only a kind of church headache, a sort of fever-de-lurk. 
 But, my child, tell me something. I fear you use cosmetics on your 
 skin. Powder and paint? eh? don't you ? 
 
 Alice {aside) . Oh, dear ! how did he ever find it out? {Aloud,) 
 No, uncle, I never paint — really — 
 
 Nor. Nor powder ? Truly, now, I know the facts. 
 
 Alice. I have a little — just a wee little face-powder, uncle, 
 just to keep away the chaps. 
 
 Nor. Keep away the chaps? Humph ! I thought it was to draw 
 them on. Never mind. Bring it to me. 
 
 Alice. Yes, uncle — I mean Timothy. {Exit in her roo7n.) 
 
 Nor. Ha ! ha ! As if I didn't know that every woman powders. 
 It's just the thing to give me a sickly pallor. 
 
 {Enter Alice with powder and puff ,) 
 
 Alice. Here's the powder. 
 
 Nor. {takes it) . Oh ! It is, is it ? Humph ! how do you use it ? 
 Make it into a paste, eh ? 
 Alice. Oh, no ! Just put it on with this puff. 
 Nor. It must be very uncomfortable. 
 Alice. Oh, no, it isn't. 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. I9 
 
 Nor. I don't believe it. Let me see. Put some on me ; come, 
 now. 
 
 Alice (reluctant) . O uncle ! 
 
 Nor. Hush ! don't call me uncle. Come, now ; put it on, Alice. 
 
 Alice. Well, I suppose I must. (Powders his face.) 
 
 Nor. Put on more; I do not feel it. (Alice ////^ oit a lot.) 
 There, that's more like it. That'll do. 
 
 Alice. There, you see it is not bad. (Goes to wipe it off.) 
 
 Nor. Here. Let it alone. It may grow to feel bad after a 
 time. I must try it. (Alicf. pzcts box on table and^ looking at NOR- 
 CROSS, laughs?) 
 
 Alice. Ha ! ha ! ha I How funny you look with your white cap 
 and your white face ! 
 
 Henry (appearing at door). There, IVe voted for him. My 
 conscience is so much Hghter. 
 
 Nor. (seeing Henry). Hulloa ! my lunatic again. 
 
 Henry (seeing Kiaq,^ laughing)^ Why this mirth ? 
 
 Alice (with difficulty suppressing laughter) . Oh ! It is nothing 
 — only Mr. Norcross is ill. 
 
 Henry (coming forward alarmed). Heavens! and you can 
 laugh ? 
 
 Nor. (groans). Oh ! Ah ! Um ! 
 
 Henry (seeing Norcross' face for the first time). Great 
 Heavens ! The deed already done ! (Going to him.) You appear 
 to he ill, sir. 
 
 Nor. Oh, yes. I was so imprudent as to eat some mushrooms. 
 
 Henry (excited). 'Tis done. Truffles, I mean trifles, h'ght as 
 air are confirmations strong as proofs from holy writ. Oh, why 
 did you not rewrite your speech? 
 
 Nor. Now, what the devil have you to do with my speech ? 
 
 Henry {to Alice reproachfully). O madam! Mushrooms! 
 How could you? Mushrooms I 
 
 (Enter Mary with teapot.) 
 
 Mary. Here's the hot water ; I will bring the tea directly. 
 Alice. Never mind, I have some in my room. 
 M.KKY (going to Norcross). Poor man, shall I go for a doctor? 
 Alice (hastily). No! No! It is not necessary. Go. 
 
 (Exit Mary.) 
 
 Henry {aside). She will have no doctor. It's as clear as day. 
 (To Alice.) O Mrs Norcross ! 
 
 Alice. You here again ? Help me make this tea. (Feelifig 
 in satchel.^ 
 
 Henry (helpiftg). Madam, I conjure you in the name of your 
 three children, Thomas, Richard, and Henry, — or was it John 
 James ? — now away at school, stop in this awful — ( Taking book out 
 of satchel^ where he has been looking for tea.) What is this ? 
 
20 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 Alice {hastily). Put it down ; put it down ; don't let him see it. 
 Ah ! Here is the tea. {Taking out small tin box.) 
 
 Henry. Not let it be seen .^ Another secret. {Crosses to 
 front and opens book ; reads.) '' The Poisoned Violet." Ah, poison, 
 poison everywhere. {Throws book on table. Alice, who has been 
 drawing the tea^ brings up a little table a7id takes a cup to NOR- 
 CROSS.) 
 
 Alice. Here, Timothy dear, here's the tea. 
 
 Henry {aside). Heavens ! She means to finish him off at once ; 
 the mushrooms are too slow. 
 
 Nor. Thank you, my dear ; thank you. {Groans?) 
 
 Alice {after pouring tea). Til be back directly. {Exit into her 
 room. NORCROSS takes tcp cup ; blows in it.) 
 
 Nor. Ah ! That will do me good. {About to drink.) 
 
 Henry {rushes to him). Hold, sir ; do not drink that. 
 
 Nor. Eh .^ {Drinks.) Why not? {Hk^ky grabs cup away.) 
 
 Henry. He has swallowed it. Oh, why didn't you rewrite your 
 speech? Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! 
 
 Nor. Now, what the deuce is the matter Vith my speech? 
 
 Henry {aside). Now 1 am implicated sure. That note will 
 show that I knew of the plot. How can I get out of it? {JValks 
 about nervously.) 
 
 Nor. {watching him). What are you rushing about in that way 
 for? 
 
 Henry {seeing milk). Ah, my milk! I remember a poisoned 
 cat that was saved by milk. {Potirs some into Norcross's cup.) 
 
 Nor. Here, what the dickens are you doing? I don't take milk 
 in my tea. 
 
 Henry. I can't help it, you must take milk in your tea. (NoR- 
 CROSS takes up speech; note falls out.) 
 
 Nor. {picks it up and reads). What's this ? "Your life is in 
 danger. Eat nothing ; drink nothing." 
 
 Henry {offer-ingcup). Drink, drink! I wrote it. 
 
 Nor. Ha ! Ha ! Trying to scare me, eh ? Ha ! Ha ! You 
 don't fool me ; I know better. 
 
 Henry. He laughs. He actually laughs. Heavens ! how pale 
 he is, and he sits there and lauofhs, with one foot in the tea, — I 
 mean the grave, — he laughs. Oh, that that hot water was out of 
 him* and I out of this hot water ! {Pause.) I must prove my in- 
 nocence. (Norcross is about to prepare another cup of tea.) 
 Here, give me that ! {Grabs the tin box.) 
 
 Nor. Here, here, what are you doing ? That's my tea. {Holds 
 Of I to it.) 
 
 Henry {pulling at it). Let me have it. ' 
 
 Nor. I'll be hanged if I do ! 
 
 Henry. And I'lf be hanged if you don't. Give it here. {Gets 
 it away.) There's a chemist next door. I'll have it analyzed and 
 prove that I am innocent. {Exit hastily with can.) 
 
 Nor. That chap is as mad as a March hare. 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. 21 
 
 {Enter c, Heeler, and from her room, Alice.) 
 
 Heel, {excited). Victory ! victory ! 
 
 Nor. What is it? 
 
 Heel. The polls are closed, and you are elected. 
 
 Nor. {seeing Heeler's hat). My dear Heeler, you probably 
 are aware that I value my reputation for gentlemanly conduct 
 above everything, and therefore {gradiially getting excited), if you 
 don't haul off that miserable old squash from your idiotic old head, 
 ril smash this cup on the vacuum that passes for a head with you. 
 
 Heel, {removes hat). You are elected by a majority of one. 
 
 Nor. Whew \ That was close. 
 
 Heel. Yes. Rather. Young Mason's vote did it. Every one 
 thought he would vote for his uncle. 
 
 Alice. We are under great obligations to him, aren't we? 
 
 Nor. We are indeed, and I am to you, my child. Now you are 
 free again. {Laughing.) In fact, you are a widow, having just lost 
 a husband. 
 
 Alice {laughing). To say nothing of three children. 
 
 Nor. {laughs). Ha ! ha ! Now what do you want? Sealskin ? 
 Piano? What? 
 
 Alice {bashful). No. I — I — 
 
 Heel, {at window). Quick ! Put on your coat. 
 
 Nor. Why? 
 
 Heel. The boys are coming to congratulate you. {Helps him 
 on with coat.) 
 
 Nor. Oh ! The dear public. The free and enlightened con- 
 stituency. They must be attended to. {Puts an coat, Alice 
 dusts his face with his 7tight-cap?) I'll have to give them the same 
 speech over again. Never mind. A good speech ought to go 
 twice. By, by, dear. Come, Heeler. {Exettnt Q.) 
 
 Alice. Thank goodness it is all over ! It was so perfectly 
 horrid to have Mr. Mason call me Mrs. Norcross. I wouldn't 
 mind being Mrs., but not Norcross. . Now I can tell him, and what 
 a laugh we'll have, poor fellow ! He seemed to feel so bad when 
 he found that I was married. How happy he'll be when I tell him ! 
 
 {Enter Henry, hoi down over his eyes, tea in his hand, melo- 
 dramatic.) 
 
 Henry. I have had it analyzed. The chemist found a grain 
 and a half of chloride of sodium in it. 
 
 Alice. How he looks ! (Henry ^/^r^^ at her,) Mr. Mason, 
 don't look at me in that way. 
 
 Henry. Sodium, madam! Sodium! Chloride of sodium j 
 Madam, away ; leave me. 
 
 Alice. And I had such news to tell you, such happy news ! 
 
 Yi^^^Y {still melodramatic). Well, what is it ? 
 
 Alice. I am free at last. 
 
 Henry. And your husband? 
 
22 A MAJORITY OF ONE. 
 
 Alice. I have none. He is out of the way forever. ^Laughs.) 
 I am a widow, as you wished, 
 
 Henry {drops can ; hat falls from his head as he starts in 
 horrof). Widow? Then it is all over ! {Groans^) 
 
 Alice. Well ! You don't seem overjoyed, I must say. 
 
 Henry. Overjoyed? Yes; overjoyed that I had no share in 
 this business. O woman, have you a heart of stone? Do you 
 think there is no hereafter? Oh! why did I not go at once to my 
 cousin. 
 
 Alice. Why, Mr. Mason! Don't be angry with me for a little 
 joke. 
 
 Henry. Joke ! She calls that a little joke. So cool too. I 
 suppose, madam, the Massacre of St. Bartholomew appears to you 
 something in the light of a comic almanac* 
 
 Alice. I don't understand you at all. 
 
 Henry. I tremble for you, not only in this world, but in the 
 next. 
 
 Alice. And yet this morning you were so bold with that bull. 
 
 Henry. Bull ? No, I can confess it now, it was no bull. It 
 was only a playful calf. {Noise outside.^ . 
 
 Alice. What a dreadful noise ! 
 
 Henry {starts). Ha ! What if the crime is already discovered ! 
 Yet, there is still time. Fly, madam ; fly! {Tries to pull her 
 
 off^.) 
 
 Alice. Let me alone! You seem to have lost your mind. 
 You'd better be bled, or have a shower-bath. 
 
 Henry. Unhappy woman, fl}^, or you are lost. I have been to 
 the chemist. Fly, woman ! 
 
 Alice {beginning to cry). He calls me *^ woman,'' 
 
 Henry. I loved you. Ay, love you still, thoui^h I ought to 
 hate you. I will save you from the maddened crowd. Here, take 
 my cloak, my hat. {Trying to fa?'ce them on her.) 
 
 Alice. Let me be ! I think you are just horrid, there ! Leave 
 me alone ! 
 
 Henry. In Heaven's name take my cloak or you are lost! 
 
 {Enter c, Norcross and Heeler.) 
 
 Nor. What enthusiasm ! What a reception I got ! Eh ? 
 
 Henry {ptizzled). Norcross himself! Sir, are you alive ? 
 Yes, you are alive ; that is, you look alive. {Feels of him. Nor- 
 cross squirms.) Yes, very much alive. 
 
 Alice. Protect me from this man, uncle. 
 
 Henry. What ! Uncle ? 
 
 Nor. Yes ; uncle. I advise you to go and be bled. It'll do 
 you good. But how do you know my niece? Can this be the 
 young man who saved you — 
 
 Alice. Me from the calf ? Yes. 
 
 Henry. No! No! It was a bull — a raving, roaring, rearing, 
 
A MAJORITY OF ONE. 2^ 
 
 tearing, red-eyed, sharp-horned bull. {Manner quite changed^ 
 Oh, if you only knew ! 
 
 Alice {retreating). Keep away from me. 
 
 Henry {to Norcross). It was a bull, sir ; in fact, it seems to be 
 all a bull ; but now — {Strikes attitude as in earlier scene.) 
 Respected sir, not without diffidence do I venture — 
 
 Nor. Chestnut. I've heard that before. 
 
 Henry. Your niece is the personification of all that is good and 
 lovely and — 
 
 Alice. He seems to be getting a little more rational now. 
 
 Nor. Well, well, what is it that you ** not without diffidence 
 venture " } 
 
 Henry {takes Heeler's hat and assumes attitude). Sir, I 
 don't understand what is going on here, but I make bold to ask for 
 the hand of your niece. (Norcross is silent.) It was a bull I 
 assure you. {Earnestly?) 
 
 Nor. But {to Alice) I only promised you a sack ! 
 
 Alice. Well, I want this muff to go with the sack. 
 
 Heel. And I my post-office. 
 
 Nor. You shall have it. (Heeler gets his hat ; throws it up 
 for joy and puts it on his head.) And you, sir, may have my niece. 
 She has made me a very satisfactory wife to-day, and I can guaran- 
 tee she'll nurse you well if you ever get ill from eating mushrooms. 
 Ha ! Ha ! 
 
 Henry {taking Alice by the hand). Then, my dear, since it is 
 no longer unlawful, I'll love you from now on forever. We'll live 
 on love — 
 
 Alice {naive). And mushrooms? 
 
 Nor. {observing the hat on Heeler). Now, Heeler, as to that 
 hat, allow me in the politest and most gentlemanly — (HEELER^rrt:^^ 
 off hat at beginning of speech, which is cut off by quick curtain as 
 Norcross is beginning to get excited.) 
 
A NEW BORDER DRAMA, 
 
 RIO GRANDE 
 
 AN ORIGINAL DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. 
 
 By CHARLES TOWNSEND. 
 
 Author of **The Spy of Gettysburg," "The Woven Web," "Border 
 Land," "Broken Fetters," etc., etc. 
 
 :>even male, four female characters. Modern costumes; scenery, one interior 
 and one exterior. Time m playnig, two hours and twenty minuies. 
 
 This is the latest play of Western life, and one of the finest dramas ever 
 written by this brilliant and successful author. Its interest is unflagginjj, it i^ 
 full of b.ight, clean fun, and roaring comedy situations alternate with thrilling 
 and pathetic scenes. Rvery cliaracier is a goyd one and worthy of tlie Lest 
 talent. This piece can be played m any hall or upon -any stage, as there are n(» 
 difficulties in costumes or scenery. Printed directly from the author's acting 
 copy, and preceded by a chapter of *' Remarks" in which are given, in the 
 author's own words, special instructions regardnig the play, the acting of each 
 part, and all necessary details of stage-management. 
 
 Price, « . . 25 Cents. 
 
 SVNOPSIS : 
 
 * 
 
 ACT I. The First Day. —Sitting-room at Lawton's. Ju(tge Biggs renders an 
 opinion. Casey in doubt; Segura fails to score. Paul and Ketta. Jealousy. 
 The arrival. Maniie and tlie Ju(jge. Trouble ahead. A threatene<l quarrel. 
 The proposal. Refused. '* Answer him nothing." The vow. Tableau. 
 
 ACT II. The Second Day. — The lawn near the parade ground. The holiday 
 soldier, Johnnie in trouble. An "American- aristocrat" Cadwallador 
 frightened. Biggs indignant. The Indian outbreak. Segin*a's plan. A 
 cunning plot. The marriage certiticate. Paul and Retta. Some clevtr 
 acting. Segura's triumph. The quarrel. A broken engagement. *• Boots 
 and saddles 1 " Biggs asa gnUh\ '^ 'I won't cryJ*: The departure. Tableau. 
 
 ACT III. The Third Day. — Sitting-room at Lawton's. The anxious watch- 
 ers. Retta'3 sorrow. The Jiew friends. Cadwallader'a mishap. Rlami<»\s 
 sympathy. ** Thafiks awfully." Biggs arrives. \ ning row. Cadwal- 
 lader's resolution. Segura's cunning. Home a^.xin. Retta's coMff*«i<>?f 
 Laying the train. " He has a wife already." Paul in trouble. : 
 |ilodes themine^ Paul in dangtM-. De.iili of H •" i. I'ii.il.. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 ENTIRE NOVEL 017 198 597 3 i 
 
 THE GREAT MORA 
 
 Dime Show 
 
 AN ENTERTAINMENT IN ONE SCENE. 
 
 By MARY B. HORNE, 
 
 Author of "Tjie Peak Sisters," Piiof. Baxter's Great Invention 
 *'The Book of Drills," "The Carnival of Days," 
 "Plantation Bitters," Etc. 
 
 Nine male, seven female cliaracte»'s. Costumes simple; scenery an ordiuarv 
 interior, or may be dispensed with altogether. Plays from half an hour upWHrtf. 
 according to the number and character of additional ppecialties intro<luced. 
 IMinted exactly as first performed by the Unity Club, \Vatertowu, Mast., on 
 I'riday evening, February 5, 1892. 
 
 T])is most amusing entertainment is a burlesque of the ordinary '*dime- 
 nn>euMi,'* so-calle<t, hut is entirely devoid of the vulgarity of its original, aud 
 {•erfecily adapted to church or home performance. The characters are, save the 
 lecturer and her a>sistant, aMomlerful collection of *• freaks" of naiure (Bome- 
 Avhat ju^sisted by {irt) who i»ing, dance or recite, according to their special 
 abilities, in illu.-tration <•! the explanatory lectu e. It is most elastic in its 
 requirements, can be played on any staye or platform, with or without scenery, 
 HJid with a greater or smaller number of characters, according to taste or 
 necessity. It can be made uproariously funny, and is in character as well as fact 
 
 A SEQUEL TO THE PEAK SISTERS. 
 
 Price, 
 
 15 Cents. 
 
 sir25ro:E>sis. 
 
 SCENE.— The exhibition hall of Sister Keziah's Show. Sister Keziah's intro- 
 ductory lecture. Johnathan, the bashful assistant. Introductory hymn. 
 Introduction of the "freaks." Daniel McGinty redivivus. Daniel's song 
 Lucia Zarate, the celebrated Mexican dwarf. Kioto, the ihortest nmti 
 alive, not jiim0iaVy. The wonderful Mermaid. The MerUiaid's eong. 
 Cassius White, the ossified boy. A **rocky" recitation. Kallulc, the 
 only specimen of his kind in captivity; illustrated by cuts. Signor Galabsi, 
 the celebrated Glass-Eater. Galassi sings. Allegro Penseroso, the won- 
 derful two-headed girl; not to be confounded with the more common two- 
 fnced girl. Two ways of eating a pickle. Ida and Ione. the Grecian 
 mauieus. Raphael Tintoret, the blinil painter, who paints blinds in full 
 view of the audie- ce. Ah Chin and Wuv Lung, the Chinese twins, .\- 
 %remely well connected from birth. •• The Land of Tea." Ka-FOOZLE-ki i 
 the- Tiuksh vocalist. <JrMii<i finale and curtain.