PS 2672 
 .093 C3 
 Copy 1 
 
 ALLED AWAY. 
 
 A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 RICHARD QUINN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 P"Glenora," "Innisfail, or the Wanderer's Dream, 
 [ ETC. 
 
 Copyright, 1891, by Richard Quinn. 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 T. n. FREXCH SAMUEL FRFlSrrTT 
 
 Successor TO Samukl French &SOH "^^LJEIj J^ UENCH 
 
 PUBLISOEK PUBLISHER 
 
 28 West 23d Street 89 Stranp< 
 
> 
 
 CHARACTERS. Qj^'^ 
 
 'J 
 
 Marshall Earle. 
 Robert Clarkson. 
 Leslie Miller. 
 Willie Miller. 
 Tony Gillespie. 
 Mr. Elliott. 
 *. jSRjSGTiSrs. ; 
 
 '• .WAttKR., l , ; j ; 
 
 Laura Miller. 
 •. : M'r4 .'Mil^^e'r. 
 
 Time : The Present. 
 
 Costumes: Modem. 
 
 PROPERTIES. 
 
 Act I. — Newspaper, sealed packao-e containing diamond 
 brooch in velvet case, five-dollar bill, door-bell, call-bell, 
 dour, engagement ring, tidy, trust-deed, revolver, and 
 papers. 
 
 Act ir. — Satchels, bundles, mon'v, soiled letter, charm, 
 lock of hair, glass, wine, fishing rod, telegram. 
 
 Act III. — Pen, ink. paper, newspaper, pipe, tobacco, 
 matches, blank checks, nolaripl seal, letter, two revolvers, 
 two masks, two watches, bottle of poison, glass, key. 
 
 Act IV. — Fan, tea-pot, two tea-cups and saucers, sugar, 
 cream, two spoons, rose, check-book, pipe, tobacco. 
 
 Act I. — The home of the Millers. Gathering Clouds. 
 Act II. — Sylvania Lake. Called Away. 
 Act III. — Clarkson at work. The Struggle for Life. 
 Act IV. — At home. A Double Partnership. 
 
 Six months are supposed to elapse between Acts III. and IV. 
 
^ 
 
 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene. — A "beautifully furnished draioing-room. Doors k., 
 L., and c. Small table R. c. Easy-chair n. c. Settee 
 L. TijDo chairs L. c. Piano r. Leslie Miller dixcovered 
 at rise reading neiospaper. Mrs. Miller ai piano play- 
 ing. Enter Walter, c. , icith small sealed pachage, which 
 he hands to Miller. Exit Walter, l. 
 
 Miller. It has come at last. {Puts package in his 
 pocket.) 
 
 Mrs. Miller. (Turning abruptly ft'otn piano.) What has 
 come at last ? 
 
 Miller. Did I say something had come at last ? 
 
 Mas. M. I understood you to have said so. 
 
 Miller. Then my thoughts must have been wandering. 
 
 Mrs. M. But you surely meant something, Leslie ? 
 
 Miller. What makes you think so ? 
 
 Mks. M. Oh, nothing. But you wear an unusually de- 
 jected look this evening. I have noticed it ever since you 
 came home. 
 
 Miller. Even so, I cannot help it. I would look 
 brighter if I could. 
 
 Mus. M. (Crosses to him and lays her hand upon his 
 shoulder.) And will you not confide the cause to your wife ? 
 You have never kt'pt any secret from me ! 
 
 Miller. But I have no secret to confide, Ethel. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, Leslie, soinethin<f tells me you have heard 
 bad news, which you are afraid will distress me ! 
 
 Mille:<. I assure you I have no news, good or bad, to 
 relate. 
 
 Mrs. M. (Aside.) Then what couhl he have meant when 
 he said, "It has come at last"? (To Miller.) In what 
 direction were your thoughts wandering when you said, •' It 
 has come at last"? 
 
 Miller. My dear Ethel, I cannot very well answer your 
 
4 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 quostion. I assure you, however, that no misfortune has 
 overtiikcn me, and that I have no bad news to break to you. 
 
 Mus. M. Perhaps, you remember, several years ago you 
 predicted — 
 
 IMiLLEU. Pardon me, but I am afraid jow are about to 
 entt-r upon a forbidden subject. 
 
 Mrs. M. I know I promised you never to mention his 
 name, but I fear I must speak — 
 
 MiLLEK. Yet you know how disagreeable the subject is 
 to me and you cannot have forgotten the bitter memories 
 with which it is associated. 
 
 Mrs. M. I know it is the dark shadow hovering over the 
 happy sunshine of our lives, but, after all — 
 
 Miller. Enough! enough! When the doors of this 
 house were closed against him seven years ago my heart 
 was also closed against him ; it has been closed against 
 him since and shall remain closed against him forever. 
 
 Mrs. M. Ah, do not say forever ; it is a terrible word. 
 Who knows what changes time may bring about ? 
 
 MfLLER. I mean what I say, Ethel. My decision is ab- 
 solutely irrevocable. 
 
 Mrs. M. Has it never occurred to you that you might 
 have erred in your judgment ? 
 
 Miller. Never. You know very well that the proofs 
 of his guilt were only too strong. Had I seen any possible 
 wny out of the clear, cold facts which were arrayed against 
 him, would I, his father, condemn him ? No; an outcast he 
 is ;md an outcast he shall remain. 
 
 Mrs. M. You will pardon me, but I thought it was 
 something concerning him that was weighing on your 
 mind — 
 
 Miller. Nothing of the kind. I never give him a 
 thought. 
 
 Mrs. M. What I was about to say when you interrupted 
 me Mas, that you predicted he would some day bring a 
 still greater disgrace on his family, and when you said, " It 
 has come at last," I thought it had come. 
 
 Miller. No such thought disturbed my mind. The 
 fact is, we have been unwittingly draAvn into conversation 
 on a subject which should never be mentioned — 
 
 Mrs. M. True, but our poor boy — 
 
 Miller. Has dishonored his parents and has been a dis- 
 grace to them. Let us end the subject — yes, end it. Talk 
 about anything else under heaven. 
 
 Mr"b. M. Then you meant nothing when you said — 
 
 Miller. I did mean something, Ethel. 
 
 Mrs. M. I am very curious to know what it was. ' 
 
CALLED AWAY. 6 
 
 MiLT.EK. It is scarcely necessary for you to say so. Your 
 curiosity is very evident. 
 
 Mks. M. Siiy, rather, my anxiety for your liappiness. 
 
 Miller. Well, let it be so. This is the twenty-first 
 anniversary of our marriage, is it not ? 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes; why ? 
 
 Miller. Three or four days ago I ordered a little trinket 
 to commemorate the event, and I was disappointed at not 
 finding it here when I came home. 
 
 Mits. M. Yes ? 
 
 Miller. When Walter brought it to me I simply said, 
 "It has come at last," and here it is. {Gives he?- package.) 
 
 Mrs. M. {Opening pacTcage, nervously.) I wonder what 
 it is? Ah, a diamond brooch! How beautiful! How 
 good of j'ou, Leslie! {Takes it out of velvet case.) And 
 what an exquisite design ! It must have cost you a little 
 fortune. 
 
 Muggins. {Without.) I must see the boss myself. My 
 business is too important to trust to servants. 
 
 Enter Muggins and Walter, c. 
 
 Walter. This fellow came in, in spite of me, sir. 
 
 Miller. {Rises.) Walter, give the gentleman a chair 
 and take his hat. 
 
 Muggins. Yer only guyin' me now. 
 
 Miller. And cull an officer at once. 
 
 Muggins. Hold on, sir, jist a minute. I'm not used to 
 such luxuries. They're comin' too swift. 
 
 Miller. Then state your business very briefly and get 
 out. {To Walter.) Remain here until he goes. 
 
 Muggins. How about that ad. for the tarrier, and five 
 dolhirs reward, and no questions asked ? 
 
 Miller. H.ive yoii the dog? 
 
 Muggins. Me pard snuk him from the dog-ketchers and 
 sent me as a committee of one to see what there was in it. 
 
 Miller. Bring the dog and you will get the reward. 
 
 Muggins. On the dead? Then I'll fetch him right in. 
 [E.);eu?it Muggins and Walter, c. 
 
 Mrs. M. Didn't I tell you Keelo was being held for a 
 reward? 
 
 Miller. I thought so myself. {Sits.) 
 
 Mrs. M. But yuu didn't seem very anxious to advertise. 
 
 Miller. Perhaps not. Dogs are a nuisance anyway. 
 
 Mrs. M. You don't mean that I — 
 
 Miller. Oh, dear no ; not at all. 
 
 Mrs. M. Of course, there's such a thing as carrying fada 
 
b CALLED AWAY. 
 
 to extremes. There's that highly accomplished little 
 woman, Mrs. Frisby, for instance — 
 
 Miller. Don't mention. 
 
 Mrs. M. Why, she paid almost as much attention to her 
 poodles as to her guests the other evening. 
 
 Miller. If she could only " sec herself as others see 
 her"— 
 
 {Door tell rings. Mrs. M. puts h'ooch m case and sets it 
 on table.) 
 
 Mrs. M. {Going toward door, c.) I suppose the poor 
 creature is half starved. 
 
 Miller. Give him the money and let him go. I don't 
 want such a suspicious-looking character around the house 
 any longer than is necessary. 
 
 Enter Robert Clarkson, c. 
 
 Clarkson. Upon my word, a nice reception! Half- 
 starved creatures — suspicious-looking characters and so 
 forth. Really, Mr. Miller, I thought you were above mak- 
 ing such insinuations. {Laughs.) 
 
 Miller. (Rises.) Confound it all, man, it's that dog of 
 Mrs. Miller's that was lost. 
 
 Mrs. M. We were just expecting the man who had been 
 holding him. 
 
 Clark. Some cunning rascal, I'll be bound. 
 
 Miller. Yes, and an original character in his way. His 
 only drawback is his modesty. 
 
 Re-enter V/alter and Muggin, c. , ^citli dog. 
 
 Muggins. Here you are, boss. My pard kept him well. 
 See ? Three square meals a day and bones besides. Seein' 
 as how he had a high-toned swagger to his gait, we knowed 
 the owners Avonld do what was right by us. 
 
 Mrs. M. {Galling dog.) Keelo, Keelo — here Keelo! 
 
 Miller. {Gives money to Muggins.) Here are five dol- 
 lars. 
 
 Muggins. Thank you, sir. You're dc stuff. {Aside to 
 Clarkson.) What, you here? Sen you later. Ta ta. 
 
 [^.re?//;^ Muggins o»t7 Walter, c. 
 
 Mrs. M. Come, Keelo, Keelo, Little Keelo must be 
 hungry. [E.vit Mi!s. Mii,ler, r. 
 
 Miller. {Aside.) I'd have given him ten dollars will- 
 ingly if he kept the little cur. {Returns to chair.) 
 
 Ci.ARK. {Crosses to M.u.i.%n.) Now that a favorable op- 
 portunity presents itself, 1 was about to say — 
 
 Miller. Yes? 
 
CALLED AWAY. 7 
 
 Clahk. I was about to say — that is, I said — what I in- 
 tciifled to say was — 
 
 ISIiLLER. Go on, Robert. 
 
 Clauk. This is tlie eventful decision of the evening — no, 
 the — pardon me — the decision of the eventful evening — the 
 evening of the eventful decision — I confess I'm somewhat 
 embarrassed, sir. 
 
 MiLi.EU. Slightly rattled, that's all. 
 
 Clark. Laura promised to — to give me an answer this 
 evening provided you consented. 
 
 MiLi-EK. You shall see my daughter and receive the an- 
 swer from herself. Pardon me while I inform her that you 
 are here. 
 
 Clark. Certainly. [Exit Miller, r. 
 
 Clakk. If I had not played my cards so well, I would 
 retreat even now at the eleventh hour; but there's too much 
 at stake. Laura Miller has her own free will. Should she 
 decide in my favor — and I fondly hope she will — I shall re- 
 form at once and live honestly on her money. (Crosses and 
 sits at table.) Well, she's old enough to know her own 
 mind, (Sees case on table, opens it.) Hello, what liave we 
 here? Diamonds, eh! That centre stone must weigh at 
 least about two carats. It's a gem. {Puts it iack, goes up, 
 looki around, returns, pauses, takes case.) These sparkling 
 little gems would help me out of a very unpleasant predica- 
 ment I happen to be placed in just now, in addition to re- 
 imbursing me for the amount I expended on the engage- 
 ment ring. But I would not dare to confiscate them. Oh, 
 no. (Holds brooch u}) to the light, puts it in his pocket, sets 
 case on tahle.) Who then? Who but that suspic'ous-look- 
 ing character that brought the dog. I strongly suspect him 
 already. (Sits and reads newspaper.) 
 
 Enter Miller, r. 
 
 Miller. My wife and daughter want to hold a little coun- 
 cil of war, so we shall adjourn to the library if you have no 
 objection. 
 
 Clark. Nothing could give me more pleasure. 
 
 [Exeunt Miller and Clarkson, c. 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Miller, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh dear, what a surprise I have in store for 
 Laura ! I will not show her my beautiful present until she 
 has seen Robert. The dear girl will be so anxious to meet 
 him. (Listens, L. Music.) She's coming. (Crosses to table, 
 takes case hurriedly.) I'll put it in my pocket (fumbles for 
 
8 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 pocket). I can't find it. I never could find it. Oh dear, 
 dear, I never will find it! {Puts case on table andthrows tidy 
 over it ; sits down with a sigh. Music stops.) 
 
 Enter Laura, r. 
 
 Laura. Mamma, dear, I'm sorry I kept you waiting, but 
 I'm dreadfully nervous. 
 
 Mrs. M. It's only imagination, my child. I never saw 
 you looking better. There's the faintest little tinge of sad- 
 ness in your eyes. You have not been crying, I hope ? 
 
 Laura. {Casts her eyes downward.) 
 
 Mrs. M. {Aside.) She's too truthful to deny it. 
 
 Laura. I have some strange misgivings, mamma. I fear 
 I shall never see a happy day again. 
 
 Mrs. M. AVhat perfect nonsense ! I always gave you 
 credit for possessing some common sense. Why, instead of 
 trying to think of something to make you miserable, you 
 should conjure up your sweetest smile, appear in your most 
 engaging manner, and look your prettiest. I know that 
 was what I did. 
 
 Laura. That is all very well, but — 
 
 Mrs. M^ And if I had had my own way, I would have 
 married a worthless fellow and been in misery every day of 
 my life. But I was guided by my mother, and I have been 
 ever grateful to her for the advice which she gave me, and 
 blessing my stars that I followed it. 
 
 Laura. Perhaps the circumstances in your case were 
 slightly different from mine, mamma. 
 
 Mrs. M. Not at all, my child. I believe I am acting 
 for your best interests, but of course you are at perfect lib- 
 erty to do as you please. Your father is satisfied to leave 
 everything to your own good judgment and sense of duty. 
 So am I. 
 
 Laura. Has it ever occurred to you that Marshall Earle — 
 
 Mrs. M. Your father's clerk ! What would your friends 
 say ? The gossips would not wish for anything better. 
 Laura Miller, with all her opportunities and accomplish- 
 ments, married to her father's clerk ! Wouldn't it sound 
 nicely ? 
 
 Laura. Papa thinks the world of him. 
 
 Mrs. M. From a purely business point of view. But 
 you must not forget Avhat a difference there is between his 
 social position and Robert's. 
 
 Lauha. Young men too ambitious to shine in society 
 don't always make Ihe best husbands. 
 
 Mrs. M. Be that as it may, I do not think that Marshall 
 
CALLED AWAY. 9 
 
 is entitled to yo\ir consideration. He wonld never aspire 
 to marry you, and even if he did, he could not provide a 
 home for you anything like what you're accustomed to. 
 
 Laura. Very well, mamma dear, you know best. 
 
 Mks. M. (Kisses her.) You are a dear. <?ood p:irl, Laura. 
 
 [Exit Mrs. Mtllris, r. 
 
 Laura. Oh dear ! (Sighn.) Why have I been so foolish 
 as to cherish so warm an affection for Marshall Enrle ! My 
 heart tells me I can never love Robert. I don't care. It 
 would be cruel to forget Marshall. I fear there will be a 
 terrible struggle, 'twixt love and duty, and should love win 
 — ah ! then the clouds will gather. 
 
 Re-enter Miller ««(£ Clarkson, c. 
 
 Miller. Where's your mother, Laura ? 
 
 Laura. She just went up-stairs, papa. 
 
 Miller. Oh, yes, yes ; I had almost forgotten. 
 
 [Exit Miller, r. 
 
 Clark. Laura, I'm delighted to see you. 
 
 Laura. Be seated, Robert. 
 
 Ci.ARK. Thank you, but I must first learn my fate. 
 
 Laura. Your fate ? 
 
 Clark. Yes, Laura, my fate. That one little word 
 which now trembles on your lips has a world of meaning 
 for me. I have asked myself a hundred times, Wilf it 
 mean that the dream of my life is to be realized at last, or 
 will it mean that my future shall be an aimless existence of 
 monotonous misery ? 
 
 Laura. It may mean either, just as you take it ; it is yen. 
 
 Clark. You have made me happier than I ever Jioped to 
 be. 
 
 Laura. How can you say so ? Another girl may make 
 you just as happy. 
 
 Clark. Another girl, indeed ! You are the only girl in 
 the world to me. I love you as truly and as devotedly as a 
 man ever loved a woman. {Puts engageynent ring on her fiyi- 
 ger.) Why, Laura, you are trembling, your hand is shak- 
 ing. {Kisses her hand.) You are not ill, I hope ? {Assists 
 her to settee.) 
 
 Laura. I don't feel very well, Robert. The excitement 
 of this evening has made me a little nervous, that is all. 
 
 Clark. Shall I ring the bell ? 
 
 Laura. No, no. I'll be all right, presently. (Clark- 
 son sits beside her.) 
 
 Clark. Laura, was I conceited when I thouglit that you 
 reciprocated ray affection ? 
 
10 CALLED AWAY, 
 
 Lattka. Men are never conceited. {Laughs.) 
 
 Clark. Oh, no, but do you really — 
 
 Laura. There's no use asking, I won't tell you. 
 
 Clark. The silent language of the eye oft tells more 
 than words. Do I read my answer in yours ? 
 
 Laura. You were always very clever at solving riddles. 
 
 Clark. Have I not arrived at the correct solution this 
 time ? 
 
 Laura. Don't tease me any more about it, Robert. Here 
 comes mamma. 
 
 Re-enUr Mrs. Miller, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh dear ! oh dear ! What has Robert been 
 
 saying to yon, Laura ? 
 
 Laura. Just talking nonsense, mamma. (Shoics ring.) 
 Mrs. M. (Embraces her.) How shall I ever part with 
 
 my dear girl ! 
 
 Be-enter Miller, r. 
 
 Miller. Well, Robert, did vou get vour little speech 
 off? 
 
 Clark. Yes, Mr. Miller. 
 
 Miller. Very good, my boy, very good. Laura is a 
 good girl, and you're not a bad sort of fellow, eh, Robert ? 
 
 Clark. I hope I shall prove worthy of your daughter, 
 sir. 
 
 Miller. Of course, of course you will. Laura, what 
 have you to say ? 
 
 Laura. Nothing, papa. 
 
 Mrs. M. Nothing ! The idea ! 
 
 Laura. If anything should be said, I know, mamma 
 dear, you will say it for me. 
 
 Miller. Robert, when you get ready to go housekeep* 
 ing, let me know. I want to have a v/ord with you. Ever 
 since that memorable night I have not forgotten how much 
 I owe you. 
 
 Clark. You owe me nothing, Mr. Miller. 
 
 Miller. Do you call my life nothing ? That ruffian 
 might have kilkxl me if you had not come to my assistance. 
 
 Clark. No one but a coward would see a respected citi- 
 zen waylaid by a footpad and not do as 1 did. 
 
 Mrs. M. It makes me shudder to think of that night. 
 Winn Robert brout^ht you home with blood streaming down 
 your face, I thought your time had surely come. 
 
 Laura. And to think that the unfeeling brute escaped I 
 
 Clark. It is too bad. But there is a little romance con- 
 nected with the affair which makes Laura a heioine-^ . 
 
CALL ED AWAY.' 11 
 
 Mrs. M. And Robert a hero. {Door-bell ri7)i^s.) Come, 
 Launi, dear, and Robert. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. M., Laura, a/i^Z Clarkson, r. 
 Miller. I seo no reason why Rol)i'rt won't make Laur.i a 
 good husband. Slie seems to like him. and he bt-trays a 
 deep affection for her. They have surely known each other 
 lonj^ enough. Any man couldn't help being happy with 
 Laura. 
 
 Enter Marshall Earle, c. 
 
 Miller. Hello, Marshall, you look serious. What has 
 happened ? 
 
 Marshall. I have come to see you on very urgent 
 business. 
 
 Miller. What's the matter now ? 
 
 Mar. Your brother, Lindsay Miller, of Mansfield, Ohio, 
 has considerable real estate in Coolc County, has he not, 
 Mr. Miller ? 
 
 Miller. Yes. 
 
 Mar. And he is, I understand, very wealthy. 
 
 Miller. I believe he is worth a few hundred thousand. 
 
 Mar. Then it is reasonable to assume that he would not 
 mortgage a portion of his property for a consideration of 
 five thousand dollars. 
 
 Miller. Lindsay mortgage his property ! You have not 
 been drinking, Marshall ? 
 
 Mar. No, sir. 
 
 Miller. Then what are you talking about ? 
 
 Mar. This note (gives Miller trust-deed), which Mr. 
 Whiting gave me, purports to be made by your brother. It 
 is signed by him. 
 
 Miller. ( They sit at table and emmine it.) That is not my 
 brother's signature. 
 
 Mar. Mr. Whiting discovered too late, it seems, that 
 there was something wrong. You had left the office only a 
 few minutes when he called. 
 
 Miller. What did you say to him ? 
 
 Mar. I told him I would see you at the earliest possible 
 moment and telegraph your brother. 
 
 Miller. Has the money been raised on this paper ? 
 
 Mar. Yes, sir. Mr. Whiting made a loan of three 
 thousand dollars after an examination of the title. 
 
 Miller. Who negotiated the loan ? 
 
 Mar. a broker named Wilmot. 
 
 Miller. Who identified the parties ? 
 
 Mar. Robert Clarkson. 
 
 MiLLBB. Robert Clarkaon ! Imppesible. 
 
12 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Mae. Mr. Whiting is very positive. 
 
 Miller. What has he done about it ? 
 
 Mar. He has reported the matter at police headquarters, 
 and a detective is now looking up the parties. 
 
 Miller. Have you telegraphed my brother ? 
 
 Mar. No, sir. 
 
 Miller. There is no necessity. This note is a for- 
 gery. 
 
 Mar. Perhaps Mr. Clarkson could throw some light on 
 the subject. 
 
 Miller. I don't like to ask him, Marshall. 
 
 Mar. I shall see him if you wish. 
 
 Miller. No. Robert is my guest this evening. The 
 fact is, my daughter's engagement to him will be announced 
 in a few days. This is confidential. 
 
 Mar. Indeed, sir ! Of course that alters the situation. 
 But that is all the more reason why he should be informed 
 of what has taken place. 
 
 ' Miller. Perhaps so. I shall see him, but I am sure he 
 can give a satisfactory explanation of the affair. 
 
 [Exit Miller, r. 
 
 Mar. (Rises.) Mr. Miller had a greater surprise in store 
 for me than I had for him. (Pauses.) " My daughter's en- 
 gagement to him will be announced in a few days." I 
 fondly hoped to figure in that announcement myself. (Laura 
 appears at door, b., unobserved by Marshall.) Such is the re- 
 ward of many a man's true and unselfi.sh love. I'll never 
 love a woman again. Ah, Laura,when your wedding bells are 
 merrily ringing, little will you dream of the hopes you have 
 shattered, of the heart you have broken ! 
 
 Enter Laura. 
 
 Mar. (Starts.) Laura ! 
 
 Laura. Miss Miller, if you please. I'm engaged to be 
 married. 
 
 Mar. I beg your pardon. 
 
 Laura. You never really cared for me, did you, Mar — 
 I mean Mr. Earle ? 
 
 Mar. No, Miss Miller. I have been dissembling. 
 
 Laura. I thought so. It would not concern you much 
 whether I married another or not ? 
 
 Mar. No. When the dearest treasure of the heart is 
 stolen, what is left to be concerned about ? 
 
 Laura. Won't you wish me well, at all events ? 
 
 Mar. I could not wish you otherwise. 
 
 Ladra. And you'll forgive me and forget — 
 
CALLED AWAY. 1^ 
 
 Mar. I have nothing to forgive, but I cannot forget 
 you. 
 
 Laura. Don't you want your presents returned ? 
 
 M\R. No. If you don't care to keep them, give them 
 to one of your servants. 
 
 Laura. You won't think me awfully wicked, will you, 
 Marshall ? 
 
 Mar. I cannot think anything but good of you. I shall 
 try to make myself believe that you were wise in casting me 
 aside and — and — breaking my heart. 
 
 Laura. Marshall, you are breaking mine ! 
 
 Mar. Laura — Miss Miller! 
 
 Laura. Don't look so surprised. Can't you understand 
 me ? 
 
 Mar. I cannot. 
 
 Laura. I'm engaged to Robert Clarkson. 
 
 Mar. Your father told me so. 
 
 Laura. But he did not tell you that /had made up my 
 mind that I would never marry him. 
 
 Mar. Then you became engaged — 
 
 Laura. To please my mother. She almost insisted. 
 What could I do ? I never liked him. 
 
 Mar. I am glad for your sake. 
 
 Laura. Why for my sake ? 
 
 Mar. Because the engagement would be likely to be 
 broken off. 
 
 Laura. How do you know ? 
 
 Mar. a certain business transaction of Mr. Clarkson's 
 may get him into trouble. 
 
 Laura. Is it anything very serious ? 
 
 Mak. Forgery. 
 
 Laura. Forgery ! 
 
 Mar. Yes. 
 
 Laura. Does papa know about it ? 
 
 Mar. I did not tell him all I knew. 
 
 Laura. Oh, then, that was what you came to see him 
 about ? 
 
 Mar. Yes. 
 
 Laura. But you're going to tell him all you know ? 
 
 Mar. I am placed in a very peculiar position. Were I 
 a disinterested party, I certainly should not hesitate to tell 
 your father all I know. It is my duty as far as the business 
 of his office is concerned, 
 
 Laura. Marshall, are you a friend of mine ? 
 
 Mar. I am, Laura. 
 
 Laura. Will you take my advice ? 
 
 Mau. Yes. 
 
14 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Laura. Bo your duty. (Laura goes to door r., hut hear- 
 ing Mu. Miller coming, goes off c.) 
 
 Mar. {After a pause.) Duty is the word. 
 
 Enter Mr. Miller, r. 
 
 Mar. Did Mr. Clarlison give you a satisfactory explana- 
 tion, sir ? 
 
 Miller. Not exactly. 
 
 Mar. Then you are not quite convinced that he is inno- 
 cent ? 
 
 Miller. No, What is your opinion ? 
 
 Mar. I believe that he is pruilty of forgery. 
 
 Miller. This is a very seriotis charge to make against a 
 man's character. You must be careful not to repeat it, or it 
 may get you into no end of trouble. 
 
 Mar. I would not make an assertion of this kind unless 
 I could prove it. Now, Mr. Miller, if, on account of 3Ir. 
 Clarkson's relations with your family, you wish me to re- 
 main silent, I shall do so. 
 
 Miller. No, no, no. I want you to tell me everything 
 you know about this business. 
 
 Mar. First of all, I must tell you Robert Clarkson was 
 one of the conspirators — 
 
 Miller. Why, was there a conspiracy ? 
 
 Mar. Mr. Whiting informed me that there was. The 
 conspiracy numbered several sharpers. These men devised 
 means to raise large sums of money on forged trust deeds, 
 which were almost perfect in every detail. Their system was 
 very business like. One did the actual forcing, another 
 negotiated the loans, and a third identified the par- 
 ties. 
 
 Miller. Perhaps Mr. Clarkson's connection with these 
 men was purely accidental ? 
 
 Mar. Then why did he have their seals in his posses' 
 sion ? 
 
 Miller. Did you see them ? 
 
 Mar. Yes; he left two in a drawer of my desk one after- 
 noon. More through curiosity than anything else, I made a 
 few impressions of one of them on my memorandum book. 
 Mr. Clarkson happened in just at the time and tore the 
 leaves out of my book. 
 
 Miller. Then your proof is lost ? 
 
 Mar. No; I chanced to make an impression on the cover 
 which he did not notice. 
 
 Miller. Let me see it. 
 
 Mar. (Oivea him vest-pocket memorandum book.) See, tU© 
 
CALLED AWAY. 15 
 
 impressions are exactly the same. ( Comparing look with trust- 
 deed at table.) 
 
 Miller. Exactly, 
 
 Enter Robert Clarkson, r. 
 
 Clark. I thouj^ht I had better come down and see Mr. 
 Earle myself. Where is the paper ? 
 
 Mar. This is the forged trust-deed. (Gives it to him.) 
 
 Clauk. I don't know anything about it. 
 
 Mar. But you have seen the seal from which that im- 
 pression w.as made. 
 
 Clark. Let me see. '■'■John Bavidsoii, Notary Public, 
 Mamjield, Ohio.'''' No ; I've never seen it. . 
 
 Mar. You left a seal on my desk a few days ago. 
 
 Clark. Oh, yes, yes. That belonged to the Metropol- 
 itan Investment Company. 
 
 Mar. You saw me take some impressions of it. 
 
 Clark. Yes. Where are they ? {Laughs.) 
 
 Mar. You tore some of them out of my memorandum 
 book, but yet left one. Do you want to see it ? 
 
 Clark. Young man, do not provoke me too far or I may 
 be tempted to punish you. 
 
 Mar. Mr. Clarkson, you cannot deter me by threats 
 from doing my duty. When the proper time comes, sir, I 
 shall prove — 
 
 Clark. You can prove nothing, sir. I see what your 
 little game is, and I shall expose you. Had you dared to 
 make such insinuations anywhere else, I would prove to you 
 that it would be to your lasting disadvantage. Do you 
 hear me ? {Strikes Marshall ; they struggle ; Marshall 
 knocks him down.) 
 
 Miller. Gentlemen, you're both excited. For my sake 
 drop the subject. 
 
 Clark. But I won't submit to be insulted — 
 
 Miller. If you have no regard for my feelings, have a 
 little, at least, for my daughter's. Such conduct is dis- 
 graceful. I won't tolerate it. (Marshall sits, r., Clark- 
 son, L.) 
 
 Enter Mrs. Miller and Laura, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. It is a perfect dream, Laura. 
 
 Laura. Don't be teasing me about it, mamma. Can't 
 you tell me what it is ? 
 
 Mrs. M. {Goes to table, takes brooch case and holds it toward 
 Laura.) Now feast your eyes. Isn't it beautiful ? 
 
 Laura. Beautiful I I don't see anything. 
 
16 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Mrs. M. {Excitedly loohs in case, feels nech of dress, turns 
 over everything on table.) Oh, Leslie, it is gone ! it is gone ! 
 What shall I do ? 
 
 Mau. What is gone,^rrs. Miller ? (Rises.) 
 
 Mrs. M. a beautiful diamond brooch which Mr. Miller 
 gave me only half an hour ago. I'm sure it was in this 
 case when I left it on the table. Oh, dear ! oh. dear ! 
 
 Clark. (Rises.) Some one must have stolon it. I didn't 
 half like the looks of that man who brought the dog. 
 
 Miller. There was no one else here who would have 
 taken it. But if it's gone, it's gone. There's no use worry- 
 ing about it, Ethel. I'll get you another, 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, but I wouldn't wish to have lost it for 
 anything ! It was such a genuine surprise, too. 
 
 Enter Mr. Elliott and Walter, c. 
 
 Elliott. Put on your hat, Mr. Clarkson. and come 
 with me to the Central Station. The chief wants to see 
 you. 
 
 Clark. Who are you ? 
 
 Ell. (Unbuttons coat and shows star.) I've been looking 
 for you all day. 
 
 Clark. Why, officer, I bet you a hundred dollars to 
 one — 
 
 Ell. No, no. You don't come that racket on me. 
 
 Clark. Have you got a warrant ? 
 
 Ell. Yes. 
 
 Clark. Oh, well. I'll see the chief. Of course, it will 
 be all right. (To Walter.) Walter, I want you to give 
 these pai)ers — (Giving him papers.) 
 
 Ell. I'll take care of them if you have no objection. 
 (Takes them and searches him.) 
 
 Clark. I'll surrender no papers. I protest I say. This 
 is illegal. 
 
 Ell. I have a little to say about that. 
 
 Clark. I'm an innocent man, but I protest being 
 searched like a common thief. 
 
 Ell. You do, eh? Important papers, concealed wea- 
 pons, and diamonds ! (Shows them.) 
 
 STrs. M. Leslie ! Laura ! my brooch ! (Staggers to 
 chair overcome.) 
 
 Miller. Officer, that brooch belongs to my wife. 
 
 Ell. I'll see that you get it back, sir, but I'll have to 
 take it to the station. 
 
 Clark. Walter, bring me my hat. 
 
 [Exit Walter, c. 
 
CALLED AWAY. 17 
 
 Laura. {Takes off engagement ring, throws it indignantly 
 to Clarkson.) There ! 
 
 Clark. Sweetest Laura, you would not desert your in- 
 tended husband in an affliction like this ! I'm merely a 
 victim of kleptomania. 
 
 Mr. Miller, Officer, will you kindly remove that man. 
 
 Clark. So you would turn against me. would you ? 
 I'm devilish sorry I did not let you get your skull fractured 
 when I had the chance. 
 
 Re-enter Walter icith Jiat^ c. 
 
 Clark. Are you with me, Walter ? 
 
 Walter. Yes, Mr. Clarkson. You have one friend. 
 
 Mrs. M. The deceitful brute! 
 
 Clark. Another county heard from. You thought I'd 
 marry your daughter, did you ! You can rest assured I 
 never cared for her — wouldn't have her if she were worth a 
 cool million. 
 
 Mar. Insulting coward, you dare not make use of such 
 language if an officer were not present, 
 
 Clark. Hello ! Who are you ? 
 
 Laura. He's a man. Tou are a coward ! 
 
 Miller. An ingrate ! 
 
 Mar. a forger ! 
 
 Mrs. M. And a thief ! 
 
 Mrs. Miller. Mr. Miller. Clarkson. 
 
 Laura. Marshall. Elliott. Walter. 
 
 Slow Curtain. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene. — Set summer hotel, r., with practical door. Trees, l. 
 View of lake at hack. Garden bench, l. c. Tico rustic 
 chairs, r. c. Business of stopping of horses and alight- 
 ing from ''bus. Time — Sunset. Sign, ^'- Lake View ILdel."' 
 
 Enter Tony Gillespie carrying satchels and bundles, which 
 he throios down at hotel door. 
 
 Sallie. (Without, Ij.) Hey there, Tony ! Be careful. 
 Tony. Sure it's as tinder as eggs I'm after lavin' 'em out 
 of me two hands. 
 
 Enter Sallie, l. 1 e. 
 
 Is that yourself, Sallie? Sure I thought 'twas one o' the 
 ladies that was spakin' to me. 
 
18 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Sat>lte. An' wasn't it a lady, you omadhaun? 
 
 Tony. Who said it wasn't? 
 
 Sallie. You did, and I won't spake to you any more, 
 that's what I won't. 
 
 Tony. An' sure if you don't, Sallie dear, there's thim 
 that will. 
 
 Sallie. Oh, you think because Miss Nellie takes a little 
 notice of you, common folks are not good enough for you 
 any more. 
 
 Tony. Will ye listen to that ! Be the powers, it's short 
 'till we can't have a civil word for anybody. Look at the 
 way she's tossin' her head! {Crosses to Sallie.) Sallie, 
 acushla, what's ails you? 
 
 Sallie. It's none of your concarn. 
 
 Tony. You needn't look that scornful at me. 
 
 Sallie. You're deceitful, Tony, that's what you are. 
 
 Tony. Sallie! {She turns away.) Sallie! {She looks at 
 him.) Come hether. 
 
 Sallie. Well? 
 
 Tony. It's purtier you're gettin' every day. 
 
 Sallie. You're a flatterin' rogue, Tony. 
 
 Tony. Faith an' sure it's thj truth I'm spakin'. 
 
 Sallie. Only for you're so mean I was goin' to tell you 
 somethin'. 
 
 Tony. What is it? 
 
 Sallie. You don't like me as you used to. 
 
 Tony. Do ye hear that, now? An' sure it's head over 
 heels in love wid ye I am. 
 
 Sallie, G'long out o' that, an' you're nothin' else. 
 
 Tony. Oh, look at that, will j'e! You said you had 
 somethin' to tell me, an' I was raakin' it aisy for you. 
 
 Sallie. You don't know what I was goin' to vay. 
 
 Tony. Are you sure ? There now, don't be blushin'. 
 Any saycret you may confide in me will remain locked in 
 ray heart forever. 
 
 Sallie. Are you sure you won't tell anybody? 
 
 Tony. Sure, I won't, 
 
 Sallie, On your word. 
 
 Tony. On my word. 
 
 Sallie. Well, Tony — 
 
 Tony. Yia, darlin'? 
 
 Sallie. Oh, I can't. 
 
 Tony, Never fear. Go on. 
 
 Sallie. The missus said — 
 
 Tony. Yis? 
 
 Sallie. She said you should — 
 
 Tony, Should what? 
 
CALLED AWAY. 19 
 
 SAiit-iE, Feed the pigs after supper. (Sallie runs off 
 into hotel, laughing. ' Tosy' goes to door, kicking himself; he 
 gathers up satchels, etc.) 
 
 [Exit Tony, k. u. e. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Miller and hhVRKfrom hotel. 
 
 Laura. I do not know what you ever saw in Robert 
 Clarkaon, mamma. You know that I never more than toler- 
 ated him, and yet — 
 
 Mrs. M. Hush, child ! The less said on that subject 
 now, the better. {They sit on hench.) We have come to this 
 quiet retreat to seek a inuch-ueeded rest. 
 
 Laur.\. For your sake, I sincerely hope we'll find it. 
 
 He-enter Sallie /ro??i hotel. 
 
 Sallie. Beggin' your pardon, m'am, I heard you were 
 lookin' for a nice, tidy girl to do housework. 
 
 Mrs. M. Yes. 
 
 Sallie. I'll be lookin' for a place in a couple of weeks. 
 
 Mrs. M. Can you come well recommended? 
 
 Sallie. Yis, indeed, m'am. You were recomminded 
 very highly to me. Sure you're a born lady, an' it's wid you 
 I'd be con tint intirely. 
 
 Mrs. M, How long have you been here? 
 
 Sallie. Ever since I landed, m'am. 
 
 Mrs. M. Where did you come from? 
 
 Sallie. From Skibbereen, in the County Cork, next 
 door to the Post Office. 
 
 Mrs. M. If I do give you a trial and you should suit me, 
 "will you stay with me? 
 
 Sallie. 'Tisn't skiddadling from you I'd be thinkin' of 
 until my welcome would be worn out. 
 
 Mrs. M. Are you dissatisfied here? 
 
 S.vLLiE. No, m'am, but I'm tould you give two after- 
 noons and three evenin's off every week, besides every other 
 Sunday. 
 
 Mrs. M. I think you would be slightly disappointed. 
 
 Sallie. Oh, no, m'am; sure I'm aisly satisfied. 
 
 Mrs. M. I shall let you know before I return, Sallie. 
 
 Sallie. Thank you, m'am. {Bows and goes off, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Enter M.\rshall, carrying ^shing rod, l. v. e. 
 
 Mrs. M. Well, Marshall, did you catch any fish? 
 Mar. Three bass and a pickerel. 
 Mrs. M. Where did you leave Mr. Miller? 
 Mar. On the pier with Ollie. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Midler and Laura, l. u. e. 
 
26 CALLED AWAY/ 
 
 Mar. {Taking fishing rod apart. Music.) It seems to 
 me that Mrs. Miller is determined that Laura and I shall be 
 together as little as possible. My affection for Laura grows 
 stronger every day — the more I see of her, the more anxious 
 I am to be in her society. Yet I fear that I will some day 
 in the uncertain future look back to my fondly cherished 
 love for her as but an idle dream — a beautiful vision that 
 enchanted my soul and was lost to me, forever. {Coming 
 down c.) 
 
 The fairest flower that grows below. 
 
 The brightest star that shines above, 
 Can ne'er a joy so sweet bestow 
 As one fond smile of Laura's love. 
 
 {Music stops.) [Exit, K. 
 
 Ente?' Willie Miller, l. u. e. 
 
 Willie. {Coming down.) If I can only remain here un- 
 noticed, perhaps I will see her. The resemblance is so strik- 
 ing that i cannot be mistaken. {Goes iehindbench, and leans 
 against it.) 
 
 Re-enter Laura, l. 1 e., crosses to rustic chair, r. c, and sits. 
 
 Laura. Of course Marshall is gone ! 
 
 Willie. {Aside.) How like her. {He stirs.) 
 
 Laura. {Sees him; screams.) I thought there was no one 
 here. 
 
 Willie. You were not very much mistaken. I am no- 
 body of any consequence. 
 
 Laura. (Adde.) The poor fellow looks hungry. 
 
 WiLLiK. Do not be ahirmed. I did not mean to frighten 
 you. I only wanted — (Laura crosses to hotel door.) 
 
 Laura. {.At door.) I'll see. [Exit 'L wjtxk into hotel. 
 
 Willie. She has forgotten. It would be cruel to re- 
 mind her. 
 
 Re-enter Laura. 
 
 Laura. {Offers him a coin.) 
 
 Willie. Thank you, but it was not money. 
 
 Laura. Then, what is it? 
 
 Willie. I only wanted to ask — {A pause.) 
 
 Laura. If you want something to eat, you must step over 
 to the restaurant. {Going.) 
 
 Willie. Please do not go. May I — I beg your pardon 
 — may I take the liberty of asking you a question ? 
 
 Laura. Ccrtidnly. What is it ? 
 
 Willie. If it would not be presuming too much, I would 
 like to know your name. 
 
 Lauba. My name can be of no possible interest to you. 
 
CALLED AWAY.* 21' 
 
 Willie. You look like some one 1 knew, "but it is a long 
 time since I have seen her — 
 
 Lauka. (Aaide.) He must be slightly demented. 
 
 [loud.) I presume I look like some one who — 
 
 Willie. Who was very dear to me. 
 
 Laura. You have made a mistake. The likeness exists 
 only ill your imagination. 
 
 Willie. Have you a brother ? 
 
 Laura. I had a brother once, but he — 
 
 Willie. Died ? 
 
 Laura. No, not exactly. 
 
 Willie. Disgraced the family, or something of that 
 kind ? 
 
 Laura. {Adds.) He's getting more mysterious every 
 moment. I do not know what to make of him, but he has 
 so aroused my curiosity that I must find out what he means. 
 ( To Willie.) What do you mean by asking such a question ? 
 
 Willie. Haven't you a brother named Willie ? 
 
 Laura. Willie ! Yes. 
 
 Willie. He wishes to speak with you alone, but is 
 afraid that you would not care to meet him. 
 
 Laura. Would not care to meet him ! Would not care 
 to see Willie ! Only tell me where he is — 
 
 Willie. Perhaps this will explain. {Gives her soiled 
 letter. ) 
 
 Laura. {Reading slotchj.) " Willie, take this little keep- 
 sake with you, and never part with it. If you should ever 
 feel that you have not a friend in the world, let this be a 
 token to you of a fond sister's undying love. Though 
 evti-y one should condemn you, I shall always believe in 
 your innocence. Affectionately, Laura." Where did you 
 get this ? 
 
 Willie. My little sister gave it to me years ago with a 
 charm and a lock of her hair. I have read those words over 
 and over a hundred times, and often besprinkled the paper 
 with tears. 
 
 Lauka. Where — where's the charm ? (Willie gives it 
 to her.) 
 
 Laura. Willie ! Willie ! {Embraces Mm, sdlibing.) 
 
 WiLLii':. Poor girl, I'm sorry I make you so unhappy. 
 
 Laura. How changed you are ! I would never have 
 known j'ou. 
 
 Willie. Who is here with you ? 
 
 Laura. Papa, mamma, and Marshall Earle. 
 
 Willie. Has fatlnr i ver reh nted ? 
 
 Laura. No ; he forbade us ever to mention your narrie. 
 
 Willie. And mother ? 
 
22 CALLED AW AT. 
 
 Laitra. She has- never ceased to think of you. She 
 still calls you her dear boy. O, Willie, if you saw her cry 
 yesterday you would pity her ! A. poor tramp came to the 
 door for assistance, and she burst into tears. "Perhaps," 
 she said, "my own poor boy's lot is no better. Would to 
 God I knew where he is or what has become of him." 
 
 Willie. She did not recognize me, Laura ? 
 
 Laura. You don't mean that it was you — 
 
 Willie. I do. {Staggers lacJcward.) 
 
 Laura. What's the matter, Willie ? 
 
 Willie. I'm very, very weak — I've eaten nothing for 
 two days — I have no strength left, but I wanted to see you 
 before — before I — {Falls bach on bench.) 
 
 Laura. Poor fellow ! I'll run and get a glass of wine. 
 It may revive you, 
 
 [Exit Laura into hotel. 
 
 Willie. Laura! Laura! She's gone ! I'd die for that 
 girl. What if she should tell my f.ither ? {Rising with 
 an effort.) I don't want to meet him ; no, I'll never 
 meet him. He wronged me, he disowned me, he told me 
 never to come near him. I won't. I'll keep out of his way. 
 He may be sorry when he learns the truth, but it will be too 
 late — too late I 
 
 [Exit Willie, l. u. e. 
 
 Re-enter Laura. 
 
 Laura. Gone ! {Calls.) Willie ! Willie ! 
 
 [Re-enter Willie. 
 Willie. Did you tell them I was here ? 
 Laura. No, I didn't say a word. {Gives him wine.) 
 Willie. Thanks, Laura. I must go now, but don't say 
 anything to my father. Good-by. 
 Laura. {Kissing him.) Good-by. 
 
 Enter Marshall, r. u. e. 
 
 Laura. Why, Marshall ! 
 
 Mar. Yes, {A pause.) 
 
 Laura. {Apa7-t to Willie.) You don't mind meeting 
 Marshall, do you ? 
 
 Willie. No. 
 
 Mar. {Aside.) It's Laura Miller and I'm awake ! 
 
 Laura. There's no use trying to conceal anything, Mar- 
 shall ; I will tell you all. 
 
 Mar. I can see it, Laura, I'm sorry to say. 
 
 Laura. Then why don't you speak to him ? 
 
CALLED AWAY. 23 
 
 Mar, Why should I speak to him ? You are better ac- 
 quainted with him. 
 
 L.\UKA. I am only a sister to him. 
 
 Mar. Then he is — 
 
 Laura. My brother I 
 
 M.AR. Willie Miller ? 
 
 Laura. Yes. 
 
 Mar. I beg your pardon, Laura. I didn't know it all, 
 Willie, old fellow, how are you ? {They shake hands.) 
 
 Willie. Marshall, you were always a good friend of 
 mine. Don't tell any one that you met me. 
 
 Enter Mr. and Mrs. Miller, l. 2 E. 
 
 Mrs. M. I thought you had gone across the lake, Laura. 
 
 Laura. No, mamma, I was waiting for Marshall. 
 
 Willie. {AimH to Laura.) For God's sake, Laura, 
 don't tell them who I am. ( Going L., Laura holds him hack.) 
 O, Willie, don't go without speaking to mamma, please 
 don't ! She'll never forgive me if I don't tell her, she has 
 worried about you so. 
 
 Mrs. M. What does all this mean ? 
 
 Laura. 'Tis Willie ! 
 
 Mrs. M. Willie ! (Embraces him.) My poor boy — poor 
 boy ! 
 
 Miller. Oh, I see ! The young scamp wants to come 
 back, but he won't find me ready to forgive him. Young 
 man, you ought to be ashamed to show your face here. 
 
 Willie. 1 have never done anything that I am ashamed 
 of, sir. 
 
 Miller. You forget yourself. Leave my presence this 
 moment. 
 
 Mar. Mr. Miller, don't be so severe with him. Remem- 
 ber that he is your only son. 
 
 Miller. I'm very sorry that he is. 
 
 Willie. I ask nothing of you, sir, not even your for- 
 giveness. You disowned me, closed the door in my face, 
 made me an outcast. You could do no more. 
 
 Miller. I could have sent you to the penitentiary, and I 
 regret now that I didn't. 
 
 Willie. I don't think you could. I could have proved 
 my innocence if 1 were given a chance, but you would not 
 listen to me. 
 
 Laura, Why don't you hear what he has to say, papa ? 
 
 Willie. I do not want to/be heard now. 
 
 Mrs. M. Leslie, I always ^aid that you were too hasty in 
 condemning him. 
 
24 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Miller. Gracious Heaven ! woman, didn't he acknowl- 
 edge taking the check out of my book ? 
 
 Laura. But the circumstaucis under which — 
 
 Miller. Circumstances — bosh — nonsense 
 
 Laura. Papa, if you would only listen — 
 
 MiLLKR. Listen ! I refused to listen to him. Why 
 should I listen to you ! Listen ! Rubbish ! 
 
 Mrs. M. You're unreasonable. 
 
 Miller. I'll have nothing more to say to him. That 
 settles it. 
 
 Mrs. M. That just shows how unreasonable you are. 
 There's no necessity for iiying into a temper. 
 
 Willie. Plead no more for me, mother — plead no more 
 for me. God knows I never forged father's name to that 
 check. I don't feel as if I were going to trouble you very 
 long. 
 
 Mrs. M. Willie, don't — don't talk like that. A mother's 
 love and care will soon bring you back to your former self. 
 Your father must see that he was wrong. 
 
 Willie. Don't be too hopeful, mother. The end is not 
 far off. Then a mother's love — a father's hate — what of it ? 
 I'll tell you who it was that forged the check. 
 
 f«^-M-iwho? 
 Laura. \ 
 
 Willie. Robert Clarkson. Now I can rest easier. 
 Good-by, mother ; good-by, Laura. Father, the punish- 
 ment which you unjustly inflicted on me in a moment of 
 passion will soon be over, but I forgive you — I forgive you 
 — may God forgive you. {Falls.) 
 
 Miller. {Crossing to Willie.) Willie ! Willie ! Speak 
 to me ! Listen to me ! I was hasty — angry — mad — or I 
 could not have done what I did. You are not going to die 
 — no, you must not die till I have atoned for the wrong I 
 have done you. (Marshall lifts him vp to bench.) 
 
 Willie. Father, I fear it is too late — 
 
 Miller. No, no 1 You are overcome by fatigue and 
 hunger, but you will soon be better. Laura, get something 
 to revive him. Quick, quicK ! Ethel, speak to him. 
 
 [Exit Laura into hotel. 
 
 Enter Tont, hurriedly, from hotel. 
 
 Tony. Here's a dispatch for you, Mr. Earle. 
 Mar. When did it come V {Opens it.) 
 Tony. Just this minit, sir. 
 Mar. {Reads it, starts.) Poor fellow I 
 Mr. M. No bad news, I hope. 
 
CALLED AWAY. 26 
 
 Mar. Very bad news, Mr. Miller. My brother Henry 
 met with a serious accident, and is not expected to live. 
 
 Tony. Do you want to send back an answer, sir ? The 
 'bus is just startin' for the train. 
 
 Mar. Hold it for a moment. I'll have to go. 
 
 Re-enter Laura. 
 
 Laura. Make him drink this, papa. It will do him 
 good. (Gives him wine.) Why, Marshall, are you ill? 
 What has happened ? 
 
 Mar. I am called away. {Hands her telegram.) 
 
 Willie. 
 Miller. Mrs. Miller. 
 Tony. Marshall. Laura. 
 
 Quick Curtain. 
 
 ACT in. 
 
 Scene. — A poorly furnished room. Door, l. Window, l. 3e. 
 Table, R. c. Kitchen chairs r. and L. of table. Cuspidore. 
 Writing matei'ials, bottle, glass and tobacco on table. 
 Clarkson discovered seated at table, l. , copying. Mug- 
 gins leaning over table, smoking a pipe. 
 
 Clark. (Tearing papers.) Confound it! I don't seem 
 to get it right. 
 
 Mug. If I couldn't do no better than that, I'd jist let it 
 alone. See ? 
 
 Clark. Perhaps you would like to try your hand? 
 
 Mug. No, sir. My education in that line was neglected. 
 If you was as slick at making checks as you are at fixin' up 
 mortgages — 
 
 Clark. Hush-sh. You talk too much. 
 
 Mug. What time did you say the train was due ? 
 
 Clark. Ten minutes after nine. It's a quarter past now. 
 
 Mug. Do you think he'll come ? 
 
 Clark. Of course I do. If that telegram don't fetch 
 him, my name isn't Clarkson. 
 
 Mug. What did you say ? 
 
 Clark. Brother met with a serious accident — not ex- 
 pected to live. Being taken care of at this number. 
 
 Mug. I thought I hearai some one comin' uji-stairs. 
 Sh-h. (Goes to door and lisiens.) 
 
 Clark. (Spreads newspaper over table and reads. ) Coming ? 
 
26 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Mug. No ; false alarm. {Beturns to table, and sits on end 
 of it.) 
 
 Clark. (Holding up forged check.) If I can get this 
 cashed, I'll clear out. 
 
 Mug. {Examines it.) That ought to go. 'Taint just 
 right, but it might be worse. Nothin' small about you, is 
 there? 
 
 Clark. I'll need every cent of it. 
 
 Mug. Where do I come in? 
 
 Clark. You're not implicated in this job. 
 
 Mug. But I'm implicated in the stuflE, or I don't know 
 myself. 
 
 Clark. Look at the desperate fix I'm in. Only for the 
 " pull," I'd never get bail. 
 
 Mug. Goin' to jump it, eh? 
 
 Clark. What else can I do? 
 
 Mug. Nice joke, to let Anderson whistle for three 
 thousand. 
 
 Clark. That won't bother me a little bit. 
 
 Mug. How about the Metropolitan Investment Com- 
 pany ? 
 
 Clark. Just about ready for a crash. I get only a 
 third of the boodle. That's for a reserve fund, in case the 
 worst comes. Lawyers are pretty expensive people to do 
 business with. 
 
 Mug. If this here guy what's comin' caves in an' gives 
 up the proofs, you won't git, will you? 
 
 Clark. I've got to, whatever turns up. 
 
 Mug. You'll act square by me, anyhow? 
 
 Clark. If this check go, I'll give you a hundred dol- 
 lars. 
 
 Mug. I don't take nothin' less than five, {Comes off 
 table.) 
 
 Clark. We'll see about that, Mr. Muggins. 
 
 Mug. No, you don't git out of it so easy. See ? Where 
 would you be but for me ? Didn't I introduce you to soci- 
 ety ? Didn't I put you spongin' on the Millers ? Didn't I 
 make a gentleman out of you ? 
 
 Clark. You give yourself too much credit. Muggins. 
 
 Mug. Why, 'twas I drawed out the whole plan for you. 
 
 Clark. You're mistaken. The plan was mine. 
 
 Mug. Didn't I place old Miller for you ? Didn't I hold 
 him up for you ? Didn't I make a hero of you ? 
 
 Clark. Didn't I pay you well for your trouble ? 
 
 Mug. Yes ; but how many dark nights did I have to 
 spot him before we struck it right. Look at the risk I 
 took. 
 
CALLED AWAY. 27 
 
 Clark. Your work ended there, but mine only com- 
 menced. Think of the part I had to play. 
 
 Mug. That's all right. If you only took my advice and 
 let well enough alone, the chances are you'd have married 
 that snug little fortune. I told you, Bobby, that you made 
 the mistake of your life when you went dabblin' in that 
 there forgery business. 
 
 Clark. I'll make it two hundred. 
 
 Mug. Now, look here, Clarkson, ygu're not usin' me jist 
 right. You give me the cold shoulder and try to cut down 
 my allowance every time we do a job. We've been part- 
 ners a long time, and you always get the best of every deal. 
 'Tain't square, that's what it ain't. You live high and dress 
 like a dude, while I board in cheap lodgin'-houses and pass 
 for a common loafer. You're a bigger rogue than I am, for 
 I don't pretend to nothin' — 
 
 Clark. And you'll never amount to anything. 
 
 Mug. (Crosses to t..) I guess you can get along without 
 me to-night. (Going.) 
 
 Clark. Don't go. Mug, old boy. You don't need to 
 get on your ear about a little thing like that. I'll give you 
 half of what I raise on this paper. There's my hand on 
 it. 
 
 Mug. (Resuming seat.) All right. I'm satisfied. 
 
 Clark. Now, then, the next thing to be done is to de- 
 stroy all these papers, and drop this seal into the river. If I 
 can only get Earle's memorandum book, there won't be 
 enough evidence left to indict me. 
 
 Mug. How about Walter ? 
 
 Clark. He's solid. He has been right with me since 
 the trouble commenced. I expect him herein a little while. 
 Why, it was I put him to work at Miller's. 
 
 Mug. (Goes to door.) I thought I heard something. 
 (Listens.) That fellow will break his neck if he don't look 
 out. (Opens door cautiously, loohs out.) 'Tis only Walter. 
 
 Enter Walter. 
 
 Walter. He's coming — coming — coming! Make no 
 noise. Elliott is shadowing the house. He just went across 
 the street to get a drink. 
 
 Clark. Keep up yourpjuck, boys. (Lies down, r., and 
 cmers himself with comforter^ Muggins puts on mash.) 
 
 Walter. (Putting on tiiash.) Get behind the door, 
 Muggins. j 
 
 Mug. Wait till he knopks. (Music. Knock at door.) 
 Come in. / 
 
28 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Enter Marshall. 
 
 Claek. {Moaning.) Take — me — away. Take — me — 
 away. (Marshall crosses to Clarkson. Muggins loclcs the 
 door and puts the key in his jwchet. Music stops.) 
 
 Mar. Poor fellow ! What has happened ? 
 
 Clark. (Rising.) Why! Oh, is that you, Mr. Earle ? 
 
 Mar. (Aside.) Clarkson! My doom is sealed. (Goes 
 to door, and finds it locked.) 
 
 Mug. No, you don't. 
 
 Clark. How did you tear yourself away from Laura ? 
 Got my telegram all right? 
 
 Mar. Robert Clarkson, what is your business with me ? 
 
 Clark. Boys, the papers are mine, the rest is yours! 
 (Muggins and Walter go through his pockets and take money, 
 watch, etc.) 
 
 Mug. (Giving letter found on Marshall.) That's all for 
 you. 
 
 Clark. (Heading letter, c.) "Dearest Marshall : Papa 
 is going to invite you to spend a day or two with us. I 
 shall be deli*ghted to see you. I have lots of news for you. 
 Beware of the forger, I understand he's out on bail. Yours 
 lovingly, Laura." 
 
 Mar. (Coming down.) Clarkson, give me that letter. 
 
 Clark. (Tearing it in pieces.) Certainly, it's no use to 
 me. (Muggins and Walter go up r., examining articles 
 taken from Marshall.) 
 
 Clark. By the way, Earle, you had a little memorandum 
 book that I would like to have. What became of it ? 
 
 Mar. That is my business. 
 
 Clark. It is very important that I should have it, and 
 I want to know where it is. 
 
 Mar. I am not prepared to furnish you with the informa- 
 tion you require just now. 
 
 Clark. Any time to-night will do. And I might as 
 well tell you that it will depend entirely on how you answer 
 my questions, whether you shall see Laura Miller again or 
 not. 
 
 Mar. Miss Miller told you very plainly what you were, 
 and I repeat it : Robert Clarkson, you are a coward. 
 
 Clark. Be careful. The odds are slightly in my favor. 
 
 Mar. Which proves what I say. If you were a man you 
 would meet me alone ; but, being a cur, you dare not. 
 
 Clark. I tell you, Earle, I'm a dangerous man to meddle 
 with. 
 
 Mar. a treacherous scoundrel, you mean. 
 
 Clark. (Threatenivr/ to strike him.) Do you value your 
 
CALLED AWAY. 29 
 
 life ? If you do, I'd advise you to be more guarded in your 
 remarks. 
 
 Mar. You can do your worst. I defy you. 
 
 Clark. {Sits at table, lights a cigar, and assumes an air 
 of indifference.) It seems to me that you don't display very 
 good judgment in striking such a defiant attitude. 
 
 Mar. When I want advice, I do not come to you for it. 
 
 Clark. But you will get it, in spite of your objection. 
 Now, if you would say to me, " Mr. Clarkson, I know I'm 
 placed at a disadvantage here to-night, but I believe I can 
 confer a favor on you by surrendering some papers which 
 can be of no use to me"— if you would say this to me in an 
 apologetic tone of voice, it may relieve you from the suspense 
 which must necessarily be torturing to a man of your fine 
 sensibilities and humanitarian impulses. 
 
 Mar. I have nothing to say to you, no apology to make 
 to you, nothing to surrender to you. 
 
 Clark. {Pointing revolver to him.) Even at the muzzle 
 of this ? 
 
 Mar. No. 
 
 Clark. You know that the papers I want are in the 
 safe in Miller's office, don't you ? 
 
 Mar. What of it ? 
 
 Clark. I want the combination of the safe, that's 
 all. If you don't give it, you'll never leave this room 
 alive. 
 
 Mar. Betray my employer, and to you ! Never ! 
 
 Clark. But let me reason with you. You seem to for- 
 get that you are the victim of a very deeply laid plot. You 
 seem to ignore the fact that you are completely in my power. 
 You don't take into consideration that if I fail to carry my 
 point by persuasion, I'll resort to other means. 
 
 MoG. That's the way to lay down the law to him. 
 
 Clark. Now, you just keep very still. Do you hear ? 
 
 MoG. Excuse me, boss ; didn't think it made no differ- 
 ence. 
 
 Clark. Now, Earlie, tofbe candid, I don't care to take 
 any risks. That little memorandum book of yours must be 
 had, whatever it costs to g^ it. You see, it is the connect- 
 ing link in the chain of evidence that has been making life 
 miserable to me for the pas^t few days. That little book 
 means your liberty as well as mine. 
 
 Mar. You will never gei it through me. 
 
 Clark. Let me finish. /Anticipating the possibility of 
 your refusal, 1 have made ojther arrangements which I think 
 will overcome your stubbArness. How admirably I have 
 succeeded, you can judge fpr yourself. 
 
 \ 
 
 J 
 ( 
 
30 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Mar. Yoa waste your eloquence to no purpose. You 
 must be proud of your accomplishments. 
 
 Clark. Well, rather. I think this was a very nicely 
 put-uj) job. I rent a room, and am anxious for a private in- 
 terview with you. I am puzzling myself as to how that in- 
 terview should be brought about, when your un'ooked-for 
 visit to Sylvania Lake suggests a telegram. Most punctually 
 you respond. You enter a room, expecting to And your 
 brother seriously ill, and instead you find — 
 
 Mar. a den of thieves. 
 
 Clark. Pardon me. You find you have been caught in 
 a cleverly set trap. Now, that trap has been set for a pur- 
 pose, and if the purpose should not be accomplished, some 
 one will be hurt. 
 
 Mug. You bet your life 'twon't be Clarkson. 
 
 Clark. I have no doubt your friends, especially dear 
 Laura, would be somewhat shocked to see in big bold type 
 in the morning papers the heading, "Died by his own 
 hand." 
 
 Mar. What do you mean, sir ? 
 
 Clark. I mean that it shall appear a clear case of 
 suicide. Beside your corpse shall be found a bottle of 
 poison. This, remember, in a locality of questionable repu- 
 tation. 
 
 Mar. You dare not carry out your threats. You have 
 enough to answer for, without adding murder to your 
 category of crime. 
 
 • Clark. Have no fears on that score. Before your re- 
 mains are discovered, I shall be in parts unknown. If you 
 choose death rather than give a little secret away, what is it 
 but suicide ? 
 
 Mar. (Aside.) Will this torture never end ? 
 
 Clark. You can be a very conscientious young man and 
 yet not sacrifice your life in defence of a false sense of duty. 
 
 Mar. Once and for all I tell you, Clarkson — 
 
 Clark. Hold on, young man. Now that I have taken 
 the trouble to explain to you the nature of the position in 
 which you are placed, I ask you, for the last time, which 
 shall it be — the combination of the safe — or death ? 
 
 Mar. Not — not — the combination. 
 
 Clark. (Pouring poison into glass.) If my case should 
 ever come uj) for trial, this will exclude your testimony. 
 See ? There is enough in tl^is glass to kill three men. 
 When you have joined the silipnt majority, the papers on 
 which you set so high a price vsill be worthless. If you do 
 not see fit to change your mind in three minutes, you'll 
 drink the contents of this glass] 
 
CALLED AWAY. 31 
 
 Mar. Not a drop of it shall pass my lips. 
 
 Clark. That is what you say, but I assure you that you 
 are mistaken. 
 
 Mar. Give me a little time to think. 
 
 Clark. Two minutes and a half more. 
 
 Mar. Merciful Providence, what shall become of me ! 
 I must — I shall — 
 
 Clark. {Holding watch in one hand, revolver in the other.) 
 Drink, or in two minutes we shall force it down your throat. 
 
 Mar. {Taking glass, and raising it to his lips.) 'Tis hard 
 to die at any time, but to die like this is maddening. If I 
 could only send a message to my mother ! Good God, in 
 Thee I trust ! The truth must be known. My memory will 
 not be stained. 
 
 Clark. {Rising.) One minute ! 
 
 Mar. Were it even two to one, I still would ; hope but 
 three such fiends I cannot conquer. There is not a man 
 among you. {Again raises glass.) 
 
 Clark. Thirty seconds ! 
 
 Mar. {Aside.) Good-bye, Laura, good-bye. 'Twere 
 nobler far, a man to die. 
 
 Clark. Time ! 
 
 Mar. And die — {Dashes contents of glass into Clark- 
 son's eyts/ revolver drops fro7nChATiKSON^s hand ; Marshall 
 quickly picks it vp. djATUKSON staggers, stumlles, and falls. 
 Muggins and Walter rush on Marshall, and struggle for 
 possession of revolver. Marshall overpowers them, and crosses 
 to door.) 
 
 Clark. {Rising.) My eyes ! My eyes ! Damnation ! 
 They're on fire ! I'm ruined ! I'm blind ! Where is he ? 
 Where is he ? {Groans.) Muggins! Walter! Curse you 
 pair of worthless devils ! Help ! help ! {Falls, c.) 
 
 Mar. {At door.) Murder! Police! police! {Breaks a 
 light of glass in window. Muggins and Walter cross toward 
 door. Marshall presents revolver.) Get hack! Get hack! 
 {They retire, trembling. Marshall ^'res three shots to attract 
 attention.) The key ! The key ! 
 
 Elliott. {Witlwut, hammering at door). Open ! Open ! 
 {Forces in door.) 
 
 Enter Elliott. 
 
 Mar. Thank Heaven ! 
 
 Mugglns. Walter. Marshall. 
 
 (. Elliott. 
 
 Jlarkson down. 
 
 ?tain. 
 
32 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene. — Same as in Act I. 
 
 Sallie discovered seated in rocking- chair. 
 
 Salltb. Sure it's the illegant times intirely that I have. 
 (Fans herself.) If the missus comes back and finds me wear- 
 in' her dress, I'll be after wishin' I was in Skibberecn. 
 Faith, I'm in dread she'll be wearin' mine to get even wid 
 me when I go out visitin'. {Rises and looJcs at dress.) It 
 couldn't be a better fit if 'twas made for me. 'Tis the pity 
 of the world that I have anything to do besides wearin' nice 
 dresses an puttin' on shtyle, it's so becomin' to me. When 
 Tony Gillespie comes he'll think I'm a rale lady. I tould 
 him I was " at home," and I hope he'll have the good man- 
 ners to presint his card. Oh, but sure I forgot he's comin' 
 in by the back door ! Tony is all right, if he'd only — (Lis- 
 tens.) That sounds like his brogues. (Goes to door, i^., 
 looks out.) Come in, Tony, the servants are all out. 
 
 Enter Tony, l. 
 
 ToNT. (Shaking hands.) Is that yourself, and how are 
 you, Sallie ? 
 
 Sallie. (Affecting Mrs. Miller's manner.) I'm feelin' 
 purty well, Tony, thank you for kind onquiries. Be sated. 
 ( Offers him a chair, and takes oi\e near him. ) 
 
 ToNT. (Aside.) This bates feedin' pigs out at the lake 
 all to pieces. 
 
 Sallie. Has you been to Sylvania convayniently ? 
 
 Tony. Indeed I agree with you. 
 
 Sallie. (Aside) How stupidity he is. (Aloud.) I 
 mean is it long since you were at the lake ? 
 
 Tony. I was there last Tuesday. 
 
 Sallie. I assume there's nothin' uncommonplace hap- 
 pened since I took my exits. 
 
 Tony. Eggs, is it ? You're mistaken there, Sallie ; sure 
 the chickens wasn't layin' when you left. 
 
 Sallie. I didn't mention auything so vulgarity as eggs. 
 I said exits, which manes one's belongin's. 
 
 Tony. Oh, I see. Yis, yis. You must excuse me, I'm 
 only a couple of days in the city. 
 
 Sallie. Sartinly, Tony. You're very excusably. 
 
 Tony. ( Taking pipe and tobacco out of his pocket. ) You 
 wouldn't have a match wid yoii ? 
 
CALLED AWAY. Ii3 
 
 Sallie. You're not goin' to smoke that horrid pipe, are 
 you ? I can't ondure the odor of tobacco. 
 
 Tony. You got very refined all of a suddint. 
 
 Sallie. I can't help it. There's refinement everywhere 
 around mo. 
 
 Tony. There's a trifle too much of it for me. (Rises.) 
 
 Sallie. {Without affectation.) You're not goin', are 
 you ? Sure ydu're not here at all yet hardly. 
 
 Tony. (Sits.) That sounds more natural. Sure I was 
 thinking all along that you were some one else. 
 
 Sallie. It's myself that knows what's the matter wid 
 you. 'Tis of Nellie Flaherty you're thinkin' this minit. 
 
 Tony. It's mighty little I'd be doin'. Sure Nellie is 
 married. 
 
 Sallie. Go on ! Who to ? 
 
 Tony. Some skate from Wisconsin. 
 
 Sallie. I never heard a word of it. 
 
 Tony. Nor I ayther till they tould me. 
 
 Sallie. When did you see Julia ? 
 
 Tony. About a week ago. She's after bleachin' her hair. 
 I hardly knowed her till I saw her, 
 
 Sallie. Is she as freckled as ever ? 
 
 Tony. Yis, an' worse. 
 
 Sallie. Is Jack at the Park ? 
 
 Tony. Yis ; himself and Pat had a little bit of a differ- 
 ence, but they fixed it up all right. 
 
 Sallie. What's Jim doin' ? 
 
 Tony. Bossin' a gang on the new bridge. 
 
 Sallie. Is Maggie goin' to tache this term ? 
 
 Tony. She is that same. She got the school last week. 
 
 Sallie. Excuse me for a minit, till I get you a cup of 
 tay. 
 
 Tony. Oh, don't bother, Sallie. 
 
 Sallie. I'll be back in less than no time. [Exit, l. 
 
 Tony. It bates the mischief how consayted Sallie gut 
 since she left the country. It's a mighty poor combination 
 thim jawbreakers makes wid her brogue. 
 
 He-enter Sallie, l., with china tea cups, saucers, svgar and 
 cream, spoons, etc. , wwich she places on table. 
 
 Sallie. Make yourself perfectly at home, Tony, I'll be 
 back in a second. \ [E.vit, l. 
 
 Tony. (Taking cup.) Look at the size of thira cups, an' 
 she tellin' me to make myscli perfectly at home! 'Tisn't 
 the likes of thim that would do it, nor what's goin' to be in 
 'em ayther, for the matter o' that. 
 
34 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Re-enter Sallie, l., bringing teapot ; sits at table with Tony, 
 and gives him tea. 
 
 Sallie. This tay is delicious. (Drinking it.) The mis- 
 sus says so. 
 
 Tony. Sallie, if you take my advice you'll do what the 
 missus tells you, and don't mind what she says. 
 
 Mrs. Miller and Laura appear at door, c, in street costume. 
 Laura wears a rose. Sallie, frightened at seeing Mrs. 
 Miller, drops cup and breaks it. 
 
 Tony. " There's many a slip between the cup an' the 
 lip." Never mind, Sallie, you might as well spill it as drink 
 it, for all the good 'twill do you. 
 
 Sallie. {Aside.) I'll be after gettin' my walkin' papers 
 this minit, so I will. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Miller and Laura. 
 
 Mrs. M. My dress ! The idea ! 
 
 Sallie. The tay only spilt on the carpet, m'am. 
 
 Mrs. M. And one of my beautiful china cups in pieces ! 
 
 Sallie. I didn't think you'd be home so soon, m'am. 
 
 Mrs. M. Leave my house this instant. 
 
 Tony. (Rising.) If this place isn't good enough for 
 Sallie, I guess it's about time I was goin', too. 
 
 [Exeicnt Sallie and Tony, j,. , followed by Mrs. Miller, 
 
 Laura. (Gatheri?ig uj) pieces of broken cup. Music.) 
 Only a broken cup ! What does it matter ? To-night there 
 may be a broken heart, but it won't be Sallie's. The trial 
 will end to night. It makes little difEerence to me whether 
 Robert Clarkson be found guilty or not guilty. The ver- 
 dict, whatever it may be, cannot make me despise him any 
 more nor any less than I do now. (Puts pieces of cup on 
 table ; sits, r.) I cannot bear to think that Marshall is going 
 away. I'll be so lonely when he's gone. (Taking rose in 
 her hand.) This is his last present. Good-by, Marshall 
 Earle ! This beautiful rose will not be to me perfume half 
 as sweet as your memory! Flowers may bloom and wither, 
 but my love, never. (Sinks into chair. Music stops. ) 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Miller, l. 
 
 Mrs. M. Servants are the greatest torment of my life. I 
 don't know what to do with them. 
 
 Laura, Has Sallie gone, mamma ? 
 
 Mrs. M. No ; she pleaded with me so hard, and seemed 
 so truly sorry, that I gave her another chance. 
 
[Exit Laura, l. 
 Mrs. M. 'Tis just as well. The next may be worse. 
 
 CALLED AWAY. 35 
 
 Laura. I'm so glad. 
 
 Mrs. M 
 {Sits, R.) 
 
 Enter Mr. Miller, c. 
 
 Miller. Robert Clarkson will go to the penitentiary. 
 
 Mrs. M. Do you really think so ? 
 
 Miller. There can be no doubt about it. {Sits, l. c.) 
 
 Mrs. M. I think it is perfectly dreadful to have our 
 name dragged into such unpleasant notoriety. 
 
 Miller. Surely no one can attach any blame to us. 
 
 Mrs. M. But Laura, poor child, is taking the affair so 
 much to heart, that I have grave fears for her health. 
 
 Miller. The discovery of Clarkson's duplicity was the 
 very best thing that could have happened, as far as our 
 daughter is concerned. She will forget all about it in a 
 few weeks. 
 
 Mrs. M. But her engagement to him — people will talk — 
 
 Miller, She never cared for Clarkson, and became en- 
 gaged to him merely to please you. 
 
 Mrs. M. Oh, no, Leslie, dear, it was to please you. You 
 consented. 
 
 Miller. My consent was only a matter of form, Ethel. 
 
 Mrs. M. But I didn't insist. 
 
 Miller. And I'm sure I didn't. {Sits, r. 
 
 Re-enter Laura, l. 
 
 Laura. Is it all over, papa ? {Sits on settee, r.) 
 Miller. Not yet, but soon will be. 
 
 Willie Miller, well dressed, appears at door, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. Come, Willie. You look a little better this 
 evening. 
 
 Willie (c). I feel better than I have felt for years. It 
 seems as if I were a new man. 
 
 Miller. Willie, my boy, mistakes have been made. 
 You have made some, so have t. Let us draw the curtain 
 over the past, and begin anew. I am now perfectly satisfied 
 of your innocence, and I am glad to say so. It has been 
 clearly proved to me that you were the victim of a bad 
 man's wicked designs, and hare there is a lesson to be 
 learned. Beware of such men ^s Robert Clarkson. You are 
 old enough now to have sensf^, and to know the value of 
 money. {Gives him check-loo^j.) Use this wisely. There 
 
36 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 are ten thousand dollars to your credit in the First National 
 Bank. 
 
 Willie. Thank you, father. I am very grateful. 
 
 Mrs. M. {Crossing to Willie.) I knew my boy was inno- 
 cent. {Kisses Mm.) 
 
 Laura. {Rises and embraces him.) And I always believed 
 in your innocence, didn't I, Willie ? 
 
 Willie. You did, Laura, and I shall never forget it. 
 {Aside.) Ten thousand dollars ! 'Tisn't very long ago 
 since twenty-five cents looked pretty big to me. 
 
 Enter Marshall, c. 
 
 Miller. Marshall ! {Rises.) 
 
 Mrs. M. The verdict ? 
 
 Mar. Guilty ! 
 
 Miller. And the sentence ? 
 
 Mar. Eight years in the penitentiary. 
 
 Laura. Eight years ! {Sinks into chair.) 
 
 Mrs. M. Pardon me for a moment. Laura is not very 
 well. Come, dear. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. M. and Laura, r. 
 
 Willie. Clarkson would have dragged me down if he 
 could. It was his designing schemes that sent me adrift 
 on the world. But now he pays the penalty, and I'm not 
 sorry for him. [Exit. r. 
 
 Miller. {Sits.) Marshall, I believe that vest pocket 
 memorandum book of yours went a long way toward con- 
 victing Clarkson. 
 
 Mar. It was very damaging testimony, Mr. Miller, and 
 the State's attorney laid particular stress on it. No one 
 foresaw the effect of such evidence more clearly than Clark- 
 son, and I do not wonder that he should have tried to take 
 my life to be rid of it. 
 
 Miller. Marshall, I have known you better since this 
 trial «omraenced than I ever knew you before. I always 
 placed unlimited confidence in your integrity, but I was not 
 aware that you possessed such noble traits of character as 
 have appeared through all these trying scenes. Instead of 
 being my confidential clerk, you will from this day be my 
 partner in business. 
 
 Mar. Mr. Miller, no 'one appreciates your generosity 
 more than I do. I can neVjCr sufficiently thank you, but — 
 
 Miller. Not at all, Marshall, not at all. 
 
 Mar. I cannot possibly ^accept. 
 
 Miller. What's this ? \{Rises.) 
 
 Mar. I am going to leave you. 
 
CALLED AWAY. ^7 
 
 Miller. Going to leave me ! 
 
 Mar. Yes, sir. I am going away. 
 
 Miller. {Rising.) Where are you going ? 
 
 Mar. I have not yet fully decided. 
 
 Miller. This is a very unexpected turn of affairs. 
 What is your reason for leaving me ? 
 
 Mar. a foolish one, but I cannot help it. 
 
 Miller. Please explain. 
 
 Mar. I am going away so that we may forget each other. 
 
 Miller. You and I ? 
 
 Mar. No, sir ; your daughter and I. 
 
 Miller. Oh, I see. That's different. 
 
 Mar. Mrs. Miller is strongly opposed to our attachment. 
 Whatever may happen, I shall treat her wishes with respect ; 
 and I can see no other way of doing so. 
 
 Miller. I think you are mistaken, I know my wife 
 thinks a great deal of you. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Miller, r. 
 
 Ethel, I have some news for you. 
 
 Mrs. M. What is it ? 
 
 Miller. Marshall is going to leave me. 
 
 Mrs. M. To leave you ? 
 
 Miller. Yes. 
 
 Mrs. M. You could not have told me anything that 
 would surprise me more. What is the matter, Marshall ? 
 
 Miller. I'll answer for him. He thinks that Laura is 
 the sweetest girl in the world. She thinks there's nobody 
 like Marshall. Marshall thinks that Laura's mother does 
 not want him for a son-in-law. 
 
 Mrs. M. And what does Laura's father think ? 
 
 Miller. He thinks that the young people are all right. 
 
 Mrs. M. Laura ought to have something to say herself. 
 
 Miller. That's just what I've been thinking all along. 
 Call her, Ethel. 
 
 {Exit Mrs. Miller, r. 
 
 My wife does not seem so very pronounced in her op- 
 position to you, after all. 
 
 Mar. She must have changed her mind since our last in- 
 terview on the subject. 
 
 Miller. Well, you know, thiat is a woman's prerogative. 
 
 Re-enter Mrs. Miller with Laura, r. 
 
 Mrs. M. Laura may now ^'ecide for herself. I shall 
 offer no further opposition. 
 
38 CALLED AWAY. 
 
 Miller. You will accept the partnership if you stay, 
 Marshall ? 
 
 Mar. Yes ; but there is another partnership — 
 
 Miller. Laura, I propose making a partner of Marshall, 
 but it seems your consent is necessary before we can come to 
 an understanding. 
 
 Latjra. Of course you have my consent. 
 
 Miller. But Marshall wants you — 
 
 Mrs. M. To become his wife. 
 
 Mar. {Taking Tier hand.) Yes, Laura. 
 
 Laura. It is just as well to take you into our confidence, 
 mamma. (Enter Willie, r.) If I do not become Mar- 
 shall's wife you'll have an old maid on your hands, because 
 I told Marshall long ago that I'd never marry any one else. 
 
 Willie. Mother, give them your blessing. I give them 
 mine. 
 
 Mrs. M. With all my heart. Bless you, my children. 
 
 (Embraces Laura.) 
 
 Miller. Shake hands, Marshall, we are partners. 
 
 Laura. And Marshall and I will be partners, too. 
 
 Mar. (Putting his arm around her.) Yes, Laura, part- 
 ners for life. 
 
 Mr. Miller. Marshall. Willie. 
 
 Mrs. Miller. Laura. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
PROSCENIUM AND DROP SCENE. 
 
 I*H.C>JSODE3KriXJ3VE.— A most effective Proscenium can be 
 formed by utilizing tlie paper mads for this purpose. Three pieces of wood are merely 
 required, shaped according to this design, and covered with the paper ; the proscenium 
 having the appearanca of light blue puffed satin panels, In gold frames, with Shake- 
 speare medallion in the centre. 
 
 Puffed satin paper, Light Blue, size 20 inches by SO inches, per sheet, 25 cts. 
 
 Imitation Gold Bordering, per sheet, 25c., making 14 feet. 
 
 Shakespearian Medallion, 18 inches in diameter, 50 cts. 
 
 lyjEi.^^I* SOJJtSlME!.— The picture Bho\\ b(f_ is an IKustnu 
 tion of this scene. It comprises four sheets of paper vhich art -to bo pasted in the 
 eentre of any sized canvas that may be requisite for the drop curtain. Size 6X feet 
 by 5 feet. Price $2.50. 
 
 Tr^tf~X7* T^ fft- — These comprise thre* gneets of paper each, and can hm 
 had either for drawing-room or cottage purposes. Size, 7 feet by 3 feet. Price, com- 
 plete, $1.25 each. 
 
 V\/ 1' "^TT^g^ W/ - — This is a parlor window formed with two sheets 
 of paper, and could be made practicable to slide up and down, xhe introduction of 
 curtains each side would make it very effective. Size, 8 feet by 4}^ feet. Price, 
 $1.00, complete. 
 
 I*mj3MC3!EC ^7[7°I3Nr^3^^^A^.— Ccnsisting of four 
 sheets of paper, representing a window containing four larre ornamental frosted glasa 
 panes with colored glass around. Size 6X feet high by 5; t. Price $1.50. 
 
 'WT"0 '■«» l-» Tr« A. fn«5 — ThJB is also niA«ie with two sheets •( pe- 
 The fire is lighted, but should this not be required a fire-paper can be hung over 
 will be found most useful in many farces wherein a character has to climb v 
 ney, and many plays where a fireplaca is indispensable. By purchasiui; 
 dow, and fireplace an ordinary room scene could easily be construe^ 
 tiou of some wall-paper. Size, 9 feet by 4]^ feet. Price, oompleto 
 
FRENCH'S ACTii ^iB^;z':r 
 
 I>I£ICE, ISJcY 
 
 nSTEW F 
 
 April Folly 
 
 At Sixes and Sevens 
 
 Baibara 
 
 BiiiDii's Wager 
 
 BeUy 
 
 Bow Bells 
 
 Breacli of Px-oiuise 
 
 Breakiug the Ice 
 
 Brothers (The) 
 
 Bubbles 
 
 By Special Request 
 
 Case for Eviction 
 
 Chalk and Cheese 
 
 Charity 
 
 Circumstances Alter Cases 
 
 (Confederate Spy 
 
 Comiiromising Case 
 
 Crazed 
 
 Crossed Love 
 
 Danicheffs 
 
 Dimity's Dilemma 
 
 Dreams 
 
 Duchess of Bayswater & Co 
 
 Duty 
 
 Engaged 
 
 Equals 
 
 False Shame 
 
 Fennel 
 
 First Mate 
 
 For the Old Love's Sake 
 
 Garden Party 
 
 Garrick (Muskerry) 
 
 George Geith 
 
 Gentle Gertrude' Bull 
 
 Girl Graduate 
 
 Girls (The) ' 
 
 Glimpse of Paradise 
 
 Gretchcn 
 
 Harvest Home 
 
 His Own Guest 
 
 Hook and Eye 
 
 In Honor Bound 
 
 Iron Master (The) 
 
 Lady Fortune 
 
 Linked by Love 
 
 Long Odds 
 
 Love Came 
 
 Lyrical Lover 
 
 Major and Minor 
 
 Man Proposes \ Grundy) 
 
 Marble Arch 
 
 Melting Moments 
 
 Merry Meeting 
 
 Mariner's Keturn 
 
 Miser 
 
 Month After Date 
 
 My Friend Jarlet 
 
 My Little Girl 
 
 My liord in Livery 
 
 Nearly Sevta 
 
 Nearly Severed 
 
 Nettle 
 
 Not Such a Fool, etc. 
 
 Obliging His La.ndlady 
 
 Off Duty 
 
 Old Cronies 
 
 On the Brink 
 
 Once Again 
 
 Once a Week 
 
 Open Gate 
 
 Overland Route 
 
 Palmistry 
 
 Petticoat Perfidy 
 
 Pity 
 
 OF CONGRESS 
 
 016 165 653 7 
 
 Postscriijt 
 
 Progress 
 
 Punch 
 
 Ruined by Drink 
 
 Railway Adventure 
 
 Row in the House 
 
 Sample vs. Pattern 
 
 Saved 
 
 Second Thoughts 
 
 Senior Wrangles 
 
 Sins of the Fathers 
 
 Sixpenny Telegram 
 
 Sour Grapes 
 
 Spur of the Moment 
 
 Steeple Jack 
 
 Step' Sister 
 
 Sunny Side 
 
 Sunset 
 
 Sunshine 
 
 Taken by Storm 
 
 Tears: Idle Teare 
 
 That Dreadful Doctor 
 
 The Nightingale 
 
 ThoroTigh Base 
 
 Through the Fire 
 
 Tom Pinch 
 
 True Colors 
 
 Tvo Pros 
 
 Whicli 
 
 Why Women Weep 
 
 Woman's Wrongs 
 
 Written in Sand 
 
 Yellow Roses 
 
 Yeoman's Service 
 
 G-UEDE TO SELECTING PLAYS; 
 
 Price 25 Cents. 
 
 Showing how. to select Farces, Comedies, Dramas, for Private or Puhlic 
 Performance; giving the Number of Characters, the Author's Name, the Scenery, 
 Costumes, Time In Representation, and the Plot or Advice, connected with 
 1,500 Pieces. 
 
 FRENCH'S PARLOR COMEDIES. 
 
 A ne-wseri©s of selected pl«ys for Amateurs. Ten numb<;rs. 
 
 Price, 15 Cents each. 
 
 Guide to BelBcting Flays. Hints on Costume. Scenery to Fit any Stage. 
 Jarley's Wax Works, Ethiopian Plays, Charades, Amateur's Guide, 
 / Guide to the Stage. 
 
 "TV^ C.A_T.A.IjOC3-TJE SESISTT :F'I=^E]E3. 
 
 1 T. H. FRENCH, 
 
 28 West 23d St., New Tm^k.