NO PLAYS EXCHANGE©. a RICE PUDDING MEYER'S CELEBRATED GREASE PAINTS. We are now prepared to furnish a full line of Grease Paints of the celebrated make of Charles Meyer, at the manufacturer's price. These paints are acknowledged by professionals to be the best, and are in general use in our theatres. Comparedto the old method of using powders, these paints are far superior, as they impart a clearer and more life-like appearance to the skin, and, being of a greasy nature, cannot easily be affected by perspiration. We can supply the following necessary colors, put up in a neat box, with full directions for use, viz. : Light Flesh, Dark Flesh, Brown, Black, Lake, White, Carmine, and Slate. Price, $1.00. We have also the following extra colors : — NO. NO. NO. 1. Very pale Flesh Color. 6. Healthy Sunburned, for iz. Ruddy, for old age. 2. Light Flesh, deeper tint. juvenile heroes. 12. Olive, healthy. 3. Natural Flesh Color, for 7. Healthv Sunb'ned, deep- 13. Olive, lighter shade. juvenile heroes. er shade. 14. Gypsy flesh color. 4. Rosy Tint, for juvenile 8. Sallow, for young men. 15. Othello. heroes. 9. Healthy Color, for mid- 16. Chinese. 5. Deeper shade, for juve- die ages. 17. Indian. nile heroes. ic. Sallow, for old age. 10. East Indian. Done up in sticks of four inches in length, at 35 cents each. Any other colot made to order. LINING COLORS : Brown, Black, Lake, and White, 15 cents each. Carmine and White, large sticks, 25 cents each. MEYER'S WELL-KNOWN FACE PREPARATIONS. Justly recommended by the profession as being the best. CREAM EXORA. — In large china pots. A very fine preparation for beauti- fying the complexion, in different shades, as follows : No. I, White; No 2, Tint of Rose; No. 3, Darker Shade (brunette). 50 and 75 cents per box. ADHESIVE POWDER. —For sticking on Mustaches, Whiskers, etc. Price, 25 cents per box. COCOA BUTTER. — For removing grease paint. Large pieces, 25 cents. DORIN'S { §jW fi Thlltre 6 : } Price > * cents each ' MAKER'S SMOKE POTS. — Having considerable call for an article for making smoke for fire scenes, etc., we have made arrangements with the pyro- technist of the Boston Theatre to supply us with the best article for that purpose; we can now furnish smoke pots, entirely free from stench and producing a thick white smoke, in two sizes, at 35 and 50 cents each. BAKER'S BLACK OPERA CORK. — For Ethiopian Singers and Acton. 40 cents per box. BAKER'S TABLEAU LIGHTS.-B.ed, Green, and White. Price, 25 cents each. These lights are put up especially for our trade, and cannot be excelled for brilliancy. They burn with as little 'smoke as any preparation for like purpose. The white is esp'eciallv brilliant, rivalling the magnesium light in intensity. We have the above solidified for mailing purposes, enough for three lights in a pack- age, at the same price. The Tableau Lights will be sold in bulk, put up in tin boxes, not less than half a pound of a color, at $1.50 per pound; sent only by express. We can furnish any of the articles advertised in the catalogues of other publishers of plays, at list prices. A RICE PUDDING % &amtty in Ctoo %th BY ESTHER B. TIFFANY AUTHOR OF "THAT PATRICK" AND " YOUNG MR. PRITCHARD" BOSTON <&*J^/Js&J*r~?2^l> 1889 CHARACTERS JOHN RICHARDS. DR. THWAITE A young physician MRS. RICHARDS Young wife of Richard* MARION Younger sister of Richards ELLEN O'SHAUGHNESSY A cook COPYRIGHT, 1888, By Walter H. Baker & Co. NOTE. — The ladies can be partially dressed for the reception, under their big aprons, in Act I., and the room can be partly cleared by Richards during Mrs. R.'s and Marion's conversation on the dress, which would make only a short wait between the acts necessary. IL-S9Y H A RICE PUDDING. ACT I. Scene. — Dining-room of new house. Room filled with packing boxes, pictures, rolls of carpets, shades, tubs, kitchen utensils, etc. Enter Mrs. R. and Marion in high-necked, long-sleeved aprons. Mrs. R. {despairingly). Not a carpet down but this ! Mar. Painters and plumbers all over the house ! Mrs. R. The furnace not in ! Mar. Not a chair to sit on — Mrs. R. Or a table to eat off of — Mar. Or a bed to sleep on — Mrs. R. Or a servant to cook anything — Mar. Or anything to cook ! Mrs. R. And yet they all promised faithfully to have everything in order by to-day. Mar. It hardly looks as if we could have our reception here by next Thursday, does it ? Mrs. R. Why, I had been thinking we might take a leisure hour this morning to write the invitations — but it doesn't look much like leisure hours ! Mar. Come, let's unpack the china, anyway. Mrs. R. There ! the boxes are still nailed up, and Peter promised to have them all ready for us. Never mind, we'll hang the pictures. Where's the step-ladder ? Oh ! here. Mar. Now, I'll climb up, and you hand me the picture. I think the Madonna would look well here — don't you? {Mounts ladder.) Mrs. R. Got it ? Ouick ! I cannot hold it — M/R. Wait! Mrs. R. Oh, there ! we've smashed it. {Between them pictun' falls to floor.) 3 4 A RICE PUDDING. Mar. John will say we ought to have waited for him. {Descends /adder.) Mrs. R. Did you ever see anything like the way those painters have splashed these windows ? Will it ever come off? Why, who's that ? (Enter Ellen.) Ellen. And this is the house 1 was to come to ? Mrs. R. Oh, there you are at last ! Take your things right off, and begin on these dirty windows. Ellen. Shure an' it wasn't to wash windys I hired out. Mrs. R. (to Marion). It's true. I didn't stipulate any- thing about washing windows. I engaged her to cook. Mar. (aside). Well, you'd better set her at cooking, then. Mrs. R. (aside). Very well. (To Ellen.) On the whole, you may go into the kitchen and cook. Ellen. And what wull I be afther cookin'? Mrs. R. (aside). Very true again. What can she cook ? We shall have to send her out for provisions. (To Ellen.) Well — er — let me see — what's your name ? Ellen. Miss Ellen O'Shaughnessy. Mrs. R. Ellen ? Oh, that will never do. My name is Ellen, too. Mar. Haven't you any other name ? Ellen. Shure an' my other name's Miss O'Shaughnessy. Mrs. R. Well, haven't you any middle name — or nickname — that they called you at home ? Ellen (reflecting). They used to call me cabbage-head when I wint to school. Mrs. R. I think I'll call you Nelly. Ellen. Shure an' it's you we moight call Nelly, and me stick to me rightful name. Mrs. R. (to Marion). Do you think she means to be im- pertinent, Marion ? We must assert our dignity at any cost. Mar. No — she's only a cabbage-head, as she says. Mrs. R. Very well, Nelly. The other servants haven't come yet, so you'd better go yourself and buy some pro- visions. You can get some — some — Mar. Potatoes. Mrs. R. Yes — potatoes. Ellen. How many ? Mrs. R. (aside). How many, Marion ? Mar. Oh, dear, 1 wish I had my cook book, Why, I suppose — we are such a small family — about — a — quart. A RICE PUDDING. 5 Mrs. R. {to Ellen). A quart of potatoes. Ellen. A quart of pertaties — is it ? Mrs. R. And some — some — Mar. Rice — John is very fond of rice. Mrs. R. Oh, yes — rice. {Aside.) How much ? A peck ? Mar. Yes — I suppose so. Mrs. R. {aloud). A peck of rice — Ellen. Peck of rice — Mrs. R. And a pound of butter — and a pound of flour — and — and — Ellen. A pound of flour, did ye say ? Mrs. R. {with dignity). I said a pound of flour. {Aside.) Marion, you don't think she's laughing — do you ? Mar. Why, I don't see anything to laugh at. Mrs. R. No, of course. Only I shouldn't want her to suspect that we've neither of us kept house before. Mar. Why, Ellen, as if I hadn't been to cooking- school — Mrs. R. I know it, Marion. If I hadn't you to fall back on, what should I do ? What meat shall we have ? Mar. Steak is the easiest. Mrs. R. {to Ellen). Some steak. Ellen. Wan slice? Mrs. R. One slice ? Mercy, I could eat a whole slice myself! Four — five slices — and a quart of spinach — and — and — a loaf of bread — and — well that will do for the present. We'll have an early dinner to-day. You can broil the steak, and cook a quart of rice — and boil the potatoes and the spinach — and have it ready at one o'clock. Here's some money. Ellen. I'll ax wan o' thim nice-lookin' plumbers to go along wid me. {Exit.) Mrs. R. How was my manner, Marion ? Not too digni- fied ? Mar. You did beautifully. Mrs. R. I don't want to be too dignified. I don't want to have my servants afraid of me. Mar. I don't think she looked exactly afraid of you. Mrs. R. A knock ! Come in ! {Enter Thwaite.) Thwaite {bowing). I beg your pardon. I tried to ring the doorbell, but there seems to be no doorbell yet. Mrs. R. Oh, no, there is — isn't any — anything — yet. 6 A RICE PUDDING. Thwaite. My name is Thwaite. I have the good for- tune to be your next-door neighbor, and, as I noticed you were moving in to-day, I just ran over to see if there were not some way in which you could make me useful. Mrs. R. You are very kind, Mr. Thwaite. Mar. We are extremely obliged. Thwaite. Not at all. Mar. We are rather at a standstill. Mrs. R. Perhaps, if it wouldn't be asking too much, we should like that box opened. Thwaite. I'll go and find a hammer. (Exit.) Mrs. R. Marion, we'll ask him to the reception. Mar. I wonder if my pink surah will do. Mrs. R. No, indeed. You are to wear your white net. Mar. Men are convenient sometimes. (Enter Thwaite.) Thwaite. This box ? (Opens box.) There you are. What next ? Mrs. R. That barrel, if it's not asking too much ! Thwaite. Only too happy. Might I be permitted ? ( Unbuttons coat.) Mrs. R. Oh, certainly. (Thwaite takes off coat.) Mar. You are getting all dusty. Here, take this apron. (Buttons Thwaite into apron, which has been lying across box.) Thwaite. Now I am ready for anything. Mrs. R. Come, Marion, we'll be unpacking the china. (They impack the china while Thwaite works on barrel.) Mar. (running to mantel). We'll have these two vases here. Mrs. R. And the clock in the middle. Oh, Mr. Thwaite, can you lift that heavy clock off of the ironing-board, so that we can get some idea how the room will look when every- thing is in order ? Thwaite (lifting clock with difficulty). I can say with truth this is the first moment in your company that time has hung heavy on my hands. (Puts clock on the mantel.). Mrs. R. I wish time were always so quickly disposed of. Mar. I am glad you were not tempted to kill time by smashing the clock. Mrs. R. {ecstatically). How sweet it looks there ! Stand back both of you and see what a lovely effect ! The clock in the middle, and those two vases on either side. A RICE PUDDING. 7 Mar. Beautiful ! Thwaite. Stunning ! IU ;s. R. How pleased he will be ! Thwaite {aside). What he ? Oh, yes — their father — the old gentleman I have noticed overseeing the workmen. Mrs. R. Nevermind about that barrel now, Mr. Thwaite; let's hang pictures. . Thwaite. The profession of hangman is new to me, but I will do my best. {Mounts step-ladder with pictured) I am rather afraid, under the circumstances, of so long a cord. Mar. Afraid ? Thwaite. Yes. Give a man rope enough, you know, he'll be sure to hang himself. There — is that straight ? {Enter Ellen ) Ellen. The range is a-roarin' awful. Mrs. R. Oh, Marion, you know all about ranges. Mar. {aside). I wish I had my cook book. {Aloud.) Very well, Nelly, I'll see what's the matter. {Exit.) Mrs. R. {sitting down on lowest round of ladder, talking up to Thwaite). We'll wait till she comes back. She's the one to settle about the pictures. Thwaite. Is your sister artistic ? Mrs. R. Yes, indeed Artistic, and literary, and scien- tific, and all that sort of thing, but lately . he's given that up, and has gone into cooking. Thwaite. Cooking ? Mrs. R. Yes — and she knows everything that is to be known about cooking — theoretically. She has been to cooking-school. Thwaite. Graduated with honors, I suppose. Mrs R. Yes. indeed. We are going to keep the house together. I don't know what I should do without her knowl- edge. She's begun writing a cook-book, too. Thwaite. Illustrated ? Mrs. R. Oh, certainly. It's going to be lovely. She made such a charming sketch for the book, the other day, of some boiled potatoes ; only by the time she had finished, the potatoes were all cold, and didn't taste as nice as they might ; but, then, as long as she had forgotten to add salt, and boiled them about a half hour too long, it didn't so much matter. Thwaite. She goes into things very thoroughly, doesn't she ? 8 A RICE PUDDING. Mks. R. Yes, that's her way ; and she's so original, too. Most of her receipts are to be original. Thwaite. I must have a copy of the book as soon as it's out. Mrs. R. Perhaps you've noticed how occasionally she goes off into a fit of abstraction. It used to be that, when she looked that way, she was composing sonnets, but now it's puddings. Thwaite. I wish she would compose me a pudding. Mrs. R. And she's so practical. Thwaite. I should hardly have thought it. Mrs. R. No, you wouldn't, to look at her. But, now, she wanted to make some jelly for her cousin's wedding break- fast, and she hadn't any mould of the right size, and so what do you think she took. Thwaite. I can't imagine. Mrs. R. Why, an old lard pail — empty, of course. Thwaite. Yes, I should have advised having it empty. Mrs. R. And moulded the jelly in it, and it turned out beautifully, only, you know, on the bottom of the pail thev have stamped in large letters, "superfine lard," and, when she turned the jelly out, there was " superfine lard '' in big letters right on the top. Thwaite. I don't doubt it tasted just as well. Mrs. R. Well, I don't know about the taste exactly. You see, she had happened to forget to put any sugar or flavoring in it — but, then, it was so original of her to think of using a lard pail. Thwaite. Yes, I don't believe anybody but a verv literary person would have dreamed of moulding jelly in a lard pail. (Enter Marion.) Mrs. R. Well, Marion ? Mar. There's something very queer about the stove. I wonder if Mr. Thwaite — Thwaite. Yes, do let me take a look. {Exeunt Thwaite and Marion.) Mrs. R. It's the most evident thing! He's deeply smit- ten with Marion. Yes, we must have the reception, and she shall wear her white net. How interested he was to hear all about her. And how delightful to think of dear Marion being married and settled so near me. Why, we can sit at our windows and talk to each other across the lawn. But A RICE PUDDING. 9 the fence must come down. {Enter Marion ) Marion, the fence must come down, mustn't it? and we'll have a little gravel path — Mar. What are you talking about ? Mrs. R. {confused). Oh, nothing — I — but what was the matter with the stove ? Mar. Oh, the draught was turned wrong. Men seem to know so much. {Enter Thwaite.) Thwaite. There's thunder in the air — look out for squalls. {Enter Ellen.) Ellen. An' 'tain't me that'll stay in a poverty-stricken house, where I ain't got no mop, nor no dish-pan, nor no soap, nor — Mrs. R. Oh, yes, we have. There's the mop hanging on the umbrella rack — and the dish-pan — oh, Mr. Thwaite, will you lift the Venus of Milo out of the dish-pan ? Thwaite. I'm afraid the Venus wouldn't be very handy at washing dishes. Ellen. An' soap. Mrs. R. Soap ? I certainly saw a bar of soap some- where. Oh, there — sticking out of the coffee-pot. Ellen. An' sure I niver hired out before where they kep' the mop on the umbrella stand and the soap in the coffee-pot. Mrs. R. Oh, we don't usually. You see, we are in a little confusion as yet. {Aside to Thwaite.) I am beginning to be afraid she may be a little quick tempered. Thwaite. The same suspicion crossed my mind. Ellen. An' wull it be in the front parlor I'll find the brilin' iron ? Mrs. R. Oh, no, it's downstairs — I'll show you — {Exeunt Mrs. R. and Ellen.) Mar. I had no idea housekeeping would be so bewilder- ing. Thwaite. You look quite exhausted. Do take a coal scuttle. {Tips up a coal scuttle.) Mar. {seating herself 071 coal scuttle). Where will you sit ? Thwaite. Oh, nothing could be more comfortable than this preserving kettle. {Seats himself on kettle.) Mar. I am afraid we have been encroaching on your time. Thwaite. That's what most people seem to be afraid of doing since I have put out my shingle. IO A RICE rUDDING. Mar. Oh, yes, you are a physician. I fcrgot. Thwaite. So do most people. Mar. I wonder if you couldn't help me in the medical part of my cook book. Thwaite. I should be charmed — Mar. And, by the way, have you a grandmother ? Thwaite. I have had several. Mar. Several ? Thwaite. My paternal grandfather married four times. Mar. How convenient. Thwaite. Do you think so ? I have always found four separate sets of uncles and aunts horribly confusing. Mar. I mean for me. Thwaite. For you ? Mar. Yes. I'm interested in grandmothers on account of the archaeological portion of my cook-book. ' I have col- lected a number of receipts which have been handed down from generation to generation. Thwaite. Oh, I thought they were to be purely original. Mar. All but the archaeological portion. Wny, there's one cake, made of honey and figs, that has come down from the days of Homer. Thwaite. It isn't a trifle musty by this time — is it ? Mar. And as you have had so many grandmothers, I'm sure they must have handed you down some delicious re- ceipts. (Takes out note-book.) Thwaite {musing). Let me see. There was a kind of apple-doughnut I used to have at Grandmother Blossom's. Mar. (.writing)* Just the thing. Apple doughnuts. How were they made ? Thwaite. Well — you take some apples — Mar. How many ? Thwaite. Oh, as many as you can conveniently carry up in your apron. Mar. (writing). Apron full of apples. Thwaite. Lots of spice. Mar. (writes). Spice. Thwaite. No end of sugar. Mar. (writes). Sugar. Thwaite. Same amount of butter. Mar. (writes). Butter — eh — isn't the receipt a trifle vague ? Thwaite. Why, I should think their vagueness was one A RICE PUDDING. II of the chief charms of archaeological receipts. If you want commonplace, exact receipts, you can find them in any ordi- nary cook-book. Mar. Of course. But haven't we left something out? Apples, spice, sugar, butter — oughtn't there to be some flour? Thwaite. Oh, yes — flour to taste. And fry half an hour in boiling fat. Mar. And what heading shall I put to the receipt as regards its wholesomeness ? I always make them like this, " Bread, nutritious ; mince pie, nightmare-ish ; codfish, good for brain, etc." Thwaite. I think you might mark this receipt "fatal." Mar. You seem to have survived it. Thwaite. Oh, well, survival of the fittest ; but I some- times think it was responsible for Grandfather Blossom's hav- ing had so many wives. Mar. And now can't you give me some items to go under " Domestic Economy." Thwaite. Grandmother Blossom, number four, used to say that housekeeping was cheaper for two than one. You might make a note of that. Mar. (writing). Two than one. Thwaite. And I have heard that Grandmother Blossom, number three, used to say that a young physician would never get into practice till he got married. Might note that down, too. Mar. I think I have heard that before, and I hardly think I could put that down under the head of Domestic Economy — could I ? Thwaite. Might set it down under the head of Domes- tic Bliss. (Enter Mrs. R.) Mrs. R. (enthusiastically). Oh, Marion ! The tinman has just sent up the loveliest colander, and the sweetest little saucepan, with a tin cover and a knob on top, and lunch will be ready soon, so let's set the table. Thwaite (rising). By the way, where is the table ? Mrs. R. Oh, yes, I forgot. Thwaite. Suppose — Mrs. R. (finger on lip). Hush ! Look at Marion. She has an idea. Thwaite. A sonnet, or a pudding ? 12 A RICE PUDDING. Mrs. R. Neither. Some strikingly original suggestion about a table. You'll see. Mar. Why not lay the ironing-board across two tubs ? MRS. R. {triumphantly). There — didn't I tell you? Thwaite. Great head ! Mrs. R. {to Thwaite). Please lift Dickens and Thack- eray out of the vvashtub ? Thwaite. Rather needless, wasn't it, putting Dickens and Thackeray into the washtub? If it had been Ouida now, or Zola — {They tip up two tubs and lay the ironing- board across.) Mrs. R. Now, the table cloth. There's one in the box. {Lay cloth.") We haven't any cream, but I'll put the silver cream jug on, for looks, and I'm dying to see my pretty new plates. {They set table.) There! Doesn't it look sweet? How pleased John will be ! Thwaite (aside). John ! Who's John, I wonder, and when is the paternal likely to turn up? Mar. Here comes Nelly. (Enter Ellen, with large platter of rice.) Mrs. R. My patience, Nelly ! What did you cook all that rice for? I said only a quart. Ellen. An' shure an' there's anythur dish as big as that. (Exit.) Mrs. R. She said they called her cabbage-head, and I don't wonder ! Thwaite. Why don't you call her Cabby for short ? (Enter Ellen, with another large platter of rice.) Ellen. There, mum. (Exit.) Mar. Do you know, Ellen, I remember now that rice has a very queer way of swelling when cooked. I don't believe it was all her fault, after all. (Enter Ellen with a small vegetable dish.) Mrs. R. What is in that little empty dish ? Ellen. Shure an' it's thim greens. (Exit.) Thwaite (examining dish). No, it's not empty. In the furthermost corner I do see a flabby, pale, greenish deposit that might be spinach. Mrs. R. And I told her to cook a whole quart. I am sure she ate the rest herself. Mar. Ellen, I'm afraid — it just occurs to me that spinach has a very extraordinary way of shrinking when cooked — hasn't it, Dr. Thwaite? A RICE PUDDING. 13 Thwaite. I believe it is rather of the shrinking, modest- violet type of vegetable. {Enter Ellen with another vegetable dish.) Mrs. R. What! Only one potato! Why didn't you bring in the rest ? Ellen. Rest ? There ain't no rest. Didn't ye ax me to buy a quart of pertaties, and didn't this pertaty fill the measure ? (Exit.) Thwaite. No "small potatoes " about that cook. (Enter Ellen with pile of steaks on platter?) Mrs. R. Why, Nelly ! Did you buy out the meat market ? Ellen. Shure an' ve ordered four slices of steak. Mrs. R. Slices ? Mar. Ellen, it occurs to me that a slice of steak is a different thing from a slice of beef or mutton — isn't it, Dr. Thwaite ? Thwaite. I have a vague idea of some such invidious distinction. Mrs. R. Well, never mind. Let's sit down. Oh, don't put on your coat, for if you do, it will make us feel as if we ought to do our hair and take off our aprons. May I trouble you to carve, Dr. Thwaite? (They all sit down.) Thwaite. The first meal at your own — ironing-board. Mrs. R. Yes, isn't it charming? I always knew I should adore housekeeping ! Mar. Don't let's ever board again ? Mrs. R. But John was right, after all, about its taking some time to get settled. Why, I fully expected by lunch time to-day to have the house in perfect order and be sitting down with my fancy work. Mar. So'did I. A little rice, Dr. Thwaite ? Thwaite. Thanks. Oh, not so much, please. I mean to leave a little for you to sketch for your cook-book. Mrs. R. (to Thwaite). She's in a brown study again. (Aloud.) What is it, Marion? Mar. Oh, nothing — merely I was inventing some rice- pudding receipts. This rice will last us several weeks. Mrs. R. (aside to Thwaite). Frugal, too, you see. (Aloud, dubiously.) We couldn't have rice pudding at the reception, could we? We shall expect you at our reception, Dr. .Thwaite. 14 A RICE PUDDING. Thwaite. With pleasure ; and may I have some rice pudding at the reception ? Mrs! R. All you want. {Enter Ellen.) Ellen. There's a lady downstairs as wants to spake to yer. Mrs. R. Not a caller? Ellen. She"s afther sayin' she just run round to look at the house and the family in case she'd think of hiring out here to do second work. Mrs. R. {rising). Oh, yes, that must be the parlor girl I engaged. Thwaite {rising; to Ellen). Tell the lady downstairs that if she wants reference for these people to come to me. I can give them both excellent characters. (Ellen tosses her head. Exeunt Mrs. R.. Marion, and "Ellen.) Thwaite. Well, it's an ill wind that blows nol ody