DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS Partial Uat of Succaaaful and Popular Playa. Lars* Catalevu* Wr—. Prica ISc aach, PeatpaM. Unlaaa DIff arant Pric* la Glva» DRAMAS, COMEDIES, ENTERTAINMENTS, Etc. u. w S 8 1 > Attf tl*« Vjatue, * Act* lxx» A!l a Sf.sf.ilr I ar»« I- Tican iiukticr, 4 act^ . bii. A- - v^' '•■ Tbinketh. J .. ... (i3c) 9 7 th< Rainbow, i .^. . - , UT* (^>c) 6 14 iiank Ca>hicr, 4 acts, i bra. (-'5c) 8 4 Black ITeifcr. 3 act*. 2 h. (.''f> •> .^ Boy Scout Hero. * ict*. HI ! > fJ5r) -. 17 II — w-Hlc Farin, 4 acta, - v^ (i50 7 J ''"ijali. J act*. 2 hr». : Kf-. .1 art% .."J nr». I 6 • (' ;.•. Town. J acts, 2*4 ' ' . Signal, 2 acta. 2 ]^ :.'■■■ . of tbe r»esc ?»i hrt f -'r, f, 4 ubba, J acts. 2^4 hn. S S uci^ :. i ntanjilcd. i acia. 2 lus. (.'Sc) 6 4 Down in T>:Ttr, 4 arts. C''^ hr». ---84 Drram ac-tv f, 13 Karc nt tJ-.r Witi !a,ip. 3 .>-• ' bra I J'r 1 4 4 Fun OM the i'odunk Liimi' !. l«r». IJ50 9 14 f Hoctown, J actj, 2 ■ :...i:^r) 8 4 u, r. In Plum Valley, 4 acts, 2'i hrs f?«cl < 4 Iron Hand, 4 act», 2 hi«..t-.>i) 5 4 JayviM<^ lunl4 17 Kk! I CulUsc. i atU. (iSc)lO 9 K ;!cait"s Content, 3' - 4 hrs .(2Sc) 612 .• Cure, 2 tcu, i¥i hx%. . . . .-. 4 5 ■ i». 4 acL&. 2.' - - . '- . icksliot, .» .1 ) i l.o.jtjr of Kye TJr^, i iir. • -■^c; i j Man from IJomeo, 3 acts, 2 hr5 (2Sc) S 2 Mi:. • • ■• • - Optr.!. M ) 4 7 NVw W 3 6 <)W Mn: J 16 hrs C.J 8 6 <>!,! School at Ilicl'ry \hAU'r, \% hrs. ..: ..(?V)12 9 . On the Little Dig HOm, 4 art"*. • f 2Vi hrs .....< J5c)l« 4 Out in the Streets, i acts. 1 hr. 6 4 ... MalcUs. 2 acbl, i'/j h». ) 4 5 ! irricd Man, 3 arts, 3 I hrs (r>c^ 4 4 I Prairie Roae. 4 acts. Z^t h (25c) 7 4 I RuiTima»?e Sale, 50 min 4 10 Uomeo, 2 acta, 211 (:5c)I0 12 .! : acts. :yi hrs.r-Oc) 5 s ^ .«:.: 4 artH, 11^ brs. 6 S S^ -. 3 arts, 8 hrs. . 6 6 S«^N .. -• HcHhen. 4o nun. V Soutltcro Cuiderella, J <•. hr.s Star L;:ik;ht. ^ act.*. 2',^ h. Tr 1 Go Home? 2 mIn 7 3 Th ■ . .lul Tw^ns, 3 acts, 2 hra. (2.H:) 6 4 .read of D«stiay, i acta. IVt. lu-s. < '^ > lA Tunv. the Convict, S ac* krs I Town Marahal, 4 acti. - ... bra. (JSbl 6 i TxUJ of Heaita. 4 acta. 2% hrs. , ^■r\ /: 1 a r>ays. hra. i2Jcj 7 10 Under tbc Laurels..^ acta, 2 hr\ 6 4 '* 'icn tbc Cii«cu« r.-ii; Town, 3 acts, 2^x hr T.S.DENISON A COMPANY, PubUsh«rs.1S4W. Randolph St.. Chicago LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH A ONE ACT PLAY For Three Men and Four Women RAGNA B. ESKIL AUTHOR OF 'Betty's and Bobby's Christmas" and "Aunt Harriet's Night Out. CHICAGO T. S. DENISON & COMPANY Publishers Lottie Si:i:s Ir Through A^» '^V CHARACTERS. ( Xanicd in order of their appearance.) Miss Pkiscilla Lon<; A Sf^insu r Ebeni-::zi:r Grant -/ Ck'il War Veteran Lottie Gribblp: IVho IVorks at the Boarding House Mary Servis ) ,, j ^ xr [ hea C ross Nurses Ruth Tiialby 3 Lieutenant Dean An Enlisting Officer Eugene Beckwith. . .A Nineteen Year Old IVar Objector Time — .-/ Winter Night. Plack — Miss Priscilla's Kitchen. Time of Playing — 'MJbiut Thirty-five Minutes. COPYRKIHT. 1018, BY T. S. DENISON & COMPANY. <^aD 48936 FEB I8(yib LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH COSTUMES. Priscilla — A spare woman of sixty years. Dark woolen dress with a tight-fitting waist and a white tie at the throat. White apron with crocheted lace edge. Ebenezer — A man of about seventy, with thin white hair. • Wears an old overcoat, a cap with ear-laps, a knitted scarf, thick mittens and high buckled overshoes. Lottie — A tall, thin girl in the twenties. Slattern dress, longer in back than in front. Hair tightly drawn in a knot. Thick shawl over her head. Ruth and Mary — Red Cross nurses. Warmly dressed. Lieutenant Dean — Young man in officer's uniform — • medical staff. Eugene — Young fellow nineteen years old. Hunting costume. PROPERTIES. Kitten, spectacle case, silver-bowed glasses, black leather pouch, large roll of bills and small pile of silver coins and a piece of wood for Priscilla ; a cane, old black sock con- taining bills, silver money and coppers and large handker- chief for Ebenezer; calico bag full of bills and coins for Lottie; gun for Eugene; two sealed envelopes containing letters for Lieutenant Dean. STAGE DIRECTIONS. R. means right of stage ; C, center ; R. C, right center ; L., left ; up stage, away from footlights ; down stage, near foot- lights. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience. LOTTH-: SFHS IT THROIGH Sum : .-/ kitclicn room that is painstakingly clean and very scant in its furnishimjs. I he outside dour is in the center rear; another door is in the lower right. A ^vindoiv with a white cheesecloth sash curtain is at the left of the door. A well-blackened stove, with a 7cater kettle on top and a wood-box beside it, is in the tipper right-hand corner. Between the door and the store is an old-fashioned 7i'ash- stand holding a tin 7i'ash basin, and above it hang a mirror and a roller tozcel. Near the window is a rocking chair, and a kitchen table covered with a red and white cloth is set against the left 7i'all. A lighted high-standard kerosene lamp stands on the table. There is a common kitchen chair at either side of the table and a chair down at the lower right. Over the table is a small shelf with an ordinary clock, an ink bottle and a bottle of liniment on it ; under the shelf hangs a picture calendar. Over the right door is a framed motto. "God Bless Our Home" and a picture of some sheep hangs on the right zcall. Miss Priscim.a Long is discoirred seated in the rocking- chair ii*ith a kitten in her lap. She has her left arm in a sling. She is a spare woman of some sixty years, of the type that doesn't show its cufe very much. She is dressed in a dark woolen dress, with a tight-fitting waist and a white tic at the throat, and she wears a white apron with a cro- cheted lace edge. Her spectacle case sticks out of her apron pocket. After the rise of the curtain she still sits for a fe^c vtoments absent-mindedh' stroking the kitten and rockina back and forth. Priscilla (to the kitten ). Well. Samantha Jane, it looks like you and I arc the only ones in the villaije who haven't Cjonc to the meeting tonight — and — and I can't be joyful over it. (.^he gets up and managing to transfer the kitten to her rheumatic arm. she takes down a little black leather pouch hidden behind the clmk. In it are a ti-aJ uf bills and \ LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH 5 a small pile of silver coins, zvhich she spreads out over the table. She takes out her spectacle case and puts on her pair of silver-bozved glasses. Slozvly.) No, Samantha Jane, I don't see how I can give even a red cent of it. Let's see. There's fifty-three dollars in the paper bills, and with the tour cents I put there last week there's seven dollars and twenty-three cents in real money, as old Ebenezer Grant says. But that monument will cost ninety dollars — no less, Ritchie Roberts affirms. And let's see— $60.23 from $90 makes $29.77. That $29.77 I still have to make— and I was sixty-three years old last Tuesday. (Shaking her head.) No, Samantha Jane, I can't give one mite of it. (A knock is heard at the door.) Priscilla. Deary me, Samantha Jane. {Hurriedly stuf- fing the money in the pouch and putting it hack of the clock again. She is quite agitated.) Who can that be? Who isn't at the meeting? {The rap of a cane on the window is heard.) Priscilla (relieved). Oh, it's only Ebenezer Grant. My, and out on this cold night! (She hurries to the door and opens it.) Old Ebenezer Grant hobbles in. He is a man of about seventy, zvith thin zvhite hair. He is very much crippled with rheumatism and zi'alks very painfully by the aid of a cane. He zvears an old overcoat, a cap with ear-laps, a knitted scarf, thick mittens and high buckled overshoes. In the long ago he was a suitor of Priscilla. Priscilla. My, Ebenezer, isn't it too cold for your rheumatism ? Here, Samantha Jane, you get so scared when folks come — you can go out for awhile. (She puts the kit- ten out and hurries to draw out the rocking-chair for Eben- ezer.) Ebenezer (seating himself and pulling off his mittens and cap and placing his cap topside dozvn on the floor). I saw your light in the window and so I thought I'd come over. Everybody else has gone to the meeting. Priscilla. Aren't you going? 6 LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH Ebenezer. No. T haven't anything to — give. (There a moment's aickxcard faiise.) pRisciLLA. Mow's your rheumatism? EiiENRZER. Pretty bad — pretty l)a(l. It's crippled me so that I've done hardly any whittling this week. The factory sent me orders for three dozen spoons, but I haven't been able to do more'n about six. pRisciLi-A. And flour's ten cents a pound. KnENEZER. And beans seventeen cents. Pkiscili.a. And my arm's kejH me from doing a mito > sewing for four days now. Kbenezer. Well, if it weren't for the war pension. 1 don't know where I'd be. Prisciela. .\nd I haven't even got that. (There's a fe:. seeonds pause. ^ It seems funny our being the only ones in the village who aren't going to the meeting. There Is a kiwek at the door, hut before Priscilla eau rise from her chair, it is opened and Lottie GRinnLE comes in. She is a tall, thin girl. What little beauty of features she has doesn't shozc because of her slattern dress, 7chlch is longer in back than i)i front, and her hair, Tchich is tightly draicn in a knot. She has been constaiilly o^'cncorked and has had very little pleasure. She icears a thick shaivl over her head. The person playing this part should be careful not to oversentimentalize it. Lottie is not conscious that she is mistreated, or that she is doing a big thing in giving her money to her country. Lottie. It's only mo. Miss Priscilla. T — T seed the light in your window, so I knowed you wasn't goin' to the meet in' neither. Prisciela (in kindly tone, for in her meager 7i'ay shr has mothered Lottie a little). Rut. Lottie, why aren't you going? Surely Mis' Wright would let vou otT' for a thing like this. Lottie (nen'ously). Ves'm — she let me ofT all right — she was even real kind about it — but — I — I — ain't got nothin' to give — and everybody's givin* — Pkisi ILEA. I — I haven't anything to give, cither. LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH 7 Ebenezer (to Lottie). But, Lottie, no one would expect you to give anything. {With a laugh.) I expect they know that Mis' Wright doesn't pay you a milHonaire's wages. Lottie. That ain't it. {There's a sharp knock at the door, follozved instantly by the turning of the knob, and through the half-opened door RuTH^s cheery voice calls out) — Ruth, {off stage). How are you, Miss Priscilla? Then the door is thrust wide open and in come Red Cross nurses, Ruth Thalby and Mary Servis, and Lieutenant Charles Dean of the medical staff. All three have grozvn up in the village and all three are zvarmly dressed. When Ebenezer sees the officer's uniform he rises to salute, but Lieutenant Dean motions to him to sit down. Ruth. Oh, Miss Priscilla, excuse us for coming in this way, but I was afraid when I saw your light that you must be sick, or else you would be at the meeting. We've just come from Crosby Junction. Ebenezer. Crosby Junction^ — that's some piece. But then I suppose you drove in. Lieut. Dean. No, we missed the train. You know we've been to a Red Cross meeting there, too, and since it was such a nice moonlight night, we concluded we'd walk. It's only four miles. Priscilla {hospitably). Won't you sit down? Ruth. Oh, we can't. We're going over to the meeting. We're later than we expected to be. Mary. But you are all coming, aren't you? Everybody else is there. Priscilla. I — I can't. Lieut. Dean {to Ebenezer). You surely are coming — when you've come this far. Ebenezer. No — I — I can't. Ruth {to Lottie). But you can come. Lottie {miserably). No — I — I can't neither. Mary {cordially). Oh, but you must. There will be music and singing and moving pictures of the battle field. LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH Lottie (shaking her head). T — T can't. (In scarcely audible tone). I — I ain't got nothin' to give. KUTii. Well, come anyway, Lottie. You'll enjoy yuur- self. And you know every one doesn't have to give niont — you can offer to knit or something like that — Lottie. I've heen thinkin' about that — hut I can't get n time. I get up at five o'clock ev'ry mornin', and tlicn Mi Wright gener'ly fnuls sonielhin' for me to do 'til nine < half-past nine at night, and then I — I just fall to sleep. 1 know I shouldn't, hut I — I just can't hel|) it. Mary { f'ityinyly). Well, I should think you would fall asleep. Why no one ought to expect you to do anything for the Red Cross. Ruth. Well, hardly. Lottie. It ain't right that I don't — just the same. pRisciLL.v (her conscience troubling her). And I — 1 can't do any knitting or sewing, either, for when my rheu- matism let's me work, I have to sew for my living. Ruth (laughing). Why, Miss Priscilla, I think you gave all these hoys, who are now going to war, enough cookies when they were small, and music lessons without having to give things to them now. Priscilla (shaking her head). But that isn't now. Ebenkzer. .\nd I — I can't do anything, either. The rheumatism's got hold of me, too. Lii:uT. Dkax (respectfully). I guess your serving in th< Rebellion, Mr. Grant, shows that you've done your duty i your country. Ebenezer. One's duty to his country is never don- Charley Ijoy. Ruth (before turning to go). WcMi't you come anywa\ You'll like the music and the singing — and everybody there. (All three shake their heads.) Prlscilla. No, thank you : but I— T can't go. Ruth. Pm sorry. (To Mary and Likut. Dean.) Well. I suppose we'll have to be going on. or they'll wonder wha* become of us. (JVith cheery good-byes they go out, closi) the door behind them, and in tlw silence of the room ///< voices are heard outside on the clear air.) LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH 9 Priscilla (going to the wood-box and taking out a stick of ivood, zMcJi she puts in the stove). ]\Iy, it's cold, isn't it?- {To Lottie.) Draw up that chair, Lottie, and sit down. (Lottie mechanically draws the chair that's in the lower right-hand corner nearer to the stove and sits down. Miss Priscilla seats herself at the table. There is another slight pause.) Ebenezer (heavily). I suppose we three are the village slackers. Priscilla (quickly). Not you, Ebenezer. You've al- ready offered your life for your country once. Ebenezer. That doesn't relieve me now. Priscilla. Still it seems as if there were so many people in the country who could afford to give that our help wasn't needed. Lottie (cogitating to herself). Yes, but that don't make it right for me not to give. Ebenezer (kindly). Yes, but, Lottie, you haven't any- thing to give — neither time nor money, so you can't give anything. Priscilla. Of course you can't give anything, Lottie. Lottie (zvith a little cry). Oh, it ain't right for me to let you say I ain't got no money. I have money. Here, see. (She pulls out a calico bag from inside her waist, and drop- ping to the floor she opens the string and spreads out before the astonished gaze of Ebenezer and Priscilla a tumbled mass of bills and coins.) Ebenezer and Priscilla. Lottie ! Lottie (rocking back and forth on the floor in great de- jection). I have got the money. Priscilla (a stern note in her voice). Lottie Gribble, where did you get all that money? Lottie. Mis' Wright give it to me. Priscilla (a little more sternly). When did Mis' ^^'right give you all that money, Lottie? Lottie. Why, it's all the wages she's paid me, ma'am, all the time I've been workin' for her. Ebenezer (in awestruck tone). How much is it, Lottie? 10 LOTTIE SEKS IT THROUGH LoTTii:. Xinc hundred and two dollars. {She continues to rock back and forth.) Priscilla {less sternly, but still icanting more of or. explanation). Hut how could you save that much, Lottir, on the small wa^cs Mis' Wright paid you? LoTTiK {simply). Vou sec, she paid me two dollars a week, and I could a* saved more only I had to huy things !() wear, and then I had to spend some for church money md some little presents I sent to Frankie. And when I •irst went to work for Mis' Wright I did spend some for andy and such truck; but I was only young, then, and I didn't know no heltcr. Ebknkzkr. Lottie, how long have vou been working for Mis' Wright? Lottie {ivith an unconscious siffh). Fourteen years now next month — ever since she took me from the orphan asylum. Pkiscili.a. What have you been saving that money for, Lottie? LoTTiK {the spirit of dejection coming 07'er her again). Vou remember my telling you about my brother Frankie? Priscilla {nods her head. To Ehexkzkr). He's in the same orphan asylum where she was. LoTTiK. Pve been savin' it for him. Priscilla. What's he going to do with it !* Lottie. Well, you see Pm older'n he is. When Mi ' Wright took me from the asylum, I was fourteen and he was only five — and he cried when I went. W'qW, ma'am, a orphan asylum don't give no one a chanct — leastaways a man, for if he's goin' to amount to somethin' he's got to have a college edication. I didn't know nothin' about a college edication when I was in the asyhmi. but when I left and Frankie stood cryin' there, I made up my mind I was goin' to give him a chanct, and then soon after I come here. a professor who was to Mis' Wright's boardin' house told mc about the college, and he said the only chanct a man had to get on was to have a college edication, and he said if Frankie had one thousand dollars, if he was real careful in spendin* it, he could go through college — and so I been LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH 11 savin' it for him — and I thought maybe he could go next year. Ebenezer (after clearing his throat). Where is he now, Lottie? Lottie. He's still to the orphan asylum. 'Course he's too big to be a reg'lar inmate — he's nineteen, you know — ■ but when I wrote 'em about the college edication, they been letting him work at the asylum for his board and then go to the high school in town. Priscilla (huskily). Well, Lottie, there aren't many girls who would do what you've done. Lottie (not hearing her). And if I took one penny of the money to give to the country, I wouldn't have the thou- sand dollars in time for him to go to college next year. Priscilla. It does cost an awful sum to go to college. Ebenezer (uneasily) . Lottie, there are ever and ever so many people who can give money to the government easily. I don't see why we should have to do it. Lottie. It ain't right just the same. Ebenezer (his conscience forcing him to reveal his secret in spite of himself). I have some money, too. (He pulls out from, inside ^ his vest an old black sock, and laying his handkerchief across his knees he tremblingly pours out a col- lection of bills and silver money and coppers. Lottie and Priscilla gace at him fascinated. He speaks haltingly.) I — I've been saving it for a wheel chair. There's a spot down on the river I've wanted to see again before I die, I used to go there real often when I could walk. So I thought I would buy myself a wheel chair — you know I can't pos- sibly walk there — and I've been saving up now for ten years. You see what little money I had put aside when I couldn't teach the village school any longer, I used up trying to get cured — and since I've been making my living whittling things for the wooden factory, I've only been able to save a penny now and a penny then. Priscilla. Couldn't some one take you there? Ebenezer. I suppose so, if I asked, but you know I'm independent and (a little sheepishly) it's a bit of sentiment, too. I want to go there alone. 12 LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH pRisciLLA (s\'nif>athctically, after a f^ausc). How nnicli more do you need, l''l)eiiezer? I'jiKNKZKR. The catalogue I got said the kind lliat would he strong enough to go on grass roads would cost $48.73, and I've figured up the freiglit would he sixty cents extra. I've got $46.23. Priscilla. Oh, Ebenezer, then it won't take you so long before you get it. Ebenezer (sighing heavily). No, it won't take so long now. Lottie. I know how you feel, Mr. Grant. If there hadn't heen no war, you'd he glad, and now you don't think you ought to. It's — it's like the college edication. Priscilla ( uitahle to keep her secret any hunger. Shame- facedly). I've been saving, too, (SJie takes her black leather bag from behind the clock and spreads its contents out on the table.) And — and I haven't enough either. Erknezer (surprised). What are you saving for, Pris- cilla? Priscilla. A tombstone. Lottie. A tombstone, Miss Priscilla! Priscilla (slozcly). Vou see I'm the only one of my family left out here. The rest of them are all in the east — the name of our family is pretty well known there. And when father and mother were sick I used up all the money I had earned with my music teaching, so when they died I couldn't afford anything to mark their graves. And now, when I die. unless I can buy a tombstone, there won't be anything left of our family name. EiiENEZER (nodding), l understand — I understand. Priscilla (after a pause). It isn't because we don't ^canf to give. Ebenezer. No. it's because we can't. Lottie (gloomily). But it ain't right. There's a sharp knock with the butt of a gun on the door, and before any of the three can cren begin to hide his or her money, Euc.kne Beckwith opens the door and walks in. ffe is nineteen years old and is dressed in a hunting cos- LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH 13 tume. He glories in doing 'just the opposite of zvhat other people do, and as the village has been quite public-spirited since the zvar broke out, he perversely has taken the tack of being an objector. He is the only son of the village druggist. He is blinded by the lamplight for a fezv seconds. Lottie (disgustedly, for Eugene is not a favorite of hers — lie is a great tease). It's Eugene! Eugene (easily). You'll let me stay here, Miss Priscilla, won't you? There was so much talk about this meeting tonight, it made me so sick I went off to the woods, and now when I come back I find my house locked up, and it's either up to me to break in, go to the meeting, or to the only other light in town, and I .chose to come here. (He notices the money for the first time.) What the — ! Have you people broken into the federal reserve bank? Priscilla (ashamed, and yet zinth dignity). Mr. Grant is saving that money for a wheel chair so he can see the river again before he dies. Lottie there is saving her money to give her brother, who is at the orphan asylum, a college education, and I — I am saving mine for a tombstone, so when I die the family name will still be left. (She begins gathering her money up and Ebenezer and Lottie do like- wise. ) Eugene (nonplussed for a second, for he has a certain respect for Priscilla and Ebenezer, turns on Lottie, to zvJioju he dares give banter). My, I almost thought for a second you were going to give it to the Red Cross. Lottie (a shadow crossing her face). No, we ain't got nothin' to give. Eugene (seating himself in the chair Lottie vacated to sit on the floor) . H'ni, ' you talk as though that were a calamity, when it proves you're the only sensible people in town. Ebenezer (glad of any argument to help prop his con- science). Well, it does seem more sensible for us to get these things than to. give to the country. Priscilla. There are others who can give to the country. Lottie. But it ain't right — us not givin'. 14 LOTTIE SKRS IT THROUGH Eugene (/o LoTTii:). Iliiini)!i! Ain't rii,Hit ! W'liy shouM you give to your country r Lottie. Ain't you givin' notliin*? El'GENE (liyhtly). Mc? I should say not! And (mean imjly) I'm not actinia like a funeral over it either. Lottie {bc^tciUicrcd). Are you (jUid you ain't j^ivin'? Eugene {hcUigcrciUly). Why should I give? I don't want this war. Lottie. It's your country needs it — and it don't make no difference if you want the war or don't. Eugene {\nth the cruelty of youth). Well, why don't you give some of that money there, then? ^'ou seem to ha\ enough of it. (Lottie is unable to aus^i^er and in her despair hides /;< face in her hands.) Priscilla (gently). I told you, 'Gene, Lottie is saving to get one thousand dollars so that her hrother can go to college. Eugene. One thousand dollars! Lottie Cjrihhlc, have you got a thousand dollars there? Lottie (miserably shaking her head). Xo — just niP' hundred and two dollars. Eugene. Nine hundred and two dollars! And you're going to give that to your hrother to go to college, and tlun you want to give to your country, too ! Holy Gee ! Lottie. It ain't right — my not givin'. Eugene (beginning to feel uncomfortable and making a desperate effort not to be). Well, if it will ease your mind any, my pa and ma are over at the meeting — giving! Lottie (rising to her feet). But that ain't you! Eugene. It isn't! Ma's going to cut down on the caki - she hakes and pa won't give me a new rit1e on account oi it — and you say I'm not giving! Priscilla. Eugene! EnENEZER (getting a little angry). In my day young men of your age enlisted. I-OTTIE. The other hoys is doin' somethin'. Eugene (amr.vering Lottie). Yes, that smart-aleck . Charley Dean, just because he's a lieutenant now, has been LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH 15 after me to enlist because I'm not old enough to be drafted. Why, just this morning he told me he had one place left and he was waiting for me to take it. But (zvith a laugh) I guess he'll keep on waiting. Ebenezer (in contempt). Are you afraid? Eugene (stung). All the people who know me, sir, will tell you I'm not the afraid kind. (Lamely excusing him- self.) But because every one else is howling for this war, I don't see why that makes it necessary for me to do the same. Priscilla, You always were contrary, 'Gene. Lottie. But your country needs you now. Eugene (getting up and turning on her). What has my country done for me? What has your country done for you? Answer me that! (Lottie looks' at him wide-eyed.) You slave from early morning to late at night — and never have any fun. What's your country giving to you? Lottie (retrospectively). No — I ain't had it soft — never — and I ain't had much fun. Eugene (triumphantly) . Well, then, tell me, what have you got to be so crazy over your country for ? Just tell me ! What's your country given you? Lottie (sloivly). Jt's given me just what it's given you — and everybody else who's in it. It's given us — oh, I can't say all what's in me — ^but it's given us — why the place where we was born, the songs we used to sing in school, the chanct to be what we want to be — I ain't got it, but my brother has — it's given us liberty — and I — I could hug it to me — and I could die for it! Eugene (moved in spite of himself — turning aside — weakly). Humph! Ebenezer (admiringly). You should have been a man, Lottie. Lottie (recalled to her dilemma — in great dejection). And I ain't givin' my country nothin'. And the Gribbles have always give — I suppose you think from the way I look my family ain't much — and I guess they never had much money or much position — but my great; great grandpa was in the Revolution, my great grandpa was in another war 10 LOTTIE SEES IT THROUGH apainst the EnjjUsh, my grandpa was in the Civil War — same's Mr. Grant — and my own pa was killed in the Span- ish-American War. They was all only common soldiers, my ma said, hnt they jjive! Now, there's only Frankie and me — and I'm — fallin* down on my country. There is a eheerfitl kttoek at the door as it is being opened and Lieutenant Dean and Nurses Mary and Ruth conii in. EnENEZER tries to struggle to his feet in salute, hid Lieutenant Dean stops him icith a kindly gesture. Lieut. Dean. On our way from the meetin^^ we stopped with Postmaster Scott, and there was this ])aper for yun. Miss Priscilla, and this letter for Lottie {he hands then over) and so we thoujijht we would take them alonj^. Lottie. A letter for mc! Priscilla {examining her paper). Oh, it's just this pat- ent medicine thiiief. hut thank you, Charles. (Rising and coming foulard Lottie.) A letter, Lottie! Why. from whom can that he? (They turn it orrr a;/ Diaiocjv.ts froiii Dtckenft. •1 The ^ n Dialogues. ( ' sold. From Tots to Teens. I)ial..gurs and rtfitatitmi. Humorous Homespun Dialogues. I'or older onc>. Little People's Plays. From 7 to I"? ycais of ngc. Lively Dialogues. lor aW A%r>: luustly huinorou«». Merry Little DiJioQues. '1 Whe- 1 ' Wide Awake Drdloyues. ' 'iigiiial hUcit.NSlul. SPEAKERS, MONOI OQUES Choice Pieces for Little People. A . ;.;' 1' I ■ .,-: The ner. U> ics. dialugucs. Dl^li 'c. The ; I . , The Fttday Aft«rnoon Speaker. I'or |>UiiiU «if all ugry. Huni"^'" '* Mnnnlon.irs LIBRARY OF CONGRESS •^01 286 6 ! Scr.n 1 ! Mor -oiks. DRILLS The Best r ^ \c:\ The Fav( Hrill* tl. Little Pi- For *. The Surprise i-nii ti < . Fresh, !iMwl. .iui:^ ..!.•. SPECIALTIES The Doys' En* Children's Par Inx-itations, • The Days We I-:,.., .. .., . . . Gooii Good • .....vjo ....I iiy.i.^..j v^v .wu... liinloRues, rxcici«»cs. itt it:iiirri». Good Things for Thanksgiving. A K'l'i of a l>«M»k. Qjod Things for Washington and Lincoln Birthdays. Little Folks' Budget. Ka5y pi<-i< s to »;)>frik. One Hundred Entertan New ; Patriotic r,r»-;it Pictured Renumc-.s ,ina Tnuieaux. Intircly oriijitn! fratujc*. Pranks and Pastimes. Parlor K^iKes ior cbildi> n Private Theatricals. ll'-w to i>nt '>•! pl.'iy« Sh.ndow Plcti ■ " les, Charndes. Tablenux and t«. Tw Yiiletn.' t tn»t tnli'nu-n'.s. A < h irr ChM'ttn..- »•..!!<•.!; MINSTRELS, JOKES Black American Joker. Nfi'i'trrU' and cp.| men'* v Lau Negro Minstrels. VII abotit the huKiiie^s. The New Jolly Jester. Lars* illu»trat«dCat«loKue frm* T.S. DENISON Jk COMPANY, Publishers. 154 W. Randolph St.. ChlcafO — —4- — r —