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 THE VILLAGE 
 POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Price, 15 Cents 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
 
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 No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 
 
The Village Postmistress 
 
 A Rural Comedy in Three Acts 
 
 By 
 BERTHA CURRIER PORTER 
 
 Juthor of ''The Voice of Authority;' ''Gadsbfs Girls," 
 ^^Tbe Mishaps of Minerva ^^ ^''Lucia's Lover^^ etc. 
 
 BOSTON 
 WALTER H. BAKER ^ CO, 
 
 1912 
 
The Village Postmistress 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 ACHSAH KiTTREDGE, the postinhtress. 
 
 Hannah Webster, who has always had her own way. 
 
 Alice PlumiMER, who lives with Mrs. Webster. 
 
 Hazel Roberts, the 7iew school-teacher from the city. 
 
 Martha Stetson, a neighbor. 
 
 Rebecca Carter, a tieighbor. 
 
 David Jameson, a man of peace. 
 
 John Webster, in love with Alice. 
 
 Bart Hackett, blind, but newsy. 
 
 J ABE Kendall, the village politician. 
 
 Frank Sanders, the stage-driver. 
 
 Hiram Preston, a farmer. 
 
 Stranger, a detective. 
 
 Time. — The present. 
 
 Place. — A small country village in New England. 
 
 Costumes.— Of the present day. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. — Mrs. Webster's Hving-room. A cloudy afternoon in 
 November. 
 
 Act II. — The village store and post-office — early evening of the 
 same day. 
 
 Act III. — Same as Act II — the next afternoon. 
 
 THP96-C06918 
 
 Copyright, 191 2, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
 
 / 
 
 Q)C1.D 31356 
 
The Village Postmistress 
 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE. — Hannah Webster's living-room. Door at rear^ 
 leading to kitchen ; door at K., leading outdoors. Windows 
 at each side, filled with plants in blossom. Haircloth lounge 
 in front of wifidow at i<. Fireplace at back. In center 
 of stage, extensiofi table^ with red checked cloth on it. 
 Braided rugs on a painted floor. Shelf with old fashioned 
 clock, glass vases, some goblets and saucers holding plant- 
 slips ; almanac hanging beneath. The table is littered with 
 papers, old programmes and books. Old-fashioned pictures 
 on walls, and an enlarged crayon portrait of John Webster. 
 Martha Stetson and Rebecca Carter sit by the table. 
 
 E?iter Han., ivith scrap-book. 
 
 Han. Here's my scrap-book. Now we shan't repeat 
 anything. Every programme we've ever had is in this book — 
 every harvest festival, every Easter concert, every Christmas 
 celebration. 
 
 Mar. You do beat all for system, Hannah. Tlie way you 
 keep everything is a caution. Well, it's lucky somebody keeps 
 things. If ever you throw anything away or lose anything, 
 you're sure to want it. Now when I lost that recipe for dried 
 apple pie, I knew you'd have the copy I gave you, so I didn't 
 worry a mite, and sure enough, you did. 
 
 Han. Careless people make lots of trouble in this world. 
 
 Reb. Here's a pretty piece in this book — all about fallin' 
 leaves an' autumn breeze — ^just the thing for Thanksgivin'. 
 Hetty Cartwright would speak it real nice. 
 
 Han. No doubt she would. Hetty Cartvvright's probably 
 got her piece all picked out long 'fore now. For my part, I 
 think Hetty Cartvvright's spoke about all the pieces /want to 
 hear. I'm in favor of somethin' new. 
 
4 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Reb. Why, Hannah, we couldn't slight Hetty ! Think 
 how she'd feel. She's always spoke a piece at the Thanks- 
 givin' concert. 
 
 Mar. Likely she'll wear that old blue dress. I wish she'd 
 get soinethiii' new. Say, ain't that light purple suit the new 
 teacher wears just grand ? 
 
 Han. Teacher does have the prettiest clothes. You ought 
 to see a white dress she has hangin' up in her press- closet. 
 She ain't worn it yet. Perhaps she'll wear it to the concert. 
 
 Mar. I guess the scholars like her real well. My sister's 
 boy says she's all right. An' she makes Harold Bean behave, 
 which is more'n any other teacher ever did. 
 
 Han. Is that great Bean boy still goia' to school ? My, I 
 should think 'twas time his folks put him to work. 
 
 Reb. Folks nowadays don't seem to have to work the v/ay 
 they used to. My father was earnin' man's wages by the time 
 he was Harold's age. 
 
 Mar. Well, this ain't plannin' the Thanksgivin' concert. 
 
 Han. No, it ain't, an' we haven't any too much time, 
 either. 
 
 Reb. Let's take that scrap-book, Hannah. Perhaps there's 
 somethin' appropriate in that. (^Iliey hunt in silence a vio- 
 vient.) Why, here's that piece your John spoke at Easter, 
 when he was five years old. I can see him now. Wasn't he 
 a cunnin' youngster? 
 
 Mar. Pity he's away, Hannah. We shall miss his singin*. 
 We always depend on John. An' Alice plays so pretty for 
 him. 
 
 Han. Teacher plays the nicest I ever heard. I got her to 
 try over some of John's pieces. I been telling her about his 
 singin'. And when he comes home, I'm goin' to have 'em 
 practise together. 
 
 (Mar. at//// Reb. exchange glances.') 
 
 Mar. Where's Alice today, Hannah ? 
 
 Han. She's doin' up some sewin' I got behind on. 
 
 Reb. I s'pose she'll play at the concert ? 
 
 Han. Well, teacher says she'll play, an' we don't want too 
 much instrumental music. 
 
 Mar. Why, Hannah Webster, do you mean you ain't 
 goin' to ask Alice ? Folks always look forward to her playin', 
 an' she's so good about encores. 
 
 Han. Altogether too forward as she grows older. It won't 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 5 
 
 hurt her a mite to check her some. A girl in her position 
 shouldn't be so bold. 
 
 Mar. Well, I never should call Alice bold. Folks will 
 think it's queer enough if she don't play. I guess David'U 
 have soraethin' to say. 
 
 Han. David don't run this town yet, even if some folks 
 thinks he does. But we can settle that part of it later. I 
 s'pose we'll have ice-cream an' cake for sale, as usual ? I'll 
 make a couple o' loaves o' my pound cake. 
 
 Reb. I wish we didn't have to ask Mis' Flanders for cake 
 — she can't cook no more'n a cat. But then she'll make a 
 loaf anyway, even if she ain't asked. Who's that goin' by 
 the window, Hannah ? 
 
 {They all hurry to the window, and peer out.) 
 
 Han. Land o' love, it's Bart Hackett ! Pokin' along, as 
 usual. I s'pose he's comin' here. I'd like once in a while to 
 do something that Bart Hackett didn't get wind of. For all 
 he's blind, he picks up more news than a man with eyes all 
 round his head, like a fly ! Yes — there he comes — in the shed 
 door. 
 
 Mar. He gives me the shivers sometimes, settin' around 
 with them eyes o' hisn. They don't look blind. I know he 
 can't see what I'm doin', but he'll break right out with some 
 remark, just as if he could. 
 
 Reb. They say that blind folks have a sense that we don't 
 — to make up for their affliction, I s'pose. 
 
 Enter Bart Hackett, from rear door. 
 
 Bart. Howdy, Hannah ! Marthy an' Rebecca's here, 
 ain't they? I heard so. Howdy, girls! Thanksgivin' con- 
 cert comin', I guess. {He goes across the room, and feels 
 among the books and papers on the table, until he finds the 
 scrap-book that Reb. has put there.) Yes, here it is. Knew 
 I'd find it. Read in my almanac this mornin' ''About this 
 time watch out for Hannah Webster's scrap-bock." Got it 
 all planned, I s'pose? "First number on the programme 
 will be a song by John Webster, accompanied by Alice Plum- 
 
 mer — Recitation, < Autumn ' by Hetty Cartwright " Gosh, 
 
 I know it all by heart.. 
 
 Han. {tartly). If you can give us any better ideas, we'll 
 be glad to have 'em, I'm sure. 
 
6 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Bart. Don't let me interfere. I've stood 'em so long. 
 Guess I can weather a few more. S'pose you'll work the new 
 schoolma'am in, won't ye? I aiu't seen her yet. 
 
 Mar. Oh, Bart, 1 wanted to asik you — I knew you'd know 
 — when's Jabe Kendall goin' to have his auction ? I heard he 
 was goin' to sell off all that old truck in his attic. 
 
 Bart. So he was, but he's changed his mind. He's heard 
 that Paul Potter, you know, Paul on the old pound road — wife 
 was a Cheney — well, Paul's aimin' to take some boarders next 
 year, so Jabe's goin' to wait till July an' have his auction when 
 the boarders are here. He's sent for some blue plates an' such 
 from the ten cent store down Boston way, an' he's goin' to use 
 'em till they get kind o' crackled an' greasy, an' then put 'em 
 in amongst his stuff, an' he calculates to get enough out o' 
 the boarders, one way an' another, to buy an automobile. 
 
 \_Exii Han. 
 
 Reb. Paul Potter's folks goin' to take boarders? Why, 
 where on earth are they goin' to put 'em in that little old 
 house ? 
 
 Mar. An* way up out o' creation— on that lonesome pound 
 road, too. 
 
 Reb. Paul Potter's wife can't keep house fit for a pig. / 
 don't think she's all there anyway. Sometimes she looks as 
 if she hadn't a wit in the world. 
 
 Efiter Han. with a fray of cake and cider. 
 
 Han. Talkin's dry work. Don't you want some o' my 
 cider? Here, Bart, I know you won't refuse. Have some 
 cake, Martha. Have some, Rebecca. 
 
 Bart. My father used to say, *' No thank you has lost many 
 a good meal." Never did in my case. I'll have some cake, 
 too, Hannah. 
 
 Mar. This is lovely cake, Hannah. Did you make it ? 
 
 Han. No, Alice made this. 
 
 Reb. She's a real good cook, ain't she? 
 
 Mar. She's had a good teacher. 
 
 Bart. Powerful good cake, Hannah, I'll take another 
 piece. 
 
 Han. {pas si fig him the cake'). Well, since she's been with 
 me, I've tried to teach her what I could. 
 
 Mar. Now, who else can we have to speak at the concert? 
 
 Reb. Land o' mercy, it's after four o'clock. I must be 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 7 
 
 scootin*, I got biscuits to bake for supper. Don't it shut 
 down dark awful early now ? 
 
 Han. We shall hav^e to have another meetin' of this com- 
 mittee. We haven't accomplished a thing. 
 
 Mar. Why can't we leave the rest of it to you, Hannah ? 
 
 Bart. That'll just suit Hannah — she does love to manage 
 things, don't ye, Hannah? Where's Alice? I want to tell 
 her how good this cake is. Since you're so pressin', I wi// take 
 another piece. 
 
 Han. I'll call her. l£xif. 
 
 Mar. (asid^, to Reb.). I'll bet you she tries to make a 
 match between John an* the new schoolma'am. She won't 
 admit there's a girl in this town good enough for him. 
 
 Bart. Hannah begun on the schoolma'am yet? I'll bet 
 she gives her an earache about John. I only hope she don't 
 do too much gabbin' before Alice. 
 
 Mar. {starting'). Bart Hackett, you've got ears like a fox. 
 
 Bart. Kind o' too bad John's got such a managin' ma. 
 Too bad for her, I mean. John Webster's goin' to have his 
 own way in this world, or I miss my guess. There's a good 
 deal of his ma in him, an' when those tv/o disagree things are 
 goin' to be lively. 
 
 Reb. Hush, here she comes. 
 
 Enter Han., followed by Alice Plummer, who picks up the 
 glasses and plates. 
 
 Alice. How do you do, Martha ? How do you do, Re- 
 becca ? Got the programme all made out for the concert ? 
 Hullo, Bart, I heard you liked my cake. 
 
 Bart. Powerful tasty cake, Alice. If I hadn't made up 
 my mind to go into the Old Men's Home, I'd ask ye to marry 
 me, just on account o' that cake. 
 
 Alice {laughing). You're real good, Bart. I'll take the 
 will for the deed. And I'll send you a loaf of cake sometimes 
 when you get into the Home. 
 
 Mar. It was lovely cake, Alice. Come, Rebecca, we must 
 be goin'. {At the door.) Mercy, how low the clouds are! 
 Why, it's snowin' hard. Goin' our way, Bart ? 
 
 Bart. No; I rather guess, seeing Hannah wants me so 
 bad, I'll stay an' take supper with her. Maybe that cake ain't 
 all gone yet. 
 
 Han. I ain't got much for supper, Bart. 
 
8 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Bart. All the same to me. I'll take my chances with the 
 schoolma'am. I guess what's good enough for her will be good 
 enough for me. {Sctlks back in his chair,) Good-night, girls. 
 
 Mar. Good-night, Hannah. Good-night, Alice — Bart. 
 
 Reb. Good-night, all. 
 
 \_Excunf'^h\\\. and Reb., at side door, 
 
 Han. {crossly). Go put another plaie on for Bart, Alice. 
 
 {^Exit Alice. Bart rocks co?nforiably while Han. picks up 
 the scattered papers and books, and tidies the room.) 
 
 Bart. I guess I'll step down to the store while Alice is 
 gittin' supper, Hannah. I'll fill the wood-box an' tend to the 
 chores, too, to kind o' pay for my keep. 
 
 Han. All right. {Exit ^kkt, at rear. Children'' s voices 
 are heard at the side door, calling, ** Good-7iight, teacher — 
 good-night — good-night.^* Enter, at side door, Hazel Rob- 
 erts. She stands in the door, waving her hand and calling 
 ^^ Good-night.'") It looks as if you had company home, Miss 
 Roberts. 
 
 Hazel. Quite an escort, yes. And I'm laden with all sorts 
 of trophies. Butternuts — we'll crack some if we can after 
 supper — apples, and see the lovely pop-corn that William 
 brought me ! It's going to be a wild night. It snows now, 
 and the wind is rising, and I think we're in for a blizzard. 
 It's just the night to stay in where it's warm and bright, and 
 talk and eat goodies. 
 
 Han. It's a pretty good sign when children like a person, 
 Miss Roberts. When my John was a boy, he just worshiped 
 his teacher. I'll be glad when he gets home. He'll entertain 
 you an' make things real pleasant. I s'pose you noticed this 
 picture of him — I had it enlarged from a photograph by a man 
 that came to town. It's a real good likeness. 
 
 Hazel. I supposed that must be your son. He looks like 
 you, Mrs. Webster. You must be proud of him. 
 
 Han, You've heard of a hen with one chicken — I guess I 
 know how she feels. Just let me show you his baby pictures 
 here in the album. There's one that's awful cute. He was as 
 fat as butter, and as good a baby as you'd want to see. I'm 
 just ambitious for that boy. Miss Roberts. I've always lived 
 right here in the country myself, an' things haven't always 
 been to my likin', but I want John to have the advantages I 
 missed. He's queer, though. I set out for him to be a 
 teacher ; put him through high school an' the academy, but he 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 9 
 
 decided he'd rather be outdoors. Went an' took a course in 
 forestry. He's up north here now, lumberin' — says he'll try 
 teachin' his neighbors how to cut trees for a while, then he'll 
 see. {Shows her the pic lure. ^ There, there he is when he 
 was a baby. 
 
 Hazel. Isn't that a dear picture? 
 
 Han. An' here he is in his first short dress. I've got one 
 o' those shoes now — blue kid, with white buttons. The other 
 he kicked off an' lost. 
 
 Enter Alice. 
 
 Alice. Hadn't I better go down for the mail now? Jabe 
 Kendall's gone up by with his. 
 
 Han. No, I want to do some tradin'. I'll go. You enter- 
 tain Miss Roberts. 
 
 Hazel. Truly, Mrs. Webster, I don't need entertaining. 
 Now if I'm going to board here, I must insist on being treated 
 as one of the family, or I shall feel that I am such a bother. 
 
 Han. It must seem kind of stupid to you now, but just 
 wait till John gets home. He'll take you all around. There's 
 some awful pretty drives here. An' it's lovely in the winter 
 when snow's all white an' clean. Not much like your city 
 streets — all slush an' dirt. Alice, get the lard pail for me, will 
 you? We're all out. \_Exeuiit Han. and Alice, at rear. 
 
 Hazel {closing the album ivith a hang). I'm so sick of 
 John I shall scream if she mentions him again. {Goes up to 
 the picture and shakes her fist at it.) Some day I'm going to 
 turn you to the wall, you smirking piece of peifection — you ! 
 "John this — John that — John for breakfast, dinner and sup- 
 per." It's very evident that Mrs. Hannah Mother Webster 
 has plans for John, and I'm included. I won't go riding with 
 you, John. I won't be thrown at your head, John. Some- 
 body might object — still, I wonder how it would do to give 
 
 mother a lesson. I might pretend to be impressed {Enter 
 
 Alice, 7vho moves about in silence.) It's snowing faster, isn't 
 it ? Mrs. Webster ought to take an umbrella. 
 
 Alice. Country people get used to the weather. Miss 
 Roberts. 
 
 Hazel {laugliino), \ suppose I shall have to learn all sorts 
 of things. Mrs. Webster seems determined to use every method 
 to improve my education. Have you always lived in the 
 country, MissPlummer? 
 
 Alice. Ever since I can remember. 
 
10 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Hazel. Mrs. Webster is your aunt, isn't she? 
 
 Alice. No, she isn't any relation. You see my mother 
 came here when I was a tiny girl. She hired a house and 
 lived by herself. And because she would not satisfy the curi- 
 osity of her neighbors, and tell every one all about herself, 
 they began to talk. I was too young to realize then, but I 
 know now what mother must have suffered. She was so good 
 to me that I never missed the grandmother and other relatives 
 that the children talked about. One night our house caught 
 fire. It was some distance from the village — there was no fire 
 department, of course, — and by the time the light was seen 
 and help came, my mother and I were safely out. We could 
 only v/atch it burn. Suddenly my mother cried out and ran 
 back into the blazing house before any one could stop her — 
 then the roof fell in 
 
 Hazel. Oh — oh 
 
 Alice. I don't like to think about it. David tried to go 
 after her, but it was just a fiery furnace. The neighbors were 
 good to me when I was small. 1 lived with David's mother 
 till she died, and we were so happy. Then David brought me 
 to Mrs. Webster ; because he said she needed a dauglUer. But, 
 you see, 1 don't know who my people arc. Once it made no 
 difference — now I'm learning what my mother endured. Oh, 
 Miss Roberts, I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't 
 usually talk about my affairs to strangers. 
 
 Hazel. 1 hope it is because 1 am not going to be a stranger 
 long. You and the wonderful Jc/nn nuist be iike liroiher and 
 sister. When he comes home ue will have some good times 
 together. I can see him now — a spoiled mother's boy — I must 
 take him in hand. If his mother is going to educate me, I'll 
 give the son a few lessons, just to even up things. {Laughs.) 
 1 must take care I don't fall in love with him. Does he look 
 like this outrage ? (Points to the picture.') 
 
 k\A<z^ ijiuietly). John is a good-looking fellow. Everyone 
 likes John. 
 
 Hazel. All the more reason why I should devote a little of 
 my valuable time to him. Yes, my mind is made up. I shall 
 certainly cultivate this paragon — he's too good to be true. 
 Can't you give me some points, Alice? What is the quickest 
 road to his affections? Does he like a shy, clinging creature, 
 or a woman v/ith brains and opinions? 
 
 {^Before Alice cati reply, Bart enters froju the rear door.) 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 11 
 
 Alice. Why, Bart, are you back so soon ? Miss Roberts, 
 let me make you acquainted with Mr. Hackett. 
 
 Bart {extending his hand). Glad to see ye, Miss Roberts. 
 I've heard a heap about ye — it's quite an event when a stranger 
 comes to this town. 
 
 Hazel (shaking hands). Glad to meet you, Mr. Hackett. 
 
 Bart. ''Bart," if it's all the same to you. "Mister" 
 don't set easy on my name. "Well, what's the news ? What 
 ye talkin' about up here? You're the general subject o* con- 
 versation in every other house in town, Miss Roberts. You'd 
 be some surprised if you could collect all your histories — 
 you wouldn't know yourself, I'm sure. Come from Boston, 
 don't ye? 
 
 Hazel. From near Boston, yes. 
 
 Bart. 1 said 'twas Boston, but Jabe Kendall, he was bound 
 to have it New York. Boston ain't on his map sence he took 
 that trip out west five year ago. An' now he's got into politics, 
 he's runnin' the whole country. Fust thing he aims to do is to 
 get a veteran appointed postmaster here. An' veteran's name 
 is Jabe Kendall. 
 
 Alice. Do you suppose he will, Bart ? I heard he was 
 after Achsah's place. 
 
 Bart. Well, he's tryin'. That's no sight he's gettin' it, 
 though. Other folks besides Jabe has got a finger in that pie. 
 Achsah's heard of it, an' she's worryin' some. Ye see there's 
 been a lot o' changes in the post-offices lately, an' Jabe happens 
 to be of the prevaiiin' party just now. Spends all his pension 
 money buyin' postage stamps to write to Washington — good 
 thing for Uncle Sam. 
 
 Alice. Well, if the President takes that away from Achsah, 
 after she's had it all these years 
 
 Bart. President ain't got nothin' to say about it, Alice. 
 Jabe's runnin' things now. 
 
 Hazel. Isn't Miss Achsah one of the finest women you ever 
 knew? Somehow you feel her friendship just as soon as she 
 shakes hands with you. 
 
 Bart. I guess you're right there. Ain't nothin' Achsah 
 wouldn't do for anybody. An' nobody in this town but would 
 do anythin' for her, exceptin' Jabe Kendall, an' he's too cussed 
 mean to count. What's the matter with you, Alice? Sound 
 kind o' siiiffly, don't ye ? 
 
 Alice. Nothing's the matter, Bart, 
 
 Bart {hitting the album, which lies on a chair). Been 
 
tit THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 lookin' at the famii)/ poiiraiis, Miss Roberts? Been admirin' 
 Joiin in all his various stages? 
 
 Hazel. 1 have seen a few pictures of him, Mr. Hackett. 
 
 Bart. Well, now, you don't want to let Hannah prejudice 
 you agin' him. John's a mighty fine chap, hey, Alice ? 1 guess 
 Ahce here knows what John is as well as aLy one. 
 
 Alice (^quickly). Was the mail sorted when you left, Bart? 
 
 Bart. Yes, 1 waited. Achsah said there wa'n't nothin' for 
 me, but she mentioned there was a letter for you from John. 
 
 Alice. Did she give it to you? 
 
 Bart. No, I guess Hannah took it. 
 
 Alice. She took it? Oh, what shall I do? 
 
 Bart. Why, wiiat if she did ? What's the matter? 
 
 Alice. She doesn't know John writes to me. She won't 
 like it. She has 
 
 Bart. Now don't go gittin' nervous, Alice. And don't 
 you be afraid o' Hannah, nuther. I should want her to know 
 John was writin' if I was you. Then you won't be doin' nothin* 
 underhanded, an' she can't blame you. 
 
 Alice. Bart, you know how angry she will be. 
 
 Bart. Let her git mad — an' let her git over it. You ain't 
 done nothin' in all your life to be ashamed of. She's got to 
 know John loves you some time. She knows it now, if she'd 
 only admit it. She sets a heap by Jolin, I know, but when she 
 realizes he wants you more'n anythin' on earth, she'll give in 
 an' things will be all right. She's never denied that boy any- 
 thin' he wanted, an' she ain't goin' to begin now. 
 
 Alice. But this is different. Bart, you know — every one 
 knows — I don't know who I am really ; oh, she has said so 
 often enough lately, ever since she noticed that John was be- 
 ginning to care for me. She would never have consented to 
 let him go away from home if it hadn't been for that. Oh, if 
 I only knew who I am ! 
 
 Bart. Ask Jabe Kendall — he knows everythin'— he'll 
 tell ye. 
 
 Alice. It is no joking matter to be all alone in the world, 
 Bart. 
 
 Bart. Relations ain't always such a blessin' as some folks 
 seem to think. 'Cordin' to some I've seen, I'm glad I ain't 
 got none. Don't worry, Alice. It'll come out all right. Brace 
 up, now — here she comes. 
 
 Enter Han., ivith parcels atid mail. 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 13 
 
 Han. {fiot ioo ivell pleased^. Oh, Bart, you came back, 
 didn't you? Miss Roberts, here's some mail for you. 
 
 Hazel. Thank you. Will you excuse me while I read my 
 letters ? 
 
 Bart. Well, Hannah, what's the news down street? 
 
 Alice. Isn't there anything for me? 
 
 Han. No. 
 
 Bart. That's funny. Where's your letter? I'd have 
 brought it if I hadn't thought Achsah'd give it to Hannah. 
 
 Han. {hurriedly). I don't beHeve you'd better stay for sup- 
 per, Bart. You'd better be steppin' along. It's fillin' in pretty 
 fast, and none of us can go home with you. 
 
 Bart. Oh, I ain't in any hurry. Storms don't bother me 
 much. See just as well as when it's fair. Black an' white's 
 all the same to me. Funny 'bout that letter, Alice. I thought 
 sure Achsah'd give it to Hannah. 
 
 Han. Well, what if she did ? Is it any of your business ? 
 You're a meddlesome old fool, Bart Hackett ! 
 
 Alice. Then there ivas a letter? 
 
 Han. Miss Roberts, don't you want to go up-stairs a little 
 while? Supper won't be ready quite yet. 
 
 Alice. Miss Roberts, please don't go. Mrs. Webster, will 
 you please give me my letter? 
 
 Han. I'll do no such thing ! I know who it is from, and I 
 won't have my John writing to you. I've seen how things 
 were goin'. I've seen you makin' eyes at him. Do you sup- 
 pose I'd let my son marry a girl from nobody knows where? 
 A girl who has worked in his kitchen— done his drudgery — a 
 girl with no people, no name, for all I know. 
 
 Hazel. Oh, Mrs. Webster, what are you saying? 
 
 Han. You keep out of this. 
 
 Alice. Give me my letter. If your son were here, he 
 would not allow you to say such things to me. 
 
 Han. If my son were here, he would obey me as he has 
 always done. 
 
 Alice. That letter belongs to me. You say he is your son 
 — what would you wish him to do if any one spoke of you as 
 you have spoken of my mother ? Give me my letter, and I 
 will leave your house this instant. 
 
 Han. There is your letter — take it if you can get it ! 
 
 {She thrusts the letter into the fire ^ holding it in the flame i 
 as Alice struggles to rescue it.^ 
 
14 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Hazel. Oh — she has burned it ! 
 
 Bakt. Tarnation, Hannah, what you done? You ain't 
 burned up a letter that don't belong to ye? That's tamperin' 
 with the mail ! That's a crime ! That's Slate's Prison doings ! 
 Jabe Kendall will be wrilin' to Washington about ye ! An' 
 we're witnesses — me an' Miss Roberts — we see ye do it ! 
 
 (/// the silence wliich follows, David Jameson e?iters. He 
 carries a bunch of dried catnip. Apparently unconscious 
 of anything unusual, he calls softly, ^^ Kit — kit — kit.''~) 
 
 David. Here's a little treat I brought for kitty. {No 
 one speaks.) Why, what's the matter? You don't look 
 happy. 
 
 Bart {uneasily). Hullo, David. Stormin' some, ain't she? 
 
 David. Yes, she's goin' to be a wicked one. Snowin' now 
 so you can't see your hand before your face. 
 
 Bart. Guess 'tain't any worse out than 'tis in — guess 
 it's kind o' lucky you come along, David. Hannah, here, 
 she's 
 
 Han. Bart Hackett, will you mind your business ? 
 
 Alice. Oh, David — David — she has 
 
 David. There, there, Alice, wait just a minute. Hannah, 
 what has happened to put ye in one of your tempers ? 
 
 Han. I may as well tell you as Bart, here. He knows all 
 about it, so the whole village will learn it before mornin'. If 
 I tell you myself, you'll get it straight. I've only just found 
 out what I've surmised for a good while. This hussy here has 
 been tryin* for my boy — she's inveigled him into writin' to 
 her — I don't know how many letters she has had, but I know 
 there's one she didn't get, for I just burned it up ! 
 
 David. Now, Hannah, that wa'n't right. 
 
 Han. Right or wrong — what do you suppose / care where 
 John's welfare is concerned ? I mean him for something better 
 than a nameless girl. It's only a boy's fancy, anyhow. Seein* 
 her round under his nose all the time, she's bewitched him — 
 that's what it is. He'll forget all about her when she's gone — 
 and out you go, miss ! Ill put a stop to this, right now ! 
 
 Alice. I'm going, Mrs. Webster. I shaw't stay here any 
 longer. John would not want me to, now. You said I'd done 
 his drudgery — worked in his kitchen. That's all true — and 
 because it was for John, whom I loved and who loves me, Mrs. 
 Webster, it was not drudgery. What did you do for the man 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 1 5 
 
 you married? Didn't you work for Ji'un ? Didn't you wash 
 for him, and mend for him? Didn't you keep his home clean 
 and attractive? Didn't you make his bed and cook his food ? 
 Was that drudgery ? Is it degrading for a woman to labor for 
 the man she loves? To make him comfortable? If it seemed 
 drudgery for you to do these things for your husband — then I 
 think you never knew what love is. \_Exit. 
 
 David. Hannah, that child is opening old wounds. 
 Hannah, you're hurt now, and you don't know what you're 
 doing. But remember what your temper did for you years 
 ago ! Remember the night you turned a man away from your 
 door ! 
 
 Han. David, don't you dare to come between John and 
 me ! You know he's all I've got. Do you suppose I'm going 
 to let him take up with a nameless hussy? 
 
 Bart. Go slow there, Hannah Webster ! Remember you're 
 speakin' of the girl John loves. 
 
 Han. So you know it too ? I suppose every one in town 
 knows it except his mother ? Well, slie knows it now ! And 
 out that girl goes ! I'll end this to-night. 
 
 David. Hannah, you've had your own way all your life, 
 and only the Lord knows whether it's been pleasant or not. 
 But there's some things that are too mighty for you. And love 
 is one of them. Do you tliink John will be any more anxious 
 to please you when he knows you've turned Alice out? 
 
 Bart. Hannah, you don't mean to put that girl out into 
 such a night as this? Why, it's a raging blizzard — 'tain't fit 
 for a woman to step foot outside the house ! 
 
 Han. I'll risk her. She thinks too much of her precious 
 clothes to go out in this weather. But not another mouthful 
 does she get under my roof. This isn't what I took her for 
 when you brought her to me, David Jameson ! 
 
 David. I'll take her to a place where she won't bother ye, 
 Hannah. I don't want her to stay where she ain't welcome. 
 I'll drive round for her in the mornin'. But, Hannah, you 
 let her alone to-night. Don't you say anything more to her. 
 I'll be goin' along, now. Good-night. {^He goes towai-d the 
 door, then turns to say.) if I was you, Hannah, I'd think 
 over what I'd said an' done. Come, Bart, I'm goin' your way 
 an' I'll pilot you. Jack's waitin' in the shed an* if the storm's 
 too much for us, he'll find the way. 
 
 Enter Hazel, swiftly, white and frightened. 
 
l6 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Hazel. She's gone ! Out through the barn and into the 
 storm ! Oh, it's awful — I called but she wouldn't answer. I 
 tried to run after, but she vanished. The snow cuts like 
 knives, and the wind drifts it so I could not see her footprints. 
 Oh, Mrs. Webster, you cruel woman, what have you done ? 
 And the things 1 said — she will think 
 
 Bart. Gone! Into this night? An' the wind howlin' so 
 you couldn't hear the horn o' tiie angel Gabriel ! Hannah 
 Webster, 1 guess Jabe Kendall will have somethin' to write 
 about now — it's plain murder — that's what it is ! 
 
 David. Oh» Hannah, see what your temper has brought 
 you to once more. Come, Bart, we must find her. Miss 
 Roberts, can't you get me something she has worn lately? It 
 might help some if we could give Jack the scent. 
 
 [Exii Hazel. 
 
 Bart. Gosh-all-hemlock, what'll folks say ? 
 
 Han. I guess you won't have to look far — she'll come back 
 as soon as she begins to feel uncomfortable. 
 
 Entet- Hazel, zvith kitchen apron. 
 
 Hazel. Here's her apron — she just took it off. 
 
 Han. H'm, she wa'n't in such a tearin' hurry but she could 
 stop to fix herself up ! 
 
 Bart. Hannah Webster, thank the Lord I ain't your hus- 
 band ! 
 
 David. Come, Bart, there's no time to waste. Hannah, 
 while you're thinkin' it all out, in the dark, you just imagine 
 how you'd have felt if Charlie Blanchard's mother had done 
 this to you. An* what Charlie would have thought of her. 
 You were a girl once, an' I remember the time when you never 
 dreamed your name would be Webster. 
 
 \_Exeu7it David and Bart at rear door. 
 
 Hazel (watching at the wijidow). It is a fearful night — 
 that poor girl ! 
 
 Han. I'll have supper in a minute. Miss Roberts, I'm 
 sorry this should have happened, but I'll have things ready 
 pretty soon now. 
 
 Hazel. Supper? Do you think I would eat with you 
 now ? Have you no feelings ? Have you no lieart ? 
 
 Han. {laughing gri77ily). Heart ? I had one once — but 
 it's old and dried now — like me ! Feelin's? No — not now — 
 only love for my boy {Fiercely.') My baby— the child 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS f] 
 
 I bore — the only creature God let; me keep ! An' I'll do what 
 I think is best for him — I'll not have his life ruined as mine 
 was — I'll spare him that — at any cost ! He doesn't love this 
 girl — he would have told me — she shan't have him — do you 
 hear ? She shan't have him ! 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE. — The village store and post-office. Shelves ^ well 
 stocked with goods. Post-office boxes at side, laith counter 
 beyond. Large, round stove in center. Box of saw- dust 
 beside it. Settee in front of grocery counter. Wooden 
 chairs about stove. Notices of auctions, dances and enter- 
 tainments posted about, some of them shoiving unmistakable 
 signs of age. Rubber boots and heavy mittens hanging from 
 beams overhead. Entrance door at rear ; another at side, 
 leading to Achsah Kittredge's room back of the store. 
 Frank Sanders and Hiram Preston sit by the stove, their 
 chairs tipped back ; they smoke in sociable silence. At last 
 Frank speaks. 
 
 Frank. Jabe Kendall is about the meanest cuss I ever see, 
 tryin' to git this place away from Achsah, when she's had it 
 ever since her father died. She was brought up in this here 
 store — it's the only home she's ever known. 
 
 Hiram. I can remember when the old man used to h'ist 
 her up onto the counter when she wa'n't bigger' n a pint o* 
 cider, and he'd put her little hands onto the tobacco cutter an' 
 make her think she was a-runnin' it. But mebbe Jabe won't 
 have it all his own way quite so much as he thinks for. Didn't 
 ye hear what David was up to ? 
 
 Frank. No — what ? 
 
 Hiram. Ain't you heard that? Well, you know that time 
 when Jabe went away an' stayed three year ? Said he'd been 
 drivin' stage out West, you remember ? 
 
 Frank. He was always terrible close-mouthed 'bout them 
 three years. 
 
 Hiram. Well he might be, I guess. You know Bart 
 Hackett's always nosin' round an' tryin' to find out every- 
 body's business, but even he couldn't git Jabe started on that. 
 Well, it's the queerest thing. Here 'bout two weeks ago, 
 wiien that drummer was here — you know, tlie dark-complected 
 feller that boarded up to Mary Lizy's — well, b.e come from the 
 West, an' when he see Jabe he acted sort o' surprified like. 
 Bart — he was a-settin' right where I be now, an' he heard the 
 hull conversation. Seemed this drummer used to liave a route 
 
 i8 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS I9 
 
 in the West, an' he hailed Jabe, sayin', ''Ain't you the feller 
 that used to work for a man named Tompkins, out near 
 Chicago?" Jabe says, " Guess you're mistaken in your man, 
 mister," but he didn't seem to like it very well, an' he went 
 right out o' the store. Then Bart hails the drummer an' asks 
 him about it. Drummer swears he ain't mistaken, an' adds 
 that Jabe left old man Tompkins pretty sudden, an' he'd heard 
 some o' Tompkins* money went along, too. Drummer says 
 he don't know but Tompkins would be glad to see Jabe. 
 
 Frank. Jabe Kendall ? You don't say ! 
 
 Hiram. Yes — an' Bart asks him why he don't send out 
 there an' find out, but drummer says it's none o' his hunt. 
 Then Bart hikes right out after David an' tells him the story, 
 an* David gets the name o' the town from the drummer, an* 
 writes out there to the chief of police, askin' him about it, an* 
 describin' Jabe just as careful, 'cause probably he might have 
 been under another name or somethin'. 
 
 Frank. Well, say, ain't that grand ? I'd like to see Jabe 
 Kendall get his come-uppance first-rate. 
 
 Hiram. Guess there's a few others around here that would, 
 too. David ain't heard nothin' yet, but he's lookin* for a 
 letter every day. Don't say anythin' about it. He don't want 
 Achsah should know till he's sure. 
 
 Frank. Of course he don't. David's all right, now I tell 
 ye. He ain't much of a talker, but when it comes to doin', 
 he's right there. 
 
 Enter ken., from side. 
 
 AcH. It's a bad night, boys; lucky you don't live far from 
 here. Guess there won't be much trade this evenin*. 
 
 Frank. How soon do you calculate the appointment will 
 be made, Achsah ? 
 
 AcH. I don't know, Frank. Most any time now, I expect. 
 1 suppose I'll be movin' out o' the old place pretty soon. It'll 
 be quite a change. 
 
 Hiram. Never say die, Achsah ! Jabe Kendall ain't sortin' 
 tlie mail just yet, an' maybe he never will be. Ain't any other 
 candidate, is there ? 
 
 AcH. Oh, no. Jabe's the only one that's runnin' against 
 me. 
 
 Frank. What a fool question. Hi ! Ain't another man in 
 town would do a thing like that. 
 
20 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Hiram. That petition David sent on ought to do some 
 good. It had some pretty hefty names on it. 
 
 AcH. I know — David's awful good. I don't know what 
 we'd all do without David. 
 
 Frank. Jabe Kendall calls him a shif 'less old do-nothin' — 
 says he just roams round the woods all day long. 
 
 ACH. I guess David's got a right to take a day off in the 
 woods once in a while if he wants to. 'Tain't anythin' out o' 
 Jabe Kendall's pocket. Jabe Kendall is mischief-makin' iill 
 the time. He can't say much — he loafs round this store more 
 time than David spends in the woods. An' David is always 
 after somethin' to help some sick person — if it's nothin' but 
 catnip for babies an' cats. 
 
 Hiram. David's all right, Achsah. Now don't you worry. 
 
 AcH. I shan't — any more'n I can help. {Stiifubliiig foot- 
 steps are heard outside. The door is flung open, and Bart 
 staggers in, panting, exhausted, and covered with snow.') 
 Mercy, Bart, what's the matter? What you doin' out such a 
 night as this ? 
 
 (Frank and Hiram rise swiftly. Frank shuts the door.) 
 
 Bart. Who's here ? Any men ? Anybody that can get 
 out an* help hunt a lost girl ? 
 
 Frank. Here's Hiram an' me, all ready. Who is it ? 
 
 ACH. Lost ? What's happened ? 
 
 Bart. It's Alice. Hannah Webster flew into one o' her 
 rages because she found out that John was writin' to Alice, an' 
 she twitted Alice 'bout her folks, sayin' she wa'n't a fit wife for 
 John, an' at last she told her to go, an' Alice took her at her 
 word ; she's out in the storm somewhere — goodness knows 
 where ! Got some lanterns, Achsah ? 
 
 AcH. Oh— oh— poor child ! Wait, Bart, I'll light the 
 lanterns in a second. 
 
 {She gets three lanterns and lights them.) 
 
 Hiram. How'd you hear about it, Bart ? Is anybody else 
 out ? Hadn't we better ring the church-bell ? 
 
 Bart. No, not yet. I was there through it all, but I can't 
 stop to tell ye now. Only Hannah burned up Alice's letter. 
 David come in right after she did it. He's out lookin' for 
 AHce. 
 
 AcH. David ! 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 21 
 
 Bart. He wants two strong men. Site can't be far away. 
 Ain't had time. He don't want notbin' said about it if it can 
 be helped. Guess he thinks he can bring Hannah to her 
 senses. Told nie to come here an' see if I could get two men. 
 Said I'd probably find you an' Frank here, Hiram. Said if he 
 could git you, he could depend on ye. Wants us to spread 
 out an' go up toward the old pound road where the old house 
 was burned. Thinks maybe she'd go that way. Wants Achsah 
 to have plenty o' hot water an' blankets. Said he'd bring 
 Alice here. Come on, boys — I'm all right now. 
 
 ACH. Bart, you ought not to go out again in this weather. 
 
 Bart. S'pose I'm goin' to set round the stove like an old 
 woman when Alice Plummer's lost in the snow, an' the night 
 an' the day's alike to me. Come on, boys. 
 
 Hiram. All ready — let's have the lanterns, Achsah. 
 
 \_Exeunt Frank, Hiram and Bart. 
 
 ACH. I'd better get the water on to heat. And I'll put a 
 light in the windows — maybe that will help some. Poor Alice ! 
 So Hannah found out before John told her — that's what's the 
 matter. Gracious — perhaps it's my fault ! She didn't know 
 he was writin' to her? Come to think of it, David's been 
 takin' Hannah's mail up since John went away. Or else Alice 
 has been for it herself. There was a letter to-night, I remem- 
 ber, an' Hannah came for the mail. That's it ! And I sup- 
 pose that wicked tongue of hers was more than Alice could 
 stand. Oh, Hannah wasn't always like this. I remem- 
 ber [Exit, 
 
 Enter Jabe Kendall. 
 
 J ABE {looking about). Huh ! post-office all alone ! Any- 
 body could come in an' help themselves to anything they 
 wanted ! How do I know but some o* my mail's been stole 
 already? Ain't none in my box. When I git this job, things 
 will be different. {Shouts.') Hey, there ! Ain't there nobody 
 here to wait on customers ? Achsah — Achsah — where be ye ? 
 I want a plug o' tobacco. 
 
 Enter Ach. 
 
 AcH. Oh, Jabe, I'm so glad you come in just as you did. 
 Alice Plummer is lost in the storm. The boys have just this 
 minute gone out to look for her. If you hurry you can catch 
 up with them. They took lanterns. Didn't you see them? 
 Have you got your team ? 
 
22 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Jabe. How'd she come to be lost, I'd like to know ? 
 
 ACH. Never mind that now. Only go — go quick ! Bart 
 Hackett came here for help, an' he an' Frank an' Hiram have 
 just left. David's out, too. They'll be glad to have you. 
 
 Jabe. Well, I guess they will, when they git me ! Catch 
 me goin' trampin' around this night, huntin' after any girl ! 
 She probably knows what she's doin'. I guess she didn't get 
 far. 1 guess there was some feller round the corner with a 
 buggy. 1 guess ticket agent's the one to inquire of — she's 
 eloped ! That's all. 
 
 AcH. No, Jabe, no ! She's lost, I tell you. 
 
 Jabe. Well, well, she's lost, then. An' she's goin' to stay 
 lost for all o' me. I'm 'bout ready to turn in. 
 
 AcH. Do you mean you ain't goin' with the boys, Jabe? 
 
 Jabe. That's just what I mean. Had all the Plummer I 
 want to-day. Been up to the old place where her mother was 
 burned, all day, diggin' an' blastin'. Some fool from the city 
 has bought it, and noihin' would do but he must start right off 
 on the cellar for his new bungalow. Nice time o' year to start 
 a cellar ! Might have known we'd have a storm before we got 
 half done. An' I struck bed-rock to-day, an' had to blast. 
 Set off a good one just 'fore I left. Snow an' rocks an' dirt 
 flyin' all over creation ! Must have tore all the rubbish out o' 
 that old cellar-hole, all right. Don't know but it spoiled the 
 well — don't care if it did. Didn't stop to see. Here, Achsah, 
 gimme that plug o' tobacco, an' I'll be movin'. 
 
 AcH. Jabe Kendall, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! 
 Lettin' a poor old blind man like Bart Hackett tramp all over 
 town a night like this when you run for the house an' your 
 tobacco ! 
 
 Jabe. No call for me to make a fool o' myself, even if Bart 
 Hackett does, is there ? Gimme that tobacco ! 
 
 AcH. No, I won't ! I can do that much to make you un- 
 comfortable, anyway. 
 
 Jabe. Refuse to sell me goods, do you? We'll see what 
 kind o* campaign readin' that'll make. We'll see whether the 
 President is goin' to appoint a person like that to be post- 
 mistress. \_Extf, slamming the door. 
 
 AcH. There goes the meanest man in creation. — Oh, hear 
 that wind I I wonder where Alice is — and David. — I hope 
 he's dressed warm. — I've got all the hot water I can get on the 
 stove, an' bricks lieatin' in the oven, an' blankets warmin', an' 
 a good pot o' coffee all ready — oh, I wish there was somethin' 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 23 
 
 I could do ! This waitin' here an' wonderin' is awful nervin'. 
 
 But, there, how must Hannah feel? Seems as if she must 
 
 What was that noise? — I declare, I'm so nervous I can't keep 
 still ! (67/<f wanders about, peertJig out of the tvindoivSy and 
 shading her eyes with her ha7ids.') Oh, dear ! Seems as if 
 things were all^crossvvays now — that appointment — an' now this 
 
 awful thing — what's that? I thought I heard a call (She 
 
 listefis. Faint cries are heard, '■'• Aclisah — Achsahy They 
 come nearer. Then, ^* Achsah, open the door f) It's David! 
 
 (She rnns to the door, flinging it open, as David stumbles in 
 with Alice, half unconscious, in his arms.) 
 
 David. Hot things, Achsah — quick — an' dry clothes. She's 
 all right, I guess, but it's lucky we found her before she wan- 
 dered into the woods. 
 
 {They place Alice in a chair.) 
 
 AcH. Bring her in the kitchen, David, an' lay her on the 
 lounge. You're soppin* wet yourself. 
 
 David. Never mind me — just 'tend to Alice. {He carries 
 her into the next room. AcH. follows. David returns, and 
 sinks into a chair, panting.) She's all right now. — She's in 
 good, kind hands if ever a girl was. — No wicked words here. 
 — I s'pose I ought to go an* tell Hannah — soon as I'm rested a 
 bit. — No. — I guess it won't hurt Hannah to do a little bit o' 
 worryin'. — I'll tell her to-morrow— if somebody else don't get 
 ahead o* me. 
 
 {He sits there, breathing heavily. After a pause, enter Ach.) 
 
 AcH. I've got off her wet clothes, David, an' wrapped her 
 in warm blankets. She won't say a word — ^just moans an' 
 cries ! I want you should carry her up to bed, please. Now 
 you get off those wet coats an' dry 'em out by the kitchen stove. 
 I can't have you gettin' your death o' cold, on top of every- 
 thing else. {She begins to cry.) 
 
 David. There, there, Achsah, don't take on ! It's all right 
 now. Ain't no real harm done yet. Hannah' 11 feel different 
 in the mornin'. \_Exil. 
 
 Ach. He needn't think that — I know Hannah Webster. 
 She won't stop here. She'll be packin' John off somewhere 
 next. I'll keep Alice here with me anyway, — well, I'll keep 
 her as long as I'm here myself. Lord only knows how long 
 
24 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 that will be ! David's on her side, anyway — that's worth a 
 good deal. I don't know how we could get along without 
 David. I vv'ish — oh, what's the use o' wishin' ? Stop your 
 fussiu', Achsah — it don't make things a bit better. Count your 
 blessin's and count David's friendship as number one. 
 
 Enter David. 
 
 Davjd. I guess she'll go to sleep now. Give me a cup o' 
 coffee, if you've got some, Achsah, an' I'll go out an' find the 
 boys. 
 
 ACH. David, you're not going out again — you're going to 
 stay right here an' get warm an' dry. Didn't you make any 
 arrangements in case she was found ? 
 
 David. Told 'em to come back here in half an hour if they 
 didn't see no trace of her, an' we'd make another start. 
 
 AcH. Well? 
 
 David. Ain't no need for 'em to be out longer'n necessary. 
 Guess I'd better hunt 'em up. 
 
 AcH. Oh, David, David ! I wish you'd think of yourself 
 once in a while ! 
 
 David. Think o' myself? Why, I'm the most selfish old 
 cuss on the face o' the earth. Just pleasin' myself all the time. 
 Don't do anything all day long but tramp round the woods an' 
 amuse myself — ask Jabe Kendall. {Laughs.) 
 
 AcH. David, don't you name Jabe Kendall! He came 
 here, an' 1 told him Alice was lost an' asked him to go out an' 
 help you, an' he lauglied ! Yi^ sneered ! An' then he went 
 home ! He ain't fit to be mentioned in the same breath with 
 you, David. Please stay an' get dry. What should I do if 
 anythin' happened to you? 
 
 David. Lord, Achsah, I'm tough as a hickory log ! Won't 
 nothin' hurt me. Achsah — you ain't cryin' ? Achsah — what 
 was it you said ? — Do you mean it ? Would you care ? 
 
 AcH. {sobbing). Care? Oh, David, David ! 
 
 David {taking her in his arms'). Now praise the Lord, all 
 his saints ! Achsah, don't ye ever worry another bit. This 
 is happiness enough to last all our days. Good Lord, Achsah, 
 what do we care now about Jabe Kendall? Let him have the 
 post-office — I was just tryin' to fix things so you'd be all right. 
 I've always felt I'd kind o' like to look out for ye, as far as I 
 could without bein' a nuisance, but 1 never hoped — I never 
 dared to think — Achsah, ain't you afraid to trust yourself to a 
 shif'less old do-nothin' like me? 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 25 
 
 AcH. Afraid — with you? 
 
 David. 1 ralher guess 1 can manage to take care o' my wife. 
 I can't believe it. But it must be true. Here you be, cuddled 
 up in my arms — i^siiddenly^) an' right against this wet coat, too ! 
 Achsah, you'll get your death ! 
 
 AcH. No, 1 shan't, but yoii will ! David, you must mind 
 me now — you must begin this minute ! Take off that coat 
 while I get your coffee. 
 
 (David obeySy and she takes the coat with her into the kitchen.') 
 
 David. My, how things can change in a minute ! — Gosh ! 
 I am a selfish old wretch, settin' here makin* love when poor 
 old Bart an' the boys are pokin' round in the snow. An' that 
 unhappy girl up-stairs. — But I'll fix that. — I'll tell Jolin a few 
 things that will help when he argues with his nja — perhaps he 
 won't stop to argue; perhaps he'll act first an' talk afterwards. 
 — David Jameson, think o' the blessin's you're goin' to have all 
 the rest o' your life. 
 
 Enter AcH. , with a cup of steaming coffee, 
 
 AcH. Now, drink this — every bit of it. 
 
 David. It's too hot. I'll have to wait a little. 
 
 AcH. While it cools, tell me about Alice. 
 
 David {talking betiveen sips of coffee'). I didn't see the 
 whole of it, but from what I gathered, an' from what Bart told 
 me, it was this way. You know the new schoolma'am is 
 boardin' with Hannah. Well, of course, she's from the city, 
 an' she's nice-lookin' an' well-educated, an' Hannah begun 
 tellin' her about John — John bein' away lumberin' so's he 
 couldn't speak for himself — don't know as he'd had a chance 
 if he'd been there 
 
 AcH. An' all before Alice, I s'pose. Drink that while it's 
 hot, David. 
 
 David. Sure ! An' I guess Alice worried quite a bit. 
 Well, to-night Hannah got hold o' one o' John's letters to 
 Alice, an' decided not to give it to her. 
 
 AcH. Oh, David ! 
 
 David. But Bart Hackett — funny how Bart manages to get 
 into everything — heard you say somethin' when you was sortin' 
 the mail, an' he was there when Hannah come home, an' he 
 spoke about it. Then the fat was in the fire, an' Hannah 
 burned up the letter, an' told Alice to go. She said some 
 pretty hard things about her mother, Bart said. 
 
26 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 ACH. The cruel woman ! 
 
 David. Well, Achsah, you know Hannah's been through a 
 good deal. We can't read each other's hearts by our looks 
 an' our actions. She felt a sight worse about the way she 
 treated CharHe Blanchard than she ever let on. 1 always 
 thought she expected he'd come back, but lie never did. 
 Then she married Jonathan Webster to show she didn't care. 
 I guess she thought she might as well be rich if she couldn't be 
 happy. Jonathan's losin' his mind an' shootin' himself when 
 John was nothin' but a baby, was pretty hard for her. She 
 ain't the kind to take pity from nobody, so she's just bound all 
 her affection up in John. 
 
 AcH. David, I wish I was as charitable as you are. 
 
 David. Don't you ever let me hear you say such a thing 
 as that again, Achsah. It's only that I know how Hannah 
 feels. She's just like the animals in the woods, doin' all she 
 can for her young one. She wants John to have the best 
 there is. 
 
 AcH. Then she surely shouldn't cheat him out of love. 
 
 David. Well, don't you fuss about it — I guess it will all 
 come out right. {Sniffling feet are heard, and voices.') 
 There's the boys now — they'll be glad she's found. 
 
 AcH. I'll get some more coffee. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Frank and Hiram, supporting Bart, whose head is 
 bleeding from a cut on the forehead. Hiram carries a 
 rusty tin box, covered with dust and dirt. 
 
 Bart. No, you ain't goin' to leave me here, neither ! I'll 
 just get Achsah to tie up this blamed cut, an' then I'm goin' 
 back with ye. 
 
 Frank. No, Bart, you ain't fit. 
 
 David. She's found, boys — she's here, safe and sound ! 
 
 Bart. Glory be ! An' three times three ! Where'd ye 
 find her, David ? 
 
 David. Headin' toward the old pound road. I reckoned 
 she'd go that way. She hadn't gone so very far. I guess 
 she'd been off the road a good deal. She was kind o' crazy — 
 didn't really know what she was doin'. 
 
 Enter AcH. 
 
 AcH. She's sleepin' now, boys. An' she'll stay right here 
 till John comes home. Why, look at Bart ! He's all bloody ! 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 27 
 
 What's happened now? Bart, you set right down in that 
 chair an' let me bathe your head. (She hurries out, return- 
 ing with water and cloths. While she is gone, David ex- 
 amines the cut, and they talk aside.) Get your wet coats 
 off, boys. There's coifee ready as soon as I see to Bart, here. 
 My ! What's goin' to happen next, I wonder ! Bart, how 
 did you get such a blow as this ? 
 
 Bart (Jnipatiejitly). Gosh, Achsah, don't fuss any more 
 with ray head ! 'Tain't bleedin' much now anyway. Tie it 
 up anyhow. — We've got a mystery here. You see this box ? 
 Where is it, Hiram? Ye ain't lost it, have ye? 
 
 AcH. I don't care if you've got all the gold of Injy. 
 You're goin' to have this cut seen to, an' you're all goin' to 
 drink some hot coffee as soon as you can. Your old box will 
 keep that long, I know. 
 
 Bart. But, Achsah, you don't realize \_Exit AcH. 
 
 David. Set down an' behave yourself, Bart. Boys, where 
 did you go? 
 
 Hiram. Well, we did 'bout as you suggested— spread out 
 in a line, near enough to keep track of each other by hoUerin', 
 an' beat up the woods toward the old place. We must have 
 missed you at the corner. 
 
 Frank. An' we was goin' along, with our heads down, 
 fightin' against the wind 
 
 Enter Ach., with the coffee, which she serves while they talk. 
 
 Bart. An' we must have gone a good deal further'n I 
 realized, because, all of a sudden, the ground give way under 
 me, an' down I went ! 
 
 Hiram. He let out a yell when he went, an* 'twas lucky 
 he did, for that was the last sound he made for some time. 
 
 Ach. Where on earth were you ? 
 
 Bart. Come pretty nigh bein' under the earth instead of 
 on it, Achsah. 'Twas the old cellar hole of Alice's house, but 
 somethin's happened to it, because I been by there a hundred 
 times, but I never fell in before. 
 
 V Ach. It's bigger. Jabe Kendall's diggin' a cellar there for 
 somebody that's bought the place an' is goin' to put up a bun- 
 galow, an' he's been blastin' there to-day. 
 
 Hiram. More o' Jabe's work, hey ? That accounts for it, 
 Bart. Well, we come a-runnin' an' pretty nigh went in our- 
 selves, an' there lay Bart, all of a heap. 
 
28 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Bart (/// great excitement). I lit on my head when I fell, 
 an' this is what I struck. 
 
 AcH. What is it? 
 
 Frank. Just what we wrait to know. When we was luggin' 
 Bart out o' the hole, my foot hit the thing, an' as soon as we 
 saw what it was, we brouglit it along with us. 
 
 Hiram. It's locked, you see. 
 
 {They all examine the box.) 
 
 David {thoughtfully). You say it was in the old cellar? 
 
 Bart. Yes, right about under the bedroom, as near as we 
 could tell. I come to right away — I was only stunned — an* 
 the fust thing 1 said was, ''Where's that tarnation rock I hit 
 on?" an' Hiram says, ** 'Tain't a rock. It's a box," an' I 
 says, "What kind of a box? " an' Hi says, *'A deed box," 
 an' all of a sudden it flashed across me how Alice's mother 
 run back into the blazin' house, an' nobody ever knew what 
 for, an' 
 
 AcH. Oh, David, do you suppose — oh, open it ! Open it, 
 quick ! 
 
 Bart. Well, that's what I been tryin' to get ye to do ever 
 since we come in. Give us a hammer, Achsah. 
 
 David. But the box isn't ours. If there is anything of 
 value here, it belongs to Alice. We haven't any right to 
 open it. 
 
 Bart. Tarnation, David ! There ain't nothin* to show 
 it's Alice's. That's all guesswork. Might have belonged to 
 old man Jenks that lived there before they did. Might have 
 been hid in the chimney for a hundred years for all you know ! 
 Fiudin's keepin's, ain't it? An' I found it sure enough! 
 {Rubs his head.) Give it to me, if you're so squeamish. 
 I'll open it ! Where's that hammer, Achsah ? 
 
 AcH. He's right, David, The only way to know is to 
 look. 
 
 (David opens the box. They all crowd about him. He 
 lifts out some folded, yellowed papers.) 
 
 Bart. Papers ! Papers I I hear *em cracklin'. What be 
 they, David ? 
 
 Hiram (bendifig over David's shoulder). Them's govern- 
 ment bonds. I've seen 'em down to the bank. See the 
 coupons ? 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 29 
 
 Bart. Money ? Money ? Tarnation ! It's lucky we found 
 this 'fore Jabe Kendall did ! 
 
 AcH. He told me he set the last blast off so late he didn't 
 stop to see what it did. He said he didn't care. 
 
 Frank. I'll bet he'll do some carin' when he hears about 
 this. 
 
 David. There's more than bonds here. Here's a marriage 
 certificate. 
 
 Hiram. That one says ** Record of Birth." 
 
 David. Those are for Alice to see first. It is her 
 right. They may tell her what she has longed to know all her 
 life. 
 
 Bart. Ain't ye goin' to look at 'em ? 
 
 AcH. Here's something here, David. See? It is marked, 
 **To whom it may concern." 
 
 Bart. That's us, all right. We're concerned. Read that, 
 David 1 
 
 David. You read it, Achsah. 
 
 AcH. {iakifig folded paper from long envelope^ and reading. 
 As she reads and a glhnmering of the meaning dawns upon 
 her, her voice breaks^ and the others show fee li7ig'). ** I can- 
 not rest with the burden of my secret upon me. Neither can 
 I bring myself to tell it. Therefore I write it here. Some day 
 I may tell Ahce." 
 
 Frank. 'Tis about Alice, after all, boys. 
 
 Bart. Hush up, can't ye? Go on, Achsah. 
 
 AcH. '' If I never do, she will find it here after my death. 
 I am not Mary Plummer. I was once. There are documents 
 here to prove all that I say. My husband was a native of this 
 town. He was a good husband to me, and I was a happy 
 woman, yet — there was a secret chamber in his life, to which I 
 was not admitted. When he knew that he must die, he opened 
 the door. He told me why he left this town. He asked me 
 to live here. You who find his name at the end of this paper 
 may perhaps know why he wished it. There had been another 
 woman, a woman whom he always loved, though she drove him 
 from her." 
 
 Bart. Gosh, listen to that ! 
 
 AcH. Wait, Bart. {Resumes.) '^ He gave me money to 
 provide for her, if she should be in want. Because it was his 
 wish, and because I loved him, I came. But I could not bring 
 his name to the woman who had scorned him. I would help 
 her, as he bade me, but she should never know whose thought 
 
30 
 
 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 had planned for her. She had spurned him living — she should 
 not have him dead " 
 
 David. Poor Mary ! And poor Hannah ! 
 
 ACH. " I took my own name — Plummer. Yet for the sake 
 of my child, I must leave this record. It is all that will ever 
 show her parentage. Yet, perhaps there is another reason. I 
 found the woman a widow, like myself, but prosperous — self- 
 sufficient — asking aid or pity from no one. Yet 1 seemed to 
 see beneath her hard exterior a something — perhaps I am 
 wrong. My husband always loved her. If I were in her place, 
 I should want to know that. I cannot tell her ! He would 
 not ask me to do that ! But I must write it here. She may 
 never see it. / shall never give it to her. When I die, this 
 box will fall into other hands. I cannot tell what may happen 
 tnen. The woman is Hannah Webster. My husband was 
 Charles Blanchard. Mary Plummer Blanchard." 
 
 Bart (awed and subdued). Gosh, boys, my old blind head 
 amounts to somethin', after all. It's found a father for Alice- 
 why, do you see what this means ? It's all right now ! Han- 
 nah can't say anythin' ! Alice is Charlie Blanchard's girl ! 
 
 David (j-everently). 
 
 *'God moves in a mysterious way. 
 His wonders to perform. 
 He plants His footsteps in the sea, 
 And rides upon the storm." 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE. — The post-office, the next afternoon. The storm has 
 cleared, but the roads are still heavy with snow. ACH. is 
 behind the counter. David, /// front, leans toward her. 
 
 AcH. An' you're sure you don't feel any cold, David ? 
 
 David. Not a mite. Bless your lieart, dear, it would take 
 more than the worst blizzard we ever had to make me get cold 
 after what you said last night. 
 
 ACH. You're glad, then, David ? 
 
 David. Glad ain't the right word. I'm thankful ! 
 
 AcH. Alice slept all night, an' when she waked this mornin', 
 she found the box right on the bed beside her. She can't 
 hardly realize it — she keeps readin' 'em all over. She don't 
 say much. I really think she cares more about what it wiK 
 mean for Jo'nn than for herself. 
 
 David. Has she mentioned Hannah ? 
 
 AcH. No — but she has read the letter. She knows. 
 
 David. John ought to be here soon — that is, if the tele- 
 gram got through all right. 
 
 AcH. What did you say? 
 
 David. Just enougli to bring him, that's all. You didn't 
 tell Alice I'd sent for him, did you ? 
 
 AcH. No. You told me not to. 
 
 David. That's right. This is a matter for him to handle 
 now. We've done our part. 
 
 AcH. I'll tell Alice you're here. She wants to thank you. 
 (Calls.) Alice, here's David. 
 
 Enter Alice. 
 
 Alice. David — oh, I can't say what I'd like to ! What 
 you did for me last night can't be thanked in words. It has 
 to be lived out all one's life, and that's what I'm going to do 
 for you. 
 
 David. There — there, Alice; why, I didn't do anythin'. 
 *Twas Bart did it all. Bart found the box. 
 
 Alice. And you found me ! What good would the papers 
 do me dead ? I was insane, I think, when I ran out into the 
 storm. It wasn't only last night, David. That was only one 
 
 3^ 
 
32 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 time of many. But something seemed to snap in my brain, 
 and all I remember after that is shaking — shaking in the cold 
 ^ — till you came ! 
 
 ^ David. Don't talk about it, little girl. Why, anybody'd 
 done the same. Frank an' Hiram was out, too. 
 
 Alice. I know — 1 know — oh, you are all so good. 
 
 David. I s'pose you read that letter, Alice ? 
 
 Alice. Over and over ! Poor mother ! — David, I think 
 Mrs. Webster has a good deal to answer for. She spoiled two 
 lives. 
 
 AcH. She spoiled three lives — you forget her own, Alice. 
 And your father was always kind to your mother — she says so. 
 She was not entirely unhappy. 
 
 Alice. I suppose so. I can't remember him. 
 
 David. Hannah had the worst of it, Alice. She loved 
 your father with all her heart — I knew 'em when they were 
 sweethearts. But she had a temper then as now, an' she hurt 
 him — hurt him cruel ! It's bad enough to be hurt, girl, when 
 it ain't your fault, but it's a thousand times worse to hurt 
 somebody you love — an' never have a chance to say you're 
 sorry. — That's the canker that has eat into Hannah's soul all 
 these years ! 
 
 Alice. She drove him away, just as she did me, didn't 
 she? 
 
 David. Yes, she hurt him so he never came back. But 
 when she said those things to you she hadn't an idea you were 
 Charlie Blanchard's girl any more'n you had. Be just, Alice. 
 You've got all your happiness before you. If there's a little 
 bit o' consolation that you can put into the life of a lonely old 
 woman, is it for you to hold your hand ? 
 
 Alice. You think it is my duty to show her that letter ? 
 
 AcH. Just take it home to yourself, dear. Imagine it was 
 you an' John. That'll tell you without our sayin' a word. 
 But, whatever happens, don't let anything come between you 
 an' the man you love ! 
 
 David. No, don't ! 
 
 Alice. Why, you talk as if you knew all about it — Achsah 
 
 — David — do you mean ? Is that why you understand so 
 
 well ? 
 
 David. Achsah an' me are aimin' to practice what we 
 preach. 
 
 Alice. I'm so glad — you dear, dear people ! {Enter 
 Hiram and Bart. Exit David.) Hcre'b Bart ! How is your 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 33 
 
 poor head this morning, Bart ? I never can thank you enough 
 for finding those papers. And you, too, Hiram. They have 
 changed my whole life. 
 
 Bart {^jubilantly'). My old head was some good, after all, 
 wasn't it, Alice? It's found out what nobody else could — 
 found out who your pa was, Alice. That box was what your 
 ma went back for. 
 
 Alice. Poor mother ! 
 
 Bart. An' there it lay, all these years, under the rubbish, 
 till this old fool fell into a hole that Jabe Kendall blasted. 
 
 Hiram. That's one good thing Jabe's done, but then it's 
 no credit to him, 'cause he didn't mean to do it. How do 
 you feel, Alice ? 
 
 Alice. Rather tired, and bewildered. 
 
 AcH. Go in the back room and rest, Alice. Now the 
 roads are gettin* broke out, there's likely to be folks in, an' 
 perhaps you don't feel much like talkin' just yet. 
 
 \^Exit Alice. 
 
 Bart. Well, I rather guess there'll be plenty o' talkin' in 
 this town as soon as folks find out what has happened. Ain't 
 had nothin' so excitin' as this since the lion got away from 
 the circus. 
 
 Hiram {looking out the door). Here comes the school- 
 ma'am. 
 
 Enter Hazel. 
 
 Hazel. Good-morning, everybody. Miss Achsah, may I 
 see you alone a minute ? 
 
 Bart. Ain't no need o' that, Miss Roberts. She's here ! 
 
 Hazel. What do you mean ? 
 
 Bart. Guess you're down here to talk about Alice, ain't 
 ye? Needn't be afraid to speak up — Hiram here, he was out 
 huntin' for her with the rest of us, an' she's right in the back 
 room, safe an' sound. 
 
 Hazel. What a relief ! Then you know all about it. Miss 
 Achsah. You see I felt as if I were partly to blame. I didn't 
 realize how it was with Alice and John, and I was joking about 
 falling in love with him myself. I never would have said what 
 I did if I had known how serious it was. 
 
 AcH. And Hannah ? 
 
 Hazel. Mrs. Webster has hardly spoken. She locked up 
 the house as usual, and went to her room. I don't believe she 
 slept any more than I did. You see we could not know whether 
 
34 
 
 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 you had found her or not, and I imagined all sorts of dreadful 
 things. This morning Mrs. Webster got breakfast, but said 
 she wasn't hungry. The breakfast wasn't touched. When 
 dinner time came, she told me she had eaten hers. I ate a lit- 
 tle alone. Then they broke out the roads, and I came here. 
 
 AcH. Poor Hannah — but go in and see Alice, Miss Roberts 
 — she has good news for you. [^£xt^ Hazel. 
 
 Bart. Where did David go ? I thought I heard his voice 
 when I came in. 
 
 AcH. He's gone to the station to meet the down train. 
 
 Bart. John's comin', hey? Well, we'd better straighten 
 the hull matter out an' have it over, I s'pose. Wonder if Jabe 
 Kendall's heard about that box yet ! (Chuckles.) That's a 
 good one on Jabe ! 
 
 Erifer Mar. 
 
 Mar. Hullo, Achsah — hullo, boys. Awful storm, wasn't 
 it? I declare I'm so flurried, I don't know where I'm at ! 
 What do you think has happened ? I've got a boarder ! Yes, 
 at this time o' year ! Drove over from Hunnewell this mornin'. 
 Said they told him at the livery stable that 1 was a good cook. 
 Said he wasn't goin' to slay long, but he had a little business 
 in town, an' wanted a place wliere he could get a good bed, 
 an' three square meals a day. 
 
 Bart. Drummer, ain't he? Don't ye know him? 
 
 Mar. Never set eyes on him in all my life. Can't find out 
 what he wants, either. He talks all the time, too, an' when 
 he gets through you ain't a bit wiser than when he began. 
 
 Bart. Glory ! Guess I better have a look at hmi. He 
 sounds interestin'. 
 
 Mar. He'll likely be down here by an' by. Achsah, give 
 me some corn-starch, an' some bacon, an' a pail o' lard, an' 
 some breakfast food, an' a yeast-cake, an' a bag o' pastry flour 
 an' — oh, got any oranges? 
 
 AcH. Yes, plenty. 
 
 Bart. Well, now, I wonder who the critter is ! By gum ! 
 I'll bet he's a inspector, come on to look over the ground 'bout 
 this post-office appointment. That's just what he is. I'll put 
 a flea in his ear about Jabe Kendall, see if I don't ! 
 
 Hiram. P'raps he's oneo' them patent-medicinemen. Did 
 he say anythin' about givin' a show in the hall, Marlhy ? 
 
 Mar. No — he ain't that kind. He's clean-shaven — they 
 most all wear face-trimmin's. 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 35 
 
 AcH. Here's your things, Martha. 
 
 Hiram. Lemme take that flour out to the wagon for ye. 
 
 Enter Hazel. 
 
 Hazel. Good-bye, Miss Achsah. I think I'll go back 
 now. 
 
 AcH. Miss Roberts, let me make you acquainted with Mrs. 
 Stetson. Marthy, this is the schoolma'am. She's boardin' up 
 to Hannah's. Can't you give her a lift? It's heavy walkin' 
 to-day. 
 
 Mar. Of course. Pleased to meet you, Miss Roberts. 
 Come right along — there's plenty of room. 
 
 Hazel. Thank you ever so much. It is hard walking. 
 
 {As they turn toward the door^ enter David and John 
 Webster. John's/^^^ is set and stern.) 
 
 Hiram. Hello, John. When did you get back ? 
 
 John. Achsah, where is she ? 
 
 David. John, wait a minute, please. I only told ye the 
 bad part of it. There's more an' better, but it's AHce's right 
 to tell that. I'm goin' to say one thing, though, same as I did 
 to her — be awful careful about keepin' happiness from any one 
 else in this world. An' remember — folks lived an' loved long 
 before you was born — ^just the same as Alice an' you do now. 
 An' old folks now was young folks then. Maybe this'U help 
 ye to understand when Alice tells ye. 
 
 AcH. John, don't be too hard on your mother. Remember 
 you're her only child, an' she thinks more of your happiness 
 than anything else in the world. 
 
 John (bitterly). Yes — she showed it last night. Where is 
 Alice ? 
 
 Ach. In here, John. [^jc/VJohn. 
 
 Mar. Alice here ? What does that mean ? 
 
 Bart. I'll tell ye, Marthy — ain't ye heard? 
 
 (Mar., Bart, Hiram and Hazel step back and talk together.) 
 
 Ach. How did he take it, David? 
 
 David. Just as you see him. He's pretty bitter now. 
 Couldn't seem to tliink of anythin' but Alice out in the storm. 
 Guess 'twas worse up where he was. 
 
 Enter Jabe, raging. 
 
36 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Jabe. Where's Bart Hackett? Where's the tliief that's beeir 
 trespassin' on my land ? 
 
 Bakt. Thief? Trespass? What you talkin' about, Jabe 
 Kendall ? Your land ? You don't even own six feet of earth 
 to bury your old worthless carcass in ! 
 
 Jabe. Well, you know what I mean. It's where I'm dig- 
 gin' a cellar. It's in my charge, an' anythin' that's found there 
 belongs to me. 
 
 Bart. Oh, it's in your charge, is it ? You're responsible 
 for it, be ye? 
 
 Jabe. Yes, sir. 
 
 Bart. Well, I'm glad to hear ye say so before witnesses. 
 Because I'm goin' to sue ye for leavin' it in such a condition 
 that I fell in an' broke my head — so, there now. 
 
 Jabe. We'll see who'll sue. I'm after that box 0' gold you 
 an' Hiram stole up there last night. 
 
 Bart. Well, ye won't get it ! Thai box is in the hands of 
 its rightful owner. 
 
 Hiram. Yes — an* that ain't you, neither, Jabe. 
 
 Jabe. I demand you to produce that box. 
 
 Bart. Demand away, if it's any comfort to you. 
 
 Jabe. You refuse, do you ? 
 
 Jabe. We'll see about this. I'll write to the district attor- 
 ney. We'll see if two good-for-nothing old loafers can steal 
 from an honest man that works hard for his livin'. 
 
 Bart. Who might that honest man be, Jabe? 
 
 Enter Frank, with the mail. 
 
 Frank. Hello, folks! How's everything to-day? Down 
 to normal yet? Small mail this afternoon, Achsah. 'Twon't 
 take long to sort this. 
 
 (AcH. sorts the mail. ) 
 
 Bart. Here*s another one o' the forty thieves. Say, Frank, 
 Jabe says that's his box that split my head open. He's just 
 come after it. Says he's goin' to have us arrested for stealin'. 
 
 Frank. Go as far as you like, Jabe. Written to the Presi- 
 dent about us yet ? 
 
 Jabe. You'll laugh on the other side of your mouth before 
 I get through with you. 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 37 
 
 AcH. {coming from behind the mail boxes with an official 
 envelope). David — David, look — here's my appointment ! I 
 can stay ! I'm postmistress again ! Oh, David, it's all right. 
 
 Bart. Yah — yah — Jabe Kendall, how do you like that? 
 Let's see — you was goin' to be postmaster, if I remember 
 rightly, wa'n't ye? Tellin' what you'd do when you got here, 
 wa'n't ye? Well, ye didn't get it, did ye? No — nor you 
 won't get your old box, neither. 
 
 Jabe {looking sharply from AcH. to David). ** It's all 
 right, David," — that's it, is it ? It's " David— David," is it? 
 Guess I see how the land lays. You an* your petition, David 
 Jameson! Mighty particular to work for her, wasn't you? 
 Guess you knew what you was about. Guess you're goin* to 
 take it easy now, an' live on your wife's salary, ain't you? 
 
 David. Jabe Kendall, you take back them words. 
 
 Bart. Jabe — you old sarpint, you ( To Frank and 
 
 Hiram.) Lemme go, boys ! Lemme get hold o' the cuss 
 
 Jabe. You think I'm down, don't you ? Well, I know who 
 drove up from the depot with you, David. An' I know who's 
 in the back room there now. Hannah' 11 be pleased when I 
 tell her. \^Exit, 
 
 AcH. {calling^. Oh, Alice— John— I've got my appoint- 
 ment ! 
 
 Enter John and Alice. 
 
 Alice. Oh, Achsah, is it all settled ? I'm so glad ! 
 
 {They all crowd about Ach., reading the appointment and 
 rejoicing. David stands alone by the door.) 
 
 Bart. Tarnation, what does it say ? Can*t somebody read 
 it to me ? 
 
 Enter the Stranger. 
 
 Stranger {to David). There seems to be quite a little 
 excitement here, sir. 
 
 David. Yes, things is stirrin* some. 
 
 Stranger. Can you direct me to David Jameson ? 
 
 David. Guess I'm the man you're lookin' for. What can 
 I do for you ? 
 
 Stranger. You wrote to the chief of police of Chicago 
 some days ago, giving us a description of a man, and asking 
 
38 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 US to look him up. {Shows picture.) Did you ever see this 
 man before ? 
 
 David. Jabe Kendall ! 
 
 Stranger. Jim Crane, when we had the pleasure of his 
 acquaintance. We shall be mighty glad to see him again too. 
 There's a litde matter of an assault with intent to kill some 
 time ago, in Dolan's saloon. 
 
 David. Stranger, I'm mighty sorry you didn't blow in 
 about five minutes ago. 'Twould have saved us some trouble, 
 I'm thinkin'. Jabe's stirrin' up ructions just now, an' he's 
 just left to stir up more mischief. 
 
 Stranger. Gone — which way ? 
 
 David. He'll be back — you just stay right here — an' you 
 won't have long to wait, either. He's goin' to brew his pot 
 o' trouble right here in this store, an' he'll be on hand to stir 
 the mess. (^Calls.) Bart, come over here. Here's somebody 
 with news that will please you. 
 
 Bart. Who is it ? 
 
 David. A detective from Chicago. 
 
 Bart. After Jabe ? Then he did do somethin' ? Glory 
 be ! When ye goin' to arrest him, mister? What did he do? 
 
 Stranger. Nothing but try to kill a man in a saloon row. 
 'Twasn't his fault he isn't wanted for murder, though. I 
 guess you won't see him round here for a few years, anyway. 
 
 Bart. Tarnation ! You don't say so ! An' him a-hand- 
 lin' dynamite right in our midst ! It's a wonder he ain't 
 blowed us all up. I'm goin' to set right where I be, an' see 
 the fun. 
 
 Mar. (^looking around). My — there's my boarder, now. 
 Gracious ! I forgot all about him. I guess he got tired settin' 
 alone, an' thought he'd hunt me up, — me an' his supper. 
 {To Stranger.) How do you do, sir? Ain't goin' back 
 just yet, I take it ? Supper'll be ready at six o'clock sharp. 
 
 Stranger. Thank you. I am going to stay here a httle 
 while and transact a little business. 
 
 Mar. Well, come on. Miss Roberts. 
 
 [Exit Mar. and Hazel. 
 
 David {io John). Is it all right, John ? 
 
 John. It is more than right with Alice, David. But mother 
 must 
 
 Enter YikT<i., followed by Jabe. 
 Jabe. There they are — ^just as I told you. 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 39 
 
 Han. (Jo John). So — you turn against your mother, do 
 you ? You come to a nameless girl in the village store, rather 
 than to your own home? The whole town knows you're here 
 and why — knows all your affairs — but it remains for yojr own 
 mother to learn it from a passing neigh Ijor? 
 
 Bart. To learn it from a darned old busybody, you mean. 
 
 Han. (Jo Ach.). And you? you interfere between mother 
 and son ? You and David take it upon yourselves to settle 
 my boy's future? What is it to you ? 
 
 David. Hannah — Hannah — come into the other room. 
 This is no place for 
 
 Han. My affairs seem to be town's talk. Let the town 
 hear the rest of it. John, will you come home with me? 
 
 John. Not without Alice, mother. 
 
 Han. a nameless girl shall never 
 
 David. Wait, Hannah. Don't say it. There's things you 
 ought to know first. 
 
 Han. I know as much about her as anybody, don't I? I 
 know how she came here, from nobody knows where. Who 
 knows who her folks were ? 
 
 John. Mother, she is going to be my wife. 
 
 Alice. John — wait — let me tell her. She is your mother, 
 John. (Holds out the letter.) Mrs. Webster — Mrs. Webster 
 — please, please, before you say any more, read this. 
 
 Han. I don't want to read anything. I want my son. 
 
 David. Hannah, Alice is Charles Blanchard's daughter. 
 Now, will you read this letter ? 
 
 Han. Charlie Blanchard — David, how can you be so 
 cruel ? How can you speak that name to me now ? (She 
 
 sinks into a chair.) Charlie What does it mean? 
 
 Give me the letter. 1 don't understand (She reads 
 
 swiftly.') Oh, Charlie — Charlie — he forgave me — he thought 
 of me 
 
 Bart. Tarnation — I must 'a' got a cold last night, after all. 
 My eyes water like blazes ! 
 
 Han. Alice — and you've been hving in my house all this 
 
 time David, tell me— is it true? Is this really Charlie's 
 
 girl? Alice, come here — let me look at you — yes, you're his 
 girl ! Why didn't I see it before? — David — T haven't been 
 good to Charlie, have I? T v/asn't good to his girl. — But I'll 
 make it up to her. — He'll forgive me, won't he, David? He 
 did before, you know — he said so in the letter. — Alice — will you 
 come home ? 
 
40 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 Alice. Yes — mother. Come, John. 
 
 David. John, the rig we came up in is outside. Take it 
 and drive home. 
 
 John. Come, mother. 
 
 Alice. Get the box, John. 
 
 Jabe. Hannah Webster, have you turned fool in your old 
 age? Are you goin' to let 'em play it on you like this ? How 
 do you know this story's true? That box is mine — John 
 Webster, hand it over here ! 
 
 Han. I don't need records to know this story is true. I'm 
 seein' things clear for the first time in a good many years. 
 Come, Alice. 
 
 (As Han., Alice a«^ John go ouf, the Stranger steps for- 
 ward.') 
 
 Stranger {placing his hand on Jabe's shoulder). You are 
 wanted in Chicago, my man. 
 
 Jabe. Who are you ? What are you talking about ? 
 
 Stranger {showing his badge). I am Detective O'Hara, 
 and you are Jim Crane, my man. I have a warrant for your 
 arrest for assault with intent to kill. Will you come along 
 without any trouble, or shall I get out extradition papers ? 
 We've been looking for you quite a while. 
 
 Bart {seizifig Jabe and holding him fast). Don't let him 
 get away, boys ! Grab him, Hiram. — Grab him, Frank. — 
 Tarnation, Jabe Kendall, who's a jailbird now ? Who's that 
 honest man that worked for his living ? Guess it's better to be 
 a loafer than a murderer, ain't it? 
 
 ^ km. {throwing him ojf). Take me out of here. I'll fight 
 every inch of the way. 
 
 Bart. Maybe he'll write to Washington, mister. He's 
 great on writin* about folks. Hee. — Guess next letter you 
 write to the President, Jabe, you'll be askin' for a pardon ! 
 You'll look handsome in a striped suit, Jabe, now I tell ye ! 
 
 \^Exit Jabe and the Stranger. 
 
 Bart. Gosh ! I never see such excitin' times since I was 
 born ! — Be they really gone, Achsah ? Is it all over ? — Gosh, 
 I got to find out more about Jabe ! Which way did that con- 
 stable go, boys ? 
 
 Hiram. Down toward the livery stable. Come on, Bart, 
 let's go down. I'd like to see the end o' that myself. 
 
 Bart. I'd like to step up to Hannah's an' find out about 
 
THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 41 
 
 John an' Alice, too. Glory — there's so much goin* on, I don't 
 know where to go first. 
 
 Frank. Come on — come on — you got all the rest o' your 
 life to talk about it in. [^Exit Bart, Frank and Hiram. 
 
 David. Well, Achsah, it's gettin' dark. Guess I'll be 
 goin'. 
 
 AcH. Going, David ? 
 
 David. Yes. 
 
 AcH. Why do you go so soon, David ? 
 
 David. Well, everything's all settled. 
 
 AcH. Is it, David? I thought so last night — I thought 
 so this morning — but it doesn't seem just the same to me now. 
 
 David. Things were different, Achsah. Last night I 
 thought you were goin' to need a home, maybe. But now 
 you've got your appointment, and I 
 
 AcH. David, dear — what I need and what I want more 
 than anything in the world — oh, don't you know what that is? 
 David, you're not going to let Jabe Kendall spoil our lives ? 
 He's gone, David — forget him. — John an' Alice are going to 
 be happy. — Hannah's going to be happier than she has been 
 for years. — Aren't we going to be happy, too, David ? 
 
 David. Well, Achsah, I s'pose the business is increasin'. 
 (Smiles.^ Maybe the postmistress needs an assistant. 
 
 ACH. She does, David. I'm sure she does. — An' the mail 
 isn't half sorted yet. Come, assistant, begin now. 
 
 {They stoop for the mail- bag. As their hands touchy David 
 takes AcH. in his armsj and kisses her.') 
 
 Enter Bart. 
 
 Bart {in great excitetnent). Gosh, I guess I'm losin' my 
 mind ! Went off without my hat ! David — David, do you 
 see my hat anywhere ? Achsah, seen my hat ? (Ach. and 
 David start as he speaks, but a button on David's coat catches 
 on AcH.'s waist, and Bart, fumbling about, comes on them 
 trying to unfasten it.) Tarnation ! What's this? What's 
 doin' now? — Gosh-all-hemlock ! It's David a-huggin' Achsah! 
 — Glory — what next? — I can't keep up with things nowadays, 
 they happen so fast 1 (David and Ach. finally extricate them- 
 selves, and confusedly hunt for Bart's hat.) Where is that 
 hat? Can't you find it? Jabe'U be on the train 'fore I get 
 there, an' I've just thought o' somethin' I want to say to him. 
 
42 THE VILLAGE POSTMISTRESS 
 
 I'll be back, though ! (David at last finds the hat, claps it on 
 Bart's head, and rushes him toward the door. Bart calls.) 
 I'll be right back. — I'll be right back. 
 
 {As his voice dies away in the distance, Ach. and David 
 laugh at each other,) 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
A Novelty 
 
 MISS PRIM'S KINDERGARTEN 
 
 OR, A SCHOOL OF TODAY 
 
 AN ENTERTAINMENT IN ONE SCENE 
 
 B2/ Jessie A. Kelley 
 
 Author of "The Pedlers' Parade," "Squire Judkins' Apple Bee," 
 
 ♦' Santa's Subpkise," " Thk Village Post-Office," " Her Weekly 
 
 Allowance," etc. 
 
 Ten males, eleven females. No scenery or curfeain needed ; costumes 
 burlesque, introducing: grown people dressed as children. Plays from an 
 hour to an hour and a half. A modern, up-to-date version of the popular 
 " District School," full of laughs and a sure hit with the audience. All the 
 parts very easy except the Teacher's, and as it is possible for her to use a 
 book, the entertainment can be got up Avith exceptional ease and quickness. 
 Can be recommended. 
 
 Price, 25 cents 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Boys 
 Reginald Smith. 
 Cecil Blake. 
 Earl Stryker. 
 Dttke McNulty. 
 Van Dyke McAllister. 
 James Danforth. 
 Lionel Bold wood. 
 Ethelbert Salmon. 
 Julian Ward (stutterer). 
 Carl Schultz {German), 
 
 Miss Pbiscilla Prim, the Teacher. 
 
 Girls 
 Viola Browne. 
 Alyce Howard. 
 Mae Faulkner. 
 Kathryn Dennison. 
 Hazel Carbury. 
 Genevieve Hubbard {lisps). 
 Gladys Martin. 
 Hyacinth Myrtle. 
 Marianne Rutledge. ' 
 Gwendolyn Hollisteb. 
 {spectacles, precise and serious). 
 
 SANTA'S SURPRISE 
 
 A CHRISTMAS EXERCISE FOR GIVING 
 
 Bi/ Jessie J. Kelley 
 
 .4M<Aor 0/ " The Village Post-Office," "Miss Prim's Kindergarten," 
 "The Pedleb's Parade," " Squire Judkins' Apple Bee," etc. 
 
 Thirty-three children and a man to impersonate Santa Glaus required, 
 but the number of children may be lessened, if desired, any part being capa- 
 able of being omitted without detriment to any other part. Children may 
 be in costume or not, as desired. No scenery is required. A very pretty 
 little entertainment, teaching a very useful and seasonable lesson without 
 perceptible effort — the lesson of giving. 
 
 Price, 15 cents 
 
New Plays 
 
 A RUSSIAN ROMANCE 
 
 A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS 
 
 For Female Characters only 
 
 By Helen Kane 
 
 Author o/" A PorNX of Honoe," etc. 
 
 Sixteen female characters. Scenes, two interiors ; costumes modem. 
 Plays two hours. A very exceptionally dramatic and eifective play for all 
 women, high in tone and quite above the average in quality. Calls for strong 
 acting by three of its characters, has several good character parts and a 
 number of minor parts that call for handsome dressing. An excellent play 
 for a woman's club, easy to stage and absorbing in intereat. Confldentl.v 
 recommended to the best taste. 
 
 Price, 25 cents 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Mlle. SANNOM {Olga Petrovna), a IVlRS. Tremaine, cousin to Mrs. Will' 
 
 Russian refugee, ner ; a ^'' manager." 
 
 Madame Ignatieff, wife of the Rus- Lady Gray, wife of English Amboi- 
 
 sian A mbassador. sador. 
 
 Madame Luvoff wife of Attach^, Madame de Fa yeuse, tw/e o/J^re»cA 
 
 Russian Embassy. Minister. 
 
 Mrs. Willner, wife of Senator,— Mrs. Weston, "| Callers at Sen- 
 kindly and inconsequent. JilRS. Ellett, I ator Willner's 
 
 ASENATH, her daughter, aged eighteen; ]\Iiss de Lorme, > This number may 
 
 romantic but loyal. Miss FAIRFAX, I beincreoicdifde' 
 
 LoRNA, her " Baby," aged six; rebel- Miss de Peyster, j sirable. 
 
 lious — " enfant terrible." Sasha, maid at Russian Legatik. k 
 
 HuLDAH, maid to Mrs. Wilbier, 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. —At Senator Willner's. Olga, (Mile. Sannom) arrives 
 in America, in search of her brother. 
 
 Scene 2. — The same. She "manages " the *• unmanageable." 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. — "Calling day" at Senator Willner's. Olga meets 
 an old friend, and is seen by her enemy. 
 
 Scene 2. —At the Russian Embassy, Story of the escape from Siberia. 
 The enemy threatens. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. — At the Embassy again. Olga meets her enemy. 
 
 Scene 2. — At Mrs. Willner's. The enemy conquered. 
 
 THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE 
 
 A FAIRY PLAT 
 
 By W. B. Yeats 
 
 Three male, three female characters. Scenery, a plain interior ; cos- 
 tumes, Irish peasant. Plays half an hour. An excellent example of this 
 author's work. It has been extensively used in this country by schot Is of 
 acting, and the present edition was made for this purpose. Perfectly act- 
 able, but most unconventional in form and treatinent. Offered to students 
 rather than for acting. 
 
 Price^ 15 cerUa 
 
New Plays 
 
 THE COUNTRY MINISTER 
 
 A COMEDY-DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 By Arthur Lewis Tuhhs 
 
 AUTHOR OF ••valley FARM," " WILLOWDALE," "THE PENALTY OP 
 PRIDE," ETC. 
 
 Eight males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery not difficult. 
 Plays a full evening, A very sympathetic piece, of powerful dramatic in- 
 terest; strong and varied comedy relieves the serious plot, as in this author's 
 "Valley Farui," to admirers of which this play is recommended, Ralph 
 Underwood, the minister, is a great part, and Roxy a strong poubrette; all 
 parts are good and full of opportunity. Scenes are laid ahout equally in city 
 and country. This will be the " hit" of the coming year, and Clubs will do 
 well to secure early copies. Clean, bright and strongly recommended. 
 
 Pricey 25 cents 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Kev. Ralph Uitoerwood, the conn- William Hexry. 
 
 try minister. TOM Sparkoav. 
 
 Gregory Heath, 0/ the world at Mr. Filkiks, an ojjicer. 
 
 large. HELE>r BrRLElGH,/;om the city. 
 
 JUL» Pardoe, a wreck on the ocean of Jekusha Ja^e Jubkins, the post' 
 
 life. mis/ress. 
 
 Timothy Hodd, tvho tvould rather Koxy, ^^ a fresh air kid." 
 
 whittle than icork. GRANNY GrIMES. 
 
 Deacon Potter, "just a trifle deef." Fanny, a maid. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. — Yard of Miss Judkins's store and postoffice, Mullen ville, N. Y., 
 on a morning in August. 
 
 Act II. — Same as Act I, half an hour later. 
 
 Act III. — Granny Grimes's garret, on the East Side, Kew York City, 
 the following November. 
 
 Act IV. — Miss Burleigh's home in New York, the same cveniug. 
 
 Act V. — Back at Mullen ville, in Miss Judkins's sitting-room. One 
 month has elapsed. 
 
 TVf ELFTH NIGHT 
 
 By Williavi Shakespeare 
 
 A comedy in Five Acts. Ten males, three females. Costumes, pictiir- 
 esqne; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. A new acting version of this 
 eomedy, based on the prompt-book of Miss Julia Marlowe 
 
 Price, 15 cents 
 
New Plays 
 
 OUT OF TOWN 
 
 A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 
 By Bell Elliott Palmer 
 
 Tliice m;ilcs, live females. Scene, an interior, tlie same for all three 
 !ict ri ; co^tuiiie.-s modern. Plays an hour and a hair. A clever and interest- 
 ing comedy, very easy to produce and recommended for amateur perform- 
 ance. Toiie lii(;ii anil atiiiosj^-here retined. All the parts good and full of 
 varied opportunity. A safe piece for a fastidious audience, as its theme and 
 treatment are alike beyond reproach. 
 
 Price, 25 cents 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Mb. John Spencer Ellington, the disguised as housekeeper and maid in 
 
 unwilling possessor of a Dukedom, Acts IT and III. 
 
 disguised as a valet in Act HI. ELIZABETH Thobndike, her daugh- 
 
 Mb. Robert Mayhew Thorndike, ter. 
 
 alias " Bobby," a bachf'or by choice. MRS. J. LuDiNGTON MoNBOE, /ormer 
 
 James, buUer at Thorndike' s. classmate of Mrs Thorndike' s. ' 
 
 Mrs. Jane Harp cngton Thorn- Esther Monroe, her daughter. 
 
 dike, a widow; mother of Bobby. 'Ma.b.xr, Miss Thorndike' s maid, 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 ACT I.— At Mrs. Harrington's. A deep-laid plot. An unexpected Duke. 
 Unlooked-for trouble. The best-laid plans. A disguised household. 
 
 ACT II. — The same. A tyrannical gnest. An imitation housekeeper and 
 a spurious maid. A titled valet. Social algebra. Lifting the mask. 
 
 ACT III. — The same. The camel's back and the last straw. The begin- 
 ning of the end. Mrs. T. aeserts herself. The tyrant dethroned. An inter- 
 national alliance and a bachelor reformed. 
 
 THE MARBLE ARCH 
 
 A COMEDIETTA IN ONE ACT 
 
 By Edward Rose and A, J, Garraway 
 From the German 
 
 Two males, t-wo females. Costumes modern ; scenery, an easy interior. 
 Plays half an hour, A bright and amusing little play, suited for any occa- 
 «ion, but particularly for parlor theatricals, because of its simplicity and its i 
 independence of stage accessories. Very retined and high in tone. Strongly ' 
 recommended. 
 
 Price, 15 cents 
 
New Plays for Female Characters 
 THE VISIT OF OBADIAH 
 
 A FARCE IN TWO ACTS 
 
 By Eunice Fuller and Margaret C. Lyon 
 
 Thirteen females. Costumes modern; scene, an easy interior, the same 
 for both acts. Plays an hour. A clever and original play, suited for school 
 or college performance. Full of incident and offers a great variety of char- 
 acter and great opportunity for pretty dressing. Irish and negro comedy 
 parts. 
 
 Price y 25 cents 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Mrs. Mehitable Coffin, who has RIabia Amanda Van Allstyne- 
 
 buried her husband and her brother. Smythe, named by her father. 
 
 Mrs. Hiram Van Allstyne- Elinok Carmichael, Cecile's " chic 
 
 Smythe, her sister-in-law. school friend." 
 
 Cecile Montoomery Van^ Mrs. Peter Van Bibber. 
 
 Allstyne-Smythe, Wilhelmina Stuyvesant Van 
 Clarice Du Mont Van | „^ , Bibber. 
 
 Allstyne-Smythe, ijyamea katrina Kortlandt Van 
 
 Celeste Rockerbilt Van f ^ .T'l Bibber. 
 
 ALI..STYNB- Smythe, \niornei. Bridget. 
 
 CORALIE VANDERBECK | DiNAH. 
 
 VanAxlstyne-Smythe, J Oeadiah, Aunt Mehitable^ s bird. 
 
 A PAN OF FUDGE 
 
 A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 
 
 By Maude B. Simes 
 
 Six females. Costumes modern; scene, an easy interior. Plays twenty- 
 five minutes. A bright little boarding school sketch, at once amusing and 
 sympathetic; tone high and quality good. Confidently recommended to 
 young ladies as an effective piece easy to get up. 
 
 Price, 15 cents 
 
 MAID TO ORDER 
 
 A FARCE IN ONE ACT 
 
 By Helen Sherman Griffith 
 
 Six females. Costumes modern; scene, an easy interior or none at all. 
 Plays half an hour. A bright and vivacious little play of boarding school 
 life, suited for young people and sure to please them. Clean, refined and 
 confidently recommended to the best taste. 
 
 PricCi 15 cents 
 
mL 
 
 New Plays 
 
 THE MISSING MISS MILLER 
 
 A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 
 Bt/ Harold A, Clarice 
 
 Six males, five females. Scenery, two interiors ; costumes modern. 
 Plays a full evening. A bright and up-to-date farce-comedy of the liveliest 
 type. All the parts good ; full of opportunity for all hands. Hymen's Ma- 
 trimonial Bureau is the starting point of a good plot and the scene of lots 
 of funny incident. Easy to produce and strongly recommended. Good 
 tone ; might answer for schools, hut is a sure hit for amateur theatricals. 
 Professional stage rights reserved. 
 
 Pricey 25 cents 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Hymen Trouble, manager of the San Sheet.aw Combs, Sleuth, friend of 
 
 Francisco Matrimonial Agency. Buckskin. 
 
 ScottyBvckskjn, a cowboy from Bar Gwendolyn Dashforth, niece to 
 
 Jl Ranch, Texas. Colonel Pemickle. 
 
 Colonel B. Penuckle, f7-om Pacific Bostonia Joughnz, friend of Gwen- 
 
 Arenue. dolyv. 
 
 TETEnJy.Q.WvnTfZjOfthestaffofthe Mrs. Losta Mann, housekeeper for 
 
 San Francisco Daily Yahoo. the Colonel. 
 
 Dr. Fatjnce RHtNESTONE, who keeps Cassie Pauline Skidoo, an author- 
 
 an auto, ess of the intense school. 
 
 Tessie Tapp, a typist. 
 
 Costumes, modern. 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 ACT I.— The marriage bureau, Powell Street, San Francisco. 
 
 ACT II.— Home of Colonel B. Penuckle, Pacific Avenue, San Francisco, 
 
 ACT III.— The marriage bureau. 
 
 CAMILLE 
 
 A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 From the French of Alexandre Dumas, Fils, 
 By Mildred Aldrich 
 
 Nine males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, varied. P'Ays 
 a full evening. A new acting version of this pcpul.ir plaj, V'ith fwP ptase 
 business. A complete working prompt-boot. Strongly r^commendeo. 
 
 Price, 15 cents 
 
J\. m. Pinero's Plays 
 
 Price, 50 eents Cacb 
 
 Min THANNFl Play in Four Acts. Six males, five females. 
 *"**-'"^1'»*i»*'^" Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. 
 Plays two and a half hom's. 
 
 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH ^''%^Z 
 
 males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors. 
 Plays a full evening. 
 
 THF PROFI ir ATF Play in Four Acts. Seven males, five 
 **^»*-« * IVv/rLil\J/\l£j females. Scenery, three interiors, rather 
 elaborate ; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 
 
 THr QrHfini MIQTPFQQ Farce in Three Acts. Nine males, 
 inEi iJV/nWULil?liiJlI\.£iOi3 seven females. Costumes, mod- 
 ern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
 THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY ^rlSZXi 
 
 females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a 
 full evening. 
 
 ^WFFT ! AVFlSinFP Comedv in Three Acts. Seven males, 
 OTTEilIil Li/i VLililyEtIV four females. Scene, a single interior, 
 costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 
 
 THF THlTlMnFPKHIT Comedv in Four Acts. Ten males, 
 in£i inUilLF£iI\.0\JLil nine females. Scenery, three interi- 
 ors; costumes, modern.- Plays a full evening. 
 
 XHF XIMF^ Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven females. 
 I nCi 1 llTlEiO Scene, a single interior ; costumes, modern. Plays 
 
 a full evening. 
 
 TUF WFAITFP QFY Comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, 
 IflC TV EiAIVEiIV i3£iA eight females. Costumes, modern; 
 scenery, two interiors. Plays a full evening. 
 
 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE ?-;rSiSfJ^.'i:^,l2; 
 
 Costumes, modern ; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 
 
 Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 l^alter i|. pafeer Sc Company 
 
 No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 
 
UIBRfiRV OF CONGRESS 
 
 il^ecent ^opu ?S gw i^^ * 
 
 mAWAlTFNJNfi ^^^5' ^" ^^"^ ^*^*'5. By C. H. chambers. 
 >l TriiIVL.il 111 U Pour males, six females. Sceuery, not ditti- 
 eult, chiefly iuteriois; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 
 Price, 50 Cent.s. 
 
 THE FRUITS OF ENUfiHTENMENT ^^S'c.i.'^Vof "YwSf,',^: 
 
 one males, eleven females. Scenery, characteristic interiors ; cos- 
 tumes, modern. Plays a full evening. Recommended for reading 
 clubs. Fi'ice, 35 Cents. 
 
 BIS EXCELLENCY TDE GOVERNOR r;fi"„i;i^-«*\?X 
 
 males, three females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior. 
 Acting rights reserved. Time, a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 MinFAl HINRANTI comedy in Four Acts. By OscAK Wilde. 
 lULALi lWJDm^U Nine males, six females. Costumes, mod- 
 ern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. Acting rights 
 reserved. Sold for reading. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST f^.ir ^" S?,"a'S 
 
 Wilde. Five males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenes, two 
 interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. Acting rights re- 
 served. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN '^Z^'•'^::i'^^SSri^ 
 
 males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full 
 evening. Acting rights reserved. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 NATHAN HAI F ^^^^' "^ ^'^"^" ^^^^- ^y Clyde Fitch. Fifteen 
 iiiUlliill il^ulw males, four females. Costumes of the eighteenth 
 century in America. Scenery, four interiors and two exteriors. Act- 
 ing rights reserved. Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 THF HTHFP FFTIHW Comedy in Three Acts. BylVL B. Horxe. 
 lUL UlilLft ILLtLilfVI Six males, four females. Scenery, two 
 interiors ; costumes, modern. Professional stage rights reserved. 
 Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS S^-f^iS.?- ttfeJh^,S g: 
 
 males. Scenery, an interior and an exterior ; costumes, modern. 
 Acting rights reserved. Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE ^^l^^^^llri^^^i^l 
 
 seven females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors and an 
 exterior. Plays a full evening. Stage rights reserved. Otfered for 
 reading only. " Price, 50 Cents. 
 
 Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 5^alter l^. I3a6er & Company 
 
 No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 
 
 S. J. PAHKHILL A. CO., PRINTERS. BOSTON.