Me) Lae KR Pe Spal oy ro 2s ali ) byf ( S CS / 5 3s <> ¥ see COLOR BLIND A Missionary Play in Three Acts BY MARGARET T. APPLEGARTH Author of “More Short Missionary Plays,” “Some Boys and Girls in America,” “India Inklings,” “Lamplighters Across the Sea,” “Mis- sionary Stories for Little Folks,” etc. NEW os YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY GEORGH H. DORAN COMPANY REPRINTED FROM SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS COLOR BLIND es Kal PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA COLOR BLIND IN THREE ACTS; TWENTY-TWO CHARACTERS; FOUR PRINCIPAL SPEAKING PARTS THE CAST: Miss Tracy, the artist. Mrs. Newton, the mother in mourning. Marie, the French maid. Seven or eight little fair-haired girls and boys under seven years of age. Issy, a young girl—very small for her years how- ever. Jaky, her little seven-year-old brother. Her baby sister. Children of all nationalities in America—Negro, Chinese, Japanese, American Indian, Alaskan, Mexican, and the so-called “New Americans” in as distinctive costumes as possible—e.g., Italians in Roman-striped shawls, Russian boy in smock, ete. DIRECTIONS: Arrange platform as an artist’s studio, easel and canvas in the foreground, all sorts of children’s pictures leaning against the wall. This same scene throughout the play. [17] SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS ACTVI When the play opens the Artist is seen working on a canvas, holding a palette in her hand. She backs off occasionally holding her head on one side as she squints critically at the pic- ture. Knocking is heard at the door. Artist goes to open it, palette still in hand. Enter Mrs. Newton. [In deep mourning, heavy black veil over her face; lifting this veil back over her hat, she says:| You are Miss Tracy? The chil- dren’s artist? I am Mrs. Newton, Mrs. Theodore Newton. Miss Tracy, I have come to talk about a picture which I hope you can paint for me. Artist. [Putting down her palette and brush, pulls forward a chair.] Certainly, Mrs. Newton. Won’t you be seated? [They both sit down.]| What kind of a picture did you have in mind? Mrs. Newton. [Holding a black-bordered hand- kerchief against her lips.| Miss Tracy, my hus- band and I have had a great sorrow—we— [Stops to gain her self-control. | Artist. [Sympathetically.] Oh! I am _ so sorry—” Mrs. Newton. It is so hard for me to speak of it, but we lost our little girl this year. She was just five years old. We have been wanting to do something—for her sake—as a memorial. You may have heard that the Church of the Redeemer is erecting a beautiful new building? Mr. Newton and I are members, and we want to have a me- [18] COLOR BLIND morial picture painted on the east wall—a mural painting, and we wondered if you would undertake the commission? Artist. That is a wonderful honor, Mrs. Newton. I certainly appreciate it and I shall be very happy to undertake it. Have you any definite ideas for the picture? Mrs. Newton. Yes; oh, yes! We want it to be a picture of little children around the throne of God. You know that lovely old hymn—“Around the throne of God in heaven, thousands of children stand”? We used to love to hear Angela sing it, and our idea is to use that as a theme for the pic- ture. The building committee and the architects are enthusiastic about it; and it’s because we know that you are an expert in children’s pictures that we turn to you. Mr. Newton and I have only one condition: we do hope that you will use Angela’s own little neighbors and playmates for the group of children. Their parents are very willing; in- deed, many of them belong to our church so that it will be doubly appropriate to keep it within our own circle. The children themselves are exquisite little mortals. Artist. Doubtless that could be arranged, Mrs. Newton. Mrs. Newton. I don’t want to be too insistent, Miss Tracy, but really we want only that special type of child—sweet little spirituelle faces—golden hair— Artist. Of course, that is the type. I shall be glad to see these children soon; I wonder if you [19] SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS could arrange for them to come here to-morrow morning. They ought to wear white. Mrs. Newton. [Clasping her hands.| Yes, spot- less white! They will look so lovely! [Rising.] Oh, Miss Tracy, I am so relieved that you can undertake it for us. I will see that the children arrive to-morrow. About ten? Miss Tracy. Yes, about ten. [They shake hands. Mrs. Newton pulls her heavy veil forward over her face as she leaves the room. | Artist. [Stands in the middle of the platform, her clasped hands held against her chin as, lost in thought, she stares off in space. Then nods, smil- ing:| Yes, it’s really a lovely idea! A great white throne with the Saviour and all those fragile aris- tocratic little creatures with their golden hair and their sweet little up-turned faces. Um’m! [Nods slowly, retaining the faraway gaze. | CURTAIN ACT II Same scene as before. Artist, wearing a painting smock, is seen putting a few last touches on an impromptu white throne, constructed from a small raised platform (made of several boxes the same height) and a high-backed cathedral chair, with several sheets arranged over the platform steps and the seat of the chair, pos- sibly over the back also if the effect is good. [20] COLOR BLIND | Knocking is heard. | Artist. Here they are! [Goes to the door and opens it. | [Enter Marie, black-gowned, with a frilled wisp of a cap and apron; standing behind her are the seven or eight little children. | Marie. [Gesticulating.| Ees zis ze studio of ze Mam’selle Tracy where zese leetle enfants will have zeir picture paint? Artist. [Laughing.] This is the place! Come in, my dears, come in! Let me help you take off your coats and hats. [Children enter, curtsying politely. Both Marie and the Artist busy themselves removing little coats, hats, and gloves. Marie then primly seats herself by the exit door, looking rather bored, yawning occasionally and batting the back of her hand against her lips to stifle the yowns. Finally nods off to sleep. | Artist. [Meanwhile arranges children around the white throne.] You see, I haven’t had time to have a really wonderful throne made yet, but you can pretend that this is heaven, can’t you? [Children nod, spellbound.|] And that this chair is the beautiful white throne of God, can’t you? [Children nod.] See, it is high and lifted up, and the glory of it fills all heaven. [Children gaze at it enraptured. | One little girl. [Climbs up the small raised platform and pats the chair seat experimen- tally; then says winsomely:| I guess Vl] just sit up on God’s throne! [21] SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS Artist. [lafting her down.] Oh, no, dear, that wouldn’t do at all! For every one of you is to stand down here, only the Saviour Himself will be up on the big white marble throne while you sing to Him the special little song which you have been learning. Let me place you just the way I want you to stand, then I can start painting you. You stand here, dear, and you here. [Artist poses the children around the throne, then hurries to her easel and starts sketching them rapidly.| Perhaps you might sing your little song for me right now, will you? [Children sing:] “Around the throne of God in heaven Thousands of children stand, Children whose sins are all forgiven, A holy, happy band, singing: Glory! Glory! Glory be to God on high.” [They should repeat the last line softly as a refrain, almost in a whisper. | [Artist draws as if inspired. Marie sleeps. Timid knock is heard. Artist too absorbed to notice it. Another knock. Artist still pays no attention. Marie still sleeps. Children all look over their shoulders toward the door. Third knock. Inttle girl now leaves her place in the group around the throne and tiptoes softly over to the Artist. Pulling her smock she says:] I think—I think there’s some one knocking at the door of heaven! [Points at the door.] [22] COLOR BLIND Artist. [Turning, calls:] Come in! Open the door and come right in. [Enter Issy, Jaky and the baby. Issy wears a drab shawl around her shoulders, a bright scarf (folded triangle-fashion) over her head, knotted under her chin, with the free corner hanging over the nape of her neck. Wears patched gingham dress. There are large holes in her stockings. Issy carries the baby all bundled up in another shawl and leads Jaky by the hand. He wears exceedingly shabby blue overalls with all sorts (and colors?) of patches sewed here and there. One suspender strap of the overalls is missing, but a piece of rope is substituted. The faces and hands of all three are very dirty. Jaky has the habit of rubbing his fist across his nose. | Issy. [Setting the baby on the floor, pulls off Jaky’s tattered cap and bobs a curtsy.] Say, leddy, sooner my popper heard tell how you was painting a big pitcher of kids for going in the new church over there—[Jerks her thumb over her shoulder. |—he says to me, says he, “Issy, I wants you should go mit little brudder und sister for getting painted into that there pitcher.” So here we comes, leddy. Artist. But I think there must be some mis- take, my dear; I don’t understand at all. In the first place, who is your father? Issy. [Surprised.] Why, don’t you know pop? Well, pop’s the feller that totes the bricks up them stepladders for building steeples und udder high [23] SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS up dang’rous places. Ain’t you really never seen pop, leddy? Ain’t you never seen him clumb them ladders all the same as most folks clumb stair- cases? Mit bricks on his shoulder, see? Like this! [She imitates man with hod on his left shoulder, reaching higher and higher with his right hand, and pretending to step up, up, up.| Why, say, I seen pop git most to heaven, leddy. Honest! Jaky’s awful proud over pop’s steeples, ain’t you, Jaky? [Grabs Jaky’s right hand and says, rebukingly:| Quit wiping your nose und speak up real nice and loud. Say “Yes, leddy.” Jaky. [Furtively rubs his other fist across his nose, says meekly:] Yes, leddy. Artist. [Much embarrassed.| But, my dear child, I still don’t quite seem to understand why you came, for I have all the models I need. [She points at the group of children around the throne. | Issy. [Abashed, points her thumb at that ea- quisite silent group.| Them? But they ain’t real live kids, is they? [Artist nods. Issy cranes her neck toward them curiously.| Say, leave me touch ’em, will you? [Walks over and tiptoes all around them im sheer admiration, her head tilted apprais- ingly. Touches one or two of the little dresses gingerly. Then, coming back to the Artist, nudges her enthusiastically:| Well, what do you know about that? Ain’t they just puffikly schweet? Look, Jaky, just like leetle white angels already So soon, ain’t they? [Jaky jerks his head in a [24] COLOR BLIND solemn nod.| But Jaky, this ain’t no place for me und you und beebee. [Grabs his hand, and gathers the baby under one arm.| Me und you und beebee’s too dreadful dirty for getting painted into heaven, Jaky. So just look your fill. My! My! Ain’t it puffikly lovely? [Gazes admiringly at the children and then at the room. Says to Jaky, crossly:] Quit wiping your nose, like I told you! Come now, let’s beat it, or we’ll muss up this grand place. Lift up your foots real high, Jaky, so you won’t squash this swell rug. Don’t it stick up something elegant? Jaky. [Leans down to stroke the rug gently. | Like pussy-cats it feels, Issy! Issy. [Apologetically to Artist.| Excuse him, leddy. He ain’t used to heaven! Well, good-by. [They step high on their way to the door. Open- ing it, Issy waves her hand warningly to those out- side and yells loudly:] Shoo! Shoo! Git back there! Marie. [Wakes up in alarm and jumps to her feet. Artist. [Hurrying over.| Who have you got outside? Issy. Now please don’t call the police on me, leddy,—it’s just some kids I thought maybe you could use in your pitcher. I collected most every sort of kid in town, see? Artist. [Looking out the door.| Well, I should think you did! Negroes, Chinese, Japanese, Ital- ians, Russians, Turks, Greeks, Indians. But surely [25] SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS you see that none of them would fit into my pic- ture? Issy. [Soothingly.] Oh, sure, sure! I see that! We ain’t none of us cleaned up enough for being painted in heaven. Well, good-by. [Zo chil- dren outside.| Shoo-o-o! [Swoops out at them. | Marie. [Whose hands have been raised in per- fect horror, now closes the door and says to her spellbound charges:| Eef mam/’selle permit, ze enfants must put on zeir zings an’ go for zeir moosic lesson; yes? Artist. Certainly, Marie; the time is up. Thank you, my dears, for standing so still and looking so bewitching. I will be painting on the picture all the time until you come again. [Artist and Marie assist the children to put on their coats and hats. Artist makes various remarks: | Did you like being in my picture, Percy? Be careful not to muss that pretty dress, Barbara. Barbara. [Smoothing her dress primly.| It’s a clean little dress. I always wear a clean little dress. Other children. SodolI! And I! And I! Artist. Oh, I am sure you do! Well, good-by, my dears. Children. [Bobbing polite curtsies.| Good-by, Miss Tracy. [Hait.] Artist. [Returns to the easel, takes wp her palette and brush; regards her work critically through half-closed eyes, her head tilted:| I cer- tainly managed to catch the pose. Isn’t this par- [26] COLOR BLIND ticular little fellow a dream? And now for the white of their dear little dresses and the glint of their golden hair... [Paints in silence. Then smiles.| Weren’t they startled when those com- ical little foreigners came bursting in? [Smiles. Paints. Then sighs:| Just the same, it nearly broke my heart to see their quaint wistfulness. But imagine having such as they in such a picture as this! [Paints in silence. Behind the scenes the children are softly singing “Around the Throne of God in Heaven.’’| CURTAIN ACT III Same scene as before. The Artist may have all her speeches written on the canvas to ad her memory. Artist is seen before her easel painting. (Different smock, if possible.) Stands off to look at it thoughtfully, wooden end of paint-brush held against her lips. Shakes her head disapprovingly. Artist. Something is certainly wrong. I never did a picture which pleases me so little. We have had eight sittings, yet I can’t seem to make any progress. What in the world is the matter? It isn’t the throne, for it’s magnificent: high and lifted up, white, holy. And the face of the Saviour is radiant, so glorified, so tender. These angels [27] SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS satisfy me, too—the lovely sheen of their silvery wings, the worship in their very pose. And, in- dividually, each one of these darling little children around the throne seems to be perfectly portrayed. Yet something is wrong! Is it the face of the Saviour? Perhaps I should change the yearning look in His eyes. [Starts to paint; stops, hand with paint-brush suspended in mid-air.| No, some- how that expression seems to belong there. Oh, what is lacking? Where is the trouble? For some- thing is certainly wrong! [She picks up the big canvas, carries it to a char, seats herself and props the canvas on her knee so that she can look at it earnestly. | [Hither the Artist or an unseen soloist should now sing (this hymn is in “Northfield Hymnal No2.??)] “Open my eyes, that I may see Glimpses of truth Thou hast for me; Place in my hand the wonderful key That shall unclasp and set me free. Silently now I wait for Thee, Ready my God, Thy will to see; Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit Divine.” Artist. [Yearningly.] Ah, yes, open my eyes —open my eyes— Voice. [From behind the great white throne.] Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven. [28] COLOR BLIND Artist. [Hagerly.] But here they are in my picture, those little children! Voice. God hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on the face of the whole earth, and hath determined the times before appointed and the bounds of their habitation; that they might seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after Him, and find Him, though He be not far from every one of us. [Enter the smallest of the little white-gowned children who posed in the second act. Tip- toeing slowly toward the throne she sings the refrain: “Singing, Glory! Glory! Glory be to God on High.” When she reaches the throne she leans over to rest either her elbows or her hands (it depends on her height, of course) on the seat as she silently gazes upward for a moment. Then turns and beckons toward the door to Jaky and Issy who are hesitating on the threshold. (Issy should have the baby balanced horizontally under one arm!) The little girl runs over to lead them to the throne, and standing between them—holding a hand of each she says:] “If every little child could see Our Saviour’s loving face, I’m sure that each one eagerly Would run to His embrace.” [A second little white-gowned child enters lead- ing a Negro child and a Chinese child toward the throne. Turns, and says to the audience :] [29] SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS “Though black the hand, red, yellow, white, All hearts are just the same, Each one is precious in His sight, Each one He calls by name.” [Enter third little white-gowned child leading Alaskan and American Indian, followed by the others each leading two little foreigners; this third child says to the audience: | “And those who hear in every land, With loyal hearts and true, Will grasp some little brother’s hand And lead him onward, too.” * [The children all group themselves around the throne, the Artist puts her canvas back on the easel and starts painting; it may be neces- sary for her to help the children group them- selves attractively or to start them in their song, but otherwise she simply continues painting as one in an inspired trance while the children stand singing the verse and re- frain of “Around the Throne of God in Heaven.” | Voice. [From behind the throne.] It is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should perish. [The children now turn and, singing the refrain very, very softly, tiptoe from the platform, all * Words of “Little Brother 301 by Alfred R. Lincoln. [30] COLOR BLIND but one little foreigner (choose the quaintest in the cast) who sits down contentedly on the lower step of the throne and refuses to leave, even when the others turn and beckon to her to come with them. She shakes her head and strokes the throne affectionately looking up beyond the seat as if she saw a beloved face. Issy, however, comes back and holds out her hand to the little girl who then jumps up quite willingly and leaves the platform. The Artist should continue painting throughout this little byplay. | Artist. [Standing back to appraise her work. | Oh, Father, I thank Thee for opening my eyes! How color blind I was! [Points to her palette. | Red, yellow, brown, black, white, upon my palette, yet I used only white. Dear God, Thou dost not make heathen, Thou only makest—little children. They all are precious in Thy sight: these lovely yellow faces, like tender tea-rose petals; these dusky browns, like pansy faces; these rich deep reds, these deep soft blacks—how lovely! [Paints again in silence. Then lays down her palette and brush, clasps her hands and cries:] Finished! WeeLOn wn) jovevit! Ll love it...) [Prays:]\Dear Father, keep all of us from ever being color blind again. Help each of us to see that since our country marches forward on the feet of little chil- dren, the colors are Thy rainbow of promise for the future of our country. Oh, Thou to whom all colors are alike, grant us to see the good in each [31] SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS and to develop it, that Thy name may be hallowed, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Amen. CURTAIN [32] Missionary Plays and Their Production By MARGARET T. APPLEGARTH SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS This pamphlet contains the first of this series of plays, “Color Blind.” They are remarkably well adapted for the use of Sun- day schools, young people’s societies, and missionary groups. The titles are most attractive: Color Blind; Kimono; The Latest Victor Record; Just Suppose; The Girl Who Fell Through the Earth; Seven Keys to Mr. Bald Pate; Hands Up!; Fare, Please; Indelible; The Gospel Accord- ing to the Telephone; Pain Street. Net, $1.50 MORE SHORT MISSIONARY PLAYS Miss Applegarth wrote this second group of plays because of the need for variety due to the rapidly increasing use of this realistic and appealing method of interesting young people in the missionary enterprise. The titles are: Empty Stockings; A Summer Christmas Tree Pageant; Strictly Private, or The Lady Who Hoarded Easter; Galatea Takes a Lease on Life; The Yes But-ers; Katy-did; Wait a Minute; Jack the Giant-Killer; The Subscription Clinic; Mrs. Jarley’s Wax-Works; The Child in the Midst. Net, $1.50 By MARY M. RUSSELL HOW TO PRODUCE PLAYS AND PAGEANTS This ideal handbook shows how costumes, properties, and scenery may be secured or made at small expense, and gives prac- tical suggestions on lighting, grouping and the selection of plays. Illustrated. Net, $1.50 DRAMATIZED MISSIONARY STORIES Short dramas graphically depicting incidents in the lives of well-known missionaries. As little equipment is required, they can be effectively produced by the smaller churches, Sunday schools and young people’s societies. Net, $1.00 AT YOUR RELIGIOUS BOOK STORE GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 244 Madison Avenue New York