iM Frenoi^smternatiorial C6p^ightea(iS^ fier Colonies, and the United States) Edition of the Works of the Best Authors. No. 160 M THE LOOKING-GLASS M Cl)ilbrcn’£( ^lap in (!^ne Sict BY MAJOR PHILIP TREVOR «P Copyright, 1909, by Major Philip Trevor CAUTION: — Professionals and Amateurs are hereby notified that this play is fully copyrighted under the existing law§ of the United States Government, and nobody is allowed to do this play without first having obtained written permission of Samuel French, 26 West 22d St., New York City, U. S. A. PRICE 25 CENTS London SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 26 Southampton St., 89 STRAND J‘.'. ’■ . ■“ '‘V .• ' • ; •mm CENTRAL CIRCULATION BOOKSTACKS The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was borrowed on or before the Latest Date stamped below. TfMft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for discIplincNry action and may result In dismissal from the University. TO RENEW CALL TELEPHONE CENTER, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN BPR i 6 1992 MAR 20 1992 When renewing by phone, write new due date below previous due date. 79521 L162 J/I I I i i THE LOOKING-GLASS % C^iltiren’jS ^lap in #ne 5Ilct BY MAJOR PHILIP TREVOR Copyright, 1909, by Major Philip Trevor New York SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHER 26 WEST 22D STREET London SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 26 Southampton Street, STRAND CHARACTERS AND ORIGINAL CAST. Jack Curly (His brother) Dot I sisters Winifred The Imp ... The Looking-Glass. The ‘‘Looking-Glass” was first produced at the Haymar- ket Theatre in January, 1909. Since then it has been played at the St. James Theatre in February, 1909, and at the Castle Theatre, Richmond in April, 1909. On each of the two latter occasions it was played by the original cast for whom it was written. Master C. P. Trevor. Master A. D. Trevor. Miss Phyllis Trevor. Miss Evelyn Trevor. Miss Violet Trevor. Miss Enid Trevor. Miss Dorothy Trevor. 2 I '4V. .;• ** ,■ H V' '■'■ i P . nKr- •’V'f'- '■ ;'T‘V.’ . .V .£1 ' . } *% .. i yf'f* -Wj^'l-r ' *?■ j' -''f ''Vfd ;'v. i ( c H ST' ■V , v. '. .fe: ty ' •M ■O. ■ ';i;- . ^.HE rooiri:-! Floor covered with Dancing Drugget THE LOOKING-GLASS. The looJcing-glass which is in centre, at bach, is six feet by four, made like folding doors to open in centre. It is raised one foot from the ground, and in front of it there should be a step six inches high and about nine inches broad.. Above the glass is a ledge about three inches or so in width, and at bach of ledge is a white board four feet long and -fifteen inches high. The ivy letters which the Fairy brings shoidd be one foot high, and these lean against the white board when standing on the ledge. Scene :-—In London. In Corner l. at bach a Christ- mas tree, pushed aside — dilapidated; a few candles burning dimly. One or two toys on the tree. A toy yacht with broken bowsprit at foot; also two or three other toys. Furniture shed bach round walls. Time: — Christmas Eve. About 11:30 p.m. The lights are dotvn when the curtain rises. {After the Curtain rises. Dot and Curly ENTER by dooi' R. Curly wears pyjamas; Dot a night- dress. Dot comes on stealthily first and looks round. Seeing all clear, she switches on lights, then beckons to Curly in the passage. He ENTERS. They shut door quickly, then run to Christmas Tree, and look about anxiously.) Dot (l.). Oh, Curly, my Noah’s Ark’s gone. {Half crying) 3 4 THE LOOKING-GLASS. Curly (r., crawling under branches, pulls out h7^ok'en yacht), Dot^ my beautiful boaCs all broke! {Begins to cry) Dot. Curly^ I^m ^shamed of you. Boys shouldn’t cry. Curly. Then why are you crying? Dot. ’Cause I’m only a little girl, I s’pose. Curly. Don’t cry loud. Dot, or someone will hear you. Oh, where is Jack, and why won’t he come? Dot. If he was to come, he’d call you a cry-baby. (Curly immediately dries his eyes and shuts his mouth firmly. They walk down stage, Curly R., Dot l.) Our stepmother said she didn’t know if he’d come to- night, and didn’t care. Curly. She whipped you to-day for calling her Stepmother,” so you’d better be careful. Dot. I don’t care if she does whip me. I won’t call her Mother. {Stamping) I won’t, I won’t, I won’t ! So there I (Bursts into tears and throws her^ self on the floor) (Curly looks on wonderingly, and seems inclined to cry too.) {Suddenly sits up) Oh, Mother, do ask God to let you come back from the sky ! {She sobs again) Oh, this is such a dreadful Christmas .... and only last Christmas Mother was here . . . (A pause. Curly then begins to cry himself,) Curly. Dot, if Jack came in now, he wouldn’t call me a cry-baby, would he, for crying ’cause Mother’s dead? Dot. 'No, Curly. That’s not the same as crying about a boat. (He dries tears,) Curly. And yet Mother said, when she went away, that we weren’t to cry for her. THE LOOKING-GLASS. 5 Dot (suddenly). You’re right. She said we were to make each other happy. Curly. I shall be happy when- J ack comes. Dot. Let’s try to do something Mother would like. Curly. Mother wouldn’t like me to have a boat with a broken bowsprit. Dot (ivisely). No. I’m sure she wouldn’t. Curly. How shall we know what Mother likes? Dot (thoughtfully). Ah! Curly (thoughtfully). Ah! Dot (suddenly with great glee), I know. We’ll do everything our stepmother doesn’t like; ’cause Mother always liked nice things, and our stepmother always likes nasty things. Curly. Shake hands. (Holds out hand) Dot. Why ? Curly. Jack always shakes hands when he ’grees to anything. It doesn’t count udless you shake hands, you know. (They shahe hands gravely, then wander up to the loohing-glass, into which they stand gazing,) Dot. I do so want to get through the looking- glass, Curly, like the little girl in the book I read you. Curly. That wasn’t really true, was it? ^ Dot. Well, not ’zactly. But it’s grown-ups who read that book more than children. Grown-ups like it awfully. Curly. ’Cause grown-ups like looking-glasses so much. Dot. But not all grown-ups. Mother didn’t. Curly. Our stepmother does. Dot (fiendishly). So she does. (Dot seizes boat from Curly, and smashes looJcing- glass.) There ! 6 THE LOOKING-GLASS. Curly. There ! YouTl wake her up now, and won’t she whip you for that. • Dot. I don’t care if she does whip me. {Puis down boat) Curly {gravely) But Mother wouldn’t like you to be whipped. ^ {Enter May hurriedly, by door r.) May. Oh, you naughty children — what are you here for? . . . and oh! what have you done? {Sees smashed glass) May r. Curly c. Dot l. Dot {coolly), I’ve smashed the looking-glass with* Curly’s boat. {Goes to looking-glass and gazes at it) May {aghast). What for? Curly. ’Cause she thought our stepmother wouldn’t like it. May. ’Cause she .... thought .... what? Curly. We’ve ’greed to do everything Mother would like; we’ve shaked hands on it. May. What do you mean ? Curly. Dot says Mother would like what our stepmother wouldn’t like. May {understanding). Ah! And Mrs. Durn- ford wouldn’t like her looking-glass broken, eh? Curly {nodding head). ’Um. (May turns away to hide a smile; then looks round and tries to look severe. All this time Dot has been gazing mournfully at the glass) Dot. There’s nothing the other side, after all. {Much disappointed) I wanted that too, May. Curly. I knew the book about the little girl wot got through the looking-glass wasn’t really true. May. Now, off to bed with you, you naughty children. I can’t think why you’re here. Dot. We came to get our toys. You know we THE LOOKING-GLASS. 7 were sent to bed without them. Mother always brought them up for us, and put us to bed, and kissed us good-night. (May turns away to stifle her feelings; then faces round again and speaks a little unsteadily,) May. Perhaps we won^t talk about mother just now. Dot, darling. (May puts right arm round Curly^s neck. Dot is L.) Curly. Oh, May, can’t I wait till Jack comes? Why didn’t he come home like he always used to when the holidays began? May. He’s staying with friends. Curly. Why ? May. Eton broke up early this Christmas, and . . . and . . . there wasn’t room for him here. Dot. Why had Captain Rowley got his room till this morning ? Curly. He promised to come for the Christmas Tree. Dot. I heard our stepmother say he’d have to sleep on the sofa if he did come. May. Hush, children ! If I thought he’d get here, I’d let you wait up for him .... but I’m afraid .... Curly {quickly). Quiet! {A pause.) May. I don’t hear anything. Curly {hounding to the door and out of it). It’s Jack ! Jack {outside). Well, you funny little beggar, what are you up for at this time of night? Curly {outside). Why, to see you, of course. (Jack ENTERS with Curly on his shoulder. He wears a hig coat flecked with snow. May and Dot kiss him affectionately.) 8 THE LOOKING-GLASS. Dot r. Jack c. May l. Jack. I ought to have been here eight hours ago. Line blocked. Snow two feet deep in the Midlands. {He turns and sees the broken looking-glass) Hullo, had a bit of an accident? Dot {slowly, after pause). It wasn’t ’zactly an accident. Jack {to Curly on his shoulder). Did you try to get through to the other side, Curly? Curly. No. Jack. Who did, then? {A pause) Who did, then ? Curly. You said I was never to sneak. Jack. Eight. I’m sat on. {Walks down stage) Curly {innocently) . You said I could sit on you, hut I’ll get off if I’m too heavy. Jack {as he and the two others laugh). I didn’t mean that kind of sitting on. But I don’t see why we shouldn’t all do a little sitting upon something. Jump down. Curly, old boy, for a second. (Curly does so.) I’ll lug a sofa out. {He pulls out sofa from R. to centre. May is about to get a chair for herself.) Here, hang on a moment, May. {He gets chair for her, and puts it L. of sofa. Wher- ever Jack goes Curly follows, hanging on to his coat. They sit down, Jack on sofa. May in armchair. Curly and Dot make a rush for Jack’s knee. Jack has taken off his big coat.) May. If you let ’em sit up. Jack, they ought to have something more on. Jack. Just as you like, but this roof’s a*wfully hot. May. Is it? All right. . . . Now, Dot, come and ^it on my knee. J ack can’t take both of you. THE LOOKING-GLASS. 9 Dot. There’s plenty of room here. May. May {smilmg)- All right. Jack. And so, old Curly boy, you didn’t want to see what there was on the other side of the looking* glass ? ) Dot. I did. Curly {gravely), No, I didn^t. ... I want ’nother kind of looking-glass. Jack. What kind? Curly. One what makes me look inside myself. Jack. Oho ! Who has been telling yon- about Eoentgen rays ? Dot. Curly. What are Roentgen rays ? Jack. A kind of electric light which doctors can make. They point the thing at you, and then they can count your ribs inside your body, and watch your heart beat, and do all sorts of funny things. Curly {shaking his head). No, I don’t mean that. May {quickly). I know what he means — the little Self-fairy. Curly and Dot. Yes, yes ! Dot. {They jump off his knee and sit on sofa.) Jack. The little Self-fairy ? May. Yes. I gave Curly a Christmas book about it, and I’ve been reading it to him. Jack. What, already ? Haven’t you all been danc- ing? {After a pause the others reply quietly.) But there’s been a dance? {Looking round cleared room) Dot. Yes, Jack, for the grown-ups^ ... We weren’t allowed to go to it. Jack {jumping up angrily). What an infernal shame I I’d like to wring that woman’s neck. {Goes to lack of settee) 10 THE LOOKING-GLASS. (Dot and Curly clap their hands. May goes to Jack and puts hand on his shoulder.) May. You shouldn’t. Jack. . . . Not before the little ones. Jack. Sorry, May, but really she • . . . May. Yes, I know. Jack. Why aren’t they dancing now? May. Oh, it was arranged to stop at eleven o’clock. Jack {thoughtfully). If Mrs. Durnford ran a grown-up dance, I can’t think why she had it stopped at eleven. May. Well, to-morrow’s Sunday, and she said she didn’t think it right to dance till the very last minute on Saturday night. She is religious, you know. Jack. Curly. She’s not good. Dot. Can you be religious without being good ? Jack. You kids can’t. Not yet. You’ve got to wait till you’re grown up before you can manage that. May. Oh, Jack! Jack {recovering — going haclc to settee and sitting down). Well, kiddies, you shall have a Christmas treat now. We’ll ask May to read us all about the little Self-fairy. Dot. Yes, yes ! Curly. Won’t you read it. Jack? Jack. May reads much better than I do, Curly. Curly. Truth and honour, I d;on’t think she does. Jack. What makes you think that? Curly {very decidedly). ’Cause you do every- thing best. No one does anything betterer than you. (Jack and May exchange glances, hut they do not laugh at him.) May. Anyhow, I’ll go and get the book. (EXIT by door R.) Curly. Jack, would you mend my boat’s bow- sprit? Someone’s pushed it under the Christmas Tree, and brokened it. THE LOOKING-GLASS. 11 Jack. Well, let’s have it! (Curly fetches it.) But why didn’t you take it up to bed with you? Dot. We wasn’t allowed to. We was sent to bed before the Christmas Tree was over. Our stepmother said the dance was to begin, and we might fetch our toys in the morning. Curly. You shouldn’t sneak. Dot. {Gives Jack the boat) {Enter May with booh. She gives it to Jack.) Jack. I say, look here! I can’t read and mend your boat at the same time. Dot {to Curly). If May read while Jack mended the boat, you’d get two treats. Curly. Curly {simply). Will you. May? May {with a slight smile). All right. If you think I read well enough. Jack. Don’t rot him. May. Drive ahead. {Gives booh back to May) (Curly lies on sofa with his head on Jack’s leg, and his face to audience. Dot lies at the other end.) Curly. Begin at : There was once a poor little ragged girl wot hadn’t any toys at Christmas.” {He lies down and closes his eyes. So does Dot. A pause while Jack and May exchange signals.) May {begins to read). The Story of the little Self-Fairy, and of the strange things and the stranger folk whom she saw. There was once a poor little ragged girl who hadn’t any toys at Christmas. There was not, I fear, much about her that was nice; and her mother was not ^ quite nice ’ either. Besides, her mother had no nice friend to put her right about the children when she went wrong. You will see, then, that this poor little ragged girl was very unlucky 12 THE LOOKING-GLASS. indeed ; for most liiothers have that kind of friend ’’ J ACK. Especially when their husbands have sisters who aren’t married. May {innocently), No! that’s not in the book. Jack. Isn’t it? Well, it ought to be then. May. But, Jack, the sound of your voice will wake them up if you interrupt. Jack. Not it. Doubt if an earthquake or a suf- fragette would do it. {Looks at Curly) No; it’s not much good reading. This one’s half asleep al- ready. {To Curly) Hadn’t May better sing you to sleep ? Curly {sitting up). You sing me to sleep. {He then lies down again with hack to audience) Dot {also sitting up). And May sing me to sleep. Jack. Jolly cat’s chorus we shall make of it. Curly. I want to whisper first. . . . Then sing. (Jack puts his ear down and Curly whispers.) Jack. All right, old boy. Sweet and Low ” will do for them. Give us the note, May. (May does so, going to piano for purpose, and therv returning to chair. Jack and sing Sweet and low/’ Jack mending boat.) {After the duet) My one’s like a log. May. So’s this mite; will you carry them up- stairs to bed. Jack? Jack. Oh, let them stay on the sofa over there, {points to sofa, l.) till we go up. It can’t hurt them. May. Very well ; but we must put something more over them. Jack. Eight-0! {Takes off coat, ivraps Curly in it and carries him to sofa L. Then takes Dot and lays her beside Curly. May puts logs on fire, and then goes to sofa Jj., and helps to tuck up children. Jack covers them with his snowy coat.) THE LOOKING-GLASS. 13 May. Oh, Jack, it’s all over snow. Jack. Oh, that doesn’t matter. They say snow sends ’em to sleep on the top of Mont Blanc. Poor little beggar, what do you think he whispered to me before he went to sleep? May. What? Jack {imitating Curly). ^^If ’fore I wake up, you meet a beggar child wot hasn’t any Christmas toys, give it my boat.” May. Poor little mites ! I’m afraid they’ll soon lose all their pretty ways. Jack. What? Mrs. Durnford is such a brute, you mean? {They sit together on sofa. May nods, A pause, then she breaks out,) May. Oh, Jack, it is hard on them! It was cruel enough to lose Mother, and then to have her place taken by a (Jack, clenching his fists, jumps up and walks angrily about,) Jack. I’m so beastly powerless .... that’s the worst of it. I shan’t be twenty-one for nearly four years ; but you shall all come and live with me then. I’ll watch that .... PoorMother ! I wonder if she was thinking of what might happen when she left me that money? May. Dear old Jack, would you really have us? Mrs. Durnford would be only too glad to be rid of us ... . that’s one comfort. Jack. And Dad? May {slowly). Dad will do what she wants. At least, I’m afraid so. Jack {thoughtfully). I don’t know. Perhaps not. {Walks to hack of sofa, returns, patting May on .shoulder) Poor old May! all the hard part comes on you. But we must cheer up. {Sits down again) May {brightening). All right. Jack. And now 14 THE LOOKING-GLA^S. let’s hear something about you. What sort of a half did you have at Eton ? I was so delighted when you got your field. Jack. Oh, never mind me. Tell me more home news. What’s the estimable Winifred like? By the way, what relation’s she to me? Stepsister, I take it? May. She’s not any relation at all to you, of course. She’s Mrs. Durnford’s daughter by her first, marriage. Jack. Yes, I know that. May. Well, then; she’s not any relation at all. Jack {resignedly), I suppose she’s got to count as a sister, hasn’t she ? May {pensively). Oh dear! A sister must be a trial to a boy ! Jack. Don’t be an ass. May. What sort of a kid is she? May. She’s not a kid. That’s just exactly what she is not. Jack. But she’s only fifteen. May. She’s grown up for all that. Jack. How did she manage it? May. Travel, I believe. She and her mother have been going round the world for the last four years. Jack.. What’s she like? May. Winifred? Jack. Of course. May. Oh, she’s pretty. Jack {impatiently), I don’t mean that)| May. What do you mean ? ' Jack. Why, I want to know all about her. May. Very well then. I’ll begin; but it’ll take me at least half an hour to — ^ — Jack. Oh, hang it ! Can’t you give it to me in two or three sentences ? May {hesitating), No ... . Not unless . . . . unless .... Jack. Unless what ? ME LOOKING-GLASS. 15 May. Unless I repeat what Uncle Tom said. Jack. Yes. Tell us that. He’s a bit funny at times. May. But rather — rather — unkind. Jack. Eot. Out with it. May. He calls her the Kitchen Maid. Jack {meditatively), The Kitchen Maid/^ May. Because she’s so useful to Cook’s. (Jack is puzzled.) Cook’s Tours, you know. (Jack sees joke, and expresses disgust.) He will have it that she’s a typical Cook’s Tourist. Says she’s picked up style nowhere, brass on board ship, side in America, cheek in the Colonies, and accent everywhere. Jack. Uncle Tom seems to know all about her. May. He thinks he does, J ack ; but really he only knows what she’s collected. Jack. Oh, she’s got something of her own then? May. Yes, a kind heart. Jack. And a bit ashamed of it, perhaps. May. I don’t think she knows she’s got it. Jack. Um ! Quaint person. Where was she raised before she started globe-trotting ? May. London — er — some part of London. Jack. Winifred of London — Winifred of some part of London ! May {suddenly). Oh, Jack, I wish I hadn’t re- peated what Uncle Tom said. She’s really a good sort, but she’s never had anyone to Jack {with feeling). Dear old May, you’re incor- rigible. She’s got a rare mother of her own ; yet you must mother her too. {Gives May friendly pat on head and goes up L. to sleeping children) (ENTER Winifred hy door r. She has an affected manner and speaks mincingly, except when she is angry and excited. Her accent then becomes iroad and coarse.) 16 THE LOOKING-GLASS. WiNi. (sits on settee r. of May). I say. May, you were soft to go up-stairs with the kids. Mother tried to make me go too, but I wasn’t going to be put upon. I meant dancing, and I spoke my mind. I talked to her straight. (She turns and sees Jack, who has been looking at her curiously,) Oh, is this your brother Jack? (Rises and goes l. to him) Jack (l., coming forward). How do you do? You’re Winifred? WiNi. (c.). That’s me. (Shaking hands) You ought to have got back in time for the dance. (May sits on settee and looks at fairy book.) Jack (ivith intention), I tried to get back in time for the Christmas Tree. WiNi. Oh, that was only for the kids. Jack. And it was cut short to let the grown-ups dance, I hear. WiNi. It was a pity to have the Christmas Tree^, thing at all, because it had been settled to stop* dancing at eleven. We lost a lot of time, as it was. I suppose you go to lots of dances? Jack. 1 go to a few in the Christmas holidays. WiNi. Christmas holidays! I’m talking of the season. Jack. I’m a schoolboy. WiNi. My word, you English are funny ! I’ve been about, you know ; and of course getting back to England’s a bit tame. Now, you’re seventeen . . . and you look more . . . yet you let yourself be or- dered about. I don’t. Jack (looking rather severe). Ah! WiNL. Are you offended? You mustn’t mind me — I’ve been about. I always speak my mind — dont you? Jack. I used to. THE LOOKING-GLASS. 17 WiNi. Used to? Jack. Yes; I hope theyVe licked that trick out of me at Eton, by this time. WiNi. {aghast). Licked? . . . For speaking the truth ? My word ! Jack. No. Licked for not learning to hold one’s tongue. WiNi. Oh, I say ! That’s not too bad. And that’s Eton ! Why don’t you run away ? Jack {mystified). Eun away? May {rising from settee and going to Winnie). You don’t understand, Winnie. An Eton boy is proud of being an Eton boy. He doesn’t want to rebel. He doesn’t want to pretend he’s grown up. WiNi. Well, as I say, you English are funny. They’re something more than boys abroad at seven- teen, and in America and the Colonies, you know, one man’s as good as another. {Snaps her fingers) Jack. And gne child? WiNi. {realizing his intention, after a pause). Look here now ... if you mean that I’m a child, all you people in this house had better get that idea out of your heads. Do you think I’m going to live in the nursery ? Do any of you want me to ? Jack. I shouldn’t fancy Dot and Curly did. WiNi. {half in tears ) . Does Eton teach you to talk like that? {Goes r.) May. (c.). Oh, Jack! I’ve never heard you speak like that to a girl before. {Goes to Winifred and consoles her) Jack (l.). Well, you know, Winifred, I took you at your word. I spoke my mind. {Sits on settee) WiNi. {softening) . That isn’t the kind of speak- ing the mind I mean, is it. May? May {kissing her). No, dear. People who do speak their minds, as you call it, never do like other people speaking theirs. WiNi. {atokwardly) . That’s not quite what I mean either. But there, it doesn’t signify. 18 THE LOOKING-GLASS. May {going to Jack). Eeally, Jack, you shouldn’t. Jack. But, she’s such a — a — a — May. Is that a reason why you should be one too ? Jack (c., gets up and goes to Winifred). I’m sorry, I’m a bit off colour to-night, and I got riled. Will you shake hands? WiNi. (offering hand quickly). Put it there. (She retains his hand) I hope we shall see a lot of each other. (r., turns and looks at May, who is busy covering up the sleeping children more carefully,) Perhaps when May’s pottering about with the kids, you and I could see things together. Jack (simply). Oh yes, you must come along with us, of course, we want to see lots of shows these hols. WiNi. (archly). But I thought — perhaps — you might like to take — me Jack (quite simply). Of course we shall. I just said so. We’ll all go together. WiNi. (still archly). But don’t you think that sometimes just two people can enjoy going about to- gether, eh? Jack (decisively.) Oh, in a family show, the more the merrier. (EXIT May by door r.) WiNi. (tenderly). Jack, you’re not quite a boy, and — as I tell you — I’m not a child Jack. I don’t quite WiNi. Jack, do you think I’m pretty? Jack (prosUically), Bather. Of course you’re pretty. WiNi. (coyly). Two or three men in Australia, and America, and India thought so. Jack (bluntly). Then who said you weren’t? WiNi. (disappointed, but recovering herself). No, iPs not that. — But — J ack, can I trust you ? THE LOOKING-GLASS. 19 Jack (insufferably) . I should hope you could al- ways trust an Eton boy ! WiNi. (in a pet). I’m not speaking to you as an Eton boy, or as any kind of boy — you know that per- fectly well. I say: as I can trust you, ITl tell you something. (Simpering) (Sits on settee and beackons to Jack to sit beside her. He does so.) There was a young man in Australia — he was a Jack- eroo — he made love to me Jack. What infernal cheek! Those niggers want lynching. They do lynch ’em in America, don’t they ? WiNi. Don’t be silly. A Jackeroo isn’t a nigger. Jack. Isn’t he? V^at is he, then? WiNi. He’s what you would call a young gentle- man-farmer. Does his work as station hand, or boundary rider, just like an ordinary 'labourer, only in his spare time, he’s a gentleman-farmer, with— with Jack. With deuced little of the gentleman about him, I should say. WiNi. What do you mean? J ACK. Talking a lot of love-making rot to a kid ! I’d like to catch a man trying to play that game with May. I’d wring that fine gentleman’s neck ! — Never mind, Winifred; England’s not Australia, and you’ll be protected from that sort of thing here. Vf 1^1. (huffed). Oh, no doubt England’s a very much better country than Australia ! A Jackeroo is a nigger in superior England. I only wonder you didn’t think Jackeroo was a kangaroo ! Jack. Well, they both appear to bound. (Gets up) That’s rather good for me. (Sits again) But are you angry with me, Winifred? Why? WiNi. (coolly). Oh no — no. Jack. I want to be your pal — I do really. I loathe love-making rot, and all that trash — and so does May, I want to treat you just as if you were / 20 THE LOOKING-GLASS. my sister .... after all you are a kind of sister. And I promise you that if I can help it, no one shall insult you like that Jackeroo-fellow. And I’m pretty quick at seeing a thing. WiNi. {astounded). Pretty quick at seeing a thing ! Jack {with his usual sublime confidence). Rather ! ! WiNi. Oh, you are .... you are! (Jack goes up stage and Winifred folloivs and stands by him.) (ENTER May with blanhet and pillows which she is about to arrange for the children.) {The Fairy comes through Loolcing-glass, which opens outwards and then shuts again. Fairy then stands about six feet from the bottom of the sofa. May sees her and stands gazing. Curly waTces and sees her also; sits up and stretches out his arms.) Curly. Oh, Fairy, where’s the poor little ragged girl wot hasn’t got any Christmas toys? Jack (r.). Hallo, the little beggar’s talking in his sleep. Curly {rising and going to Jack, without taking his eyes off the Fairy). Oh, Jack, look at the beauti- ful Fairy ! Jack. By George, walking in his sleep too ! Here I say. May, lead him gently back to the sofa, will you? I’m no good at doing things gently . . . . May ! — May ! — Good gracious, what are you staring at ? May (l., quietly). He’s not asleep. He’s wide awake. Jack. What are you staring at? May. The Fairy. Jack {to Winifred). They’Ve gone off their heads. THE LOOKING-GLASS. 21 WiNi. (r. of Jack, with contempt). And this is England ! Jack {to May). Don’t fool. It’s awfully bad for the kid. I May. You know I never fool. Jack. Look your- eelf. There ! Jack. I can’t see anything. WiNi. Nor anyone else either. Is this an English Christmas game ? Curly {excitedly, running to Jack). Oh Jack, do go and fetch the little ragged girl wot hasn’t got any Christmas toys, and give her my boat. Jack. The little ragged girl ? Curly. Yes, you know the one. The one in the brown dress with holes, wot is quite clean, and hasn’t got any hat or shoes or stockings. Jack. What do you mean? May. Wake, Dot, and see the pretty Fairy. Dot ( waking) . Where ? May. There. Dot {straining her eyes). Where? Where? May. There, there ! Dot. There isn’t a Fairy. It isn’t fair to play April fool at Christmas. WiNi. {in mockery). I see a red dragon with green eyes! ! {To Jack) How old have you got to be in England before you shut up playing this kind of game? Was the dance stopped early for this? Jack {perplexed, going to May l.). I say, May, I don’t understand. Are you sure you are not ill? May. No. Jack. Nor dreaming? May. No. (Jack shrugs his shoulders and goes r.) Curly. Oh, Jack, never mind her. Do go and fetch the little ragged girl. May. Yes, Jack, please do. 22 THE LOOKING-GLASS. Jack. Great Scott, what on earth — and where on earth Curly. Why, she’s in the snow, of course. You know she is. J ACK. There aren’t likely to be little ragged girls in Grosvenor Place at this time of night. May. Go out the back way, and you’ll find plenty. Jack. That’s true enough, God knows. Well, whether I’m off my chump or not, I’m going. Curly, give me my coat. (Curly gives him small coat.) WiNi. (to Jack at door). Well, that’s not too bad ! You’re a boy — an English boy — ordered about by a girl and a kid ! I should like to see a chap who’d been about do what a girl and a kid told him ! But go along. ... Be a good little boy and do as you’re told. (EXIT Jack.) Now you two go on with your game, 370U babies. I’m sorry I came down now. I heard a smash and I thought there was perhaps a row on, and I love a row. (Poses at mirror) Dot. May, can you and Curly really see the Fairy? May. Yes, Dot. Curly. Truth and honour! I’ll shake hands if you like. Dot. Oh dear, why can’t I see it ? Oh, May, rub my eyes for me. Perhaps I’m only half awake. (May does so,) Xo, it’s no better. Winny, can you see it? WiNL Xo; but I don’t lie and say I can. (Goes to sofa c., and sits on it) Dot. Xo; no one does. WiNi. Yes, May does. May. Do you say that I lie? (Trying in vain to suppress her anger) THE LOOKING-GLASS. 23 WiNi. {simply and sensibly nodding), Eather: you know you do. May {erupting and running to Winnie). You horrid little globe-trotter ! ! ! You’ve got to learn that English girls don’t .... (Fairy goes to looking-glass followed by Curly.) Oh — oh dear, the Fairy’s gone ! Curly {on r. of Fairy). N*o, she’s not. She’s just by me. Don’t you see her? May. Ko! No! WiNi. {on settee). So you were lying after all? May {distressed) . Oh dear, I thought I saw her. I meant to speak the truth. Dot. Oh May, weren’t you speaking true? May {perplexed), I meant to speak true. Dot dear .... and .... Oh, oh ! {Sobs on chair) (Dot goes to her and comforts her, while Curly still gazes ecstatically at the Fairy. Jack ENTEES with the Imp, clean, ragged, snow-flecked, bare- armed, bare-legged, hatless. Curly runs and greets her as an old friend. Imp has Jack’s coat round her shoulders, which Jack removes when she gets to l. c.) Curly. Come along. Here’s the boat. Jack’s mended the bowsprit, haven’t you, Jack? Jack, Jack, what are you staring at? Jack. I can see the Fairy. Curly {simply). Well, of course you can. (Curly and Imp sit together on floor l. o.)' WiNi. Oh, you are starting the lie-game, are you ? May {starting up). Oh, Jack, can you really see •it? Jack. Yes. May. Oh, help me to see it. Jack. Help you? You said you could see her. {Goes to fireplace r.) May. Yes, I thought I could; but I can’t now. 24 : THE LOOKING-GLASS. WiNi. And yet she called me a horrid little globe- trotter for saying she Avas lying ! May {humbly). Winny, please forgive me. I was a little beast just now. I’m very sorry. . . . (Quichly) Why, I can see the Fairy after all. WiNi. (resentfully). Oh, you’re at it again, are you? Well, play away ! May (to Imp, who has been sitting on the floor by Curly, playing with the boat). What’s your name, little girl? Curly. She’s called the Imp. Imp. ’Ow Bli’me! ’Ow did you know? Curly. You told me, didn’t you? Imp. I told yer? Curly. Yes, when you and me was with the Fairy before. Imp. ’Strewth, what Fairy? Curly (pointing). That fairy there! (The Imp looTcs in vain.) Jack AND May. There! There! Imp. I can’t see no fairy. Are you plying a gime? Oav, I sy, a real Christmas Tree! (Goes to it, piclcs up some sweets lying about on the floor, greedily devours some, and pouches others surreptitiously . ) May. Would you like some more chocolates be- sides what you’ve put in your frock? Imp. I ain’t put none in my frock. May (l. at back). But, Imp, I saw you! Imp (c. at baak). Ow, you liar! I swear I ain’t! May. Oh, Imp! (She goes to her with raised hand) Imp (misinterprets the gesture and cowers). Don’t ’it me ! Muvver’s been ’ittin’ me nearly all dy ! — I was ’ungry ! May (embracing her). Hit you? Poor little Imp! THE LOOKING-GLASS. 25 Dot {running to May and tvhispering) , May I? Those wot you put under my pillow for me ? (May nods, and Dot runs out of the room.) WiNi. (to Jack). You donT see this sort of thing in the Colonies. Jack (hoarsely). Thank God! And this is only one out of half a million wretched mites in London ! WiNi. That’s right. She’s not too happy, poor little thing. Dot (entering with oranges, luns, etc.). Here you are. (1mi^ snatches them in a wild, cunning, frightened manner, glancing round in terror of interference.) May (understanding). No, dear. Dot means them all for you. (Imp eats greedily.) Curly. Haven’t you had a Christmas dinner? (Imp shakes her head.) Dot. Nor a Christmas tea ? (Imp shakes her head.) Oh May, she’s got nothing to drink. I know where the milk’s kept. (Begins to go, then stops) Oh, oh, oh! I can see the fairy! I must stop and look at it. Won’t someone else go and get the milk ? (Looks round enquiringly) May. Oh, Dot ! Dot. Well, you see, she’s not quite ready for it, and — oh dear, the fairy seems to be fading. (Hesi- tates, closes her eyes, rushes to Imp and kisses her) I’m so sorry. I’ll go and get the milk at once. I’ll shut my eyes tight, or else I shall want to stop here and look at the Fairy. Lead me to the door. May. (Stands still c. and stretches out her hands) May (having led Dot to the door, returns and leads Imp to armchair l.). You poor child, you’ve 26 THE LOOKING-GLASS. hardly any clothes on. {Feeling Tier shoulders) Aren’t you dreadfully cold? Imp. It ain’t cold in ’ere. WiNi. {on settee, suddenly taking ojf diamond necklace), No; but it is outside. Sell this, and buy a lot of good thick clothes. Imp. Ow, moy ! ! Jack {putting his hand on Winifred’s shoulder). You’re a brick. WiNi. {looking up iy chance and rising). Oh! — Oh! — I’ve never seen a Fairy before!! {To May) May, I’m sorry for saying I didn’t believe you. I see it now. I do really. I)o you believe me? (ENTEE Dot with milk.) May. Yes, Winnie, of course I do. Dot. Here’s the milk. — Why, the Fairy’s quite plain again. Curly {still sitting on floor). I think she’s still quite pretty. Dot {giving milk to Imp). I don’t mean that. I mean I can see her quite plain again. WiNi. {quietly). I can see her too, Dot. Dot. How splendid ! We can all see her then. Curly. Can’t you see her, Imp ? Imp. No, I can’t see no Fairy. I b’lieve you’re all a’guying of me. Dot and Curly. What ? May. She means making fun of her. No, Imp, dear, we can see her. Imp. W’y can’t Oi see ’er, Lidy? May. Perhaps — perhaps — ah, well, you’ll see her soon, I expect. Imp {rising and going c. behind settee). Ow dear, this is a strange noight. ’Oo are yer rail? {To WiNi.) You ’ave foine clothes. ’Ow do yer get yer money ? WiNi. {loftily). My father left it. Imp. And you found it lyin’ about and prigged THE LOOKING-GLASS. 27 it? My farver never leaves no money ^andy when oi’m abaht. WiNi. {more loftily), Fve never learnt to steal, you see. Imp {enthusiastically), Oi could learn you! WiNi. I’m sure you could. Imp. But ’ow do yer get yer money? Does yer work for it ? (May, Jack and Dot all laugh,) WiNi. {angrily). Laugh away. Which of you work for your keep ? Dot. We’re not old enough to. Dad keeps us, of course. WiNi. {contemptuously). Dad keep you! Your Dad indeed ! Why he’s Jack (r. with meaning). Here, I say, hadn’t we better go steady. WiNi. (c. violently). Go steady be hanged. Who are you to talk to me? tf it wasn’t for our money you’d be living in the gutter like that child. May (l. of settee, frightened, while Jack seems momentarily dazed). What do you mean? WiNi. Mean? What I say. Your Dad’s got no money. Never had any. Your mother had all the money, and she left it to him. {Indicating Jack) Couldn’t trust your precious Dad, I suppose. You may be ashamed of your rich stepmother, who came from nowhere — and of me too — but not so jolly well ashamed as I am of my swell stepfather, who lives on another man’s money. {Children look at each other in crestfallen amaze- ment,) Oho ! So you didn’t know. They didn’t tell you that in the nursery. Well, I’ve been about and I know things. May {with dignity). We didn’t know; but still I’ll ask you not to speak of my father like that 28 THE LOOKING-GLASS. WiNi. {furiously) . I shall speak just how I like, you soft-mouthed little prig. Dot {jumping across settee and going l. of Wini- fred). How dare you talk to May like that. She’s sweet, and you’re a BEAST. Oh, how you want smacking. Jack says cheeky kids ought to be smacked. WiNi. Oh, does he? Then we’ll start with you. {Slaps Dot, who tumbles down. May jumps up and goes for Winifred. Jack separates the two, and spealcs sternly,) (Fairy runs out through loolcing -glass at lacTc,) Jack. Stand back, both of you. May, sit down, and don’t speak. Dot, stop snivelling, and sit there too. {They obey without a word. May sits on settee. Dot in armchair,) Imp. (l. at bach), Ow, wot a shine ! Let ^em ’ave it out. I wants to see a fight between real lydys ! Jack. Hold your tongue ! (Imp loohs at him, is cowed, and silent and goes and sits on sofa l.) (l. of Winifred, who is on extreme r. — slowly). Now for you. You’re going to have your first lesson in discipline. Speak a single word — and. you take the consequences. Curly, bring me those skipping ropes ! (As he brings them from Christmas Tree, Winifred quails,) No, you’re not going to have a licking, though you jolly well deserve it. If they’d used the back of a hair-brush on you when you were a kid, you wouldn’t need — what you do need now — though you fancy yourself grown up. And that’s a thorough good lick- ing about twice a week. If you open your lips before THE LOOKING-GLASS. 29 I give you leave, I shall tie you up with this rope, {knotting ropes) carry you to your room and lock you in. I^m doing what you ought to understand, you see, I^m speaking straight. I shall repeat the treatment as often as required. You can say what you like to my stepmother. I’ll Justify what I’ve done to my father. It’s time he understood how our home’s getting ruined. {On Winifred’s threatening to speak, he takes a step towards her with the ropes, and she is silent,) Curly, put a chair over there. (Curly puts chair L.)y Yow go and sit there — silent. (Winifred goes with hent head, and sits. Jack throws away ropes; his manner relaxes; he goes to mantelpiece, lays his head on it wearily and sighs. Curly timidly approaches and takes his hand,) Curly {just l. of Jack). You’re not strict any more? (Jack shakes his head.) Only sad. (Jack nods,) You had to be strict? Jack {with hack to audience). I — I thought so. Curly. Curly {very gravely). You’re always right. Jack. Jack {quickly). You mustn’t say that. Curly. I’se sure you are. {A pause) Jack, are you sad ’cause this Christmas isn’t like last Christ- mas? (Jack nods.) Mother was here last Christmas — do you ’member? Jack. Oh, please shut up, Curly-boy. Boys don’t 30 THE LOOKING-GLASS. cry, you know, and if you talk like that, you know — why — {Buries head in hands, leaning on mantel- piece with hack to audience) Curly {after a pause). May I speak to May? (Jack nods without turning. Curly is about to go to May, when carols, Hark the herald angels/' etc./' are heard outside. Jack draws curtains, opens window, throws out money. All remain still while one verse is sung. Then Jack closes window, draws curtains and goes c. The snow is seen falling when Jack draws curtains.) Jack. Come, kiddies, Christmas Eve.. LeCs for- get that little fuss. Imp (c.). Ow dear, wot a beautiful song! It do make you go queer. {Suddenly offers Winifred the necklace) ^Ere, tike this back. Oi seem to want ter give someone somethink, and Oi ain’t got nothink o’ me own. WiNi. {who is sitting in small chair l., declines it with a smile). No, please, you must keep it. (Fairy comes through looking-glass to sofa.) Dot. Oh, the Fairy’s quite close. IVe never seen her so plain before. Others. Oh yes I ! Imp (l. c. Excitedly). Oi can see ’er! Oi can see ’er at last ! Dot and Curly. Hurray! May {laying her hands quietly on shoulder) . I felt all along that you would see her at last. Imp. Ow, Oi do want ter know orl abaht fairies ! Dot. May can tell you. She knows everything about them, don’t you. May ? (May shakes her head.)] Oh, May, you said you did ! May. 1 used to think I did. Dot. And now ? THE LOOKING-GLASS. 31 May. Now I think I’m just beginning to under- stand a very little about them. Imp. We’ve never see no -fairies dahn ahr alley ! May. Perhaps you’ll see some there yet. Tell us about your home. {The Fairy, having hissed her hand to all, goes through looking -glass,) Dot. Oh, the Fairy’s going! Curly {confidently). She’ll come back. She wasn’t cross, ’cause she kissed her hand to us. May {to Imp). Come, dear, tell us about your home. (All gather round Imp, who is the centre of group while sitting in chair. Jack is r. at hack.) Dot. Have you a nice nursery? Curly {gravely). Why has your mother been hit- ting you ? Imp. ’Cos I couldn’t get no money. May. Do you beg then? Imp {proudly). Yas; there’s toimes as not a nip- per in ahr alley gets wot I gets. {Suddenly holding up necklace) Ow, Oi dunno wot ter do with this. Children". Why ? Imp {cunningly). Oi knahs ’ow ter parn things. Yer see, this ’ere’s wuth a lot o’ drinks ter muvver, and Oi’d loike ter give ’er the money a little at a toime. It ain’t no good ter me, ’er ’avin’ it all in one drunk. May {aghast). Yon want your mother to be drunk — to keep drunk 1 Imp. Wy, o’ course ! She don’t ’it me w’en she’s drunk — reel blind drunk, yer know. {The Children eye each other in speechless horror.) WlNi. Why not give it to your father? Imp. Yer see, ’e’s in. Dot. Poor man, is he ill?, 32 THE LOOKING-GLASS. Curly. Can’t he get out? Imp. Ow, ’e ain’t ill, but ’e can’t get out. Dot and Curly. Why not? Imp. They won’t let ’im out — leastwise, not till Toosday week. ’E’s got fourteen dyes ’ard. May. I’m sorry for your mother. She’ll be so anxious to see him again. Imp. Yus, she will thet! Yer see, ’e got lagged fer kickin’ of ’er. She’s a-goin’ ter meet ’im, and she says she’ll giv’ ’im wot for, d’reckly ’e’s through them prison gates. Jack (walking up to group). Here, I say — ^per- haps you’d better not ask her any more questions. Look here. Imp, I’ll keep that diamond necklace for you. Imp (artfully), Not ’arf. I don’t fink. May. Oh, Imp! You can trust Jack with any- thing. Besides, you wanted to give it back to Winnie a few minutes ago. Now you’re only asked to lend it to Jack. Imp (bewildered), Yus; but I dunno wot Oi wanted to give h’annythink awy for, just now ! Curly. Perhaps it was because the Fairy was here then. May. Yes, Curly; I think you’re right. Dot. Oh ! then that was it. Jack. Imp, would you like a nice home where they didn’t hit you, and where you were taught how to feel kind and be kind? Imp. Ow, Oi would like a noice ’ome. But wot does being koind and — feeling koind mean? May (kissing her). Poor Imp, you’ll soon learn. Imp. ’Ow’s it done? Will the Fairy do it? Jack. Well, yes, in a kind of way. Imp, I go to a great big school. It’s gone on for hundreds of years. When some of the boys who leave it are grown men, they give a great part of their lives to finding out people who are poor and wretched, and then they try to make them bright and happy. THE LOOKING-GLASS. 33 WiNi. Is that right ? I thought that old Etonians — that is (Fairy comes through loohing-glass again and comes to group.) INo, I won’t say. Somehow, I don’t feel any more as if I wanted to speak my mind. Jack. Go on, please, I want you to. WiNi. Well, you know, in America and the Colo- nies, they think an Eton boy puts on side, and is la-da-dah, and sticks on airs, and only thinks — thinks of J ACK. Himself ? WiNl. That’s right. May. Ah, Winnie, I think you’ll learn better than that if you try to find out. You see, the old Etonians who do the kind things, are just the people you don’t hear about abroad. Imp. And could I see all of you, sometimes, in the noo ’ome? May. Often. Perhaps every day. Couldn’t she, Jack? Jack. Yes, very likely. {The three Children clap hands as they looTc up and see the Fairy.) Children. Oh, the Fairy again ! (Jack goes r. Fairy pursues him everywhere as he goes, the Children watching curiously. He walks about, and whenever he stops the Fairy stops.) Jack (r., with Fairy standing behind him). It’s a rum thing, but I feel as if I wanted to write some- thing down. May. Then do it. Jack. Jack. But it is so beastly absurd. I’m always bottom of the form at essays and that kind of thing. May. Never mind that. Jack. I read the other day that all the great things ever written have been 34 THE LOOKING-GLASS. written by people who felt that there was something that they must write. Jack. If someone would only help me. Curly. I ’spect as iCs Christmas Eve, the Fairy would help you. Jack. Ah, p’raps you’re right. But I’ve nothing to write on. Ah! (Sees booh on sofa and opens fly- leaf) This’ll do. It is a fairy book too. I’ve got a pencil. (Produces pencil from waistcoat pocket, then goes to chair l., sits and writes) (Fairy follows him,) Dot. How fast Jack’s writing. I’ve never seen him write so fast before. Curly. You see, the Fairy’s helping him. (Children group in c. and look at Fairy.) Dot (suddenly). Oh, that’s a much better kind of looking-glass. Curly. What is? Dot. Why, the Fairy. I can’t ’zactly explain what I mean, but — Oh, May, do you know ? May. Yes, Dot, I found it out about half an hour ago. Children. What ? May. Why that the Fairy is the Looking-glass. Children. The Fairy the Looking-glass? May. Yes; but she’s not the ordinary kind of looking-glass. The Fairy is teaching us to see our- selves as others see us. Dot. To see ourselves as others see us? May. Yes; that’s much the best kind of looking- glass. WiNi. (slowly), I’m beginning to see too — ^but it hurts a little Dot. Don’t you think (The Fairy leaves Jack.) Oh, here comes the Fairy, and Jack’s finished writings THE LOOKING-GLASS. 35 (Fairy goes c., at iaclc,) Jack (sheepishly). I don’t know what on earth made me do it. May. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly anything on earth. Dot. Are angels the same thing as fairies? May. I don’t think there’s really much difference. Imp. Wot are ’yngels? May. They’ll teach you that in the nice home. And now. Jack, read what you’ve written. ^ Jack. No, I can’t really. You read it, May — that is, if you can. It’s awfully badly written. I scribbled at such a rate. Curly. P’raps as the Fairy helped Jack write, she’ll help May read. Children. Ah yes ! May. Ah yes ! (May sits on sofa, Children group sitting round her, except Jack, who stands.) (Beads) Dear children. It has been so nice to be with you, but I can only stay for a few minutes more, as I must go away at twelve o’clock. Still I shall often be with you when you don’t see me. I hope you will see me again next Christmas Eve. Jack, you’ll live to be a fine man. You’ve learnt to obey, and so you will rule well, as many another Eton boy has done. But you must not be sarcastic. It’s so easy to be sarcastic, and so hard sometimes not to be. And, oh please don’t grow into a prig. May, dear, don’t be too good : people can be too good, you know ; and don’t spoil the little ones. Also always remember that, great as is your grief, there are millions of chil- dren in the world who have far greater cause for grief than you. Dot, learn to conquer your little temper — you are a bright, quick little girl, but you mustn’t spoil yourself. Curly, you must not be too wise and too grave. You are only a little trot, and on young shoulders there can sometimes be too old a 36 THE LOOKING GLASS. head. Winifred, try to be meek and gentle — don’t claim — don’t assert yourself. And above all, don’t speak your mind. Speaking your mind is just rude- ness; and if people must be rude, they needn’t cant about it. You have lots of real good in you, if you will’ only let it come out. It’s not your fault that you’ve been about. But learn a lesson. If ever you have children of your own, keep them at home. Eng- land’s not a bad place — for children. Dear Imp — poor little Imp, you don’t yet understand what faults mean. In your new home you will learn right from wrong; and they will teach you kindly. And now, children, you may each ask me for a little Christmas present — something that you want to do or be — and I’ll see if I can manage to help you. After that, I shall give each of you a keepsake. Just a few ivy leaves — and with the keepsake will come a message. And then, children, I shall fly away, till next Christ- mas Eve. Ask at once what you want? {Pause) (Curly shalces Ms head.) Dot? {Ditto.) Jack? {Ditto.) May. Dear Fairy, even you could not give us four what we want. We want our darling mother back again. That is impossible. So we will let Winnie and Imp ask you for something — come. Imp, what do you want? What will you ask? Imp. Oi’ll ask ter be loike orl of you. May. Oh, ask something better than that. Imp. Imp. No, I want that. May. How do you mean — like us? Imp. Yer see, I knows what I speaks like now. I can ’ear myself. I want to speak like you all. {To Winifred) Don’t you want that, too? WiNi. (L.). No. Why should I? THE LOOKING-GLASS. 37 Imp. Tose you don’t talk proper, neither. WiNi. Don’t talk proper! {Looks round and is surprised because the other Children are not surprised. She shows that she is distressed before she speaks,) But — Oh, I don’t speak with an accent, do I, May? Not really? May, Well, dear WiNi. Do I, Jack? Jack. That’s rather an awkward question. WiNi. Oh dear, then I suppose I must! In America and in the Colonies we always think that English people speak with an accent. {After a pause of distressful hesitation, she seizes Imp’s hand and aMr esses Fairy.) Kind Fairy, I am English. This child is English. Teach us both to speak the English language. {The Fairy touches their lips with her wand, Wini- fred and Imp walk to front of stage together,) Imp {in tones of ^'musical and ladylike precis- ion'"), My throat feels so funny. Do I seem to be talking funny? WiNi. {who has also shed accent completely) , No. You speak exactly like the others — like Dot and May and Jack and Curly. Imp. So do you? WiNi. Do I really. May? May. Yes, dear, really. Imp. Will they all speak in the new home as I speak now, or as I used to speak ? May. Well — I’m afraid like you used to speak. Imp {disappointed). Oh! May {on an impulse). Couldn’t Imp live with us, don’t you think. Jack? Jack {deliberately) , Yes, I honestly believe she might ifs he liked to. 38 THE LOOKING-GLASS. Imp. Oh, how I should like to ! WiNi. {to Jack). What will my mother say? Jack (quietly). I shall see Dad to-morrow morn- ing by myself. When I tell him all weVe seen — all we feel — I think our home life will be — well, differ- ent. But we must all go to bed now. Dot and Curly. Oh, look at the Fairy ! (Fairy waves Tier wand and large letters covered ivith ivy leaves are lowered from flies. The let- ters are D. B. K. N. E. I.) Imp (as the Children handle the letters). LeFs see who’ll find the message first. Jack. ISTo, not to-night. It’s too late. We’ll stand them up on this ledge over the looking-glass, where they won’t get hurt, and we’ll try to find out the message in the morning. (Children hand him up the letters, which he ar- ranges carelessly and without attention. But, as he sets them up they form the message BE KIND.) (Order of handing letters to Jack: D. Curly, 1. N. Winifred, 2. I. Imp, 3. E. Dot, 4. B & K. May, 5.) Dot. Why, there’s the message ! WiNi. How simple! May. Most things that are very good are very simple. (Cloclc strilces midnight.) Jack. Come to bed. Twelve o’clock. (lie puts on his coat, and takes Curly on his shoul- ' der.) Dot (to Imp). Will you sleep with me? (May takes Dot’s hand. Church Bells are heard outside.)^ THE LOOKING-GLASS. 39 (Children group at window, which May has opened directly she hears hells. The Bells play a peal, while all stand intent, in silence. The Curtain falls slowly as the peal is played. Snow is seen falling when curtains are drawn.) CUETAIN*. THE END. •’-H 'St r i ^“SEND FOR A NEW DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE. VOL. XLI. The Pirate’s Legacy The Charcoal Burner Adelgitha Senor Valiente Forest Rose Duke’s Daughter Camilla’s Husband Pure Gold VOL. XLIL Ticket of Leave Matt Fool’s Revenge O’Neil the Great Handy Andy Pirate of the Isles Fanchon Little Barefoot Wild Irish Girl VOL. XLIII. Pearl of Savoy Dead Heart Ten Nights in a Bar-room Dumb Boy of Manchester Belphegor the Mounteb’k Cricket on the Hearth Printer’s Devil Meg’s Diversion {Frenches Standard Drama Continued from 2d page of Cover.) VOL. XLIV. 346 Drunkard’s Doom 346 Chimney Corner 347 Fifteen Years of a Drunk- 348 "No Thoroughfare f ard’s 349 Peep O’ Day Lhife 350 Everybody’s Friend 351 Gen. Grant 359 Kathleen Mavourneen VOL. XLV. 353 Nick Whiffles 354 Fruits of the Wine Cup 355 Drunkard’s Warning 356 Temperance Doctor 357 Aunt Dinah 358 Widow Freeheart 359 Frou Frou 360 Long Strike VOL. XLVI. 361 Larcers 36‘i Lu' ille 363 Randall’s Thumb 364 Wicked World 365 Two Orphans 366 Colleen Bawn 367 ’Twixt Axe and Crown Lady Clancarthy VOL. XLVII. Saratoga 370 Never Too Late to Mend 371 Lily of France 372 Led Astray 373 Henry V 374 Unequal Match 375 May or Dolly’s Delusion 376 Allatoona VOL. XLVIII. 377 Enoch Arden 378 Under the Gas Light 379 Daniel Rochat 380 Caste 381 School 382 Home 383 David Garrick 384 Ours VOL. XLIX. 385 Social Glass 386 Daniel Druce Two Roses 388 Adrienne The Bells 390 Uncle 391 Courtship 392 Not Such a Fool VOL. L. 393 Fine Feathers 394 Prompter’s Box 395 Iron Master 396 Engaged o97 Pygmalion & Galatea 898 Leah 399 Scrap of Paper 400 Lost in London VOL. LI. 401 Octoroon 402 Confederate Spy 403 Mariner’s Return 404 Ruined by Drink 405 Dreams 406 M. P. 407 War 408 Birth VOL. LII. 409 Nightingale 410 Progress 411 Play 412 Midnight Charge 413 Confidential Clerk 414 Snowball 415 Our Regiment 416 Married for Money Hamlet in Three Acts Guttle & Gulpit FRENCH’S INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHTED EDITION OF THE WORKS OF THE BEST AUTHORS. The following very successful plays have just been issued at 25 cents per copy. A PAIR OP SPECTACLES. Comedy in 8 Acts by Sydney Grundy, author of “ Sowing the Wind,” Ac. 8 male, 3 female characters. A POOL’S PARADISE. An original play in 3 Acts by Sydney Grundy, author of “Sowing the Wind,” &c. 5 male, 4 female characters. THE SILVER SHIELD. An original comedy in 8 Acts by Sydney Grundy, author of “ Sowing the Wind,” Ac. 5 male, 3 female characters. THE GLASS OP FASHIOTf. An original com- edy in 4 Acts by Sydney Grundy, author of “ Sowing the Wind,” Ac. 5 male. 5 female characters. THE BALLOON. Farcical comedy in 8 Acts by J. H. Darnley and Manvillk Fenn. 6 male, 4 female characters. MISS CLEOPATRA. Farce in 3 Acts by Arthur Shirley. 7 male, 3 female characters. SIX PERSONS. Comedy Act by I. Zanowill. 1 male, 1 female character. PASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE. Comedi- etta in 1 Act by Percy Fsndall. 1 male, 1 female character. HIGHLAND LEGACY. Comedy in 1 Act by Brandon Thoma*, author of “Charley’s Aunt.” 5 male, 2 female characters* Contents of Catalogue which is Amateur Drama Amateur Operas Articles Needed by Amateurs Art of Scene Painting Baker’s Reading Club Beards, Whiskers, Mustaches, etc. Bound Sets of Pl^s Bulwer Lytton’s Plays Burlesque Dramas Burnt Cork Cabman’s Story Carnival of Authors Charade Plavs Children’s Plays Comic Dramas for Male Characters only Costume Books Crape Hair Cumberland Edition Darkey Dramas i Dram as for Boys Drawing-room Monologues Elocution, Reciters and Speakers Ethiopian Dramas Evening’s Entertainment Fairy and Home Plays French’s Costumes French’s Editions French’s Italian Operas French’s Parlor Comedies French’s Standard and Minor Drama French’s Standard and Minor Drama, bound French’s Scenes for Amateurs Frobisher’s P. V. 273 The Olio, Part 1 1 274 The Olio, Part 2 275 The Olio, Part 3 [ti 276 The Trumpeter’s Daugl 277 Seeing Warren | 278 Green Mountain Boy ; 279 That Nose f 280 Tom Noddy’s Secret VOL. XXXVI. 281 Shocking Events 282 A Regular Fix 283 Dick Turpin 284 Young Scamp 285 Young Actress 286 Call at No. 1—7 287 One Touch of Nature 288 Two B’hoys VOL. XXXVII. 289 All the World’s a Stag 290 Quash, or Nigger trt 291 Turn Him Out [ti 292 Pretty Girls of Stillber 293 Angel of the Attic 294 CircumstancesalterCat 295 Katty O’Sheal 296 A Supper in Dixie VOL. XXXVIII. 297 Ic! on Parle Francals 298 Who Killed Cock Rob’ 299 Declaration of Indeper! 300 Heads or Tails [en 301 Obstinate Family 302 My Aunt 303 That Rascal Pat 304 Don Paddy de Bazan VOL. XXXIX. [tu! 305 Too Much for Good N 306 Cure for the Fidgets 307 Jack’s the Lad Much Ado A bout N othic 309 Artful Dodger 310 Winning Hazard 311 Day’s Fishing [Ai 312 Did you evf-r send youi VOL. XL. 313 An Irishman’s Maneuvi 314 Cousin Fannie 31 5 ’Tis the Darkest Hour bt 316 Masquerade [fore Daw 317 Crowding the Season 318 Good Night’s Rest 319 Man with the Carpet tNl 320 Terrible Tinker SAMUEL FRENCH 36 West 22