j 
 
A WIDOW'S WILES 
 
 ^ Cometip in €ijree %tt^ 
 
 By EMI lie H. CALLAWAY 
 
 Copyright, 1908, by Dick & Fitzgerald 
 
 FITZGERALD PUBLISHING CORPORATION 
 successor to 
 Dick & Fitzgerald 
 18 Vesey St., (New.Yorl^ : 
 
Digitized by 
 
 the Internet Archive 
 
 
 
 in 2015 
 
 
 
 https ://arch ive.org/details/widowswilescomedOOcal I 
 
A WIDOW'S WILES. 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 Mr. Raymond A wealthy Virginian. 
 
 Tom Raymond Mr. Raymond's son. 
 
 Tack Fen ton , . . . . / , . . , 
 
 WALTER TRASK [ ^^"^ ^ 
 
 Ted Prescott Tom's intimate chum. 
 
 Percy Huston A dude, given to butting in " 
 
 Sambo Mr. Raymond's colored servant. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond Mr. Raymond's wife. 
 
 Doris Raymond Her daughter. 
 
 Daisy Burton Doris's friend. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson A young scheming widow. 
 
 Grace Huston Percy Huston's sister. 
 
 Mrs. Pueblo. A society lady. 
 
 Louisiana Francis A young colored girl. 
 
 Aunt Dinah. . . . Mr. Raymond's colored old house-servant. 
 
 Locality. — Acts I, and H. — A country residence in Virginia. 
 
 Act HL — A mansion in Washington. 
 
 Time of PERFORMANCE.~An hour and a half. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 ACT L — House-party at the Raymonds* country-house in 
 Virginia. Arrival of Mr. Prescott, the celebrity, in love with 
 Doris. Doris's ideal hero. Mrs. Bronson plans to capture 
 Tom and his millions. The counter-plot. 
 
 ACT H. Drawing-room in the same house, a week later. The 
 progress of the counter-plot ; Ted Prescott's self-sacrifice. 
 Mrs. Bronson falls into the trap. Tom accuses Ted, his chum, 
 of treachery. Ted's dilemma ; the widow's artful confession, 
 and her triumphant marriage to Ted. 
 
 3 
 
4 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 ACT III. — Drawing--room in the RAYMONDS' town residence, 
 three vears later. Dedih of Mrs. Prescott. Ted's return, he is 
 scornfully repm .t\. h;, :>RiS who believes him false. TOM is still 
 bitter againsi i iiu . Jack exj)lains toTOM how he has been saved 
 from a life of misery by TEDS heroic sacrifice; their conversation 
 is overheard by DORiS. Reconciliation, and DORIS rewards her 
 hero. 
 
 COSTUMES 
 
 ACT I.— Daisy Burton, Jack Fenton, and Walter 
 Trask in golf costume. Ted Prescott at first in travelling 
 clothes; later, in afternoon house-suit. Mr. Raymond, at en- 
 trance, in driving-rig, afterwards in home dress. The others are 
 m suitable house-costume. 
 
 ACT \ l. — All are in evening dress. 
 
 AC :' '■'] ^ ' TTQixoN, Mrs. Pueblo, and Ted Pres- 
 
 ■r '')'!" ■ ;e for afternoon calls. DORIS, in house 
 
 ''ece[= i . extravagantly stylish get up. 
 
 INCIDENTAL PROPERTIES 
 
 Embroidery for Mrs. Raymond. Broom, teapot, water-carafe, 
 tray aiv l glasses for DiNAH. Bunch of red roses, dress-suit case 
 for Sambo. Feather-duster for Louisiana. Watch and charm, 
 bunch of violets for Grace. Watch and roll of manuscript for 
 Jack. Photograph of DORlSon table in Act IIL Sprig of apple- 
 bl.)ssoms for DAISY. 
 
 STAGE DIRECTIONS 
 
 As viewed by a performer on the stage, facing the audience, R., 
 means right-hand ; L., left-hand ; C, centre of stage; C. D., door 
 in centre of rear flat, UP, toward rear of stage ; down, toward the 
 footlights. 
 
A WIDOW'S WILES 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE.— '77/-?? library in the KA\MOl<iT>S* country-house in Vir^ 
 ginia. Door iji centre of flat with portieres marking the en- 
 trance. Door at R., of stage ; another door at L. Windoii) 
 L. of C. D. Chairs at R. a7id L. of C. D. Table at L. front, 
 behind it and a little toward R., is a Morris-chair, Piano 
 tip R. A lounge at R. C. Pictures hiuig on wall R. of Q. D. 
 The general arrangement of the room is suggestive of reftne- 
 7nent and luxurious taste, 
 
 DISCOVERED, Mrs. Raymond seated at table quietly hum* 
 ming to herself as she works at embroidery, 
 
 ENTER Doris, through the portieres at c. D. 
 
 Doris {looking around as she enters^. Oh, dearie me ! Hasn't 
 Father got back yet ? ( Walks arotcnd tozuard the lounge) 
 
 Mrs. Rayimond {looking up at Doris). Is he not anywhere 
 around the house ? 
 
 Doris {in a masterf ul 7nanne7^). No, dear. I sent him to town. 
 You see I wanted the table to look ve^y extra to-night, so he went 
 to town to get some of that new kind of roses. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. Dear little girl ! How much pains you do 
 take. Tom is so fond of his little sister. 
 
 Doris. House-parties are a responsibility. Do you realize, 
 Mother Raymond, that you and I haven't had a single chance to 
 discuss Tom's friends since they arrived ? 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. Doris, how you talk ! 
 
 Doris. Well, dear, you know, just between ourselves, we do like 
 to talk about people — just to decide whether we like them or not. 
 We do, don't we ? 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. Doris, it seems to me you are beginning to 
 grow up. 
 
 Doris. Oh, not a bit. Here's Tom grown up and through 
 college — so I have to stay ungrown up for both of us. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. If I could only keep you both my little child* 
 
6 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 ren always ! But you have to grow up — it's right you should — 
 only Tom seems — he seems to have grown away from m^ lately. 
 
 Doris {kneeling beside her mother). Don't say that, clear. It's 
 only that he's so busy entertaining his house-party — and — and — 
 that woman seems to have somehow fascinated him. (DORis 
 turns her head away.) 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. Doris, you mustn't speak of Tom's friends 
 that way. Mrs. Bronson just seems — well, different from the rest 
 of us. But, of course, she must be very nice or Tom wouldn't like 
 her. 
 
 Doris. Maybe its just her way —but-— well, I don't like her. 
 
 ENTER Mr. Raymond, ^..followed by Sambo with a basket of 
 
 roses. 
 
 Doris {excitedly). Oh, Father I Did you get them ? 
 
 Mr. Raymond {holding her off, teasingly). Such excitement. 
 
 Dor I S {rushes past him and exainines the roses. Sam bo grins). 
 Oh, Father, they're lovely ! 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Don't you try to tell your old dad it's all on 
 account of brother Tom that we want the table so beautiful to- 
 night. [EXIT Sambo, r. 
 
 Doris. Father, stop ! 
 
 Mr. Raymond {teasingly). Oh, yes, ordinary roses w^ill do for 
 the rest of the house-party, but when a certain gentleman arrives 
 this afternoon 
 
 Doris. Father, I think you might stop. Just because I do like 
 celebrities and heroes and grand men who have done things — then 
 lather has to — well, I do like Mr. Prescott, and I think it's awfully 
 nice of him to come to our house-party, and I'm proud indeed to 
 have such a grand man so fond of my brother. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. How could he help being fond of Tom ? 
 Dear boy. 
 
 (Mr. Raymond crosses and leans over Mrs. Raymond's chair.) 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Well, Mother, we'll have to let Doris have her 
 own way, as usual, won't we, and go on with her hero-worship. 
 We're getting behind the times, you and I. 
 
 Mrs, Raymond {playfully). Speak for yourself. Father. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. That's what you told me once — many years 
 ago. ( To Doris). Birdie, your mother was a sad coquette in 
 those days, and many a fellow lost 
 
 Mrs. Raymond {interrupting). Father, what nonsense you 
 talk. 
 
 Doris. She liked grand men who did things, too, didn't she, 
 Father } 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Trying to jolly your old dad again ! Better 
 behave yourself, young lady, here conne some of our gue^ta. 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 7 
 
 ENTER Daisy Burton, Jack Fenton <^;/<^Walter Trask, r. 
 They are dressed i7i golfing costtime, 
 
 Daisy Burton. Such glorious golfing ! You certainly have 
 corking grounds, Mr. Raymond. For the mistress of the manor. 
 {She playf idly gives MRS. RAYMOND sarne apple blossoms she s been 
 carrying — then goes over and sits on lounge). You ought to have 
 come, Doris. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Glad you like my grounds, Miss Daisy. Mother 
 calls them my hobby. 
 
 Jack Fenton. We've been trying to get in some heavy work 
 before the celebrity gets here. Expect after old Ted comes, the 
 ladies won't ever golf any more with poor ordinary mortals. Isn't 
 that so, Walter } 
 
 Walter Trask. Never wanted to be a celebrity so badly in 
 all my life. 
 
 Daisy. We, on the contrary, expect celebrity to be so wrapped 
 up in Tom, that he won't even speak to us. He and Tom are ter- 
 ribly good friends, aren't they, Mrs. Raymond.^ 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. There seems to be a very warm friendship be- 
 tween them. Mr, Prescott has the elder brother attitude towards 
 Tom. Calms him down, you know. 
 
 Walter. Ted Prescott is certainly young to be in the House 
 of Representatives. 
 
 Jack. But Ted's got brains enough to pull him even through 
 politics. 
 
 Daisy. Oh, Mrs. Raymond, now is an awfully good time to tell 
 us about the story of/^'//r career in politics. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond {getting tip hastily). Dear children, tell you 
 stories with a new cook in the kitchen! Never, never. I expect 
 she and Aunt Dinah are quarrelling this very minute. {Starts out). 
 
 Jack. I say, Mrs. Raymond, tell her to give us some more of 
 those biscuits for dinner. 
 
 Daisy. Oh yes, do! 
 
 Mrs. Raymond {smiling), I'll see what can be done about it. 
 
 [EXIT, c. d. 
 
 Mr, Raymond ( following her). I guess I'll have to take a 
 look after those biscuits myself. [EXIT, C. D. 
 
 Daisy {to Doris). I don't know w^hich one I'm most in love 
 with, your father or your mother. 
 
 Walter {teasingly). Or your brother. 
 
 Daisy. I don't get much chance to show my feelings in that 
 direction. 
 
 ( There is an awkward sile?tce. ) 
 
 Doris {hastily). Oh, Walter, I want to show you that picture 
 of Tom. I found it in the music room, after all. 
 
8 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Walter. No time like the present. See you later, people. 
 
 [EXIT Walter and Doris, l. 
 
 (Daisy contmues sitting on the loimge. Jack strolls aroimd.) 
 
 Daisy. Rather awkward remark of mine, wasn't it ? 
 
 Jack. Do you really think it was .'^ I rather think your aver- 
 sion to Mrs. Bronson makes you think every one else feels the 
 same way. 
 
 Daisy. It's the way she appropriates the men — I suppose you 
 think that's why I don't like her. You men are so — well, you 
 think you're just a little important, don't you ? 
 
 Jack. It depends on circumstances — {Looks out of the win- 
 doiv) Mrs. Bronson at present, is walking up the drive with 
 young Huston. Tom, on the other hand, looking far from import- 
 ant, listens to one of Miss Huston's rhapsodies — She must be dis- 
 cussing Titian, judging from old Tom's face. 
 
 Daisy. Mrs. Bronson plays her cards well. How much money 
 do you suppose Tom will be worth when old Mr. Eliot dies } 
 
 Jack. A few millions, I imagine. See here, Daisy, you women 
 seem to get on to this sort of thing. Do you think Mrs. Bronson 
 will marry Tom ? 
 
 Daisy. Just as fast as Tom asks her. I shouldn't be sur- 
 prised if they were engaged already. Low lights, violets, a languid 
 air, a clinging gown — a boy like Tom — and it's all over. I rather 
 imagine Mrs. Bronson is right up on that sort of thing. 
 
 Jack. You women do see things. 
 
 Daisy. I suppose you think I'm a horrid spiteful thing. Well, 
 you see. Jack, I've known you such ages that it isn't of the slightest 
 importance what I say to you. 
 
 Jack. Deliver me from the privileges of an old friend ! 
 
 Daisy. I shall continue to tell you just what I think, neverthe- 
 less. You men can all fall down and worship Mrs. Bronson if you 
 like. / can't endure her. ( Walks across the room) 
 
 Jack. Well, we'll have to get Ted's opinion about the lady. I 
 wish the old fellow would put in an appearance. 
 
 Daisy. Mr. Prescott, I suppose you mean — your celebrated 
 friend ! 
 
 Jack. My celebrated friend. 
 
 Daisy. A man has just to be a celebrity and the world is his. 
 As to his personal character — he can do just anything on earth he 
 wants to and it's all right — he is a celebrity. 
 
 Jack. Is there any one of whom you do approve, might one 
 ask } 
 
 Daisy. Oh, very few. And do not flatter yourself, my dear 
 Mr. Fenton, that you are among them. Good-bye, Jacky. 
 
 [EXIT, L. 
 
 Jack. Daisy's an old dear, in spite of her tongue. Only hope 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 9 
 
 she*s not really crazy about Tom. There can*t be any mistake 
 about Mrs. Bronson. Daisy feels it too. She's got Tom just 
 where she wants him. Ted will have to straighten things out — 
 I've done my best. We can't let Tom get in that woman's 
 clutches. 
 
 ENTER Mrs. Bronson, Percy Huston, Grace Huston and 
 Tom Raymond, c. d. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Here's our pensive friend. How sad and 
 sombre you do look, Mr. Fenton. Won't you tell us — all about it ? 
 We poor, ignorant populace. 
 
 Jack. I'm afraid the populace might not exactly care for them. 
 
 MrSo Bronson. Dear me. how cross you are. 
 
 {Sinks on couch. Percy leafis over her, TOM keeps rather near» 
 Grace and Jack talk together ?i 
 
 Tom. Ted hasn't come yet } 
 
 Jack. No, your sister said they expected him soon, 
 Grace. Oh, the celebrity. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {teanhtg Jorward), Fm so anxious to meet 
 your friend, Tommie. 
 
 ]x(ZY>. {aside). Tommie! 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Men who have achieved! They are the 
 men who know what life is. 
 
 Percy {in a low voice). Oh, if we could have your smile to 
 reward us — we — I could do anything. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {laughing). What charming things you do say, 
 Mr. Huston. But you really mustn't say such wicked things to a 
 staid widow, you know. 
 
 Percy. Do you really think me a wicked fellow ? 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {latighing). Oh, dear me, yes, I'm really afraid 
 of you. 
 
 Percy. Aw, now, I say. 
 
 Tom. a moonlight drive ! Just the thing. Ted will enjoy it. 
 
 Grace. How delightful! To have our souls thrilled by the 
 beauties of the night. The moonlight awakens all the faculties of 
 appreciation we have. Don't you agree with me, Mr. Fenton } 
 
 Jack. The moonlight never makes me feel that way. 
 
 Percy. Aw, I say, Grace, I feel just the same way you do 
 about it. 
 
 Grace. Oh, you men can laugh if you like. You haven't any 
 artistic appreciation, any of you. Have they, Mr. Raymond } 
 
 Tom. Not an artistic shred hanging to them anywhere. 
 
 Grace. Let's try to educate them. What fun it will be to- 
 night. 
 
 Tom {crossing to Mrs. Bronson). Will you go on the box 
 seat with me to-night } 
 
10 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {mdiffereiitly). If I'm not too tired. 
 Percy. Aw, say, Tom, you're always getting in ahead of a 
 fellow. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Tom is awfully precipitate, isn't he ? 
 
 Grace. Mr. Raymond, when does Mr. Prescott get here. I'm 
 sure he'll know all about Douget's new picture that's just been 
 hung in Washington. 
 
 Tom. My dear Miss Huston. Ted can't tell a Botticelli from 
 a Christy picture. His forte is men — and women. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. The celebrity again ! I always heard he 
 couldn't endure women. How's that } 
 
 Jack. They all fall down and worship, as it were. And Ted 
 comes out, none the worse for wear. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Wonderful man ! 
 
 Grace. I've heard so much about him. I'm wild to see him. 
 Tom the wz7ido7v). There he is now — just driven up with 
 Father. You'll excuse me ? [EXIT gji/c^ly, C. D, 
 
 Jack. I must see the old chap. 
 
 [EXIT Jack, c. d., followed by Grace. 
 
 (Mrs. Bronson with a slight shrug of the shoulders strolls over 
 to the piano, and plays lightfy. Percy follows, and leaiis 
 over the corner, ) 
 
 Percy. Aw, I say, Mrs. Bronson, your hair is deucedly lovely 
 in this light. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Silly boy. Run along and leave me to my 
 meditations. 
 
 Percy. You're not really afraid of me ? 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Oh, yes— I am. Please go — I want to think. 
 (Rather i7npatiently) 
 
 Percy. Dare I hope — about 7ne. Ah, see how quickly I go. 
 {Aside) I'm getting to be a devil of a fellow. [EXIT, C. D. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Little fool ! But he serves his purpose. Dear 
 Tom is certainly green with jealousy. I must bring him to the 
 point to-night. 
 
 {Laughing and talking is heard outside. ) 
 
 ENTER Ted Prescott and Tou, followed Jack and Sambo 
 carrying suit-case. Saubo puts it dozvn and stands at rear 
 of stage, 
 
 Tom. Well, I never was so glad to see any one in all my life — 
 old boy. Ah, Ted, I want to present you to Mrs. Bronson, my 
 friend, Mr. Prescott. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {holding out her hand). I'm glad to know 
 you, Mr. Prescott. Needless to say, I've heard many things about 
 you. 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 11 
 
 Ted. See here, Tommie, what have you been saying- about me ? 
 ( To Mrs. Bronson) You see Tom has always had a grudge 
 against me. 
 
 Tom. One, old man ? Make it a dozen. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Yes, he's really said some pretty — pretty 
 dreadful things about you. I'll tell you about them at some more 
 convenient season. 
 
 Ted. No time like the present, you know — 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Ah, but you see I know you men are yearning 
 for a good old gossip. I hope to see you at dinner, Mr. Prescott, 
 and then I shall tell you many things. [EXIT, C. D. 
 
 Ted. What did you say the lady's name was, Tom } 
 
 Tom. Mrs Bronson. Her husband died a few months after her 
 marriage. 
 
 Ted. It seems as if I'd seen her before. Are all the rest of 
 the house-party as attractive ? 
 
 Jack. See here, how long since you've been going in for the 
 heavy society act ? 
 
 Ted. My dear fellow, I assure you I'm a social butterfly. Say, 
 Tom, might I suggest I'd like to tidy up a bit, before I meet your 
 mother and — sister ? 
 
 Tom. Pardon me. I completely forgot you'd travelled several 
 miles. Here, Sam, bring along his duds. Come on, Jack, we'll 
 all go up. Can't leave you out of our sight, Ted. 
 
 [EXIT All, r. 
 
 ENTER Aunt Dinah ^j;;/^/Louisiana, l. Aunt Dinah begins 
 to ditst — the child watches her. 
 
 Aunt Dinah. Bless me, chile, I taught dhey'd never git 
 through a-talkin — do' I's mighty fond ob Mass Prescott— he's sure 
 'nough quality. But, look at dis here dirt, I declare dar's 'nough 
 dirt here to plant potatoes in. Chile — what for are you a-standin' 
 thar } Did ye think I fetched ye to a matinee — why ain't ye a 
 tidyin' up this yer place. Ye ain't got no sense in yer black head, 
 hab ye ? 
 
 ( The Child starts to work, hit stops as soon as Dinah's back is 
 turned.) 
 
 Dinah. Miss Doris, she's sure 'nough glad when Mass Prescott 
 come. Ye good-fer-nothin' niggah, I ain't aguine tell ye agin to 
 stop lookin' at me. Ain't ye never seen no good-lookin' colored 
 ladies before } I ain't guine to talk no more. {She ejects the 
 child L.) 
 
 ENTER Doris and Daisy, c. d. 
 
 Daisy. Isn't Mr. Huston killing.^ He does think he's so 
 wicked, good little soul. 
 
 U. OF ILL. LIB. 
 
12 
 
 A Widow^s Wiles. 
 
 Doris. Dinah, you may go. [EXIT Dinah, l, 
 
 Daisy. Your southern darkies are so refreshing. Did I tell 
 you we are thinking of coming to Hve in Virginia? 
 
 Doris. Honestly ? How perfectly splendid. 
 
 Daisy. Would you really Hke it ? Do you know I think we 
 could get to be awfully good friends if we had a chance. I feel as 
 if I'd known you for years, in just this Httle time. 
 
 Doris. I do hope we may have a chance. I've been with 
 mother so much, I don't seem to have any really true girl friends. 
 Of course I know lots, but I don't call any of them friends. 
 
 Daisy. Dear me, you talk just like a college girl. 
 
 Doris. People do laugh at my ideas, I know. But I have 
 some very big ones about friendship, I think friendship is a very 
 sacred thing and it ought to mean a lot to both parties, I think it 
 brings obligations and responsibilities — just as love does. 
 
 Daisy. You certainly are different from all the society girls I 
 know. To them a friend is someone to whom to tell all the nice 
 things Jack said, and to discuss all the other girls' clothes with. A 
 really responsible relationship, you see. 
 
 Doris. Sometimes, I thmk perhaps girls aren't capable of such 
 big, disinterested friendships as men are. For instance, there's 
 Tom and Mr. Prescott. They'd do anything on earth for each 
 other, and wouldn't think anything more about it than if they had 
 done it for themselves. 
 
 Daisy. Wait till a woman comes between. 
 
 Doris. A woman could never come between. You don't know 
 what Mr. Prescott is. He's a celebrity of course, but he's a noble 
 man beside. He has ideals and he lives up to them. He never 
 thinks of himiself. There's nothing little or mean about him. He's 
 just a grand, big — 
 
 ENTEPs. Ted, c. d.. Daisy sees him, 
 
 Daisy {aside). Not dressed yet. [EXIT, L. 
 
 (Doris turns hastily ^ sees Ted and is mtich confused,) 
 
 Ted {taki72g both of her ha?ids). Well, Miss Doris, it has been 
 a long while, hasn't it } Might 1 ask whom you were praising so 
 delightfully 
 
 Doris. A — a hero of mine. 
 
 Ted. Lucky hero. Won't you tell me the requirements. You 
 know, I've always wanted to be a hero. 
 
 Doris {hastily). I — I'm afraid there won't be time before 
 dinner. I must dress. 
 
 Ted. So many requirements ? I'm devoured with curiosity. 
 
 Doris {trying to change the subject). How awfully well you're 
 looking. It's two years since I saw — since you were here, isn't it ? 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 13 
 
 Ted. Two long- years, Miss Doris. Seems to me I remember 
 a Christmas party and some mistletoe. I thought I might take a 
 grandfather's privileges, but you evidently didn't agree with me. 
 
 Doris. Mr. Prescott, what embarrassing subjects you insist on 
 talking about. I really must dress for dinner. 
 
 Ted. Oh, but before you go — aren't you going to tell me about 
 this hero of yours ? 
 
 Doris. Would you really like to know about him? 
 
 Ted, You've no idea how much. 
 
 Doris {slowly puts her hands dehmd her. She stands thinking 
 for a inoniefit), Well — 
 
 He must be courteous toward the lowly. 
 To the weak and sorrowful, loving too. 
 He must be courageous, refined and holy. 
 By nature exalted and firm and true." 
 
 Oh, he's everything that's — nice. 
 
 Ted. I only hope you may meet him. Miss Doris. But ideals, 
 I'm afraid, are not much given to prowling about in the flesh. 
 
 Doris. I'm sure of mine. 
 
 Ted. What — what physical attributes is he going to have. 
 
 Doris {glancins; playfully at Ted, %vho looks straight ahead of 
 him). Well, he must be just about my height — not an awfully big" 
 man. (Ted is ld7^ge.) I imagine he 11 have brown eyes. (Ted's 
 are blue,) His hair must be light and curl up on his forehead. 
 (Ted s is dark and straight.) 
 
 Ted. Can you recommend any tonic for hair-curling. 
 
 Doris. Yes, indeed. {Archly) If you eat bread-crusts—' 
 loads and loads — you can accomplish wonders. 
 
 Ted. Well, then we can fix the curls. But. how about height? 
 Didn't Alice in W^onderland have some patent on shrinkage ? 
 
 Doris. But you see your eyes are impossible. You'll never do 
 — no, never. 
 
 Ted {leaning fo7^7t'ard). Miss Doris, if I ever attain the other* 
 requirements, the inner ones, I mean, couldn't you over look the 
 eyes ? 
 
 Doris {hastily.) I 7?mst dress for dinner. Do make yourself 
 at home. Tom will be here directly. [EXIT, C. D. 
 
 Ted {gazing after her). Dear little girl ! 
 
 ENTER Jack, l. 
 
 Jack. Hello, Ted ! I've been wanting lo see you alone evef 
 
 since you came into the house. 
 Ted. What's the matter? 
 Jack. A woman's the matter. 
 Ted {/tastily), Doris? 
 
14 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Jack. No, man ; it's Tom that's the trouble. 
 
 Ted. How long since Tom has been a woman ? 
 
 Jack. See here, Ted, no joking, this is serious business. 
 
 ENTER Aunt Dinah, l., with water. Puts it on table, L. 
 
 Ted. How do you do. Aunt Dinah } We don't have anything 
 to trouble us, do w^e ? 
 
 Aunt Dinah. Thank you, Sah, much obliged, Sah ; thank 
 you Sah— ^ [EXIT, L. 
 
 Ted. Have a smoke. Jack. You'll feel easier in your mind. 
 
 Jack. You remember meeting Mrs. Bronson ? 
 
 Ted. Remarkably hne-looking, I thought 
 
 Jack. Remarkably nothing ! Think, — have you ever seen her 
 before ? 
 
 Ted. She has been toying with your young affections, evi- 
 dently. 
 
 Jack. I'm older than Tom, remember that. Tell me if you 
 have ever seen her before. 
 
 Ted. Her face was familiar, but I've no idea where I've seen 
 her — New York } London ? Paris } I believe it was in Paris. 
 
 Jack. Just so. In Paris, four years ago. Mrs. Louton at that 
 time. 
 
 Ted. You don't mean that woman ? 
 
 Jack. Ah, you remember her She was having a gay time in 
 Paris } Young Bronson was hanging around — a nice young chap 
 too. You remember her manoeuvres ? He had money, so he was 
 her game. He died a few months after the marriage, luckily for 
 him. 
 
 Ted. What is that woman doing here ? 
 
 Jack. Tom and his millions. He's young and easy, and Mrs. 
 Bronson has him just where she wants him. They'll be married 
 and it's all up wath Tom and his life. 
 
 Ted. You are absolutely certain of this ? 
 
 Jack. Sure as I am sitting here. I knew her the moment I 
 laid eyes on her. Of course she doesn't know we've ever seen or 
 heard of her before. 
 
 Ted. Tom must be told the whole wretched story at once. 
 
 Jack. Told ! My dear fellow, Tom's beyond that. I've told 
 him everything, talked till I was black and blue in the face. How 
 much effect does it have on Tom ? He said she had already told 
 him everything — he doesn't care what her life has been. She loves 
 him — he will make up to her for the way the world has treated her 
 — and all that sort of thing. The boy is infatuated — clean gone. 
 
 Ted. If it has gone as far as that, talking will do no good. 
 
 Jack. If Tom does marry her, the harm isn't going to end there. 
 When Mrs. Raymond realizes that Mrs. Bronson cares for nothing 
 but money — and that Tom is tied to a woman like that — for better, 
 
1 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 15 
 
 for worse — I really think it will kill her. And as for Doris — well, 
 you know yourself, how wrapped up they are in Tom. 
 Ted. Yes. 
 
 Jack. I've had time to think about this thing and I've thought 
 of a way to stop it. It's the only way I can think of. A man 
 would have to care a lot for old Tom to do it. There are few men 
 could do it. I \\\\vlV yotc could. 
 
 Ted. What do you mean } 
 
 Jack. Do you remember that thing of Browning's we had in 
 college ? I remember the lines. 
 
 ** And before my friend be wholly hers, 
 How easy to prove to him, I said, 
 An eagle's the game her pride prefers, 
 Though she snaps at a wren instead." 
 
 You see what my scheme is ? 
 
 Ted. You mean you want me deliberately to try to win this 
 woman ? 
 
 Jack. Just that. Remember you're a big catch. " She'll throw 
 Tom over, all right. That will prove to Tom what she is after — 
 and it will effectually prove it. 
 
 Ted. What of her ? Remember its an awkward thing to 
 play with souls." 
 
 Jack. Soul — in connection with her ! But it certainly is a hard 
 thing to ask a man to do— you must use all your diplomacy and not 
 go too far. Just far enough for her to throw Tom over. 
 
 Ted. It's a mean trick to play on any woman. 
 
 Jack. Well, it's a choice between her and Tom. 
 
 Ted. Great Scott, man, do you realize what this thing is you're 
 so calmly planning } But — I — I can't let the boy go that way ! 
 
 Jack. I think it's more than that, Ted. It is you and the 
 woman on one hand. It's Tom and Mrs. Raymond and Doris on 
 the other. It's this whole family. You must think of the rest. 
 
 Ted {slowfy). Yes, of the rest. 
 
 ENTER Mrs. Bronson, at c. t>., followed by Tom. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Oh, pardon us. We didn't mean to interrupt 
 this solemn conclave. [EXIT laughifigly with TOM. 
 
 Ted I'll try it, Jack. 
 
 (TJiey clasp right hands,) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
16 
 
 A Widow^s Wiles. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE. — Drawing-room in the Raymonds* country-house, one 
 week later. Soine moments before the curtai^i rises, music is 
 heard off stage and voices singing a Negro sojtg. When the 
 song is nearly finished, the curtain is raised, DISCOVERING 
 Ted and Mrs. Bronson seated on a sofa R. C. Percy and 
 Grace are seated up ^, of Q. Tom is just in front of them, 
 looking sulky, DoRis, Jack, Daisy Percy sitti7ig in a 
 group L. DORi s is covertly watching MRS. Bronson. Wal- 
 ter and Mrs. Pueblo stroll in at R. as the song e?tds. All 
 applaud, 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Isn't that charming. Do get them to sing 
 some more. 
 
 Percy, Jack and Walter {in college chorus style). We want 
 some more. We want some more. 
 
 Tom {walks R.) We'll see what can be done. {Signals off R. 
 Siftging is repeated. All stroll arotmd until song is finished) 
 
 ENTER Mrs. Raymond, c. d. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. Doris, some other guests are arriving. {To 
 All) It's so beautiful to-night, we'll have some dancing out on 
 the piazza. I thought you might enjoy it that way. 
 
 {Dafice 7nusic is heard off R. softly as if at so7ne dista7ice and con- 
 tinues at ifttervals during the entire act.) 
 
 Percy {coming toward MRS. BRONSON ). A dance ! Aw, I 
 say, it's my turn, don't you think? 
 
 [Mrs. Raymond, Doris and Jack EXIT, c. d. 
 [Walter, Grace a7idVL^^. Pueblo, EXIT, r. 
 
 Ted. {offeri7ig Mrs. Bronson, his ar7n. To Percy). Foiled 
 again. Mrs. Bronson is engaged to me — to trip the light fantastic. 
 You'll have to hustle there, Percy, my boy. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {holdi7tg out her hand to Percy). I'll save you 
 a dance, reserved for you exclusively. Tom has the next one or I'd 
 give you that. 
 
 [EXIT Mrs. Bronson and Ted, r., laughing a7id talking, 
 Daisy. I'm so sorry your head aches, Tom. Can't I do any- 
 thing ? 
 
 Tom. Nothing, thanks. I'll just have a smoke. 
 
 Percy {sta7iding at C. D.). Aw, I say. Miss Daisy, my head 
 aches awfully too, don't cher know. I need attention very badly. 
 ( To Tom, tryi7tg to be jovial) I say, Tom, Mrs. Bronson's thrown 
 us both down. Cheer up, old man, there are plenty more pretty 
 girls. 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 17 
 
 (Tom winces and turns, Daisy glances quickly at TOM.) 
 
 Daisy {to Percy, hurriedly). Come, Mr. Huston, I'll see 
 what can be done for you. 
 
 [:^/ie glances back at TOM. EXIT, C. D. 
 Percy. Deucedly clever girl. [EXIT, c. D. 
 
 (Tom throws hifnself 07i the lounge, his hands deep in his pockets, 
 Frow7is, Then throws away his cigarette and puts his head 
 on his hands) 
 
 ENTER Doris, c. d. Sees Tom, runs to him, kneels beside him^ 
 and tries to put her arm around his neck, 
 
 Doris. Tommie, dear, don't. She — she isn't worth it. {She 
 waits a minute) Tom, speak to me. Besides she — she may just 
 be fooling with — Mr. Prescott. ( Trying to comfort him) If you 
 really care so much — she may care too. 
 
 (Tom rises hastily. Walks across the room, throwing back his 
 shoulders,) 
 
 Tom. I shall find that out soon. 
 
 (Doris continues sitting on the floor ^ gazing at TOM.) 
 
 Doris. Even if it is earnest, Tom — it — she — do you think she's 
 worth it all ? 
 
 Tom ^fiercely). Worth it ? You don't know what you're talk- 
 ing about. Worth it ? Good heavens ! What's that got to do 
 with it ? {In a changed tone) And that it should be Ted ! 
 
 Doris {getting up). Yes, he's turned out — differently from I 
 — we expected. 
 
 {She walks across front of stage L. TOM looks at her a mornent. 
 Then crosses quickly and takes her i7i his arms.) 
 
 Tom. It's pretty tough, dear, all round. {Laughing heard 
 outside) 
 
 ENTER Mrs. Bronson ^7«^Ted, c. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. No, this is really Tommie's dance. Well, 
 Tommie, do you think it's good form to make me come after you ? 
 I do believe you had forgotten. 
 
 Tom {gravely), I had not forgotten. 
 
 (Doris crosses quickly to R.) 
 
 Ted. Miss Doris, may I - 
 
 2 
 
18 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Doris {hastily^, I have to see mother, please excuse me. 
 
 [EXIT, R. 
 
 (Ted looks after her and then EXITS, R.) 
 
 (Mrs. Bronson sinks on lounge L. TOM stands in front of her.) 
 
 Tom {in a low and intense tone). You know this cannot go on 
 this way another minute. You must decide between us — Ted and 
 me. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Dear boy, don't look so tragic. 
 
 Tom. Tragic ? Yes, look at me. You think Fm a boy, don't 
 you ? You think you can toy and play with me and then throw 
 me away when you're tired. You can't do it. Do you hear me ? 
 You cant do it. You promised to be my wife. (MRS. BRONSON 
 rises, Tom looks at her a moment and then seises her hand pas* 
 sionately) Helen, you can't trample on my love. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson [quickly). Tom, dear, I— I cannot bear to 
 hurt you, but — when I promised to marry you, Tom, I thought it 
 was love. But since then, a greater love has come into my life. 
 (Tom drops her hands and turns away abruptly) I couldn't 
 help it, could I, dear } I struggled against it, but it came and 
 swept me off my feet. I can't marry you, loving another one more. 
 You wouldn't have me, would you ? {Pleadingly) I'm trying to 
 be honest with you, Tom. 
 
 Tom. Honest with me ! Damnation. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Tom, you forget yourself. 
 
 Tom. Forget myself ! Good Lord, if I could. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson (layi?tg her hand on his arm). Tom, dear, if 
 you know how this hurts, how sorry — sorry I am. 
 
 Tom {turns quickly and takes her in his arms). Helen, this 
 can't be final, it can't be all over — I — I cannot let you go. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. It wouldn't be right to let you go on waiting. 
 Ted— 
 
 Tom (almost flings her fro?n hifn). Curse him ! ( Walks 
 quickly to R. Turns and looks at her. Her back is turned, he 
 starts toward her, then turns) [EXIT qtcickly, R. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {sinks on couch). Such scenes are rather ex- 
 hausting. Enough of boys. But I must make sure of the other. 
 Suppose I should love them both. {Seniles complacently) I guess 
 there's no danger. I really hadn't intended dropping Tom and his 
 millions quite so soon, but dear me, what could I do } 
 
 ENTER Daisy W Jack, c. d. 
 
 Daisy. Here's Mrs. Bronson. What have you done with your 
 swains ? 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. What do you do with them, Miss Burton ? 
 You manage dances so skilfully, I do envy you. 
 
A Widow^s Wiles. 
 
 19 
 
 Daisy. Just say, " Go to, i* faith," and dance with the one I 
 like the best. 
 
 Jack. And this is my dance ! Daisy, you'd better take it 
 back. 
 
 Daisy. You know perfectly well you don't count, Jack — not 
 the least bit. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Miss Burton, you're so refreshing. But sup- 
 pose, you can't decide which one you like the best — there have 
 been such cases, you know. 
 
 Daisy. Just say, ** My mother told me, to take this one," and 
 always obey your mother. It's really very simple when you have 
 reduced it to a science. 
 
 ENTER Ted, r. 
 
 Ted. You, given to sciences. Miss Daisy ? {He leans over 
 Mrs. Bronson's sofa) 
 
 Daisy. You, a member of the Honorable House of Representa- 
 tives, given to eavesdropping ? Would you have thought it, Mrs. 
 Bronson ? 
 
 Ted. Shocking bad form, I admit. Being in the House brings 
 frightful responsibilities. Speaking of responsibilities, Mrs. Bron- 
 son, Tm sent to conduct you to the scene of the night-blooming 
 cereus. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {rises, laughing). Another frightful responsi- 
 bility. {They start to c) Since Miss Burton's conversation witU 
 you doesn't count, Mr. Fenton, you had both better come and se^ 
 the plant too. [EXIT MRS. Bronson^;^^ Ted, C. 
 
 Daisy. Do you know, Jack, I'm beginning to like Mrs. Bron^ 
 son. Even if she has treated Tom so. 
 
 JAGK. Why^ might I ask } 
 
 Daisy. I like the way she does things better. And I think 
 there's no fooling this time. I think she's honestly fathoms deep 
 in love with Ted Prescott. She's grown so quiet, and have you 
 noticed the way she looks at him, when he isn't looking ? 
 
 Jack. Great Scott ! Do you really think that ? 
 
 Daisy. Why, what's the matter with that } He is evidently 
 just crazy about her. I didn't think she was capable of a shred of 
 love, but I begin to think I've misjudged her. 
 
 Jack. Ha, a pretty mess ! 
 
 Daisy, Pretty mess ? What are you talking about ? I 
 thought you were the person who stood up so terribly for Mrs. 
 Bronson. 
 
 Jack. Do you really think she is in love with him ? 
 
 ENTER Doris, c. 
 
 Doris. Oh, here you are, Daisy. {^They stand with arms 
 around each other) 
 
20 
 
 A Widow^s Wiles. 
 
 Daisy. Doris, you have g-ot to stop doing so much. Let us 
 entertain ourselves. You look so white and tired, dear. 
 
 Doris. Nonsense, I'm all right. Have you seen the plant ? 
 
 Daisy. No, Mrs. Bronson was just telling us to come up. 
 
 Doris. You had better hurry. Father has it closed up at ten. 
 
 Daisy. Oh, I do want to see it. [EXIT, c. D. 
 
 Doris {drops into chair). Jack, if you want to be amused, you 
 had better go with her. I'm too tired to be agreeable. 
 
 Jack. Won't you let me stay with you, Doris ? 
 
 Doris. Oh, yes, you may stay if you want to. 
 
 Jack. Doris, we used to be such good friends. Somehow, 
 lately, our friendship — 
 
 Doris. Friendship ! There's no such thing as friendship. 
 (Jack starts) No, of course, I don't mean that, but — people — 
 yes, I guess I do. 
 
 Jack. What — in thunder — have I done ? 
 
 Doris. You ! You haven't done anything — I — I'm just 
 generalizing. 
 
 Jack. People don't generalize without some provocation 
 
 Doris. I — I wonder if there are any really great men now- 
 a-days. 
 
 Jack. I think there are a few. Doris, if you'd only give an 
 ordinary fellow a chance, some hope of reward 
 
 Doris. Let's not discuss it, please. That is not the kind of 
 greatness I mean — the kind that wants a reward. It is the kind 
 that goes on and on and never says anything. But I'm learning 
 that there are not many people who come at all near to be ideals. 
 
 Jack. Doris, why are you always after ideals — I imagine they'd 
 be pretty uncomfortable to live with. 
 
 Doris, I didn't always think my ideals were so rare. But 
 listen, Jack. I want your advice — that is — well, listen. 
 
 Jack. I'm all attention. 
 
 Doris. Suppose you were in love with somebody 
 
 Jack {aside). That's straight goods. 
 
 Doris. Who you thought was all that was big and noble and 
 true, and then you found out that he — she — wasn't what you'd 
 thought after all. Ah — ah, you ought to stop lovipg, oughtn't you ? 
 
 Jack. Why, I don't know that you could unlove all at once. 
 
 Doris {walks to one side. Aside), Oh, no, you can't. 
 
 ENTER Ted, c. d. 
 
 Jack. Hello, Ted. 
 
 (Doris starts, then EXITS quickly R.) 
 
 Jack. Something's wrong with Doris. 
 Ted. Jack, this is a costly business. 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 21 
 
 Jack. YouVe doing it up brown. She's thrown Tom over as 
 nicely as possible. You've got more tact, Ted 
 
 Ted. Tact ? What's tact got to do with business like this ? 
 Jack, I'm afraid it's getting serious. I nearly chucked up the 
 whole thing last night — I found I had gone a little farther than I 
 meant. Then I happened to see Tom — and I kept on. 
 
 Jack. Well, you can chuck it up pretty soon — as soon as Tom's 
 safe. The joke of the thing is, the lady's really falling in love 
 with you. 
 
 Ted. Joke? 
 
 Jack. Well, call it tragedy then. Daisy Burton has noticed it ; 
 with a woman's intuition. She says it's the real thing now and no 
 counterfeit. Ha, you're going to end by reforming her. 
 
 Ted. Look here, man, this may be a joking matter for you, but 
 remember it's not (ov7ne — nor for /ter. I've noticed things myself. 
 Of course, I thought it was acting — till lately, 
 
 (Mtiszc heard again off R.) 
 
 Jack. You'd better do the light aside before you get in it 
 yourself. 
 
 Ted. In it myself .-^ Jack — if — if I've honestly made that 
 woman care for me ? — Great Heavens, what would a man, with 
 any sense of honor, do } 
 
 Jack. Ted, you don't mean to marry her yourself! 
 
 ENTER Mr. Raymond, Daisy and Grace, c. d. The negroes 
 follow with the }7itisicians playing a Reel. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Come on, young gentlemen, the ladies want 
 an old-style Virginia reel. That's right, fly round now. Come on, 
 Miss Grace, you and I'll lead. Hurry up there, Ted, there's Mrs. 
 Bronson. 
 
 ENTER Mrs. Raymond, Mrs. Bronson and Percy. 
 
 ( There is much laughter. They dance a short Reel. Ted tries 
 to be light. Jack looks pretty worried.) 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. Father, we haven't danced so much in years. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. And such pigeon-wings as we used to cut. 
 You young fellows aren't half so spry as we used to be. 
 
 Percy. And, I say, Mr. Raymond, I'll challenge you to a race, a 
 moonlight race across the lawn. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. I'll take you up— and beat you—Miss Grace, 
 you shall judge. 
 
 Grace {taking a bunch of violets fro7n her dress). For the 
 winner ! 
 
22 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Come on, all of you. You all can be the jury, 
 
 [EXIT all wilh much laughter, 
 
 (As Daisy and Mrs. Bronson are going, Ted being still in the 
 room, Tom enters L.) 
 
 Tom {to Ted). I would like to speak to you a moment. 
 
 (Mrs. Bronson and Daisy look apprehensively at both men.) 
 
 [EXIT Both, c. d. 
 
 Tom. I want to tell you that, under the circumstances, it will 
 be impossible for me to go to Washington with you, as we had 
 planned. 
 
 Ted. This is as good a time and place as any. I may as well 
 explain things. 
 Tom. Explain? 
 
 Ted. Tom, I know how you feel. You're sore all over — 
 especially against me. Listen, Tom, I did this thing deliberately 
 and with a purpose. It seemed the only way to save you from her. 
 She wasn't the right sort for yoti, Tom, and this showed her up 
 pretty clearly. It may be tough, man, but you see now it was only 
 your money she was after. 
 
 Tom [fiercely). Do you expect me to believe that rot ? You're 
 mad with love for her — mad. Do you mean to tell me you've no 
 intention of marrying her (Ted starts) Ah, you acknowledge it ! 
 Cut out your damned excuses. 
 
 Ted. See here, you're supposed to be a man, with a man's 
 judgment and common sense. 
 
 Tom. It's a wonder I'm anything. The woman I loved more 
 than anything on this earth — do you hear — and you — you — who 
 I'd thought was the best friend I had — to come between — deliber- 
 ately to cut me out in my own house. 
 
 Ted. Do you mean to tell me you doubt my word ? 
 
 Tom. Doubt ? Every word you say is a lie, you're trying to 
 crawl. To save me. {Laughs hysterically) Good-bye, my 
 friend. {Starts toward L.) 
 
 Ted. If I were a boy, I might indulge in a little passion too. 
 If you imagine for an instant I'm doing this thing for the love of it 
 — See here, we're not a couple of schoolboys, we are supposed to 
 be friends. Where's your faith, trust ? 
 
 Tom. Faith ! Trust ! Rubbish ! Give me back the woman, and 
 you can take your good for nothing friendship and go. [EXIT L. 
 
 Ted. The boy doesn't mean it. He's blind with passion. 
 ( Walks up and down) It can't be all for nothing. The boy 
 must see it. Good Lord, does that woman really — care ? {Sinks 
 on couch.) I — I can't marry her. Honor, honor. {Fiercely) What 
 is honor } Doris ? Good Lord, may it be only acting. {He sits 
 with his head ifi his hands) 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 23 
 
 (Mrs. Bron son a/f/f ears at C. D. Smiles couiprehensively. Then 
 she changes to a syniipathetic expression. Advances softly^ 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {softly). Ted, what is the matter? 
 
 Ted (starts). Don't feel just right. That's all. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Is there anything I can do ? Or would you 
 rather just have me go away } I'm so sorry. 
 
 Ted. Don't trouble about me. I'm not worth it. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {slowly). Worth it.^ Do you know, do you 
 know, what that means to nie? 
 
 Ted {earliest ly). Tell me. 
 
 Mrs. Bronson {looking straight ahead of her, and evidently 
 speaking with effort). It means you are the first honorable man 
 I have ever known — the first man who has made me ashamed of 
 what I am. My life has not been what it should have been — the 
 aim in it has not been very high — I-~I never had a mother to guide 
 me — to advise me — but I have been most to blame. Then — 1 met 
 Tom, I liked him — but {quickly) I was going to marry him for his 
 money. This is the whole story, and then— yon came and I knew 
 the difference. I struggled against it — but you won me in spite 
 of myself. You will hate and despise me — but, oh, Ted, after what 
 you said last night — I had to tell you everything. 
 
 Ted (sternly). Are you telling me the truth ? 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Yes, the truth. If it's going to turn you from 
 me — I — I am still glad I told you — but — it would kill me. Ted, 
 speak to me. You, do not doubt my word. 
 
 Ted (slowly). No, Helen, I believe you. This means that we 
 — that you — Helen, you will marry me, you will be my wife? 
 (Mrs. Bronson turns away. For a jnomeftt, a look of triumph 
 goes over her face. Theii she turns and speaks very softly.) 
 
 Mrs. Bronson. Whenever you wish, Ted. 
 
 ENTER Doris, c. d. 
 
 Doris. Oh, pardon me, I didn't know anyone was here. 
 Mrs. Bronson. Tell her, Ted. I can't. [EXIT, L. 
 
 Doris (stiffly). I hope you will pardon my intrusion, Mr. Pres- 
 cott. 
 
 Ted. Miss Doris, I beg of you — Miss Doris, (slowly) Mrs. 
 Bronson has consented to be my wife. 
 
 (Doris starts slightly, then tttrns, and holds out her ha7td.) 
 
 Doris {with effort), I — I'm sure I congratulate you and— 
 wish you all happiness. 
 
 (Ted bows his head slowly over her hand^and then quickly 
 kisses it,^ 
 
24 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Ted {broke7ily). Good-bye— Doris. [EXIT, C. D., hastily. 
 
 (Doris stands irresolute a moment a7td then flings herself on the 
 couch, her head on her arm, weeping violently. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE. — Three years later. Drawing-room in the Raymonds* 
 town residence, elegantly furnished, Entraftces at R., L., and 
 at centre of flat. Window L. of C. D. Sofa down L. C. 
 Tea-table at R. C. DISCOVERED, Grace, seated near rear 
 of tea-table; MRS. PUEBLO on sofa, making an afternoon 
 call ; Doris i7i front of table pouring tea. 
 
 Grace {laughing^. Dear Doris, you say things just the same 
 way you used to. 
 
 Doris. Don't tell me I say the same things. Do give me 
 credit for a Httle improvement. I'm three years older now, you 
 know — and very worldly-wise 
 
 Grace. It doesn't seem three years since that memorable 
 house-party, does it ? 
 
 Mrs. Pueblo. I can't realize that it was so long ago. You 
 haven't been South since, have you.'* 
 
 Grace. No, I've been prancing about over the water. Dear 
 me, how time flies 
 
 Mrs. Pueblo. Which reminds me I've only seven more 
 engagements this afternoon. {Rises.) 
 
 Doris. Oh, I'm sorry you must go. It's been so long since 
 I've really seen you. 
 
 Mrs. Pueblo. YouVe such a recluse, Doris. Not one of my 
 receptions have you been to, and such charming men as I have im- 
 ported for the occasions. You 7nust come to my next. Good-bye, 
 Miss Huston, I'm so glad to have seen you again. Good-bye, 
 Doris. [EXIT, C. D. 
 
 Grace. Now we can have a little gossip — Thank you, I will 
 have some more tea. Oh, I'd forgotten. {U^tfastens charm 
 from watch) I picked this up for you in Paris. 
 
 Doris. How dear of you to think of me in the delights of 
 Paris. 
 
 Grace. Paris was a whirl. And my poor art— I lost it com- 
 pletely — it cured me. Society now for me, thanks. 
 Doris. How long were you in Paris ? 
 
A Widow's Wileo. 
 
 25 
 
 Grace. Nine months, my dear, it seemed like a dav — we 
 stayed mostly at the Continental. Oh, I had almost forg-otien to 
 tell you. Who do you suppose was staying there ? 
 
 (Doris starts slight fy.) 
 
 Grace {rattling o?i). Mr. Prescott and that scandalous wife of 
 his — My dear, the talk about her ! She certainly led him a life. I 
 never could understand how he came to marry her, could you } 
 
 ENTER Dinah, C. d., takes teapot and EXIT. 
 
 Doris (confused). It — it was — rather odd. {Trying to change 
 the subject) Did you meet the Jamesons over there } 
 
 Grace. Just my luck — not to. But let me tell you about Mr. 
 Prescott. I never have seen a man so changed. He used. to be 
 so jolly and everything, and he's grown so quiet and tragic-look- 
 ing. I should think he would with that dreadful woman. 
 
 (Doris fusses with the tea-things then glances out of the 
 wi?idow.) 
 
 Doris. Here comes Daisy. How fortunate. 
 Grace. She lives in town now, doesn't she ? To think of her 
 and Tom, engaged ! 
 
 Doris. We are all very much pleased — — 
 
 ENTER Daisy, c. d. 
 
 Doris. Here's a friend of yours, Daisy. {Shakes hands with 
 her) 
 
 Daisy. Why, Grace Huston, how do you do ? 
 
 Grace. So glad to see you. How are you ? 
 
 Daisy. Same old girl. {Leans over the back of DORIS'S chair 
 and kisses her) How is your brother ? Is he down here too } 
 
 Grace. Yes, he expects to come over this afternoon. I 
 couldn't wait for him, but just ran over for a moment myself. 
 
 ENTER Dinah with fresh tea, and EXIT C. D. 
 
 Daisy. It certainly is good to see old friends. 
 
 Doris. Have some tea now. {Takes some to Daisy) 
 
 Daisy. Speaking of friends — have you heard the latest defini- 
 tion ? A friend is someone who knows all about you and still likes 
 you. How does that strike you } 
 
 Grace. According to that, there are not many friends in the 
 world. 
 
 Doris. Which is very true. A rather good definition, I think. 
 
26 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Daisy. Now, Doris, don't get cynical. When Doris gets 
 started that way — I have to take her in hand, {playfully) gently 
 but firmly. 
 
 Grace. Doris, cynical ! Dear me, you must have changed. 
 But I must trot. Hundreds of things to do as usual. {Rises and 
 billions coal) 
 
 Doris. Don't you ever stop rushing ? 
 
 Grace. No, indeed. I haven't a doubt but I shall die of heart 
 failure — Wasn't it sudden with Mr. Prescott's wife ? 
 Daisy. Mr. Prescott's wife ? 
 
 Grace. Why, yes, hadn't you heard about it 1 She died nearly 
 a year ago — heart failure. It near scared me to death. But dear 
 me, what can one do } I shall rush to the end of time. Good- 
 bye, Daisy. Good-bve, Doris. So glad to have seen you, dear. 
 
 [EXIT, c. D. 
 
 Daisy. So Mrs. Bronson, I mean, Mrs. Prescott — is dead ! 
 Ha, I wonder how Ted Prescott feels about it. How infatuated 
 Tom was ! But I've nevxr been really jealous about it, because — 
 well, that wasn't love, was it ? 
 
 Doris {busy wilh the lea-things). No, dear, don't worry. 
 
 Daisy. Do you remember how you used to rave about Ted 
 Prescott's nobility and all that ? Well, I don't suppose I ought to 
 say anything mean since he certainly prevented Mrs. Bronson's 
 getting Tom — lucky for Tom. 
 
 Doris. Give me your hat, Daisy — Why haven't you taken it 
 off? 
 
 Daisy {taking out her hatpins). Sometimes mean things like 
 that, turn out best for the people they're intended to hurt. Don't 
 you think so } 
 
 Doris {straightenijtg some books on a table). Sometimes. 
 
 Daisy. I wonder if he and Tom will ever make it up. If a 
 person ever did a thing like that to me, I'd be so angry, I — I'd hiss 
 and run up the wall. 
 
 Doris {trying to be light). Oh, Daisy, nothing so dreadful ! 
 
 Daisy. Yes, just that. 
 
 ENTER Tom, c. d., singing, 
 
 Tom. Hello, there ! Why wasn't I informed that you were 
 here ? Doris will excuse us. {He turns DAISY around and kisses 
 her) 
 
 Daisy. Silly boy ! 
 
 Doris. Don't mind me, dear children. I'm blind and deaf. 
 Besides I'm going up-stairs. 
 
 Daisy. If you go one step, I'll 
 
 Doris {teasingly). ** Kiss and run up the wall." [EXIT, C. D. 
 Tom {suddenly). Daisy, why doesn't Doris get engaged. 
 There'ie plenty of suitors hanging around. There's old Jack 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 27 
 
 Fenton been adoring" these three years. Now, if she only knew 
 how nice it was. {Puts his arin aromid her) 
 
 Daisy. Tom, I should think you were a Freshman in college, 
 instead of being supposed to have some sense. 
 
 Tom. Now, Daisy, when a fellow's a hard-working laborer, he 
 -might be allowed a little foolishness. 
 
 I) AlSY {piqued). Foolishness! Oh, very well, Mr. Raymond. 
 
 Tom. What in thunder can I say ? If I say 
 
 Daisy {teasingly puis her hand over his niouth). There — dear, 
 you may say anything. 
 
 Tom. Oh, very well then. There's a certain girl whose eyes 
 the loveliest 
 
 Daisy. In reason. Mr. Raymond. Do be sensible, Tom. Do 
 you know what I heard this afternoon ? ( Watches hiiu) Mrs. 
 Bronson, Ted Prescott's wife, died nearly a year ago, 
 
 Tom. Yes, I heard it this afternoon. One bad woman out of 
 the world. 
 
 Daisy. I— I thought you used to 
 
 Tom. Yes, I did use to — pretty hard. I was easy all right. 
 Why can't such women leave boys alone. 
 
 Daisy. Well, she got Ted Prescott and he was no boy. 
 
 Tom. Let's not talk about Ted. He got all he deserved — and 
 more. But you know, Daisy, since I've grown older and heard 
 more about Mrs. Bronson, sometimes I've had an awful feeling 
 that maybe I misjudged him after all. Good Lord, if I did ! 
 
 Daisy. I don't exactly see how you could misjudge him. Oh, 
 here's Papa Raymond, that is to be. 
 
 ENTER Mr. Raymond, c. d. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Well, Daisy, what are you doing with my boy ? 
 
 Daisy. He's perfectly safe with me I guarantee. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Well, he looks precious like going to a nice 
 little funeral. {Goes to R. and calls) Doris, come and give me 
 tea. {To Daisy) Can't get along without my tea. 
 
 ENTER Doris, r. 
 
 Doris. Sorry to have kept you waiting. Papa. {Pours hiin tea) 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Just a little cup — that's it. I'm in a big rush- 
 Take my advice, Daisy, always give men tea in the afternoon to 
 keep 'em sweet tempered. 
 
 Daisy. And give them muffins for breakfast, and coffee in the 
 middle of the morning, and a lovely luncheon and a big dinner and 
 after-dinner coffee — Oh. Yes. I know all about managing sweet- 
 tempered masculines. 
 
 Mr. Raymond. I'm afraid to have you come in the family. 
 
28 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Now, Doris {affectionately piiUi7ig her ear) never says such things. 
 Daisy. No, hers are much, much worse. 
 
 {V>0'R.\'$>lattghs quietly.) 
 
 Mr. Raymond. By the way, Tom, I met an old friend of yours 
 down town. Ted Prescott. 
 
 1:0^1 {startled), Ted Prescott ! 
 
 (Doris starts, the7i bejids over the tea-table.) 
 
 Mr. Raymond. Why, yes. {Drinkmg tea, he doestit fiotice 
 the effect on Tom) Wife's dead and he comes back. He's going 
 into pohtics again full force. Of course 1 asked him to stay with 
 us while he's in town. Another little cup, please. (DORIS can 
 scarcely take the cup) 
 
 Tom. You asked him to stay here ! 
 
 Mr. Raymond. W^hy, of course. However, he said he couldn't 
 — only in town for a short time. He'll be up to pay his respects 
 this afternoon. Be sure to be in, some of you. 
 
 ENTER Mrs. Raymond, c. d. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. Father, the carriage is waiting for you. 
 Mr. Raymond. No rest for the righteous. Good-bye, all of 
 you. Don't forget to be at home — Doris — or some of you. 
 
 [EXIT, C. D. 
 
 (Mrs. Raymond talks to Doris aside. Tom and Daisy are at 
 front, R.) 
 
 Daisy {softly). Are you quite sure you are not the tiniest bit 
 sorry about Mrs. Bronson } 
 
 (Tom looks back hastily and sees the others are occupied. He 
 kisses her), [EXIT BOTH, R. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond {looking ajixiously at Doris). Doris dear, I'm 
 afraid my little girl isn't happy. 
 
 Doris {rises and walks across the room). It's just nerves, I 
 guess. {Trying to be light) I'm getting so old, dear. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. Sometimes I almost think you haven't gotten 
 over your childish hero-worship. Doris, you must not expect men 
 to come up to ideals — if you wait for that, dear, I'm afraid you'll 
 never be happy. 
 
 Doris. Don't you think I can ever be happy without marrying 
 somebody ? 
 
 Mrs. Raymond. It's the perfect happiness — it is the crow^n of 
 womanhood, and I don't want my little girl to miss it. Are you 
 trying to decide about Jack Fenton, dear } 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 29 
 
 Doris {putting her arms aroimd her). Mother dear, what a 
 match-maker you are. 
 
 ENTER Sambo c. d. ; annotmces 
 Mass Fenton, Miss Doris. 
 
 Mrs. Raymond {hastily). There, clear, smooth your hair — • 
 
 Ask him to stay for dinner — if you want to. [EXIT, R. 
 
 ENTER Jack, C. D. With a roll of maittiscript under his left 
 arm. He has a bunch of red roses in his rig Jit hand, %vJiich he 
 gives to Doris. 
 
 Jack. To actually find you alone. Here's luck. 
 
 Doris. Aren't they lovely ? Thank you so much, Jack. {Ar* 
 ranges them i7i a vase, Jack watches her) 
 
 Jack. Doris, pay attention to me — I'll only bother you a few 
 minutes. Then I'm going- up to work in Tom's library. 
 
 Doris. Jack, I'm sure I always pay you the most respectful at- 
 tention. {Site still arranges the flowers. Jack gets up, walks 
 over and sta^ids beside her) 
 
 Jack. Red roses ! Sign of true love. I — want you to wear one 
 to-night — if there's any hope for me? 
 
 Doris. Jack, please don't. 
 
 Jack {excitedly). Don't answer me tiow. I'll wait — please just 
 
 think about it. You know how I 
 
 Doris {hastily). Jack, don't. 
 
 Jack. I know, you'll say, no ; now — don't — just — here. (Takes 
 a rose from the vase and gives it to DORIS, who takes it 7nechaniC' 
 ally) Just wear it to-night — Doris — if there's any hope for me. 
 {Chokes. Picks up ma7iuscripts lie brought in with him) 
 
 [EXIT, c. D. 
 
 (Doris mechanically plays with the rose.) 
 
 Doris. Dear old Jack. {Siniles sadly. A pause) Ted Pres- 
 cott's in town — coming here ! Why can't I forget him ? {Her 
 face hardens) [EXIT, R. 
 
 ENTER Percy Huston, C. d., gazes aroimd with his eyeglass, 
 
 Percy. Aw, I say, where is everybody ? Here I blow in — blow 
 around — where the deuce are they } {Loo/cs around) 
 
 ENTER Daisy, r. 
 
 Daisy. Why, how do you do ? 
 
 Percy (^aside). Well, I'll be blowed. Somebody at last. {To 
 
80 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Daisy.) Charmed, I'm sure. Are you living here now, Miss 
 Daisy. 
 Daisy. Not yet. 
 
 Percy. But expect to. Congratulations. I heard about it, don't 
 cher know. Do you tJiink Tom would really dare trust you alone 
 with me ? 
 
 Daisy {a7mised). I'm afraid he might be worried. 
 Percy. I have rather a bad name among the ladies. 
 
 ENTER Jack, \..,goes to Daisy without seemg Percy. 
 
 Jack. Say, Daisy, I want your help. Can I have a private con- 
 versation for about — {Sees PERCY) 
 
 Percy. Charmed, old man. {Shakes hands with hnn) 
 Jack. Why, hello there ! {Not especially pleased) 
 Percy. Well, this is delightful. For a time I thought I shouldn't 
 find anyone. I was weally getting quite wowvvied. 
 Jack. Have you seen the family? 
 
 Percy. No, don't cher know. But then, I can talk to you just 
 as well. 
 
 {]ACVi glances despairingly at Daisy.) 
 
 Daisy {gla7icing teasingly at Jack). Do tell us all about your 
 adventures all these years. You must have a string of hearts in your 
 possession. 
 
 Percy. Aw, now, Miss Daisy, I believe you're jollyin* me. 
 Well, how is all this nice little bunch ? Deah old Tom, how is he.^ 
 
 Jack. Pretty fine — if you hurry, you can catch him at his office 
 • — he's generally there about this time. 
 
 Percy. Deah me, no, I can't hurry, don't cher knov/. See him 
 some other time. Well, who else is there.? Aw — yes — Prescott — 
 the grand one — how's he ? 
 
 T)AISY. We haven't seen him in a long time. 
 
 Percy. Do you know, I used to think sometimes that he and 
 Tom had a wow about that Mrs. Bronson, I used to weally think 
 they did. 
 
 Jack. Say, Percy, my boy, I'd be careful about how much 
 thinking I did if I were you. 
 
 Percy. Aw, now, I say — but as I was sayin' • 
 
 Jack. There, isn't that Doris out in the garden now ? You'd 
 better hurry before she goes out. 
 
 Daisy (looking out of the window). Why, Jack ! 
 
 (Jack quickly motio7ts her to be silent.) 
 
 Percy. Why, I don't care about 
 
 Jack. There, she's starting, hurry up or she'll be gone. 
 Percy. Weally, won't you people mind if I go ? 
 
A Widow's Wiles. 31 
 
 Jack. Not a bit. Hurry before she goes. 
 
 Percy. I fly I [EXIT, r. 
 
 (Daisy drops in a chair /attg/iing.) 
 
 Jack. Forgive me the fib. But Doris 7nay be in the garden 
 somewhere. Come in the hbrary, Daisy, there's a good girl. I want 
 your advice. 
 
 Daisy. I should think you had better get out of Percy's way 
 before he comes back. [EXIT .Both, l., laughing, 
 
 ENTER Sambo, l., speaks off. 
 
 Sambo. Come right in, Mass Prescott. I'll tell Miss Doris, di- 
 rectly, sah. 
 
 ENTER Ted, l., looks older. 
 
 [EXIT Sambo, l. 
 
 Ted {picks up a picture of Doris on the table, opens the back of 
 his watch and compares them, his face iighti7ig up). She's waited 
 for me. She has understood. 
 
 ENTER Doris, C. d. Pauses a moment as though to pull herself 
 together. Then advances. 
 
 Doris. This is indeed unexpected, Mr. Prescott. 
 
 (Ted takes her hand and keeps it, looking hard at her), 
 
 Ted. Doris — I've come back to you — at last. 
 Doris {pulls her hand away). Mr. Prescott, I don't understand 
 you. 
 
 Ted. Don't understand ? Doris, you understand. You know 
 that I — love you, Doris — have always loved you. 
 
 Doris. Mr. Prescott, ho\Y dare you speak to me like that ? I am 
 not a child, now — I am a woman — and my belief in heroes is — dead. 
 
 Ted {staring at her). Doris. {Simply) I thought you loved 
 me. 
 
 Doris {intensely). You expect me to care for a man who did 
 what you did to my brother — a man who broke all the ties of friend- 
 ship as you did } 
 
 Ted {slowly). And you too did not understand } 
 
 Doris. Understand } Yes, I understand that you were not the 
 man I thought you. You broke to pieces all my girlish ideals and 
 enthusiasm — and — love — and as for the woman 
 
 Ted {slowly). You are speaking of the woman that was my wife. 
 
 Doris. I — beg your pardon, 
 
32 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 {Goes slowly fo L. evident ly strugglmg to appear composed. Shi 
 still holds the rose in her hand. She pauses a niomeiit at the 
 door and then goes out without looking back.) 
 
 Ted {stands perfectly still). And she, too, never understood! 
 {Sinks on a chair y his head in his hands) 
 
 ENTER Percy Jack, c. d. 
 
 Percy. Aw, I say, why, it's Ted Prescott, our old rival celebrity. 
 
 Jack. Ted ! You here. ( They clasp hands, both a little stunned ) 
 
 Percy. Now, I declare this is right jolly. Let's have another 
 house-party. 
 
 Ted. Well, Jack, I'm glad to see you. 
 
 Percy. I nevah was so glad to see anyone, deah boy. 
 
 Jack {iinpatie?itly) . Say, Percy, you'd better look around and 
 find someone — Tom ! 
 
 Percy. Aw, now, I say, I've looked all over that confounded 
 garden. I don't weally believe she's there at all. 
 
 Ted. Well, how has the world been treating you. Jack ? 
 
 Percy. Looks frightfully well, don't cher know — I say, fellars, 
 have some of me latest cigarettes — little birds. This ciga-'ette 
 smoke has a deuced effect on the girls. You as much of a lady- 
 killer as ever, Prescott } 
 
 Jack. Say, Percy, get out if you're going to smoke that 
 cigarette. 
 
 Percy. Do they weally object } Deah me, I won't smoke it ! 
 
 Jack {desperately). Say, I forgot to tell you. Your sister said 
 to meet her at Mrs. Lant's at four. ( Takes out watch) You've 
 got only five minutes. 
 
 Percy. Aw, I say — Just as I was goin' to have such a com* 
 fortable chat with you boys. Sisters are such a confounded bore. 
 
 Jack {eye on watch). Only four minutes. 
 
 Percy. Deah me, you fellars won't weally mind if I go ? 
 Good-bye. Tell the family I've spent the entire afternoon here 
 but, deuce take me, if I could find them. [EXIT, C. D. 
 
 Jack. Second fib in a good cause. {Goes to Ted and lays his 
 hand on his shoulder) Goodness, Ted, but I'm glad to see you-^ 
 alive. 
 
 Ted. I'm mighty glad to get back — {aside) at least, I was 
 
 Jack. I hear you're — released. How have you lived through 
 these three years ? 
 
 Ted. Let's not discuss it, Jack, I found I had been duped like 
 the rest. I had to take my medicine, and now — now 
 
 Jack. Do you mean to tell me Tom doesn't know yet.^ 
 Doesn't the idiot know the best friend he's got in the world ? By 
 thunder, I'll tell him 
 
 Ted. See here, Jack, none of 
 
A Widows* Wiles. 
 
 33 
 
 ENTER Tom, l. Sees Ted and slops. 
 
 Jack. Tom Raymond, come here and shake hands with the 
 best friend on earth you've got. 
 
 (Tom starts towards him — the7i stops. DORIS appears at C. D. 
 She stands transfixed, the others do ?iot see her.) 
 
 Jack. I'll tell you the whole story. The day Ted got to your 
 house-party — three years ago — I told him the whole story of Mrs. 
 Bronson's affair with you. We planned his campaign as the only 
 way to get you out of her clutches. He did it ior yotc — the whole 
 mean, dirty business — and I tell you, Tom Raymond, there are 
 few men in these United States would have done it. 
 
 Tom. Ted! {Starts toward him.) 
 
 Jack. Wait a minute. I'm not through — and then — you know 
 the way she fooled him — fooled everyone. Made him think she 
 loved him — got his sense of honor up and he married her — married 
 her, do you hear, because he thought he ought to. And he has 
 lived in — hell since. 
 
 {T) 0^1'^ gives a little sob and EXIT hastily.) 
 
 (Tom goes to Ted and wrings both his hands. Jack tt{r7ts 
 quickly, EXIT, R.) 
 
 Tom. Old \Vi2iW— {Chokes >i 
 
 Ted. That's all right — don't say anything. 
 
 (Daisy's voice is heard. Tom pitts his arin around Ted's 
 shoulders.) [EXIT Both, l. 
 
 ENTER Daisy d:;^^ Doris, r.) 
 
 Daisy. Why, Doris dear, what on earth 
 
 (Doris, looks around. Sees no one, then her face lights and she 
 throws her arms arowtd Daisy. She still has the rose.) 
 
 Doris. To think — to think. {Buries her head 07i Daisy's 
 shoulders) 
 
 Daisy. What on earth is the matter — you were crying so hard 
 a minute ago — and — now your eyes are so bright. 
 
 Doris {stands gazing off, absolutely forgetting Daisy). Oh, 
 what I said 
 
 Daisy. Doris, I insist on knowing — you must be ill. 
 
 Doris (^/^r/^). Ted's coming. Oh, Daisy, please go. (Rush* 
 ing over to L.) Quickiye quickly. 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 A Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Daisy {with a sjnile of comprehensimt). You don't mean it? 
 Oh, Doris, I'm so glad. {Kisses her rapturously) [EXIT, L. 
 
 ENTER Ted, r. 
 
 Ted. Oh, pardon me. 
 
 Doris. Mr. Prescott, Ted— I— I— overheard what Jack said— 
 — I — Oh, what can I say ? 
 Ted. Doris, you mean } 
 
 Doris. I — I mean I understand — that — I — 've cared all the 
 time — only — Oh, can't you help me } 
 
 {She drops the rose to the floor as Ted cojiies toward her. He 
 takes her passionately in his arms.) 
 
 Ted. Doris, you love me .'^ 
 Doris. Yes — my hero 
 
 ENTER Tom ^7;/^/ Daisy, l. 
 
 Tom. Ah ! At last you have your reward. Yes — a hero 
 indeed ! The soul of honor — a friend to the death. 
 
 Ted. Dear Tom, — after it all, I am happ}^ Yes, happy in my 
 love — happy in regaining a broken friendship — happy in having 
 been instrumental in saving a friend from — from himself. 
 
 Tom {quickly). And a Widow's Wiles. 
 
 Tableau. 
 
 Tom and Ted at C, right hands clasped. 
 Doris and Daisy in close embrace at Rj Co 
 
 QUICK CURTAIN. 
 
COMEDIES AND DRAMAS 
 
 BISCUITS AND BILLS 
 
 A comedy in 1 act, by O. B. DuBois. 3 male, 1 female character. Modern 
 costumes. 1 easy interior scene. Time, about 1? hours. From start to 
 finish there is not a dull moment in this little comedy; it is brimful of fun, 
 of rapid action, and of sparkling- dialog-ue, and when played with the 
 *' dash " it requires, is sure to be a success. 
 
 PRICE 25 CENTS 
 
 SIMPKINS^ LITTLE BREAKFAST PARTY 
 
 A farce in 1 act, by Charles S. Bird. 4 male, 3 female characters. Cos- 
 tumes modern. 1 plain interior scene. Time, Ih hours. Simpkins, having" 
 inherited a fortune, is spending* a winter in New York, leaving his fiancee 
 in his small home city. He becomes enamoured of an actress and invitea 
 her to a little breakfast at his apartments. She accepts with the under- 
 standing that she be accompanied by her father, a widower, who proves to 
 be an old flame of the widowed mother of Simpkins' fiancee. For reasons 
 *7hich soon become obvious, the major sends her a hint of Simpkins' gay 
 life, and suggests her presence in the city to investigate. She decides ac- 
 cordingly, and the inopportune arrival of herself and daughter causes com- 
 plications of the most ludicrous and comical variety. 
 
 PRICE 25 CENTS 
 
 LODGERS TAKEN IK 
 
 A comedy in 3 acts, by Levin C. Tees. 6 male, 4 female characters, also % 
 supernumeraries. 1 interior scene. Time, about 2^ hours. Costumes of 
 to-day. A husband with a strong case of the '* green-eyed monster " taking 
 a trip abroad with his wife, places his home in charge of his ne'er-do-well 
 nephew. By connivance the valet of the house and the nephew rent the 
 rooms to a very mixed class of tenants, whose diversified characters present 
 great opportunity for comedy acting. The dialogue is very bright, the ac- 
 tion continuous and the situations most laughable. This is adapted from 
 the same work upon which William Gillette's famous " All the Comforts of 
 Home" is based, with all the comedy parts retained, but the remainder 
 brought down for a smaller cast and shorter time. 
 
 PRICE 25 CENTS 
 
 THE NEW PASTOR 
 
 Vaudeville sketch In 1 act, by Willis N. Bugbee. 2 male, 2 female char- 
 acters. 1 easy interior scene. Time, if played straight, about 30 minutes; 
 specialties to suit may be introduced. The New Pastor and Miss Colton 
 meet accidently at Deacon Brown's house and, much to the surprise of the 
 deacon, he learns that at one time they were good friends on tlie vaudeville 
 stage. What the result is, is told in the climax. Good parts throughout. 
 
 PRICE 15 CENTS 
 
 STANDING ROOM ONLY 
 
 A comedy in 1 act, by Dwight S. Anderson. 3 male, 1 female character. 
 1 very simple interior scene. Time, about 35 minutes. An exceedin^rly 
 clever and vivacious sketch with plenty of humor. The cast contains a 
 crabbed father; his son, a collegian; a butler^ and a very superior juvenile 
 female lead. All character parts and all good. 
 
 PRICE 15 CENTS 
 
 A STORMY NIGHT 
 
 A comedy in 1 act, by Katharine Kavanaugh. 3 male, 1 female cliaracter. 
 1 interior scene. Time, about 40 minutes. All the parts are good, especially 
 that of Mrs. Robinson. The dialogue is crisp, up-to-date, and somewhat ou 
 the order of a cross-fire sketch. Asa bright and witty little comedy, highlj^ 
 recommended. 
 
 PRICE 15 CENTS 
 
COMEDIES AND DRAMAS 
 
 NEVER AGAIN 
 
 A farce in 3 acts, by Anthony E. Wills. 7 male, 5 female characters. I 
 Interior scene throughout. Plays a full evening-. Ruf us Fletcher, a crabbed 
 husband and father, refuses a satif actory reference to Dora, a maid he has 
 discharg'ed. In Marie, the new maid, Rufus discovers an attractive dancer 
 to whom he had been very attentive at a recent ball. Marie confides this 
 episode to Dora, and the schemes devised and the pranks played by them 
 upon Rufus to punish him for refusing th« reference, lead to many most 
 amusing: complications and to an entirely unexpected climax. 
 
 P RICE 25 CENTS 
 
 THE FHOZEN TRAIL 
 
 A drama in 4 acts, by Georg-^ M. Rosener. 8 male, 3 female characters (by 
 doubling-, G males, 3 females). 2 interior scenes. Time, 2h hours. This 
 drama is replete with human interest from start to final curtain. Alaska, 
 <he last of the Beothics, a once powerful Indian tribe under whose spell both 
 Jack and Cedric fall, is a combination of true womanliood, love and con- 
 stancy. Cross Fox, her father, is a typical Indian who plays a strong- part, 
 Helen, the ing-enue, and her father, an old but ardent wooer, furnish excel- 
 lent comedy roles, 
 
 PRICE 25 CENTS 
 
 ™~ JACK DENTON'S DEVOTION 
 
 A naval drama in 3 acts, by Gordon V. May. 8 male. 5 female characters, 
 1 Interior, 1 exterior scene. Time, 2'i hours. Philip Ashley, with the con- 
 nivance of the United States Consul, forms a plot to dethrone the Prince of 
 Alesia, an Alg-erian principality, to carry off, and espouse the Prince's 
 daug-liter and proclaim himself the Prince. He is frustrated in his final 
 attempt to abduct the Princess by two naval officers. The insurgents 
 attack the Consulate, but are repulsed and defeated by the guns of the 
 U. S. Cruiser *' Victory.'* The incidental situations and final climax are 
 Very effective. 
 
 PRICE 25 CENTS 
 
 AFTER THE HONEYMOON 
 
 A farce in 1 act, by Wallace Nisbet. 2 male, 3 female characters. 1 plain 
 Interior scene. Time, about 50 minutes. An entertaining- little sketch, 
 easy to stag-e and easy to play. A bundle of letters in the wrong hands 
 causes all the amusement and all the trouble. 
 
 PRICE 25 CENTS 
 
 ' " A BACHELOR'S ELOPEMENT ' 
 
 A comedy in 3 acts, by William and Josephine Giles. 4 male, 2 female 
 characters. 1 interior, 1 exterior scene, both easy. Time, 2 hours. Modern 
 costumes. A case of mistaken identity is the theme of this play. The 
 squire has a spinster sister, Nancy Evans by name, also a daug-hter by 
 the same name, commonly called Nan. Nan is sought in marriag-e by Billy 
 Nash, but the squire has determined she shall marry a wealthy old bachelor, 
 Tom Green. To further his plans, the squire induces Green to " make up '* 
 as Billy, and how the plan succeeds is told in the play in the most amusing 
 and humorous manner. 
 
 PRICE 25 CENTS 
 
 A FOOTBALL ROMANCE 
 
 A college comedy in 4 acts, by Anthony E. Wills. 9 male, 4 female char- 
 acters. 1 interior, 2 exterior scenes. Time, about 2^ hours. Costumes 
 modern. A capital piece for amateurs, abounding in the stirring, breezy 
 atmosphere of college life and the spirit of the great game of football. A 
 plot with lack of love making, replete with incidents, and a surprising 
 climax enables us to recommend very highly this play for colleges. 
 PRICE 25 CENTS 
 
MILITARY PLAYS 
 
 25 CENTS EACH 
 
 M. F. 
 
 BY THE ENEMY'S HAND. 4 Acts; 2 hours 10 4 
 
 EDWARDS, THE SPY. 5 Acts; 2}^ hours 10 4 
 
 PRISONER OF ANDERSONVILLE. 4 Acts; 2>4 hours.. 10 4 
 
 CAPTAIN DICK. 3 Acts; Ij^ hours 9 6 
 
 ISABEL, THE PEARE OP CUBA. 4 Acts; 2 hours 9 3 
 
 EITTEE SAVAGE. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setthig 4 4 
 
 BY FORCE OF IMPUESE. (15 cents.) 5 Acts; 2}^ hours 9 3 
 
 BETWEEN TWO FIRES. (15 cents.) 3 Acts; 2 hours 8 3 
 
 RURAL PLAYS 
 
 25 CENTS EACH 
 
 MAN FROM MAINE. 5 Acts; 2M hours 9 3 
 
 AMONG THE BERKSHIRES. 3 Acts; 2^4 hours 8 4 
 
 OAK FARM. 3 Acts; 21^ hours; 1 Stage Setting 7 4 
 
 GREAT WINTERSON MINE. 3 Acts; 2 hours 6 4 
 
 SQUIRE THOMPKINS' DAUGHTER. 5 Acts; 2]^ hours 5 2 
 
 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE. 3 Acts; 2 hours 4 4 
 
 FROM PUNKIN RIDGE. (15 cents.) 1 Act; Ihour... 6 3 
 
 EETTER FROM HOME. (15 cents.) 1 Act; 25 minutes 1 1 
 
 ENTERTAINMENTS 
 
 25 CENTS EACH 
 
 AUNT DINAH'S QUIETING PARTY. 1 Scene 5 11 
 
 BACHELOR MAIDS' REUNION. 1 Scene 2 30 
 
 IN THE FERRY HOUSE. 1 Scene; li^ hours 19 15 
 
 ' JAPANESE AVEODING. 1 Scene; 1 hour 3 10 
 
 MATRIMONIAL EXCHANGE. 2 Acts; 2 hours 6 9 
 
 OLD PLANTATION NIGHT. 1 Scene; 1^ hours 4 4 
 
 YE VILLAGE SKEWL OF LONG AGO. 1 Scene. 13 12 
 
 FAMILIAR FACES OF A FUNNY FAMILY 8 11 
 
 JOLLY BACHELORS. Motion Song or Recitation 11 
 
 CHRISTMAS MEDLEY. 30 minutes 15 14 
 
 EASTER TIDINGS. 20 minutes 8 
 
 BUNCH OF ROSES. (15 cents.) 1 Act; li^ hours 1 13 
 
 OVER THE GARDEN WALL. (15 cents) 11 8 
 
 FITZGERALD PUBLISHING CORPORATION 
 
 SUCCESSOR TO 
 DICK 8b FITZGERALD, 18 Vesey Street, N. Y. 
 
COMEDIES AND DRAMAS 
 
 25 CENTS EACH 
 
 BREAKING HIS BONDS. 4 Acts; 2hours « "3 
 
 BUTTEllNUT'S B111I>1£. 3 Acts; hours ,.. li 6 
 
 COLLEGE CHUMS. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stag« Setting : 9 3 
 
 COUNT OF NO ACCOUNT. 3 Acts; hours 9 4 
 
 DEACON. 5 Acts; 2)^ hours... g 6 
 
 DELEGATES FROM DEN'VER. 2 Acts; 45 minutes 3 10 
 
 DOCTOR B^ COURTESY. 3 Acts; 2 hours g 5 
 
 EASTSIDEKS, The. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting 8 4 
 
 ESCAPED FROM THE LAW. 5 Acts; 2 hours 7 4 
 
 GIRL FROM PORTO RICO. 3 Acts; 2^ hours. 6 8 
 
 GYPSY QUEEN. 4 Acts; 23^ hours 5 S 
 
 IN THE ABSENCE OF SUSAN. 3 Acts; li^ hours 4 6 
 
 JAIL BIRD, 5 Acts; 2)4 hours 6 8 
 
 JOSIAH'S COURTSHIP. 4 Acts; 2 hours 7 4 
 
 MY LADY DARRELL. 4 Acts; 2]^ hours 9 6 
 
 MY UNCLE FROM INDIA. 4 Acts; 2i^ hours 13 4 
 
 NEXT DOOR. 3 Acts; 2 hours 5 4 
 
 PHYLLIS'S INHERITANCE. 3 Acts; 2 hours 6 9 
 
 REGULAR FLIRT. 3 Acts; 2 hours 4 4 
 
 ROGUE'S LUCK. 3Acts;2hours 5 3 
 
 SQUIRE'S STRATAGEM. 5 Acts; 2)^ hours 6 4 
 
 STEEL KING. 4 Acts; 2}^ hours. 5 3 
 
 WHAT'S NEXT? 3 Acts; 2i^ hours 7 4 
 
 WHITE LIE. 4 Acts; 2^^ hours 4 3 
 
 WESTERN PLAYS 
 
 25 CENTS EACH 
 
 ROCKY FORD. 4 Acts; 2 hours 8 3 
 
 GOLDEN GULCH. 3 Acts; 2^ hours 11 3 
 
 RED ROSETTE. 3 Acts; 2 hours 6 3 
 
 MISS MOSHER OF COLORADO. 4 Acts; 2^ hours . .. 5 3 
 
 STUBBORN MOTOR CAR. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting 7 4 
 
 CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. (15 cents.) 3 Acts; 214 hours. 9 3 
 
 FITZGERALD PUBLISHING CORPORATION 
 
 SUCCESSOR TO 
 DICK & FITZGERALD, 18 Vesey Street, N. Y.