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Title: The Torch-Bearers: A Satirical Comedy in Three Acts

Author: George Kelly

Author of introduction, etc.: Kenneth Macgowan

Release date: October 19, 2019 [eBook #60523]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, Buley Library
        (Southern Connecticut State University) and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
        book was produced from images made available by the
        HathiTrust Digital Library.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORCH-BEARERS: A SATIRICAL COMEDY IN THREE ACTS ***




Produced by Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, Buley Library
(Southern Connecticut State University) and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
book was produced from images made available by the
HathiTrust Digital Library.)









THE TORCH-BEARERS




  “There will be actresses when husbands are a thing of the past.”

                                                    --_Mrs. Pampinelli._




  THE TORCH-BEARERS

  _A Satirical Comedy
  in_
  THREE ACTS


  _By_ GEORGE KELLY

  [Illustration]

  _Preface by_
  KENNETH MACGOWAN


  [Illustration]


  NEW YORK
  AMERICAN LIBRARY SERVICE
  1923




  _Copyright 1923_
  AMERICAN LIBRARY SERVICE
  _All Rights Reserved._




“The Torch-Bearers,” by George Kelly, was presented by Stewart and
French for the first time on any stage at the Savoy Theatre, Asbury
Park, New Jersey, on the night of Monday, August 14, 1922, with the
following cast:


  MR. FREDERICK RITTER          MR. ARTHUR SHAW
  MR. HUXLEY HOSSEFROSSE        MR. DOUGLAS GARDEN
  MR. SPINDLER                  MR. EDWARD REESE
  MR. RALPH TWILLER             MR. BOOTH HOWARD
  TEDDY SPEARING                MR. WILLIAM CASTLE
  MR. STAGE MANAGER             MR. J. A. CURTIS
  MRS. PAULA RITTER             MISS MARY BOLAND
  MRS. J. DURO PAMPINELLI       MISS ALISON SKIPWORTH
  MRS. NELLY FELL               MISS HELEN LOWELL
  MISS FLORENCE MCCRICKETT      MISS ROSE MARY KING
  MRS. CLARA SHEPPARD           MISS DAISY ATHERTON
  JENNY                         MISS MARY GILDEA

Play staged by the Author


  NOTE--

  The form of the present manuscript is exactly that in which this play
  was presented during its run at the Vanderbilt Theatre, New York
  City, New York.

                                                         --_The Author._




  THE TORCH-BEARERS


  CAST

  MR. FREDERICK RITTER
  MR. HUXLEY HOSSEFROSSE
  MR. SPINDLER
  MR. RALPH TWILLER
  TEDDY SPEARING
  MR. STAGE MANAGER
  MRS. PAULA RITTER (_Ritter’s wife_)
  MRS. J. DURO PAMPINELLI
  MRS. NELLY FELL
  MISS FLORENCE MCCRICKETT
  MRS. CLARA SHEPPARD
  JENNY (_a housemaid at Ritter’s_)


  SCENE

  ACT I--A kind of drawing-room in the home of Frederick Ritter, on an
  evening in October, about 8 o’clock.

  ACT II--Behind the scenes at Horticultural Hall, the following
  evening at 8:30.

  ACT III--The drawing-room at Ritter’s, two hours later.




Stage, screen and amateur rights for the production of this play
are controlled by the author, George Kelly, 3665 Midvale Avenue,
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. No public readings or performances may be
given without his written consent.




PREFACE


I cannot remember if it was one of those torrid and terrible nights of
August when the chain-gang of New York’s critics was tolled off to the
Forty-Eighth Street Theatre for the première of _The Torch-Bearers_.
But I do know that the general atmosphere of oppression--physical,
mental, professional--was a little denser than usual. In the first
twenty-eight days of August, 1922, managements too daring or too
resourceless to wait for September had deluged us with a steady stream
of inanity, and here was another dousing in prospect. If it wasn’t
the heat, it was certainly the humidity of theatrical August. Unknown
play, new producers, author’s name vaguely connected with vaudeville;
altogether a production so little esteemed by the booking powers that
it had to slip into a few weeks before the Equity Players began their
season at this theatre. It could have been a night of Elysian coolness,
and still we would have been expecting the worst. It could have been
mid-April, and still we should have found an almost ineffable freshness
in the breeze of George Kelly’s little comedy.

The cold, historical fact is that at about 9:15 o’clock on the evening
of August 29th, 1922, five or six hundred average New Yorkers, two or
three hundred friends of the management, and about fifty sophisticated
first-nighters were in grave danger of rolling off their seats in
hysteria because of _The Torch-Bearers_.

The intermissions were filled with three questions which more or less
concern the reader of the published play. Who was George Kelly? Where
did he get the comedy? How would it go?

On August 29th, 1922, George Kelly was a perfectly good Philadelphian
in his late twenties who was much better known to vaudeville than to
fame. He had written, directed, and played in about a dozen one-act
comedies and dramas on Keith and Orpheum time. He had begun by quitting
his family’s private tutor to try acting in a playlet by the late Paul
Armstrong. Then--with no more preparation, apparently--he had begun
to write his own vehicles. A certain drama in France absorbed his
attentions for a while. After that more “sketches”--as the vaudeville
powers call any effort above vocal or bodily acrobatics--and suddenly a
play.

The origin of _The Torch-Bearers_ was simple enough. Kelly wrote the
kind of tight, effective short plays that amateur actors and little
theatre directors are always looking for. He had a perfectly good
Philadelphia family behind him. And so he was being invited to lunch
every now and then by the Pampinellis of the cities in which he played.
To hear them was enough. They had to live a wider life.

_The Torch-Bearers_ passed a prosperous term on Broadway, and I think
it will go far in the little theatres which it satirizes. But upon the
opening night I remember much dubious debate about its chances. We
had laughed ourselves almost literally sick, and at the end of the
second intermission we had not yet seen the rather prosy last act.
Yet--conscious of our personal superiority--we wondered.... Brander
Matthews and Aristotle would scoff at it, George M. Cohan and Professor
Baker would scowl. _The Torch-Bearers_ broke all the rules, and it had
no plot. Obviously, by all the rules, it ought to fail.

There may be a good many reasons why it didn’t, and some may lead you
far into aesthetic explorations of the present breakdown of dramatic
form all over the world. But the reader will find more cogent reasons
in the pages that follow this introduction. Personally, I should put
it down to the fact that the character-study of the first act and the
hokum of the second are irresistible. We have all met our Pampinellis,
and we have all seen the lady prompter take a curtain call, or had
our mustache fall off in the big scene. We can never resist some
characterization on the stage, and as for such hokum as this record of
all the mishaps of the amateur actor, ill luck is the heart of broad
comedy and when ill luck comes where it is most painful--in personal
display--Cassandra herself must smile.

There were other things to make the death-watch wonder whether _The
Torch Bearers_ could live. It was satire. Satire is not ordinarily a
popular commodity in the theatre. It defeats sympathy, and sympathy is
necessary to emotion, and emotion to theatrical success.

Satire has had its great moments, however, in the history of the drama.
Aristophanes made merry over the fashions, foibles, and philosophies of
Athens. Satire was Molière’s stock in trade. Shaw has done very well by
poking a finger at society. Every nation has at least one outstanding
theatrical satire to its credit. But for the war, the wise of Paris
might still be laughing at the French Academy because of de Flers and
de Caillavet’s _L’Habit Vert_. England has _The School for Scandal_,
as Ireland has _The Playboy_ and _John Bull’s Other Island_. Germany,
though a little heavy in the theatre, can still point to Schnitzler’s
_Literature_.

Just at the moment America is beginning to display a surprising
fondness for theatrical satire. Beginning is hardly the word, perhaps,
for the first American drama, _The Contrast_, lampooned society with
a large “S”; _Fashion_, our first play by a woman, spoke out smartly
against the smart world, and from _Our American Cousin_ down to date,
so many of our playwrights have spoofed the alien and the aristocratic
for the benefit of the homespun, that it is only by a hair that I can
risk the statement that it is a “surprising fondness” which we now
display for satire. America has always enjoyed its irreverent moments
in the theatre, but it has seldom gone in for whole plays devoted to
almost nothing but lampooning.

In the last three seasons, however, the distinctly satirical play has
climbed noticeably in favour. In 1919-20 there was nothing of the
kind to be seen on Broadway. In 1920-21 came Porter Emerson Browne’s
Mexican melodrama, _The Bad Man_, with most of its success due to sly
digs at both sides of the international line, and George M. Cohan’s
joke at the expense of audiences as well as playwrights, _The Tavern_.
Last season, playgoers good-humoredly made a satire out of the deadly
serious absurdities of the British melodrama, _Bulldog Drummond_; the
_Chauve-Souris_ twitted Russian drama a little--in Russian; and the
firm of Kaufman and Connelly began in _Dulcy_ and _To the Ladies!_ to
vend biting wit at the expense of scenario writers and advertisers,
efficiency experts and after-dinner speakers.

This season a perfect flood of satire broke upon us, most of it very
good indeed, and some of it destined to be successful with a large
public. Besides _The Torch-Bearers_, there have been _R. U. R._, grim
sarcasm upon labour and capital, and a new bill of the _Chauve-Souris_,
the Kaufman-Connelly version of Henry Leon Wilson’s _Merton of the
Movies_, _Six Characters in Search of an Author_, from the Italian, and
_The World We Live In_, the insect comedy from the Czecho-Slovak.

The future of _The Torch-Bearers_, now that its Broadway career is
over, brings us up against the little theatre movement. I am very much
in favor of that odd and amazing phenomenon. I believe a great deal of
the promise of the American stage outside New York and a surprising
amount of its present accomplishment in that metropolis, is due to the
uncontrollable desire of people not so very unlike Mrs. Pampinelli to
produce plays. Kelly’s satire touches the lower fringes of what Mrs.
P. calls “the movement,” but it might be directed at Maurice Browne,
Sam Hume, and Irving Pichel and the little theatre would still go on,
and _The Torch-Bearers_ would become--as I am sure it will--one of the
most popular pieces in the repertory of the amateur actor. Many a Mrs.
Pampinelli, safe in the sense of her own self-importance, will do for
_The Torch-Bearers_ all that Mrs. P. did--which is, as Kelly observes,
to “tell the players where to go on the stage, so they won’t be running
into each other.”

But there is art in this play--not mere observation--and I am afraid
none of the Pampinellis who are to be concerned with its future will
ever quite equal the person that the author and Alison Skipworth,
the actress, created between them. I do not look for any moment so
extraordinary as when Mrs. Pampinelli, discussing the fatalities
invariably connected with these amateur performances, reaches her
peroration: “We are not dismayed; we have the lessons of history to
fortify us: for whenever the torch of essential culture has been
raised, (_she raises the lead-pencil as though it were a torch_) there
has unfailingly been the concomitant exactment of a human life.” For
one cannot expect to find a cuckoo-clock always present with its
sapient comment at such a moment.

The reader will find the cuckoo-clock, the satire, and the hokum
for himself. He will also detect, I think, a strain of divine and
devilish madness in Kelly which promises something of genius for
the American drama. The reader may note, too, in Kelly’s script
the kind of practical qualification for the theatre of which Mr.
Ritter speaks feelingly on page 56. This qualification has produced
extraordinarily effective humor and something else. This is a sense
for stage management. It makes Kelly a rare and precious figure in
our theatre, and gives you a script to read--or to produce--that is
liberally supplied with every bit of business and direction necessary
for putting on the play--either in the Cohoes Little Theatre or your
own imagination.

                                                       KENNETH MACGOWAN.

  Pelham Manor, N. Y., February 25, 1923.




NOTE: The drawing-room at Ritter’s, in which the first and last
acts are laid, is a comfortable-looking room, suggestive of good
circumstance. Toward the back there is a fancy wooden partition
separating the hallway from the room proper. This partition begins
rather high up on the side walls and curves deeply down to two
ornamental columns, five feet high and set about five feet apart,
forming the entrance from the hallway to the room. Straight out through
this entrance, and paralleling the partition, is the staircase, running
up to the left and through an arched doorway. The foot of the staircase
is just to the right of the center-door; and then the hallway continues
on out to the front door. On the left, there is a passageway between
the staircase and the partition, running through an arched doorway
to the body of the house. In the room proper, breaking the angle of
the right wall and the partition, is a door, opening out, and below
this door, a casement-window. On the left, breaking the angle of
the left wall and the partition, is the mantelpiece, and below it a
door, opening out. Just inside the partition, on either side of the
center-door, is a built-in seat.

The entire room and hallway is done in a scheme of silver and the
lighter shades of green. All the woodwork and furniture, including the
piano and mantelpiece, is finished in silver-green, and the walls and
ceiling are in blended tones of orchid, gray and green, decorated with
tapestried panel-effects. The carpet is gray-green, and the vases and
clock on the mantelpiece, as well as the little cuckoo-clock over the
door at the left, are green. The drapes on the casement-window and the
doorways, at the head of the stairs and in the left hallway, are in
rose-colored brocaded satin; and the pads on the partition-seats are
covered with the same material. The piano-throw is a garishly subdued
blend of old-rose, Nile green and canary-colored silk.

Right out between the little wooden columns of the center-door, set
flat against the staircase, is a small console-table, holding a most
beautiful rose-colored vase filled with wisteria; and on the piano
there is a similar vase filled with white and yellow blossoms. On
either side of the console-table there is a tall torchiere with a
rose-colored shade; and the shades on the wall-lights, and the one on
the lovely rose-colored vase-lamp on the table down at the right below
the casement-window, are all rose-colored.

There’s a brilliant array of cushions about the room, all shapes and
sizes, and every color of the rainbow,--and many books and magazines.
The piano, up at the right, is littered with music, cigarettes, in a
fancy container, flowers and candy--in a pretty box made of pink satin.

The two arm-chairs in the room, one just to the left of the table below
the window, and the other at the left side of the table over at the
left, are over-stuffed in green-and-silver brocade.

There is a small table below the piano, with a light little chair
beside it, the left side, and there is a similar chair over at the
extreme left, below the door.

The keyboard of the piano parallels the right wall, with enough room,
of course, between the piano-stool and wall to permit of easy use
of the door. There must also be room enough above the piano for a
passageway between it and the partition-seat.

The rights and lefts employed in the foregoing descriptions are, of
course, the player’s rights and lefts.




ACT ONE.


_After a slight pause, a door out at the right is heard to close, and
immediately Mr. Ritter comes along the hallway beyond the partition
and into the room. He is a brisk, rather stocky type of man, in his
early forties, wearing a brown suit and overcoat, a derby hat, and
carrying a suit-case. He sets the suit-case down on the partition-seat
at the right, and, with a glance around the room, at the unusual
arrangement of the furniture, starts out into the hallway again,
removing his gloves and overcoat. He glances along the hallway to the
left and up the stairs as he goes. Jenny comes along the hallway from
the left carrying a small, light chair. As she is about to come into
the drawing-room proper from the hallway, she becomes conscious of Mr.
Ritter out at the hall-rack at the right. She stops and peers in that
direction. She is a pleasant little English person, plump and trim,
dressed in the regulation parlor-maid’s black and white._

JENNY. Is that you, Mr. Ritter?

RITTER. That’s who it is, Jenny! How are you?

JENNY. [_Bringing the little chair forward and placing it above the
little table at the left_] Pretty well, thanks, Mr. Ritter, how are
_you_?

RITTER. [_Coming along the hallway from the right_] I’m whatever you
are, Jenny. [_Jenny gives a faint little laugh and proceeds with her
arrangements, and Ritter picks up several telegrams from the stand in
the hallway, just to the left of the center entrance._]

JENNY. Ain’t you back a bit soon?

RITTER. [_Coming forward to the small table at the right, below the
piano_] Yes, I thought I’d have to go down to Cincinnati for a week or
two, but I didn’t.

JENNY. Mrs. Ritter ain’t expectin’ you, is she?

RITTER. [_Glancing thru the telegrams_] No, she isn’t, Jenny.

JENNY. I thought I didn’t remember hearin’ her sayin’ nothin’.

RITTER. Where is she?

JENNY. [_Starting for the hallway_] She’s upstairs, sir, I’ll call her.

RITTER. [_With a glance at the furniture_] What are you doing around
here, Jenny, housecleaning?

JENNY. [_Turning and coming back_] No, sir, there’s a rehearsal here
tonight. [_Ritter stops reading and looks at her quizzically for a
second._]

RITTER. What kind of a rehearsal?

JENNY. Why, a rehearsal for a show that Mrs. Ritter’s takin’ part in
tomorrow night. They done it at the Civic Club the week after you went
away, and they liked it so well they’re doin’ it again tomorrow night.

RITTER. _Who_ liked it?

JENNY. Sir?

RITTER. I say, who liked it so well that they’re doing it again?

JENNY. Why, everybody seemed to like it, Mr. Ritter, from what the
papers said.

RITTER. What kind of a show is it?

JENNY. Why, I think it’s a tragedy, from what I gather.

RITTER. Did you see it, Jenny?

JENNY. No, sir, _I_ didn’t get to see it, I’m sorry to say; but I heard
everybody connected with it sayin’ it was a _great success_. [_Ritter
resumes his telegrams, then looks at Jenny suddenly._]

RITTER. How did Mrs. Ritter get into it?

JENNY. Why, I think somebody died, Mr. Ritter, if I’m not mistaken.

RITTER. [_Shaking his head conclusively, and resuming his telegram_] I
assumed it was an extremity of _some_ kind.

MRS. R. [_At the top of the stairs at the back_] Fred Ritter! don’t
tell me that’s you down there! [_Jenny turns quickly and goes to the
foot of the stairs._]

RITTER. No, I’m still out in Chicago!

MRS. R. Is it, Jenny?

JENNY. Yes, mam, I was just comin’ to tell you.

MRS. R. [_Starting down the stairs_] I _thought_ I heard his voice!
[_Jenny laughs._] I’ve been standing up here for the last _five_
minutes saying to myself, “Who can that _be_ that has a voice so
much like Fred’s!” [_Coming into the room from the hallway_] Why,
Fred, darling, what are you doing here! [_He has moved up towards the
center-door._]

RITTER. [_Laughing a little_] How is the old kid! [_Kisses her_]

MRS. R. I thought you wouldn’t be back till the first! [_Jenny passes
along the hallway to the left._]

RITTER. Why, that Cincinnati thing’s been postponed till after
Thanksgiving.

MRS. R. [_Turning away from him and stepping out into the hallway
again_] Well, why didn’t you wire or something?

RITTER. I was afraid of giving you a shock.

MRS. R. Oh, Jenny!

RITTER. You’re such a frail little flower.

MRS. R. [_Turning back to him_] Now stop, Fred! I’ve really lost a lot
since you went away.

RITTER. How do you know? [_Jenny comes along the hallway from the
left._]

MRS. R. Why, my dear, I can tell by my clothes. [_She turns to Jenny._]
Jenny, will you get me a glass of water, please.

JENNY. [_Starting out_] Yes, mam.

RITTER. You’re not going to faint, are you?

MRS. R. [_Turning back to him again with a flip of her hand at him_]
No, I’m not.

RITTER. [_Slipping his arm around her waist and coming forward_] Any
mail here for me?

MRS. R. Not a single thing, Fred; I sent everything right on to
Chicago as soon as it came: there must be several letters there for you
now.

RITTER. [_Disengaging himself and taking her hands and looking at her_]
I’ll get them all right. How have you been treating yourself while I’ve
been away?

MRS. R. All right; only I’m glad to see you back.

RITTER. Kiss me.

MRS. R. The house seemed awfully lonesome.

RITTER. Kiss me. [_She kisses him._]

MRS. R. [_Passing above him to the piano at the right_] Crazy thing.
[_He moves over to the little table at the left, rummaging in his
pocket for a cigar, and Mrs. Ritter commences to rummage in a
sewing-basket on the piano. This basket is Mrs. Ritter at a glance, all
green and yellow satin, fraught with meaningless bows and weird-looking
knots. She undoubtedly made it herself, and it must have taken her
months. But she’s a practical woman; at least she thinks she is; and
the sewing-basket helps in a way to sustain the conviction. Poor Paula!
As one looks at her and listens to her he appreciates the fortune of
the circumstance that there is some sane and capable person between her
and the world; and as he more closely observes the sewing-basket, he
rejoices in the blessing of the sane and capable person’s ability to
spare her the necessity of having to make her own clothes. Although,
as a matter of fact, she would look lovely in anything; for Paula
is pretty--charmingly so. And her hair is marvelous. So gold--and
satiny. She is wearing a dress now of lime-green silk with a standing
collar edged with black fur, and gold-colored slippers._] Did you have
anything to eat, Fred?

RITTER. Yes, I ate on the train. What’s this Jenny was saying?
Something about a show you’re in?

MRS. R. Oh,--[_Looking at him_] did she tell you?

RITTER. I wondered what had happened to the furniture when I came in.

MRS. R. [_Coming around and forward towards the little table below the
piano_] Yes, there’s a rehearsal here tonight. We have it every Tuesday
and Thursday. Of course, it’s just to run over the lines, because we’ve
done it already at the Civic Club on the fourteenth. And, my dear, it
was perfectly marvelous.

RITTER. What kind of a show is it?

MRS. R. [_Standing back of the table_] Oh, it’s just a one-act
play,--in one act, you know. And it was really _quite_ wonderful. [_She
gives an inane laugh._] I had no idea. [_She touches her hair and turns
towards the back of the room again._]

RITTER. How did _you_ happen to get into it? [_Jenny comes along the
hallway from the left carrying a glass of water on a small tray._]

MRS. R. [_Turning to him_] Well now, wait till I tell you--[_She sees
Jenny._] Oh, thanks, Jenny. [_Jenny starts out again._] Jenny, will you
go to the top of the stairs and see if I left the lights burning in my
room.

JENNY. [_Turning and starting towards the foot of the stairs in the
right hallway; and setting the tray on the little stand as she goes_]
Yes, mam.

MRS. RITTER. [_Coming forward holding the glass of water_] I think I
did. [_She sips._]

JENNY. [_As she crosses the center-door_] Do you want that suit-case
taken up, Mr. Ritter? [_Mrs. Ritter turns round to the right and
watches Jenny._]

RITTER. Yes, you can take it up if you will, Jenny, thanks. [_Jenny
lifts the suit-case from the partition-seat and goes out and up the
stairs._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to Ritter_] You know, I wrote you about poor
Jimmy Sheppard--

RITTER. Yes, what was that, had he been sick?

MRS. RITTER. Why, not a day, my dear! that’s the reason it was all so
dreadful. Of course, he’d always had more or less of a weak heart; but
nothing to threaten anything of that kind. And just three days before
the performance, mind you:--couldn’t happen any other time. And _poor_
Mrs. Sheppard playing one of the _leading_ parts. [_She turns to her
left and goes up to the center-door, where she looks out toward the
right hallway expectantly._]

RITTER. [_Casually depositing the band from his cigar on the tray at
his left_] Did he _know_ she was to play one of the leading parts?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning at the center-door and looking at him_]
Who,--Mr. Sheppard?

RITTER. Yes.

MRS. RITTER. [_Coming forward again_] Why, of course he did--She’d
just finished telling him when he fell over. [_Ritter appears to be
unduly occupied with his cigar, and Mrs. Ritter takes advantage of the
circumstance to refresh herself with another sip from the glass._] My
dear, poor Clara Sheppard is a _wreck_--You want to write her a note,
Fred, when you get time. And he never spoke--not a solitary word. But,
she says--just as he was dying,--he gave her the funniest look. Oh, she
says--if she lives to be a thousand, she’ll _never_ forget the way he
looked at her. [_She goes up to the center-door and sets the glass down
on the tray._]

RITTER. [_Still busy with his cigar_] Had he ever seen her act?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to him, thoughtfully_] _I_ don’t know,--whether
he ever had or not. [_Jenny comes down the stairs._] Oh, yes he had,
too! for I saw him myself at the Century Drawing Rooms last Easter
Monday night, and she was in that play there that night, you remember.
[_She moves to the piano and starts looking for something in the
sewing-basket; he moves to the mantelpiece, up at the left, apparently
looking for a match._]

RITTER. No, I wasn’t there.

MRS. R. Oh, weren’t you! I thought you were.

RITTER. No. [_He feels in his pockets._]

MRS. R. There are matches there on that little table there, Fred. [_She
indicates the table below the mantelpiece._]

RITTER. [_Discovering some in his pocket_] I have some here. [_He moves
to the arm-chair at the left of table and sits down._]

MRS. R. [_As Jenny passes along the hallway towards the left_] Oh,
Jenny!

JENNY. Yes, mam?

MRS. R. Jenny, will you ask Mrs. Brock if she’ll make some of that
drink that she made the last time?

JENNY. I think she ’as made it already, Mrs. Ritter.

MRS. R. Well, will you see, Jenny, please?

JENNY. [_Starting away_] Yes, mam.

MRS. R. [_To Ritter_] The folks liked it so much the last time. [_She
picks up her sewing-basket._]

JENNY. All right, Mrs. Ritter. [_She disappears at the left._]

MRS. R. [_Stepping out into the hallway_] Oh, and, Jenny!

JENNY. [_Out at the left_] Yes, mam?

MRS. R. Tell her to put a little of that _gin_ in it, the way she did
before.

JENNY. All right, mam.

MRS. R. Tell her she’ll find some gin in the little buffet in the big
dining-room.

RITTER. She probably knows where it is.

MRS. R. [_Coming forward carrying her sewing-basket_] Well, anyway,
that’s how I happened to get into it. [_She sits on the chair at the
left of the small table below the piano._] Mrs. Pampinelli called me
up the first thing in the morning, and she said--

RITTER. Is she in it, too?

MRS. R. [_Looking up from the arrangement of a couple of strips of lace
which she has taken from the sewing-basket_] Who? Mrs. Pampinelli?

RITTER. Yes.

MRS. R. No, she doesn’t take any part; she’s just in charge of
everything.

RITTER. That suits her better.

MRS. R. Kind of directress, I suppose you’d call her. [_He has some
difficulty keeping his face straight._] Tells us where to go, you
know, on the stage,--so we won’t be running into each other. [_Ritter
laughs._] Really, Fred, you have no idea how easy it is to run into
somebody on the stage. You’ve got to know where you’re going every time
you move. [_He laughs louder._] Why, what are you laughing at?

RITTER. I was just thinking of a few of the things I’ve heard Mrs.
Pampinelli called.

MRS. R. [_Looking over at him reproachfully_] Oh--now, that isn’t a bit
nice of you, Fred Ritter. I know you don’t like her.

RITTER. I like her all right.

MRS. R. No, you do not, now, Fred,--so _don’t_ say you do.

RITTER. I think she’s marvelous.

MRS. R. Well, she’s tremendously clever at this stage business, I don’t
care what you say. You just ought to hear her talk about it sometime.
Now, the last rehearsal we had,--over at her house,--she spoke on
“Technique in Acting as Distinguished from Method;” and you’ve no idea
how interesting it was. [_Ritter glances over at her as he deposits
some ashes from his cigar on the little table-tray._]

RITTER. You say you’ve given this show before?

MRS. R. Oh yes! We gave it on the fourteenth at the Civic Club. And, my
dear, that audience just loved it. And you’d be surprised too, for it’s
a terrifically serious thing. In fact, in a way, it’s too serious--for
the general public--that’s the reason several of the people who saw it
suggested that, if we give it again, we should give a dance right after
it. [_She looks closely at her needle and Ritter looks discreetly at
the end of his cigar._] But, as Mrs. Pampinelli says, it’s an absolute
impossibility to give a dance at either the Civic Club or the Century
Drawing Rooms, so that’s how we’re giving it this time down at Hutchy
Kutchy. [_Ritter looks over at her with a quizzical squint._]

RITTER. Where?

MRS. R. [_Looking over at him_] Horticultural Hall--there at Broad and
Spruce, you know.

RITTER. Yes, I know;--what did _you_ call it?

MRS. R. Hutchy Kutchy. [_She laughs inanely._] Mrs. Pampinelli always
calls it that,--I suppose I’ve gotten into the habit too, from hearing
her. [_She gives another little laugh, then finishes with an amused
sigh._]

RITTER. What’s the show for, a charity of some kind?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to him suddenly, and with a shade of
practicality_] It’s for the Seamen’s Institute. Kind of a refuge
for them, you know, while they’re in port; so the sailors won’t be
wandering around the streets getting into bad company. [_Ritter
disposes of more ashes, with an unusual precision, and Mrs.
Ritter resumes her sewing. Then, suddenly, she glances toward the
casement-window at the right._] It was Mrs. Pampinelli’s idea, [_She
gathers her things into the sewing-basket and gets up, swinging round
to her left and talking as she goes._] so of course she _didn’t_ want
anything to happen. [_She sets the sewing-basket down on the piano,
and, with another glance thru the window at the right, crosses to the
little table at the left where Ritter is sitting._] So she called me up
the first thing in the morning, and she said, “Paula darling, _have_
you heard the news?” So, of course, I said “No;” because up to that
time I _hadn’t_, and, naturally, I _wasn’t_ going to say that I had.

RITTER. Certainly _not_.

MRS. R. “Well,” she said, “_poor_ Jimmy Sheppard has _just_ passed on.”
Well, luckily, I was sitting down at the time, or I _positively_ think
I should have passed on myself.

RITTER. [_Raising his hand from the table as though distressed by the
extremity of her remarks_] Don’t say such things.

MRS. R. [_Mistaking his attitude_] No, really, Fred, you’ve no idea
the _feeling_ that came over me when she said that. “Well,” I said,
“Betty, what on earth are we going to do!” Because the tickets were
all sold, you know. “Well,” she said, “Paula,--the only thing _I_ see
to do, is to have _you_ step right into Clara Sheppard’s role.” “Me!”
I said. “Yes,” she said; “you are the only person in _my_ opinion who
is qualified to play the part.” “But, my dear,” I said, “I’ve never
stepped on a stage in my _life_!” “That is absolutely inconsequential,”
she said, “it is entirely a matter of dramatic instinct. And,” she
said, [_She simpers a bit here and moves around from the right of the
little table where she has been standing to the back of her husband’s
chair, at the left of the table._] “_you_ have _that_--to a far
greater degree than you’ve _any_ idea of.” [_He makes a sound of dry
amusement._] No, really, Fred, everyone was saying it was a positive
tragedy that you couldn’t have been there to see me--I never forgot
myself once. [_She rests her hand on his left shoulder, and he reaches
up and takes her hand._]

RITTER. What are you going to do now, become an actress?

MRS. R. No, but it surprised me so, the way everybody enthused; because
I didn’t think I’d done anything so extraordinary--I just walked
onto the stage, and said what I’d been told to say, and walked off
again. [_She emphasizes this last phrase by an indefinite gesture
of nonchalance in the direction of the door at her left._] And yet
everybody seemed to think it was wonderful. Why, Nelly Fell said she’d
never seen even a _professional actress_ so absolutely unconscious.
[_He makes a sound of amusement._] Really, Fred, you ought to have
heard them. Why, they said if they didn’t know, they never in the
_world_ would have believed that it was my first offense.

RITTER. You mustn’t believe everything these women tell you; they’ll
tell you anything to get their names in the paper.

MRS. R. Well, it wasn’t only they that said it;--people that I didn’t
even _know_ said it. Why, Mrs. Pampinelli had a letter from a woman
away out at Glenside that happened to see the performance, and she said
that, at times, my repose was _positively_ uncanny. And the papers
simply raved; especially “The Evening Breeze.” I have it upstairs, I
must show it to you. It said that it didn’t understand _how_ I had
escaped the public eye so long. [_She glances at the cuckoo-clock
over the door at the left, and, in doing so, notices a book that has
been left lying on the chair below the door: she steps over and picks
it up._] I was awfully sorry you couldn’t have been there, Fred. I
was going to write you about it when Mrs. Pampinelli first spoke to
me about going on, but there was so little time, you see. And then,
I didn’t think you’d mind;--especially on account of its being for
charity. [_He is very carefully putting ashes on the little tray. She
stands holding the book, looking at him. And there is a slight pause._]
You _don’t_ mind my going on, do you, Fred?

RITTER. [_Rather slowly_] No,--I don’t mind, if you’re able to get away
with it.

MRS. R. [_Trailing across back of his chair_] I didn’t think you would.

RITTER. [_Raising his hand from the table quietly_] But a--[_She comes
to a stop and regards him over her left shoulder._] I don’t want any of
these women exploiting you for their own vanity. [_She doesn’t quite
encompass his meaning, and stands looking at him for a second. Then she
abstractedly lays the book down on the table beside him. There is a
very definite ring at the front door-bell._] I guess that’s some of the
people. [_She starts towards the hallway._]

RITTER. [_Preparing to rise_] Where do you do this thing, here?

MRS. R. [_Turning to him and indicating the general arrangement_]
Yes--just the way we have it fixed.

RITTER. [_Rising briskly and crossing to the table below the piano
at the right, while Mrs. R. continues to the center-door and stands
looking toward the front door. Jenny appears in the left hallway._] I
think I’ll beat it upstairs.

MRS. R. [_Turning to Jenny_] I guess that’s some of the people, Jenny.
[_She comes forward towards Ritter again._]

JENNY. Yes, mam. [_She passes back of Mrs. Ritter and along out into
the right hallway to answer the door._]

MRS. R. Won’t you wait and see the rehearsal, Fred? [_He is gathering
up the telegrams from the table, where he left them earlier._]

RITTER. [_Turning and going up towards the center-door, thrusting the
telegrams into his inside pocket_] No, I think I’d rather wait and see
the show. [_He passes her, to her left._]

MRS. R. [_Turning and trailing up towards the center-door after him_]
It’s really _very_ interesting.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Out at the front door_] You see how considerate I
am of you, Jenny, letting myself in? [_Mr. and Mrs. Ritter stop in the
center-door and look toward the front door._]

JENNY. [_At the front door_] Oh, that’s all right, Mrs. Pampinelli.

MRS. R. [_Turning quickly to Ritter at her left_] You can’t go up now,
Fred, she’ll see you.

MRS. PAMPINELLI and RITTER, together.

  MRS. P. Well, I daresay you’ll have to open this door quite often
  enough tonight without my troubling you.

  RITTER. [_Coming back into the room with a slight gesture of
  annoyance_] I don’t want to have to listen to her gab. [_He goes over
  to the mantelpiece at the left and takes up his position there, while
  Mrs. Ritter, with a movement to him to be silent, drifts down beside
  the piano at the right._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming into view from the right hallway_] Well, I
suppose I’m still the shining example of punctuality. [_She sweeps
thru the center-door, carrying a large black-bear muff, a fan of black
ostrich-plumes, and a note-book and pencil._] How do you do, Mr.
Ritter,--[_She goes towards Mrs. Ritter._]

RITTER. [_Nodding_] How do you do.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I’m glad to see you.

MRS. RITTER. [_Moving towards Mrs. P._] Hello, Betty.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Hello, Paula child,--[_Kisses her_] how are you,
dear? [_Mr. Spindler hurries in from the right hallway, carrying
several books. Mrs. P. steps to the table below the piano._] Will you
give those things to Mrs. Ritter, Mr. Spindler, she’ll set them down
somewhere. [_She sets her own encumbrances down on the table, and Mrs.
Ritter passes back of her to Spindler._]

SPINDLER. [_Standing in the middle of the room, toward the back_]
Certainly, certainly.

MRS. RITTER. Good evening, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. Good evening, good evening. [_Jenny comes in from the right
hallway, takes the tray and glass from the hall table, and goes out the
left hallway._]

MRS. RITTER. I’ll just take these.

SPINDLER. [_Giving her the books and a manuscript_] If you please.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Crossing directly to Ritter_] Florence McCrickett
told me you were back; she saw you getting into a taxicab at the
station. [_Giving him her hand_] I’m glad to see you.

RITTER. I just got in.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And I suppose you’ve already heard about the great
event?

RITTER. Yes, she’s just been telling me. [_They laugh together._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, my dear, you may count that day lost that
you missed it. [_She half turns to Mrs. Ritter, who is engaged in
conversation with Spindler._] Mayn’t he, Paula? [_But Paula hasn’t
heard what she’s been saying, so she just looks at her and gives an
inane little laugh. Mrs. Pampinelli continues to Ritter._] Although
you’ll have an opportunity tomorrow night; unless you’re going to run
away again before that.

RITTER. No, I’ll be here now till after Thanksgiving. [_Mrs. Ritter
leaves Spindler and goes over to a small table at the extreme right,
below the casement-window, where she sets the books and manuscript
down._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning from Ritter and crossing back again to the
table at the right below the piano_] Wonderful! Did you hear that,
Paula?

MRS. R. What is it, dear?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Ritter says he will be here for the performance
tomorrow night.

MRS. R. Yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Unfastening her fur neckpiece_] So you will have
an opportunity after all of revealing to him what gems of talent the
unfathomed caves of matrimony bear. [_They both laugh._]

MRS. R. [_Picking up Mrs. Pampinelli’s muff from the table and taking
the neckpiece_] I’ll just take these, Betty.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Settling her beads_] Anywhere at all, dear. [_Mrs.
R. starts to the right._] Oh, and by the way, Paula--[_Mrs. Ritter
stops and turns to her._]

MRS. R. Yes?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Indicating the books on the table below the window_]
There’s a remarkable article in one of those books I brought, on
a--gesture.

MRS. R. [_Looking at the books_] Yes?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. The little gray book I think it is, if I’m not
mistaken. [_She turns to her left and acknowledges Mr. Spindler with a
touch of state._] Mr. Spindler--[_He returns a smiling and very snappy
little bow._] brought it to my attention,--[_She turns back again
to Paula, who has gone up at the right of the piano and is putting
the furs on the partition-seat, while Spindler, becoming suddenly
conscious that Ritter is looking at him, stiffens abruptly, glances at
Ritter, and turns back again to Mrs. Pampinelli._] and it really is
remarkable. So many of my own ideas--things that I have been advocating
for years. I brought it especially for _you_, Paula,--so you must read
it when you have time. [_She picks up her lead-pencil from the little
table and, tapping it against her right temple, thinks profoundly._]
What is that wonderful line of Emerson’s that I’m so fond of--something
about our unexpressed thoughts coming back to accuse us--[_Turning to
Spindler_] You know all those things, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. [_Pedantically_] Coming back to us “with an alienated
majesty.”

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That is the one I mean. [_She turns back again to
Paula, who has, by this time, come forward again at the right of
the piano, while Mr. Spindler, again becoming conscious that Ritter
is looking at him, gives him another glance, this time with a shade
of resentment in it, and, coughing briefly, as an emphasis of his
dignity, which Ritter’s general attitude somehow suggests is not being
sufficiently esteemed, turns back to Mrs. Pampinelli._] Well, that is
exactly what occurred to me when I read that article--My own thoughts
returning to me from an alienated majesty. [_She finishes her version
of the quotation to Spindler and Mr. Ritter._] Oh, by the way,--[_She
gives a little mirthless laugh._] I’m afraid I’ve neglected to
introduce Mr. Spindler [_Indicating Ritter with a very casual gesture
of her left hand, and picking up her lead-pencil from the little
table_] This is Mrs. Ritter’s husband, Mr. Spindler. [_Spindler strides
towards Ritter and extends his hand with that vigor which usually
characterizes the greetings of unimportant persons._]

SPINDLER. Glad!

RITTER. [_Tonelessly_] How are you?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Addressing Ritter directly_] Mr. Spindler is a
young man who has made quite an exhaustive study of the Little Theatre
Movement throughout the country; [_Spindler moves back towards his
former position, and Paula, over at the right, takes a piece of fudge
from a box on the little table below the casement-window._] and is
working very hard to bring about something of the same kind here.
[_Ritter inclines his head, and Spindler listens to Mrs. Pampinelli,
wreathed in smiles._] And is going to succeed, too, aren’t you, Mr.
Spindler?

SPINDLER. [_With a kind of pert assurance_] Never fell down on a big
job yet. [_He gives a self-conscious little laugh and glances at
Ritter, under whose coldly-appraising eye the laugh freezes instantly
into a short, hollow cough. Then he turns away._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I’m sure he has all the qualifications.

SPINDLER. [_With a wooden smile, and saluting_] Thank you, thank you.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Hasn’t he, Paula?

MRS. RITTER. [_Nibbling at the fudge_] Yes indeed, Mr. Spindler’s quite
indispensable. [_Spindler gives her a pert little nod, by way of
acknowledgment._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] I think that’s what I shall have
to call him hereafter,--[_Turning to Spindler_] the indispensable Mr.
Spindler. [_They all laugh,--a trifle more than the brilliancy of the
remark should reasonably occasion, and Mr. Spindler accounts it even
worthy a salute._]

SPINDLER. Bouquets were falling [_Here the front door-bell gives two
sharp little staccato rings._] thick and fast. [_He starts towards the
center-door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, it’s true--

SPINDLER. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Ritter_] I’ll answer it. [_He
hurries out into the right hallway._]

MRS. P. and MRS. R., speaking together.

  MRS. P. I know I don’t know what on earth I should do without him.

  MRS. R. [_Addressing Spindler as he hurries out the hallway_] All
  right, if you will, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. [_Calling back_] Sure!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. He is one of those rare persons who never forsakes one
in the hour of quotation. [_She turns to Mrs. Ritter, who is chewing
fudge at her right._] What are you eating, Paula?

MRS. RITTER. A bit of fudge. Would you like some, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Very definitely_] No, thank you, dear.

MRS. RITTER. [_Indicating the table below the casement-window_] There’s
some here.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Raising her hand in a gesture of finality, and
speaking with conviction_] I never eat immediately before using my
voice. And you should not, either, Paula,--particularly candy. [_She
moves across to the left to Mr. Ritter. She is an imposing woman, in
her late fifties, with a wealth of false hair, perfectly done, and a
martial bearing. She is one of those matrons who is frequently referred
to in the suburban weeklies as a “leading spirit”; and this particular
description has always so flattered Mrs. Pampinelli’s particular
vanity, that she overlooks no opportunity of justifying it: an effort
that has resulted in a certain grandeur of voice and manner; which,
rather fortunately, becomes the distinction of her person. She is
gowned in sapphire-blue velvet, close-fitting, with an independent,
triangular train, from the waist, probably four yards long. Her
necklace, comb, the buckles on her black-velvet slippers, and her
rings, are all touched with sapphire._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking vaguely at the fudge-box_] There’s so much of it
here. [_Jenny appears from the left hallway._]

MRS. P. and MRS. R., speaking together.

  MRS. P. [_Coming to Ritter’s right_] Very tragic about poor Sheppard,
  wasn’t it, Mr. Ritter?

  MRS. R. [_Going up to the center-door, and speaking to Jenny as she
  goes_] Mr. Spindler is answering the door, Jenny, you needn’t bother.

RITTER and JENNY, speaking together.

  RITTER. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] Yes, it _was_--too bad.

  JENNY. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] Oh, all right, then. [_She withdraws, and
  Mrs. Ritter stands looking out into the right hallway._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I suppose Paula wrote you.

RITTER. Yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Dear me--I don’t know when anything has so upset me.
[_Ritter stands looking at the end of his cigar and Mrs. Pampinelli
looks straight ahead._] I don’t believe I closed an eye the entire
night,--wondering where on earth I should find someone to play his
wife’s part. [_Ritter glances at her, as he places the cigar in his
mouth, and Mrs. Pampinelli looks at him quickly._] Because, of course,
you know that Mrs. Sheppard was to have played the part that Paula
plays.

RITTER. Yes, so she told me. [_Mrs. Ritter, still nibbling at the
fudge, wanders down and stands in the middle of the room._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. But we only had three days to get someone; and it
didn’t seem possible to me that anyone could memorize that part in
that length of time. [_Mrs. Ritter touches her hair and makes a little
sound of amusement,--a kind of modest acknowledgment of the brilliancy
of her achievement._] So I thought at first--of having Clara Sheppard
go on anyway, and I should make an announcement; but, you see, Mr.
Sheppard was buried on the fourteenth, and that was the night of the
performance; and as I thought the matter over, it seemed to me that
perhaps it was just a little too much to expect of her--[_Ritter gives
her another glance._] Considering her experience as an actress, I mean.

RITTER. [_Taking the cigar from his mouth and speaking with a shade of
deliberation_] Couldn’t she have kept his death a secret,--until after
the performance?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, I thought of that, too; [_Ritter looks
at her steadily._] but, you see, it was three days,--[_He nods,
understandingly._] and he was so very well known. [_She moves back
across the room towards the table below the piano, and Ritter stands
looking after her. Simultaneously, there is a frantic giggle from the
right hallway. Mrs. Ritter goes up to the center-door, looks in the
direction of the laughter, and waves her handkerchief, while Mrs.
Pampinelli, passing below the table, gathers up her note-book and
pencil and continues to the table below the casement-window, where she
secures the manuscript. Ritter steps forward from his position before
the mantelpiece, and disposes of some ashes on the little table-tray._]

MRS. FELL. [_Out in the right hallway_] Paula, that’s a very dangerous
young man you have on that door tonight.

MRS. RITTER. [_Calling to her_] I think it’s very kind of Mr. Spindler.
[_Mrs. Pampinelli comes around in front of the big arm-chair below the
casement-window._]

MRS. FELL. [_Coming into view, with considerable flourish_] Kind!
My dear, I haven’t heard anything like it since I was twenty! [_She
gives a little wave of her gorgeous, single white ostrich-plume fan at
Mrs. Pampinelli._] Hello, Betty! [_Then to Mrs. Ritter_] How are you,
darling?

MRS. RITTER. Hello, Nelly. [_Nelly kisses her._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Enthroning herself in the arm-chair at the right_]
Is it _really_ possible!

MRS. FELL. [_Turning from Mrs. Ritter and hurrying through the
center-door_] You’re a sweet child! [_Extending the fan towards Mrs.
Pampinelli, and coming quickly forward to the table at the right below
the piano_] Yes, and I should have been here every night at this hour
if it weren’t for that dreadful officer up at the parkway! [_She sets
her fan and black-velvet bag on the table. Spindler comes in from
the right hallway and engages in conversation with Mrs. Ritter in
the centre-door._] He seems to take a fiendish delight in selecting
_my_ car, of all the _millions_ that pass there at this hour, to do
_this_! [_She extends her right arm and hand, after the fashion of
traffic-officers._] So I told him yesterday afternoon, I said, “Look
here, young man!” [_She points her forefinger as though reproving
the officer._] “You needn’t expect any Christmas-present from _me_
next Christmas, for you just--won’t--get it. Not till you change your
tactics.” So he says, after this, he’s just going to let me go ahead
and run into a trolley-car;--see how I like that. [_Mrs. Pampinelli,
making marginal notes in the manuscript, laughs faintly._] “Well,” I
said, “it’d be a change, anyway,--from being stopped all the time.”
[_She abstractedly picks up her fan again._] I don’t think he likes my
chauffeur. And I don’t blame him; I don’t like him myself. He drives
too slow--[_She starts for the center-door._] He’s like an old woman.
[_She sees Ritter, peering at her, and starts abruptly._] Well, for
Mercy’s sake, Frederick Ritter, you don’t mean to tell me that’s you!

RITTER. I was here a minute ago.

MRS. FELL. [_Laughing flightily_] Well, I declare! I don’t know what’s
happening to my eyes! [_Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli_] I saw him standing
there, [_Turning back again and starting towards Ritter, with her hand
extended_] but I thought it was one of the other gentlemen! How are
you, dear boy? [_He takes her hand and stoops over as though to kiss
her. She turns her head away quickly._] Stop it! Frederick Ritter!
[_Mrs. Pampinelli glances over, then resumes her notes. Mrs. Fell
half-turns to Mrs. Ritter, who is still talking to Mr. Spindler up at
the center-door._] Paula!--do you see what this bad boy of yours is
doing? [_Paula just looks and laughs meaninglessly, and resumes her
conversation with Spindler._] What brought you back so soon?

RITTER. [_Assuming the attitude and tone of a lover_] I got thinking of
you.

MRS. FELL. [_Touching her hair_] I thought you were out in Seattle or
South Carolina or one of those funny places.

RITTER. [_Leaning a bit closer and speaking more softly_] I couldn’t
keep away from you any longer. [_Nelly darts a swift glance at him._]

MRS. FELL. [_Starting towards the right_] Don’t play with fire,
Frederick--[_He laughs hard. She pauses in the middle of the room and
turns and looks at him._] You know what they say about widows, and I’ve
been all kinds. [_She continues over towards Mrs. Pampinelli._] Oh,
Professor Pampinelli! [_Turning and addressing Ritter directly_] I call
her Professor, she knows so much. [_Turning back to Mrs. Pampinelli_]
Mrs. P.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking up suddenly_] I beg your pardon, Nelly
dear--I didn’t know you were speaking to me.

MRS. FELL. I want to know if you can take me home in your car tonight?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Why, certainly, dear.

MRS. FELL. My chauffeur has been deviling me for the past two days
about some boxing-bee,--or wrestling-match or something that he wants
to see; and I told him he could go if there were someone here to take
me home.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I can take you, of course.

MRS. FELL. All right, then, I can chase him; [_She turns to the left._]
I won’t hear any more about that. Oh, Mr. Spindler!

SPINDLER. Yes, mam? [_Excuses himself to Mrs. Ritter, who steps into
the left hallway and beckons with her finger for Jenny._]

MRS. FELL. Would you mind doing a favor for a very old lady?

SPINDLER. [_Who has hurried forward and is standing in the middle of
the room, at attention._] You know what I told you out at the door?
[_Nelly gives a shriek, and giggles._]

MRS. FELL. [_Looking coyly over Spindler’s shoulder at Ritter_] Oh,
you hear that, Frederick Ritter? You have a rival on the premises. Mr.
Spindler told me out at the door tonight,--that _my_ will was _his_
pleasure.

RITTER. [_Looking at the tip of his cigar_] San Juan is never dead
while Mr. Spindler lives. [_There is a general laugh._]

SPINDLER. [_Turning to Ritter_] Say, that’s pretty good!

MRS. FELL. Yes, I was afraid he was something of a gay deceiver.

SPINDLER. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Fell_] Only one way to find out.
[_Mrs. Fell laughs deprecatingly and sweeps the tip of her fan across
his nose._]

MRS. FELL. Naughty boy. [_She giggles a little more, then becomes
practical._] Well then, I’ll tell you what you may do for me, Mr.
Spindler, if you don’t mind. [_Jenny appears in the left hallway and
Mrs. Ritter gives her an order of some sort, which appears to require
a bit of explanation._] Go out to my chauffeur, [_She turns him round
by the shoulder and they move up towards the center-door._] you’ll
probably find him asleep in the car, and tell him I said it’s all
right,--he can go along--that Mrs. Pampinelli will take me home in
_her_ car.

SPINDLER. [_Hurrying out the right hallway_] Righto! [_Jenny
withdraws._]

MRS. FELL. [_Standing in the center-door and calling after him_]
Like a good boy. [_She turns, to find Mrs. Ritter at her left in the
center-door. She takes her arm and they come forward._] Come in here,
Paula Ritter, and explain to me _why_ [_They stop in the middle of the
room, just above the line on which Ritter is standing._] you didn’t
tell me my--lover [_She peers around in front of Paula’s shoulder at
Ritter._] was coming back today?

MRS. RITTER. [_Laughing faintly_] My dear, I didn’t know it myself
until twenty minutes ago.

MRS. FELL. [_Becoming instantly rigid, and piercing Mrs. Ritter with a
look_] You don’t mean to tell me he returned unexpectedly?

MRS. RITTER. He never even sent a wire.

MRS. FELL. [_Moving over to the right, to the little table below the
piano_] I’m surprised at you, Frederick. I consider that the supreme
indiscretion in a husband--[_She lays her fan down on the table._] to
return unexpectedly. Isn’t it, Paula? [_She commences to unfasten her
cloak._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Moving over to help her_] I never got such a surprise in
my life.

MRS. FELL. It has probably wrecked more perfectly good homes than
any other one thing in the calendar. [_She slips her cloak off her
shoulders, and Mrs. Ritter, who has passed back of her, takes it. It is
a flowing affair in black and silver, with voluminous kimona sleeves
edged with black fur, and a deep circular collar of silver-cloth and
fur._]

MRS. RITTER. I love your cape, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Settling her ornaments_] Do you really?

MRS. RITTER. [_Examining it_] Beautiful.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Reaching for it_] Let me see it, Paula.

MRS. RITTER. [_Handing it to her_] Where’s your seal, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. I thought I wouldn’t take it out this winter; I got so tired
looking at it last year. I want to have that collar and cuffs taken
off, anyway, before I wear it again;--there’s too much skunk there.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. This is perfectly gorgeous, dear. [_To Mrs. Ritter_]
Isn’t it?

MRS. RITTER. [_Picking up Nelly’s fan from the table_] Lovely. And
isn’t this sweet? [_Mrs. Pampinelli takes the fan from Mrs. Ritter and
returns the wrap._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Charming.

MRS. FELL. I’m so glad you like it;--I was afraid at first perhaps it
might make me look a little too much like a bride.

RITTER. [_With mock derision_] Ha! [_Nelly snaps her head toward him
and pins him with a narrow glare._]

MRS. FELL. Don’t be peevish, Frederick--

MRS. RITTER. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli, as she takes the fan from her and
replaces it on the table_] Isn’t he terrible!

MRS. FELL. It isn’t my fault that your wife is a great actress. [_She
gives a comic nod and wink at Mrs. Ritter. Ritter laughs._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Starting towards the door up above the casement-window,
at the right, with Mrs. Fell’s cape_] Now, Fred Ritter, you just stop
that!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Never mind him, Paula--[_Paula goes out with the
cape._] He’ll probably change his tune after tomorrow night. [_Mrs.
Fell picks up her fan and commences to fan herself._]

RITTER. [_Standing over above the table at the left, smoking_] I’m
thinking of what happened to poor Jimmy Sheppard. [_Jenny comes in at
the left hallway, carrying a small punch-bowl filled with claret, which
she sets down carefully on the little stand in the hallway. Mrs. Ritter
re-enters from the door on the right and crosses over to Jenny, whom
she assists._]

MRS. FELL. [_Strolling across towards Ritter, fanning herself_] Oh, I
suppose it must be very difficult for the marvelous male, to suddenly
find himself obliged to bask in the reflected glory of a mere wife.
[_Mrs. Pampinelli laughs, over her notes._] For I’ve never known one
yet who was able to do it gracefully. [_She flips the tip of the fan
at Ritter’s nose. Mrs. Ritter gives Jenny a direction of some kind and
Jenny goes out again at the left hallway._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_As Mrs. Fell saunters back again across the room_]
Well, perhaps Mr. Ritter will show himself consistently _masculine_
in this instance, and do the exceptional thing. [_Mrs. Ritter follows
Jenny out._]

RITTER. I suppose that’s what you’d call _veiled_ sarcasm, isn’t it?
[_Mrs. Pampinelli laughs and rises._]

MRS. FELL. [_Standing in the middle of the room_] I shouldn’t say it
was veiled at _all_. [_Moving towards the table below the piano_] I
don’t think it’s even _draped_.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laughing still, and coming to the little table_]
Here’s the manuscript, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Stepping closer to the table_] Yes, dear.

RITTER. What are you going to do now, keep _on_ giving this show?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, not this particular one, Mr. Ritter, no; but we
are going to continue giving shows.

RITTER. What’s the idea?

MRS. FELL. They’re to be for different charities.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And then they will afford the boys and girls an
opportunity of developing themselves as artists.

RITTER. What are they going to do, all go on the stage?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, hardly all of them will go;--but those that we
feel have sufficient talent we will encourage to go on, by all means.

RITTER. Do you think Mrs. Ritter has sufficient talent?

MRS. FELL. She’s wonderful, Fred, really.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, I should say that Paula had a very remarkable
talent.

RITTER. Well, what will you do about _her_?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. How do you mean, Mr. Ritter, what will we _do_ about
her?

RITTER. Why, I mean,--you’d hardly encourage _her_ to go on the stage,
would you?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And why not?

RITTER. Why, what about her home? [_Nelly Fell touches her hair and
gives Mrs. Pampinelli a look of amused impatience._] She couldn’t very
well walk away and leave that, could she?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, personally, Mr. Ritter, I have always felt that,
where it is a question of talent, one should not allow himself to be
deterred by purely personal considerations.

MRS. FELL. She’s really awfully good, Fred! You wait till you
see--You’ll want her to go yourself.

RITTER. [_Stepping quietly to the table at the left and disposing of
some cigar-ashes_] She’ll have to be pretty good.

MRS. FELL. Won’t he, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, as far as that is concerned, I think that the
question of whether to be or or not to be an actress, is one that every
woman must, at some time or other in her life, decide for herself.
[_Spindler hurries in from the right hallway and down to Mrs. Fell’s
left, where he stands at attention, saluting, of course, as usual. Mr.
Spindler is full of salutes. He was in the army;--drafted ten weeks
before the armistice; and subjected throughout the long term of his
service to the dangers and exposure of a clerkship in the Personnel at
Upton. And he’s never gotten over it; being of that immature type of
mind upon which the letter of the Military makes a profound impression.
He’s a peppy person, thin and stilted,--in dinner clothes,--with sleek
hair and goggle glasses: one of that distressing student-order that is
inevitably to be found in the retinue of some Mrs. Pampinelli,--her
social status and constant championship of so-called artistic movements
affording him a legitimate indulgence of his particular weaknesses. So
he becomes a kind of lead-pencil-bearer extraordinary to her ladyship;
and her ladyship tolerates him,--for a variety of reasons; not the
least of which is his unfailing attitude of acquiescence in all her
opinions. And she has so many opinions,--and on so many different
subjects, that this feature of Mr. Spindler’s disposition is far from
inconsiderable. Then, he has a most highly developed faculty for small
correctnesses,--an especially valuable asset, in view of the enormous
amount of detail work incidental to Mrs. Pampinelli’s vast activities.
He reminds her of things, or, “brings them to her attention,” as she
puts it. For Mr. Spindler is one of those--fortunately few--people who
remembers things--word for word--even the things he’s read--And he
appears to have read most everything. And he quotes incessantly. As
Mrs. Pampinelli has already observed of him, “he is one of those rare
persons who never forsakes one in the hour of quotation.”_] Look here,
Nelly.

MRS. FELL. Yes, dear. [_Mrs. Ritter comes in from the left hallway
carrying several punch-glasses, which she puts down on the hallway
table._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Indicating a certain line in the manuscript with
her lead-pencil_] There are a couple of little changes here on page
twelve--[_Mrs. Fell opens her lorgnon and looks at the manuscript._] I
have them marked.

MRS. FELL. [_Becoming conscious of Spindler at her left_] Pardon me,
Betty. [_Turning to Spindler_] Did you tell him, Mr. Spindler?

SPINDLER. Yes, mam; he’s gone on his way rejoicing.

MRS. FELL. You’re a sweet child.

SPINDLER. [_Snapping his salute_] Thank you. [_He does an about-face
and goes up to Mrs. Ritter,--Ritter watching him with an expression
susceptible of infinite interpretation._]

MRS. FELL. The only man I’ve met in a long time that has made me wish I
were--ten years younger.

RITTER. Ha!

MRS. FELL. [_Pertly_] Outside of you, of course.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a touch of wearied impatience_] Look here, dear.

MRS. FELL. [_Stepping quickly to the table again and re-adjusting her
lorgnon_] Yes, I beg your pardon.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You see, in this line here,--the author has employed a
defective verb in the perfect tense. [_Mrs. Fell looks suddenly at her
and then right back to the manuscript again. Ritter is watching them
closely._] Would you come here for a moment, Mr. Spindler?

SPINDLER. Certainly, certainly. [_Excuses himself to Mrs. Ritter, with
whom he has been chatting, and comes down briskly to Mrs. Fell’s left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. If you please.

MRS. FELL. [_Appearing to have some difficulty locating the defective
verb_] Where is that, now, that you were saying, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Indicating with the point of the pencil_] Right
there, dear. [_Nelly just looks at the spot, through her lorgnon._]
This is the point I was speaking to you about last night, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. [_Securing his goggles_] Oh, yes, yes! [_Ritter draws Mrs.
Ritter’s attention to the group down at the table. She reproves him
with a steady stare. He smiles and shakes his head hopelessly._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You see, this author has employed a defective here, in
the perfect tense.

SPINDLER. [_Looking closely_] Ah, yes, I see.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking at him directly_] So I have changed it. [_He
straightens up and looks at her, and Mrs. Fell looks from one to the
other._]

SPINDLER. A very good change. [_He nods and crosses over to the left,
passing below the table at the left. Ritter watches him until he takes
up his position just below the mantelpiece, rather ill at ease under
Ritter’s gaze._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I think so. So, if you’ll just watch that Nelly. [_She
picks up the manuscript._]

MRS. FELL. All right, I’ll watch it. [_She reaches for her bag and
takes out a lip-stick. Jenny appears from the left hallway with a tray
of cakes, which Mrs. Ritter assists her in making room for on the hall
table._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Starting for the center-door_] I must show it to
Paula, it’s her line. [_The door-bell rings._] Paula child. [_Jenny
passes back of Mrs. Ritter and goes out into the right hallway to
answer the door-bell._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Eating a cake_] Yes, dear? [_Mrs. Pampinelli calls her
attention to the change in the manuscript. Mrs. Fell is making up
her lips down at the table below the piano. Ritter is watching her,
and Spindler is watching Ritter, and trying to assume his general
deportment._]

RITTER. Are _you_ in the show, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Without turning, and applying the lip-stick, with the aid
of the little mirror in her hand-bag_] Who, me?

RITTER. Yes.

MRS. FELL. [_Half-turning, and giving him a melting look_] Yes;--I play
a chicken. [_She returns to her mirror._]

RITTER. [_Casually_] In the last act, I suppose. [_Nelly snaps her head
around and pierces him with one of her looks._]

MRS. FELL. No, and not in the last stages, either. [_She resumes her
make-up. Nelly is forever making up. But, she does know how to do it.
Of course, she should, considering the years of her experience in the
art. For Nelly Fell’s age amounts to an achievement; one of those
attainments so absolutely undisputed that it is perfectly permissible
to refer to it in any gathering. She says she’ll “soon be sixty”; but
the short and simple annals of society record flutterings of the lady
as far back as the first term of President Grant. And she’s still
fluttering--a perennial ingenue, full of brittle moves and staccato
vocalisms. She looks like a little French marquise, so chic, and
twittery--and rich. For, of course, Nelly is wealthy--enormously so;
it would be utterly impossible to have her hair and not have money;
the feature is financial in itself; so silver-white, with a lovely
bandau of small, pale-pink leaves, tipped with diamond dewdrops; all
heightened tremendously by the creation in black velvet she is wearing.
This gown is heavily trimmed with silver, and quite sleeveless, with
two panels of the goods fastened at the waist on either side and
trailing at least a yard. She has a preference for diamonds and pearls,
obviously, for her ear-rings, dog-collar, bracelets and rings are all
of those gems, and her long, triple-string necklace is of pearls.
Altogether, Nelly is a very gorgeous little old lady--from the topmost
ringlet of her aristocratic hair, to the pearl buckles on her tiny
black-velvet slippers._]

SPINDLER. Mrs. Fell is the official promptress.

MRS. FELL. [_Turning her head and looking at Ritter_] I _prompt_
everybody. [_She replaces her lip-stick in the hand-bag._]

RITTER. Yes?

MRS. FELL. [_Putting the hand-bag down again on the table_] As well as
lending my moral support.

RITTER. Yes? [_Spindler laughs._]

MRS. FELL. [_To Ritter_] You bold thing!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Coming into view from the right hallway_] Good evening,
everybody!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to him, from Mrs. Ritter, with whom she has
been discussing the change in the manuscript_] Oh, good evening, Mr.
Hossefrosse. [_They shake hands._]

MRS. RITTER. Mr. Hossefrosse. [_Mrs. Pampinelli comes forward into the
room again, bringing the manuscript with her._]

HOSSEFROSSE. Mrs. Ritter--good evening. [_Mrs. Ritter asks him if he
will have a glass of claret and he says yes, so she proceeds to fill
him out one._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I hope the rest of the people aren’t far behind you.

HOSSEFROSSE. Are we late?

MRS. FELL. [_Waving to him_] Hello, Huxley.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Not very.

HOSSEFROSSE. Hello, Nelly. How are you? [_Mrs. Ritter gives him the
claret, and he stands up at the center-door with her, drinking it.
Teddy Spearing wanders in from the right hallway._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Passing below the little table below the piano and
laying the manuscript on it_] Here’s the manuscript, Nelly. [_She
continues to the arm-chair below the casement-window, and, picking
up her note-book from the little table at her right, sits down and
commences to make notes._]

MRS. FELL. [_Seeing Teddy Spearing, and starting towards the right
partition_] Oh, Teddy Spearing!

TEDDY. Hello, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Beckoning him with her fan_] Come here, dear, I’ve got
something to tell you. [_Teddy leans over the partition at the right
and Nelly kneels on the partition-seat and whispers something to him.
Hossefrosse and Mrs. Ritter are conversing in the center-door, Mrs.
Pampinelli is making notes down at the right, Ritter is standing over
in front of the mantelpiece, smoking, and Spindler is standing just
below him, to his left, watching him._]

SPINDLER. [_In a sudden surge of courage, and taking a rather
nonchalant step towards Ritter_] Could you spare one of those cigars,
please? [_Ritter looks at him keenly, then reaches in his vest-pocket
for a cigar._]

RITTER. Do you smoke?

SPINDLER. Semi-occasionally, yes. [_Ritter hands him the cigar and he
steps nonchalantly back to his former position, Ritter keeping one eye
on him. He examines the cigar curiously, and, being apparently very
near-sighted, seems to have considerable difficulty in deciphering the
band-inscription._]

RITTER. You can light _either_ end of it.

SPINDLER. [_Very self-conscious_] Yes,--I was just looking at this
label here: it’s rather keen. [_He puts the cigar in his mouth, and
attempts an attitude of careless detachment._]

RITTER. Have you got a match?

SPINDLER. I don’t--[_As he opens his mouth to speak the cigar falls on
the floor, and he scrambles after it._]

TEDDY. [_Laughing incredulously and turning away from Nelly_] Oh, Nelly!

MRS. FELL. Upon my word, dear! Come here till I tell you. [_Teddy
returns to the partition and Nelly proceeds with her gossip._]

SPINDLER. [_Straightening up, and attempting another man-of-the-world
attitude_] I don’t care to smoke just now, thank you. [_He holds the
cigar in his fingers._]

RITTER. [_As things settle again_] You’ve been in the army, haven’t you?

SPINDLER. [_Turning to Ritter with a suggestion of military erectness_]
Yes; I put in the better part of three months down at Upton, in the
Personnel.

RITTER. I imagined from your salute you’d been around one of the camps.

SPINDLER. Yes,--I was Third Lieutenant down there--[_Ritter looks at
him sharply; then Spindler turns and meets the look._] Regimental
Sergeant Major.

RITTER. Rest.

MRS. FELL. [_Coming away from the partition_] So I’m going to ask
him right out the very next time I meet him. [_She comes down to the
little table below the piano again. Mr. Hossefrosse comes through the
center-door towards Ritter, rubbing his hands, and Teddy moves over
towards Mrs. Ritter, who is still officiating at the punch-bowl._]

TEDDY and HOSSEFROSSE, speaking together.

  TEDDY. [_Speaking to Mrs. Fell_] Maybe he doesn’t know it himself.

  HOSSEFROSSE. [_Addressing Ritter_] Ah, Mr. Ritter! How do you do, sir?
  [_They shake hands._]

RITTER. How do you do?

MRS. FELL and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  MRS. FELL. Well, I’m going to find out, whether he does or not.

  HOSSEFROSSE. [_To Ritter_] Decided there was no place like home, eh?
  [_He laughs, with a mirthless effusiveness._]

RITTER. Are you in the show, too? [_Mrs. Ritter fills out a glass of
claret for Teddy._]

MRS. FELL and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  MRS. FELL. I should say he is in it.

  HOSSEFROSSE. We’re all in it.

MRS. FELL. He’s the leading man. [_Hossefrosse raises his right
hand toward Nelly and laughs deprecatingly._] Unfortunately, there
isn’t a place in the play where he can use that perfectly gorgeous
singing-voice of his. [_Hossefrosse is quite overcome, and crosses,
with hand extended, to Spindler._] It’s true.

HOSSEFROSSE. Good evening, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. Good evening, good evening. [_In shifting the cigar from his
right hand to his left he drops it._]

HOSSEFROSSE. Uh! I beg your pardon! [_Mrs. Ritter laughs at something
Teddy has said to her, then hands him a glass of claret. Mr.
Hossefrosse stoops to pick up Spindler’s cigar._]

SPINDLER. [_Stooping also, after the cigar_] That’s all right.

HOSSEFROSSE and SPINDLER, together.

  HOSSEFROSSE. I’ll get it. [_He picks it up and hands it to Spindler._]

  SPINDLER. It isn’t lit.

HOSSEFROSSE. There we are.

SPINDLER. Thank you very much.

HOSSEFROSSE. Don’t mention it. [_He crosses down to Nelly, who is
looking through the manuscript at the table below the piano._]

TEDDY. [_Coming through the center-door and speaking to Ritter_] How do
you do, Mr. Ritter?

RITTER. [_Shaking hands with him_] How are you?

TEDDY. [_Nodding to Spindler_] Good evening.

SPINDLER. Good evening, sir; good evening.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Teddy!

TEDDY. [_Crossing towards the piano_] Yes?

MRS. RITTER, MRS. PAMPINELLI and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  MRS. RITTER. [_Waving her handkerchief toward the right hallway_]
  Hello, Florence!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Addressing Teddy_] Did you telephone that man about
  those tickets?

  HOSSEFROSSE. [_Standing at Mrs. Fell’s left shoulder_] What are you
  doing, Nelly?

FLORENCE, MRS. FELL and TEDDY, together.

  FLORENCE. [_Out in the right hallway_] Am I the last? [_She hurries
  into view and whispers something to Paula at the center-door which
  sends Paula into a fit of laughing._]

  MRS. FELL. [_To Hossefrosse_] Making more changes. [_He crosses over
  to the right in front of Nelly and sits on the piano-stool, back of
  Mrs. Pampinelli._]

  TEDDY. [_Answering Mrs. Pampinelli_] Yes, I did, Mrs.
  Pampinelli, he said he’d have them there all right.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Thank you so much. [_Teddy goes up and crosses above
the piano, where he engages Mr. Hossefrosse in conversation._] Hello,
Florence! [_Jenny comes into view from the right hallway._]

FLORENCE. [_Coming straight forward from the center-door_] Am I the
last? [_The front door-bell rings again, and Jenny turns and goes back
into the right hallway again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, but you’re very close to it. How are you, dear?

FLORENCE. Rushed like mad. [_Flipping her lynx muff_] Hello, everybody.
Hello, Nelly. [_She swings round to her left._]

MRS. FELL. Hello, Flossie.

FLORENCE. How do you do, Mr. Spindler? [_Hossefrosse gets up and
whispers something to Mrs. Pampinelli, in which she agrees._]

SPINDLER. How do you do? [_Ritter bows very graciously to Florence, and
Mrs. Ritter comes forward to her husband’s right, eating a piece of
cake._]

FLORENCE. [_Extending the muff at arms-length at Ritter_] No, I don’t
speak to you at all. [_She removes her stole._]

RITTER. What’s the matter?

FLORENCE. Paula, did you know your husband is becoming very snooty?
[_Hossefrosse resumes his seat on the piano-stool._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Sliding her hand through Ritter’s right arm_] Why didn’t
you speak to Florence at the station today, Fred?

RITTER. I didn’t see you today.

FLORENCE. Well, my dear, you _must_ be getting old; for Irene Colter
and I did everything but stand on our heads to attract your attention.
[_On the last word of this sentence she flips one of the tails of
the stole at him, and he ducks, as though afraid of getting hurt._]
Where shall I put these, Paula? [_Mrs. Pampinelli rises quietly from
her chair at the right, and, lost in thought, proceeds slowly and
majestically across in front of Mrs. Fell to the middle of the room,
tapping her lead-pencil on the note-book._]

MRS. RITTER. I’ll take them. [_She takes the muff and stole from
Florence and goes up and out into the right hallway with them._]

FLORENCE. [_Espying Teddy up back of the piano, shading his eyes with
his hand, as though trying to see her from a great distance_] Hello,
Teddy dear! [_Goes towards him_] What are you doing away back here in
the corner? [_She makes a sudden move as though to tickle him in the
ribs, but he laughs and jumps away. Mrs. Pampinelli has by this time
reached the center of the room, where she stands turning from side
to side in a profound indecision as to the relationship of certain
positions. She indicates her line of thought by divers pointings and
flippings of the lead-pencil. Ritter watches her with narrow amusement;
and, presently, Mrs. Fell, who is still occupied with the manuscript
at the little table, looks up, distracted by the gyrations of the
lead-pencil._]

MRS. FELL. What’s the matter, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I was just wondering about a little piece of business
here.

SPINDLER. [_Stepping to the back of the arm-chair at the left and
leaning over it towards Mrs. Pampinelli_] Can I help you, Mrs. P.?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Without turning to him_] No, thank you; it’s
purely technical. [_He resumes his position at the left corner of
the mantelpiece and glances at Ritter, who is obliged to use his
handkerchief to hide his amusement. Mrs. Ritter comes in through the
door at the right, above the piano._]

MRS. FELL. Betty, did I tell you I saw Clara Sheppard today? [_But Mrs.
Pampinelli is still deep in technical profundities, and simply silences
her with a gesture of her right hand._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Coming forward at the right of the piano_] Where did you
see her, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. Darlington’s, at the mourning counter.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming suddenly out of her abstraction, and turning
to Mrs. Fell_] Is she going in black?

MRS. FELL. My dear, she’s _in_ it already.

TWILLER. [_Coming in the right hallway_] Good evening!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. She’s very foolish, under the circumstances.

MRS. FELL. That’s just what I told her today.

TWILLER. [_Coming through the center-door and forward at the left of
the piano_] Good evening, Mrs. Ritter.

MRS. RITTER. Good evening, Mr. Twiller.

TWILLER. [_To Hossefrosse, casually_] Huxley.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Shifting from the piano-stool to the arm-chair, which
Mrs. Pampinelli has just vacated, and proceeding to study his part,
which he has taken from his pocket_] Hello, Ralph.

MRS. FELL. Hello, Ralph.

TWILLER. Nelly!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Still in the middle of the room_] You’re the ten
o’clock scholar again tonight, Mr. Twiller. [_Jenny crosses from the
right hallway to the left, and goes out._]

TWILLER. I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. P., really; but the fates seem to be
against me. [_Teddy gives a little whistle at him. He turns and sees
him, standing with Florence, up back of the piano._] Hello, Teddy!
[_He goes towards him, and Teddy shoots at him with his thumb and
forefinger, by way of reply. Florence smiles and extends her left arm
and hand towards him._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI and TWILLER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Moving over from the middle of the room to the left
  of Mrs. Fell, who is still at the table below the piano_] What was
  that you were saying, Nelly, about Clara Sheppard?

  TWILLER. Flossie, dear, I didn’t see you two up here! [_He takes
  Florence’s hand and kisses it. Then he crosses to the left and shakes
  hands with Ritter; then over to Spindler, and then starts back towards
  Florence, at the piano. As he passes Ritter, Ritter taps him on the
  right shoulder; he turns, and Ritter asks him something. He replies,
  and they stand chatting for a moment; then Ritter indicates the
  partition-seat behind them and they sit down, to talk it over._]

MRS. FELL. Why, I simply told her--I said, “Don’t be spectacular, dear;
it’ll only make it more difficult for you when you want to marry again.
And,” I said, “you probably _will_ marry again,”--[_Spindler sits on the
chair below the door at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Of course she will.

MRS. FELL. “For you’re a comparatively young woman. So,” I said, “just
get through the next few months as undramatically as possible. [_Jenny
enters in the left hallway and takes empty glasses off._] I know he
was your _first_ husband, and all that; but, after all,” I said, “he
was _only_ your husband: it isn’t as though you’d lost someone who was
very _close_ to you”--[_She turns her head and speaks directly to Mrs.
Pampinelli._] Like one of your own people, [_Turning to Mrs. Ritter,
who is standing at her right_] or something like that, I mean. “And,” I
said, “another thing, darling,--_always remember_--he’d have very soon
put another in _your_ place if it had been you.” [_She finishes the
remark to Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Knowingly, and with conviction_] I should say he
would.

MRS. FELL. [_Reaching for her hand-bag_] And I felt like saying, “And I
could give you the names and addresses right now of _several_ that he
would have put in your place _long ago_, only for the law.”

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a shade of confidence_] She must have known it.

MRS. FELL. [_Reflecting the tone_] Of _course_, she knew it. [_Florence
leaves Teddy, up at the piano, and crosses to Ritter and Twiller, to
show them a piece of music. They rise, and she indicates a certain
point on the sheet; then she continues down to Spindler, who rises at
her approach, and shows it to him._]

MRS. RITTER. How is she, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. My dear, she looks a perfect wreck. [_Florence sits on the
arm of the arm-chair at the left and Spindler resumes the little chair
below the left door, and drawing it a bit closer to the arm-chair. He
appears to be telling Florence something very interesting._]

MRS. RITTER. Poor soul.

MRS. FELL. She says no one will _ever_ know how she feels--about losing
that part. And she says she simply cannot _wait_ until tomorrow night,
[_She turns to Mrs. Pampinelli._] to see Paula’s interpretation of it.
[_Mrs. Ritter gives an inane little laugh, and Mrs. Fell turns quickly
to her._] She’s heard so much about it. [_Jenny comes in from the left
hallway again with fresh glasses. She sets them down on the hallway
table and proceeds to arrange them._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Is she coming to the performance tomorrow night?

MRS. FELL. She says she’ll see that performance, if she has to disguise
herself.

MRS. RITTER. Doesn’t that sound just like her? [_Nelly nods agreement._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes,--she’s so full of dramatic instinct.

MRS. FELL. [_With a touch of bitterness_] He never appreciated it
though.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. My dear, has _any_ artist _ever_ been adequately
appreciated?

MRS. RITTER. I understand he was very heavily insured.

MRS. FELL. Oh, yes!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. She _seemed_ very optimistic when I spoke to her on
the telephone.

MRS. FELL. I believe your husband’s company had him insured for quite a
lot, didn’t they, Paula?

MRS. RITTER. [_Lowering her tone_] I believe they did, Nelly,--but I
couldn’t say for just how much.

MRS. FELL. [_Quietly detaching herself_] I must find that out. [_She
passes back of Mrs. Pampinelli and across towards Ritter. Mrs. Ritter
and Mrs. Pampinelli continue in conversation._] Frederick, I want to
ask you something. [_He steps forward, excusing himself to Twiller._]
Pardon me, Ralph.

TWILLER. That’s all right, Nelly. [_He crosses again to Teddy._]

MRS. FELL. Frederick, what did you think when you heard Jimmy Sheppard
was dead?

RITTER. Why, I thought he was dead, of course. [_Mrs. Ritter leaves
Mrs. Pampinelli, passing back of her, and goes up to assist Jenny with
her arrangements. Mrs. Pampinelli busies herself with making notations
on the margin of the manuscript, at the little table._]

MRS. FELL. [_Flipping the tip of her fan in his face_] Oh, did
you, Smarty! [_Ritter raises his right hand, as though to ward off
the blow._] Well, listen, Frederick. [_He attends, and she becomes
confidential._] He left quite a bit of insurance, didn’t he?

RITTER. Yes--about three hundred thousand, I believe.

MRS. FELL. [_Becoming generally stoney_] Is there a will, do you know?

RITTER. I don’t know; I suppose there is.

MRS. FELL. Well, I hope she was sharp enough to see that there is.
Because if there isn’t, you know, she’s only entitled to a third
in this state. That’s all the widow’s entitled to. And, you know,
Frederick, Clara Sheppard could never in this world get along on a bare
hundred thousand dollars; you know that as well as I do.

RITTER. Well, she has quite a bit of money of her own, hasn’t she?

MRS. FELL. Oh, tons of it, yes; but there’s no sense in using her
own if she can use his. [_Ritter glances at her, but she has turned
away slightly to cough, behind her fan. Jenny goes out at the left
hallway._] Was sudden, wasn’t it?

RITTER. Yes, it was.

MRS. FELL. We were terribly inconvenienced. Because I’d simply
_deluged_ my friends with tickets. [_Mrs. Ritter is up at the
punch-bowl, sampling the punch and nibbling at the cakes._]

RITTER. I can’t understand why you didn’t postpone the show.

MRS. FELL. That’s what _I_ wanted to do; but Mrs. P. here was
superstitious.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Catching her name, and straightening up from the
manuscript, imperiously_] What are you saying about Mrs. P., Nelly Fell?

MRS. FELL. Why, Frederick was wondering why we didn’t postpone the
performance when Jimmy Sheppard died,--and _I_ told him you were
superstitious about a postponement.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, Nelly, I was not superstitious, so please don’t
say that I was; I shouldn’t care to have such an impression get abroad.

MRS. FELL. [_Touching her hair_] Well, you were something, Betty.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, Nelly, I admit that I was something,--but it
was not superstitious. I was,--[_She looks out and away off, and feels
for the word._] intuitive. [_She turns her head and looks directly
at Ritter, who drops his eyes to the tip of his cigar. Nelly Fell,
following Mrs. Pampinelli’s eyes, looks at Ritter also. Then everyone’s
eyes shift to Mrs. Pampinelli. Florence turns languidly and looks; and
Mrs. Ritter, with a glass of punch in one hand, and a small cake in the
other, moves forward, in the middle of the room, and stands looking
and listening--and chewing. Hossefrosse steps over to the table behind
which Mrs. Pampinelli is standing, and takes the manuscript,--returning
with it to the arm-chair, and becoming absorbed in a comparison of a
certain page of it with his individual part._] I have struggled so long
to inaugurate a Little Theatre Movement in this community, that I had
intuitively anticipated the occurrence of some obstacle to thwart me;
so that, when the telephone-bell rang, on the night of Mr. Sheppard’s
death, I said to myself, before I even took down the receiver, [_She
plants her lead-pencil on the table and assumes something of the aspect
of a crusader._] “_This_ is my event. Something has happened--that is
going to put my sincerity in this movement to the test. And I must
remember, as Mr. Lincoln said at Gettysburg, ‘It is better that we
should perish, than that those ideals for which we struggle should
perish.’” [_She turns her gaze in the direction of Ritter, but Mrs.
Ritter is first in the line of vision, with her eyes full of the
coast of Greenland, and her mouth full of cake. As she becomes
suddenly conscious that Mrs. Pampinelli has stopped talking and is
looking directly at her, she meets the look and breaks into an utterly
irrelevant little laugh._]

RITTER. It’s a singular thing, but I’ve noticed that invariably there’s
a _fatality_ connected with these amateur performances.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Unfortunately, that is true, Mr. Ritter, I agree with
you. But then, we are not dismayed; we have the lessons of history
to fortify us; for whenever the torch of essential culture has been
raised, [_She raises the lead-pencil as though it were a torch._] there
has unfailingly been the concomitant exactment of a human life. [_She
stands holding the torch aloft until the little cuckoo-clock over the
door at the left cuckoos the half-hour. Ritter looks at it, and Nelly
Fell gives it a glance. Florence, too, turns and looks up. Then Mrs.
Pampinelli turns her eyes slowly upon it and withers it with a look._]
Well, children, it’s eight-thirty,--[_She gathers up her train and
tosses it across her left arm, then comes around to the right in front
of the table where she has been standing. Mrs. Ritter returns to the
table in the hallway and sets down her empty glass. Ritter goes up
after her and she fills him out a drink. Florence rises from the arm of
the chair, and, passing in front of the table at the left, goes up and
across back of the piano and out the door, at the right. As she passes
above the piano she says something to Teddy, who has come down at the
right of the piano, from his late position up near the door, and is
crossing below it. Twiller turns and goes out through the center-door
and stands leaning over the partition in the right hallway. Hossefrosse
rises, settles his clothes and clears his throat. Mr. Spindler, also,
has risen, and is replacing his chair back against the wall, below the
door._] Time we went “unto the breach” once more.

MRS. FELL. [_Stepping forward a little to the center of the room, and
stretching her hand towards Mr. Hossefrosse_] You have my props, Huxley.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Crossing below the table, to give her the manuscript_] I
beg your pardon, Nelly; I was just looking at something here.

MRS. FELL. Thanks. [_She pulls him towards her and whispers something._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing at the left of the little table_] Have you
my other pencil, Mr. Spindler?

SPINDLER. [_Hurrying across towards her_] I believe you left it over
here on this little table. [_He passes below Teddy, who is just
crossing to the left, and continues on between the piano and the table
to the little table below the casement-window. Nelly Fell breaks into a
shrill giggle, pushes Hossefrosse towards the center-door, and crosses
to the left, passing below the table. She is in a violent state of
laughter. Hossefrosse goes on up to the center-door, and, excusing
himself to Ritter, who is standing there drinking, passes out into the
right hallway. Teddy comes around back of the arm-chair at the left
and sits in the arm-chair. Mrs. Pampinelli has moved to the right of
the table below the piano, where she stands reviewing her notes._]

MRS. FELL. [_To Teddy, confidentially, as she takes up her position on
the chair below the door at the left_] I’ll tell you later. [_She sits
down._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Tapping her lead-pencil on the table and addressing
them generally_] Now, folks,--[_Ritter sets his glass on the table and
steps into the right hallway, where he converses with Twiller for a
second, then stands listening; while Mrs. Ritter hurries in and settles
herself on the partition-seat at the left and listens attentively._]
you understand, of course, that the setting will be just as it was
at the Civic Club on the fourteenth; only, of course, as you know,
the stage at Hutchy Kutchy is considerably larger. That, however,
need not concern us particularly, as the entrances and exits will be
relatively the same. [_She finishes this speech to Mr. Spindler, who
is standing at her right, waiting for her to take the lead-pencil._]
Oh, thank you, Mr. Spindler. [_She gives him the one she has--simply an
exchange of pencils, and he salutes and returns to a position below the
casement-window. Florence comes in at the right door again, wearing her
furs, and comes down at the right of the piano. Mrs. Pampinelli moves a
little towards the center-door._] Are you going to watch the rehearsal,
Mr. Ritter?

MRS. FELL. Of course, he is!

RITTER. [_Coming through the center-door_] If I wouldn’t be in the way.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Not at all,--very glad to have you.

MRS. FELL. He can sit over here with the promptress. [_He crosses
towards Nelly, picking up the little chair above the table at the left,
as he passes. Hossefrosse emerges from the right hallway carrying a
light, soft hat, a cane and gloves, and stands in the center-door.
Florence steps across below the piano and asks Mrs. Pampinelli
something._] If you can behave yourself. [_Florence returns to the
corner of the piano nearest the window and drapes herself on it. She’s
a very gorgeous-looking thing, in a sleeveless gown of canary-colored
metallic silk, made quite daringly severe, to exploit the long, lithe
lines of her greyhound figure. There’s a chain-effect girdle with the
dress, of vivid jade, worn loose, and an ornament of the same jade on
the left shoulder, from which the goods falls in a plain drape down in
front of the arm to the bottom of the skirt. She has a perfect shock of
hair,--rather striking,--a kind of suspicious auburn; and she has it
bobbed. Her slippers and stockings are white._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You needn’t sit there yet, Teddy, I’m going to run
through the last scene first,--

TEDDY. [_Rising_] Oh, all right.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. For Mr. Hossefrosse’s lines. [_Teddy passes in front
of the table at the left and goes up to the center-door and out into
the right hallway, where he chats with Twiller and watches the
proceedings over the partition. Spindler comes over and asks Mrs.
Pampinelli something. Ritter places his chair beside Nelly’s, above it,
and sits down, assuming the attitude of a lover._]

MRS. FELL. [_Pushing Ritter’s arm away_] Stop it, Frederick Ritter!
Paula! [_Spindler returns to his post._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Inanely_] Behave yourself, Fred.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Now, folks,--[_She moves slowly down and across
towards the table at the left._] Mr. Spindler will attend to the
various cues tonight, and at the performance tomorrow night as well.
[_Speaking directly to Nelly_] So we won’t have to bother about that.
[_Turning round to her left and addressing the others_] He will do all
the rapping. [_She raps a little._] And he has a little telephone-bell
of his own, [_She moves across again towards the back of the table at
the right._] which he has very kindly tendered the use of. Have you
that bell with you tonight, Mr. Spindler? [_He holds out a bell and
battery arrangement on a piece of wood, having taken it from his pocket
immediately she referred to it, and rings it twice._] Splendid. [_She
passes above the table and comes forward at the right of it, very
thoughtfully._] That’s splendid. [_Spindler replaces the battery._]
Now, children,--[_She crosses in front of the table._] I think,
first, I should like to take that scene at the finish, between Doctor
Arlington and his wife; [_She is standing at the left of the table,
speaking directly to Hossefrosse, who is standing in the center-door,
with his hat on, at a rather absurd angle, and holding his cane in
one hand and his gloves in the other, in a very stilted fashion.
Hossefrosse is a terribly well-fed-looking person in dinner clothes,
perhaps, thirty-eight years of age,--flamingly florid of complexion,
and with an effusiveness of manner that is probably only saved from
absolute effervescence by the ponderous counterpoise of his dignity._]
there are a few little things in there I want to correct. [_Crossing
over back of the table at the left towards Mrs. Fell_] Page eighteen or
nineteen, I think it is, Nelly. It’s the scene at the finish between
Mr. Hossefrosse and Miss McCrickett. [_Nelly looks for the place,
through her lorgnon._] Oh! [_Mrs. Pampinelli turns back to the others
again._] and one thing more I want to mention, boys and girls, before
I forget it. [_She takes a funny little coughing spell._] Pardon me.
[_She coughs again._] Oh, dear me! [_She closes her eyes tight and
shivers her head._]

MRS. FELL. Page eighteen did you say it was, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Eighteen or nineteen, yes. It’s somewhere right in
there.

MRS. FELL. Oh, yes, here it is, I have it.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning back to the people, and speaking with
careful emphasis_] When you are going on and off the stage, be
very careful of those little wooden strips that they have across
the bottoms of the doors, and don’t trip. [_Mrs. Ritter laughs
self-consciously and Hossefrosse leans over and says something to her.
Florence laughs, and turns and says something to Spindler, and Teddy
and Twiller laugh and look toward Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. FELL. [_Looking out around Mrs. Pampinelli to see Mrs. Ritter_]
Paula! [_Then she sits back, laughing, and says something to Ritter._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I really think that was what made some of you so
nervous at the Civic Club the last time. So, watch it, all of you,
for they will probably have just the same thing down at Hutchy
Kutchy.--There is perhaps nothing quite so disconcerting as to trip--as
one comes on a stage. Going off--is not so bad; but--coming on, I have
found that it requires a _tremendous_ artist to rise above it. [_She
starts down towards the table at the right, below the piano._] So,
watch it, all of you. Now, is everybody in his place? [_She stops below
the table and picks up her note-book._]

MRS. FELL. [_Handing Ritter the manuscript and getting up suddenly_]
Oh, just one moment, Betty! [_She teeters across to the table at the
right._] I want to get my other glasses--they’re right here in my bag.
[_She picks up the bag and starts back to her place._] I beg pardon,
everybody, but I can’t tell one letter from another without these
glasses. [_This last sentence culminates in a flighty giggle, for no
reason at all, and then she sits down, and heaves a deep sigh of
amusement._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Who has been looking at her steadily_] _Now_, is
everybody ready? [_Mrs. Fell simply lifts her eyes and looks at her;
then proceeds to get her glasses out of the bag._] Use your voices,
children, and try to do it tonight just as you are going to do it
tomorrow night at Hutchy Kutchy. [_She moves a step or two nearer the
middle of the room._] Doctor Arlington is still in his office.

HOSSEFROSSE. Yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Rush--

TWILLER. [_Coming in through the center-door_] Yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Is just about to make his exit. [_He crosses above
the piano and stands waiting at the right door. He’s a bald-headed
youth, between thirty and thirty-five, in dinner clothes, excessively
well-groomed but utterly nondescript._] And Mrs. Arlington is putting
on the deadlatch. [_Florence straightens up._] All ready, now? [_She
holds up her hands for a second, then claps them once._] All right.
[_Twiller goes out through the right door and Mrs. Pampinelli moves
over towards the right, watching Florence._]

FLORENCE. [_Pretending to put on a deadlatch_] Deadlatch.

SPINDLER. [_Standing in rigid military fashion_] Click--click.
[_Florence turns and starts across towards the middle of the room,
passing between the piano and the table below it._]

FLORENCE. [_Glancing toward the center-door_] You can come out now,
Clyde, they’ve gone. [_She continues to the table at the left and
stands resting one hand upon it._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Bustling forward from the center-door, removing his
hat as he comes_] Anybody here, David? [_Spindler whistles shrilly,
takes a step forward and tries to attract Hossefrosse’s attention, by
holding up his right arm and flicking his fingers at him. Teddy laughs
and turns to tell Twiller, who is just rejoining him from the right
hallway, what has happened. Florence turns and looks at Hossefrosse,
then at Mrs. Pampinelli, who is standing at the right of the table
below the piano. Mrs. Ritter gets up and simply staggers laughing
through the center-door and out to Teddy and Twiller._]

FLORENCE. [_Speaking to Mrs. Pampinelli_] That isn’t right, is it?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Spindler at her right and holding up her
hand_] Please don’t whistle, Mr. Spindler! I can’t stand whistling.

FLORENCE. I thought we were going to take the _last_ scene first.

MRS. PAMPINELLI and MRS. FELL, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Moving around in front of the table and going
  near to Hossefrosse_] We are taking the _last_ scene _first_, Mr.
  Hossefrosse, that is the _first_ scene.

  MRS. FELL. [_Holding up her hand_] Wait a moment, wait one moment,
  just one moment, somebody’s off the track! [_Twiller and Teddy laugh
  again and Hossefrosse turns and looks at them. Twiller shakes his
  head, flips his hand at him and walks away into the right hallway, as
  though deploring his stupidity. Ritter begins to laugh._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I thought I had made that sufficiently clear.

MRS. PAMPINELLI, MRS. FELL, SPINDLER and TWILLER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. We are taking the scene at the finish, Mr.
  Hossefrosse, between you and Miss McCrickett.

  MRS. FELL. [_Rising_] That’s the first scene, Huxley, and we are
  taking the last scene, between you and Florence, on page nineteen,
  right here, [_She indicates the place in the manuscript_].

  SPINDLER. [_Addressing Teddy_] I hope he doesn’t pull anything like
  that tomorrow night. [_He returns to his place below the window._]

  TWILLER. [_Coming back into view from the hallway_] Don’t weaken,
  Huxley, you know what they say about a bad rehearsal.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Topping them all_] Please, children, please!

MRS. FELL. Down at the bottom of the page. [_Mrs. Ritter comes through
the center-door again and sits down on the left partition-seat._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Fell_] Please--[_Mrs. Fell
sits down again, slowly, Mrs. Pampinelli looking at her stonily._]
Let us have one director, if you please. [_She withdraws her eyes
slowly, and Nelly darts a bitter look at her._] Now, don’t let us have
everybody talking at once; it only confuses people, and wastes a lot of
time. [_Hossefrosse stands bewildered in the middle of the room. Mrs.
Pampinelli addresses him directly, speaking with measured emphasis._]
We are taking the _last_ scene _first_, Mr. Hossefrosse: it is the
scene at the finish, between you and Miss McCrickett, just before Paula
comes on,--

HOSSEFROSSE. Oh, I beg your pardon!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And _after_ Mr. Rush has left the stage.

HOSSEFROSSE. I thought we were beginning right from the beginning.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, I’d like to run through the _last_ scene _first_,
if you don’t mind; there are a few little things in it I’d like to
correct.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning and starting for the center-door_] This was the
wrong entrance for that line, anyway.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And you won’t need your hat and cane in this scene.

HOSSEFROSSE. That’s so, too.

TWILLER. [_Who is standing out just at the right of the center-door_]
I’ll take them, Hux.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Handing him the hat, gloves and cane_] Thanks. [_Turning
to Mrs. Ritter_] I’ll get straightened out after while. [_Paula
laughs._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Now, Florence dear, will you go back?

FLORENCE. [_Crossing back again to the window_] Certainly.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Crossing back to the right, in front of the table_]
And take it right from Mr. Rush’s exit.

FLORENCE. [_Looking round at Hossefrosse_] Ready?

HOSSEFROSSE. [_In the center-door_] Yes, I’m ready.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Florence_] Go on.

FLORENCE. [_Repeating her former business of putting on a deadlatch_]
Deadlatch.

SPINDLER. [_Having again assumed his rigid military attitude_]
Click--click. [_Florence turns and crosses again between the piano and
the table._]

FLORENCE. [_With a glance at the center-door_] You can come out now,
Clyde, they’ve gone. [_She continues to her former position at the
right of the little table at the left. Hossefrosse steps resolutely
through the center-door, gives her a wicked look, glances toward the
door at the right, then strides forward and plants himself directly
opposite her, his head thrown back, his eyes ablaze, and his arms
akimbo._]

HOSSEFROSSE. Did you come here to make a scene!

FLORENCE. [_Languidly, and without turning_] Have I made one?

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Getting loud_] What are you doing here?

FLORENCE. [_Raising her hand to enjoin silence_] Sh-sh--[_He turns
abruptly and looks toward the door at the right; then back to her
again._]

HOSSEFROSSE. I want an explanation of this!

FLORENCE. [_Turning to him, and rather casually_] So do I.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing at the right of the table below the piano_]
Oh, more imperious, Florence dear! [_Florence and Hossefrosse look at
her._] More of this. [_She lifts her shoulders, eyebrows and chin, to
illustrate her idea of the general hauteur of the line._] Much more.

FLORENCE. [_Vaguely_] Don’t you think she would cry there? [_Mrs.
Pampinelli looks at her steadily for a pause and thinks: then she rests
her lead-pencil on the table and tilts her head a bit to one side._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Do you want to cry there, dear?

FLORENCE. No, but I can if you want me to.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No,--personally, I think she’s speaking more in anger
than in sorrow. You see, dear, you are impersonating a wronged wife.
Now, you yourself, Florence darling, are an unmarried girl:--it is
difficult for you to realize how excessively annoyed with her husband
a married woman can become. I think I would take it with more _lift_.
More of this, you know. [_She repeats her former illustration._]

FLORENCE. [_Endeavoring to imitate the manner of delivery, and speaking
in a deep, tragic tone_] So do I.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Perfect.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli_] Go on?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, go on.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Clearing his throat and trying to summon his attack_]
What is your reason for sneaking into my office at this hour?

FLORENCE. Is it necessary that your wife have a reason for coming to
your office?

HOSSEFROSSE. You wanted to embarrass Mrs. Rush, that was it, wasn’t it?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Waving her hand toward them with an upward
movement_] Tempo, children!

FLORENCE. I wanted to meet my rival.

HOSSEFROSSE. You could have met Mrs. Rush under more candid
circumstances.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Moving around towards them, in front of the table_]
Tempo, children!

FLORENCE. The present ones suited my purposes better.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning away impatiently_] Naturally!--You wanted
a scene! [_He starts over to the right, but Mrs. Pampinelli is
standing right in his way, so he stops short, but maintains the
physical tautness of his character. Florence, too, has turned away,
to the left, and is moving across in front of the table towards the
arm-chair._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Oblivious of Hossefrosse, and still making her
upward waving gesture over his shoulder_] Tempo, Florence! [_Suddenly
becoming conscious that she is obstructing Hossefrosse’s cross, and
stepping below him_] I beg your pardon.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Bowing stiffly_] Not at all. [_He continues over to the
right and stops, right in front of Spindler, and they stand looking
into each other’s eyes; while Mrs. Pampinelli comes up at the left of
the table to the piano._]

FLORENCE. [_Sitting down in the arm-chair_] I think if I were a scenic
woman I’ve had ample opportunity during the last fifteen minutes to
indulge myself.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Still looking into Spindler’s eyes_] You did I think;--

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Beckoning to Spindler_] Mr. Spindler.

HOSSEFROSSE. I had the pleasure of hearing you.

FLORENCE. Was it a pleasure, Clyde?

MRS. PAMPINELLI and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Still beckoning to Spindler_] Mr. Spindler!

  HOSSEFROSSE. [_Whirling around and glaring at Florence_] It appears to
  amuse you! [_Spindler steps below Hossefrosse and passes up in front
  of him to Mrs. Pampinelli, who whispers something to him._]

FLORENCE. [_Unfastening her neckpiece_] I have an inopportune sense of
humor.

HOSSEFROSSE. You should be able to appreciate the situation, you
created it!

FLORENCE. [_Looking over at him_] I didn’t create her husband.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Making a little gesture of annoyance_] I’m afraid I’m
stuck! [_He tries hard to think, and Mrs. Pampinelli makes a gesture
toward Mrs. Fell to give him the line, but Nelly is occupied in telling
Ritter a story._] But, don’t tell me! [_He feels for the line again,
and Mrs. Pampinelli tries to attract Nelly’s attention._] I guess I’m
gone. [_Suddenly Nelly bursts into a fit of laughing, having made the
point of the story._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What is the line, Nelly? [_Ritter nudges her._]

MRS. FELL. [_Stopping suddenly in her laughter and hitting him with her
fan_] Stop that!

RITTER. Get on your job, you’re holding up the show. [_Nelly looks
excitedly toward Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What is the line, Nelly, please.

MRS. FELL. What! Oh, I beg your pardon, is somebody stuck?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Hossefrosse.

HOSSEFROSSE. Got another mind-blank.

MRS. FELL. Oh, well, now, just wait one minute, please, till I see
where I’m at. [_She searches frantically through the manuscript._] Oh,
yes, here it is! [_Ritter indicates a place on the page. She pushes his
arm out of the way._] I didn’t create her husband. [_Teddy and Twiller
laugh._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI, FLORENCE and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, dear, we’ve just passed that.

  FLORENCE. I’ve already said that, Nelly.

  HOSSEFROSSE. It’s the next line.

MRS. FELL. [_Vaguely, and looking through her lorgnon and spectacles at
the manuscript_] Oh, have we passed that!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. The next line after the one you just read.

MRS. FELL. Oh, I see now where we are! The next line after that is,
“You’ve all been listening to a lot of damned, cheap gossip.”

MRS. PAMPINELLI and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. That’s it.

  HOSSEFROSSE. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] That certainly is my Jonah line.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You’ve all been list--[_Spindler goes around to the
right and sits on the piano-stool, looking near-sightedly at the
music._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning to Florence, and assuming his character again_]
You’ve all been listening to a lot of damned, cheap gossip! [_He starts
to cross towards the left, passing between the piano and the table,
but Mrs. Pampinelli is right in his way again, so he is obliged to
stop short and wait._]

FLORENCE. Which should show you that people are talking. [_Mrs.
Pampinelli turns to see why Hossefrosse is not picking up his line._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stepping out of his way_] I beg your pardon. [_She
circles down at the left of the table again._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Continuing over towards the mantelpiece_] My fault. One
or two old women, perhaps.

FLORENCE. Will it confine itself to those?

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning at the mantelpiece and coming back to the middle
of the room_] Well, I can’t control that.

FLORENCE. Have you tried?

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Whirling upon her, and literally shouting_] No!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing at the right of the table below the piano_]
Excellent.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning and bowing briefly to her_] Thank you very much.
[_Resuming the scene with Florence_] And I don’t intend to. People will
always talk; it may as well be at my expense as anybody else’s.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Leaning towards him across the table, and speaking
with poisonous sweetness_] Anybody’s _else_, dear.

HOSSEFROSSE. Beg pardon?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Would you say anybody’s else; it sounds better.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning back again to Florence_] It may as well be at
my expense as anybody else’s. [_Mr. Spindler’s elbow slips off the
piano onto the keyboard, striking a perfectly villainous chord, and
causing everybody to turn and look in that direction._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Spindler, please.

SPINDLER. [_Adjusting his goggles, which have been slightly dislodged
by the incident_] I’m sorry. [_Mrs. Pampinelli turns back to
Hossefrosse._] Never mind, Mr. Hossefrosse, it will come.

FLORENCE. Your position can’t afford it.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Taking a step towards the right_] I’ve given them
nothing to talk about.

FLORENCE. No? [_He stops abruptly and turns and looks at her._]

HOSSEFROSSE. What? [_He takes a couple of steps towards her._]

FLORENCE. [_Rising_] Please, Clyde!--[_She crosses in front of the
table at the left and goes towards him. Mrs. Ritter gets up from the
partition-seat and comes down to the table at the right, below the
piano._] You’re not talking to your office-boy--[_Mrs. Ritter picks
up the little chair from the left of the table and starts back again
towards the center-door._] Let us get to the point.

HOSSEFROSSE. Very well.

MRS. RITTER and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  MRS. RITTER.--Excuse me, Florence. [_Florence bows and smiles._] And
  you, too, Mr. Hossefrosse.

  HOSSEFROSSE. What brought you here tonight? [_He turns to see the
  cause of the movement behind him._] Don’t mention it. [_Mrs. Ritter
  places the chair in front of the partition where she has been sitting,
  then crosses to the piano and gets her sewing-basket, returning with
  it to the chair and sitting down to sew._]

FLORENCE. Not to quarrel with you, for one thing.

HOSSEFROSSE. You wanted to embarrass Mrs. Rush, that was it, wasn’t it?

FLORENCE. Not at all,--you misunderstood me; I said, “I wanted to
_meet_ Mrs. Rush.” [_Teddy comes in through the center-door from the
right hallway and sits down on the partition-seat at the right. Teddy
is a frail little wisp of a youth around twenty, in dinner clothes. He
has big eyes and good teeth, and laughs on the slightest provocation.
His forehead is defectively high, and his thin hair is plastered back
and brilliantined. His type is always to be found draped upon the
banisters or across the pianos in the houses of the rich,--a kind of
social annoyance, created by wealthy connections and the usual lack of
available men._]

HOSSEFROSSE. What did you want to meet her for? [_Twiller steps through
the center-door from the right hallway and whispers something to Mrs.
Ritter. She answers him, and he steps out into the hallway and fills
himself out a glass of claret from the bowl, then goes up and sits on
the landing of the stairway and watches the rehearsal._]

FLORENCE. Why, I thought that we three might--reason together, [_He
holds her eye for a second, then turns away, and reaches in his
various pockets for his cigarettes._] concerning our respective futures.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_In a lowered tone, to Mrs. Pampinelli_] Forgot my
cigarettes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Never mind, I only want lines. Go on, Florence.
[_Hossefrosse takes an imaginary cigarette from an imaginary case,
replaces the case, taps the cigarette on the back of his hand, puts it
in his mouth, strikes an imaginary match on his shoe, and lights the
cigarette._]

FLORENCE. I’ve deferred the discussion for a long time, but it may as
well be today as tomorrow.

HOSSEFROSSE. Your plan didn’t work out very well, did it?

FLORENCE. Oh, yes, very well indeed; although hardly as I had
anticipated; thanks to _her_ husband and _your_ lies. [_He blows out
the imaginary match and tosses it onto the floor at the right; then
snaps his head around and glares at Florence. Mrs. Pampinelli glances
down onto the floor, as though to assure herself that Mr. Hossefrosse
hasn’t really thrown a lighted match onto the carpet._] You’ve
evidently told this boy here that Mrs. Rush is your wife.

HOSSEFROSSE. I’ve told him nothing of the kind! [_He starts to cross
again to the right, but Mrs. Pampinelli is again right in his pathway,
standing in front of the table below the piano._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stepping below him, and going a step or two nearer
Florence_] I beg your pardon.

HOSSEFROSSE. I beg your pardon. [_He continues over to the table below
the window at the right and stands there, pretending to smoke._]

FLORENCE. Then, you’ve allowed him to think so.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Looking straight ahead_] That’s business.

FLORENCE. Perhaps it is. It has at least allowed you to be present
at the passing of Mrs. Rush. [_She turns and goes towards the back.
Mrs. Ritter calls her to her and they start discussing the hang of
Florence’s skirt._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Whirling around_] You are deliberately misinterpreting
this situation! [_He starts to move across towards her, passing between
the piano and table._] Yes you are! It’s perfectly ridiculous that a
physician cannot take a woman patient without being subjected to the
whisperings of a lot of vulgar scandal-mongers! [_Nelly Fell goes
into violent laughter at something Ritter has just finished telling
her. Florence and Mrs. Ritter continue their discussion of the dress,
and Mrs. Pampinelli tries by dint of gesturing to attract Florence’s
attention._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Florence dear, please.

FLORENCE. [_Turning suddenly, and continuing her lines_] Oh, I beg your
pardon! [_She moves slowly towards the mantelpiece._] This is not a
romantic age, Clyde.

HOSSEFROSSE. Mrs. Rush is a patient of mine!

FLORENCE. [_Moving down at the left towards Ritter and Mrs. Fell_] She
may have been originally. [_Mrs. Fell bursts out afresh over something
else that Ritter whispers._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Flicking her finger at Nelly_] Sh-sh-Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_To Florence, who is standing looking at her_] I beg your
pardon.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Standing in the middle of the room_] She is _now_!

FLORENCE. [_Resting one hand on the arm-chair_] I’m not disputing it.
[_He turns away, and stands at the left of the table below the piano._]
But she must have a very persistent malady--

MRS. FELL. Just one minute, Flossie--one minute--

FLORENCE. That hasn’t responded to a treatment of more than six years--

MRS. FELL. Flossie, Flossie, Flossie! [_Florence stops and looks at
her._] Just a minute. [_She looks sharply at her manuscript._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What is the matter, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. Oh, I beg your pardon, I thought she’d omitted a line. [_To
Florence_] I beg your pardon.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Go on, Florence. [_Ritter says something to Nelly and
she hits him with the manuscript._]

FLORENCE. Not to speak of the innumerable changes of air that she’s
enjoyed--[_Mrs. Pampinelli, standing over at the right below the piano,
takes quite a little coughing spell, and Mrs. Ritter promptly gets up
and goes to the punch-bowl to fill her out a glass of punch._] at
your expense; and under your personal escort. [_Hossefrosse looks over
at her. She raises her hand understandingly, and starts slowly across
in front of the table towards him._] I have the day and date of the
majority of them. So, you see, your chivalry is a bit trying, under the
circumstances. [_He looks straight ahead and tries to look sullen and
defeated._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Up in the center-door, holding aloft a glass of punch_]
Betty!

FLORENCE. But, I haven’t come here to reproach you, or to plead for
your return. Not at all. I think you _love_ this woman.

MRS. RITTER. [_Coming a little further forward_] Betty! [_Mrs.
Pampinelli has another coughing spell._]

FLORENCE. And in that case, I want to offer you your freedom--

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Careful, now, children. [_Mrs. Ritter comes forward to
the table at the left and tries to attract Mrs. Pampinelli’s attention
to the glass of punch._]

FLORENCE. If you want it.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Holding up her forefinger_] One, two, three.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Snapping his head around and shouting at Florence_]
Well, I don’t want it!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Good!

HOSSEFROSSE. And I see absolutely no occasion for any such talk. [_Mrs.
Fell drops her bag and reaches for it._]

FLORENCE. You are probably more broad-minded than I. [_Nelly Fell
utters a piercing little shriek, having almost fallen off the chair
in reaching to pick up her bag. Everyone turns and looks, and Teddy
laughs, as usual._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What’s the matter, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Straightening up, with Ritter’s assistance, and laughing_]
I nearly fell off the chair. [_Mrs. Ritter laughs and returns to the
center-door and stands._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Go on, Florence.

FLORENCE. And, really, I don’t think your freedom would be a very
good thing for you. You have a form of respectability that requires
a certain anchorage in the conventions. But unless you can reconcile
yourself in the future to a more literal observance of those
conventions, I shall be obliged to insist that you _take_ your freedom.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Look at her, Mr. Hossefrosse.

HOSSEFROSSE. Beg pardon?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a touch of impatience_] Look at her! [_She
begins to cough again._]

HOSSEFROSSE. Oh, yes, yes! [_He turns and glares at Florence, who is
standing just a couple of feet away from him._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Holding the glass of punch aloft again_] Betty!

FLORENCE. I have a couple of growing boys,--[_Mrs. Pampinelli passes
right up between Florence and Hossefrosse to Mrs. Ritter, and takes the
glass of claret._] who are beginning to ask me questions which I find
too difficult to answer: and I will neither lie to them--nor allow
them to pity me.

HOSSEFROSSE. What do you want me to do?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Handing the claret-glass back to Paula, who goes to
the bowl and refills it, and the note-book and pencil to Teddy_] Just
a moment. [_She turns and comes forward in the middle of the room.
Florence turns and moves over to the table at the left, and Hossefrosse
remains standing at the table at the right._] Just one moment. Listen,
Florence dear. [_She uses her handkerchief, then stuffs it into the
bosom of her dress._] I want you, if you can, to make just a little
bit more of that last line. Within the limits of the characterization,
of course; but if you can _feel_ it, I’d like you to give me just the
barest suggestion of a tear. Not too much; but just enough to show
that,--under all her courage--and her threatening, she is still a
woman--and a Mother. You see what I mean, dear?

FLORENCE. More emotion.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. In that last line. You are doing splendidly, darling,
[_Turning to Hossefrosse_] both of you; [_He acknowledges his
excellence with a short bow._] but I have always _felt_ that that last
line--was really the _big_ moment--of the play. It seems to me--[_She
toys with her necklace, narrows her eyes and looks away off._] that it
is there--that she makes her big plea, for her boys, for her home,--for
every woman’s home. And even though that plea _is_ made in the form of
a threat,--somehow or other--I seem to hear her saying, sub-vocally,
of course, “In God’s _name, don’t_ make it necessary for me to do
this thing!” [_She concludes this speech rather dramatically, her arms
outstretched. Mr. Spindler, at this point, engaged in a too curious
examination of the keyboard, accidentally touches D flat above High
C. Everybody turns and looks at him, but his consciousness of guilt
does not permit of his meeting their eyes, so he remains bent over the
keyboard in precisely the attitude he was in when he struck the note._]

MRS. FELL. Oh, go away from that piano, Mr. Spindler! [_Mrs. Ritter
comes forward at the left with a dish of cakes and a glass of claret._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Withdrawing her eyes witheringly from Spindler and
turning back to Florence_] Do you see what I mean, dear?

FLORENCE. I think I do. Do you want me to go back?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, that’s quite all right. We’ll take it right from
Mr. Hossefrosse’s line, [_She turns toward Hossefrosse. And Mrs. Ritter
takes advantage of the circumstance to offer Florence a cake; which, of
course, is declined with thanks. Then she turns to Mrs. Pampinelli and
waits till the lady has finished directing Hossefrosse._] “What do you
want me to do?” [_Mrs. P. turns back, to be confronted with the cakes
and claret; and she takes both. Then she and Paula move back towards
the center-door._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Clearing his throat_] What do you want me to do? [_Paula
gives a shriek of laughter, at something Mrs. Pampinelli whispers to
her. Then Paula goes out through the center-door and offers Twiller,
who is still sitting half-way up the stairs, some cake, which he
accepts, and then Teddy, who declines, and finally, after taking
another one herself, sets the plate down on the hallway table and
resumes her chair up at the left; while Mrs. Pampinelli, cake and
claret in hand, wanders forward at the right, passing over between the
piano and the table below it._]

FLORENCE. I’ve already told you.

HOSSEFROSSE. Then, I suppose I’m simply to decline all women patients
in the future, [_She makes a little sound of amusement._] or else
submit them for general approval. [_He now presses the imaginary fire
out of the cigarette on the imaginary tray on the table._]

FLORENCE. Stick to your guns, Clyde.

HOSSEFROSSE. That’s the only thing I see to do. [_Mrs. Pampinelli
stands over at the right watching the scene, and eating and drinking._]

FLORENCE. Your tenacity is commendable, but it’s a lost cause.
[_Looking at him steadily_] I appreciate your embarrassment--

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning to her, thrusting his hands into his
coat-pockets, tilting his chin, and looking at her with an absurdly
perky expression_] I’m not embarrassed.

FLORENCE. Desolation, then.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Snapping his fingers at her_] Ha! [_He swings rather
jauntily across and up towards the mantelpiece._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. More nonchalance in the cross, Mr. Hossefrosse.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning to her suddenly_] Me?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. More savoir faire, as we say in French. [_She
illustrates the idea with a kind of floating gesture of the hand._]

HOSSEFROSSE. I see. [_He continues over to the left and down towards
Ritter and Mrs. Fell, endeavoring to execute Mrs. Pampinelli’s idea
by raising his shoulders, stiffening his arms, throwing his head back
and swinging his legs, as he walks. Nelly Fell is whispering something
to Ritter behind her fan, so that, when Hossefrosse reaches them, he
is obliged to touch Ritter on the shoulder and suggest with a nod and
a smile that the exigencies of the play require that he shall sit
where Ritter is sitting. So Ritter jumps up and tiptoes across in
front of the table and up to the piano, where he stands leaning--and
watching--particularly Mrs. Pampinelli._]

FLORENCE. [_Moving to the table below the piano_] But, I shall be
magnanimous; having loved and lost myself. So that, really, it may not
be nearly so difficult as you imagine.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Sitting on the chair vacated by Ritter_] Well, I can’t
say that I relish the prospect, with any such misunderstanding as this
between us.

FLORENCE. [_Crossing to the table at the left_] It’s the portion of
half the world, Clyde. [_Twiller gets up from the stairs and comes down
into the right hallway, where he stands watching._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Trying to look sullen, by resting one elbow on his knee
and hunching his shoulders_] It certainly isn’t a very inviting one.
[_Nelly Fell starts to whisper something in his ear._]

FLORENCE. But it has its compensations. [_Mrs. Pampinelli, having
finished her cake and claret, sets the empty glass down on the table
below the piano and uses her handkerchief._] You’ll have your memories,
and I shall have the wisdom of disillusionment;--[_The telephone-bell
rings, up in the left hallway. Mrs. Ritter jumps up, places her
sewing-basket on the chair, and, touching her hair, comes forward
quickly at the right to the table below the piano._] as well as the
consciousness of lots of company.

MRS. RITTER. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Pampinelli_] Is that my cue?
[_Florence stops and turns and looks at her._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Which cue, dear?

MRS. RITTER. [_Taking a step towards Florence, and with a little
questioning, bewildered gesture_] The telephone is my cue, isn’t it?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a touch of impatience_] No, darling, you’re not
on in this scene at all. Go on, Florence. [_Mrs. Ritter puts her hand
to her cheek and looks from one to the other in puzzled embarrassment._]

FLORENCE. [_Turning and resuming her lines to Hossefrosse, who, by this
time, is deep in conversation with Mrs. Fell_] For there are a million
women exactly like me. [_Mrs. Ritter bursts out laughing. So does
Teddy. Twiller reaches over the partition and flips Teddy on the head
with his handkerchief. Jenny appears in the left hallway to answer the
telephone._]

MRS. RITTER and FLORENCE, together.

  MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli_] Oh, I beg your pardon!
  [_She leans across the table explaining to Mrs. Pampinelli, who tries
  politely to silence her by suggestion that the scene is in progress._]
  I thought that was my cue.

  FLORENCE--Secondary women. [_She moves around above the table and
  stands just above Hossefrosse._] So don’t look so tragic; you haven’t
  lost anything but a lot of time;

JENNY. [_At the telephone_] Hello?

MRS. RITTER, FLORENCE and MRS. FELL, together.

  MRS. RITTER.--I was thinking of something else, you know, and when I
  heard the telephone, I thought it was for me.

  FLORENCE.--And that’s always lost when it’s spent on things that are
  insusceptible of conclusion.

  MRS. FELL. [_Bursting into a perfect shriek of laughter at something
  Hossefrosse has just finished telling her, and pushing him away from
  her_] Huxley Hossefrosse, you are perfectly dreadful! [_He laughs,
  too, and attempts to tell her something else, but she turns away and
  waves him aside._] No, No, No.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No dear, that is your own telephone.

JENNY. [_At the telephone still_] Just a minute. [_Mrs. Ritter turns
towards the back of the room._]

MRS. RITTER. Oh, so it is! [_Directly to Ritter_] I knew I had one
telephone cue. [_She goes laughing through the center-door and on out
into the right hallway._]

JENNY. [_Trying to attract Ritter’s attention_] MR. RITTER! [_But
Ritter is absorbed in watching Hossefrosse. Florence stands waiting
for Hossefrosse and Nelly to stop laughing, but as it doesn’t look as
though they will ever stop, she gives Hossefrosse a little dig in the
shoulder with her finger. He straightens up abruptly._]

FLORENCE. [_Prompting him_] I’ve lost her.

JENNY. Mr. Ritter!

HOSSEFROSSE. I’ve lost her.

FLORENCE. That was inevitable in your case, Clyde; you have a
conventional soul. [_Jenny asks Teddy in pantomime to attract Ritter’s
attention._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_In a tone intended to express abysmal despair_] I’ve
lost you. [_Ritter bursts out laughing. Teddy reaches out and indicates
that he is wanted on the telephone. Jenny holds the telephone up, and
he steps quickly out into the hallway to take it from her._]

FLORENCE. That was incidental, eh?

HOSSEFROSSE. But, it seems to me there should be some other way.

FLORENCE. [_Moving to the right, above the table_] There is, my dear
boy,--for lots of people----

RITTER. [_at the telephone_] Hello? [_Jenny goes out._]

FLORENCE. But not for you.

RITTER. Yes.

FLORENCE. You’re too respectable--Physically, I mean. [_She laughs a
little, and stands above the table looking at him._]

RITTER. Well, wait a minute, I’ll talk to you upstairs. [_He sets the
telephone down and starts towards the right to go upstairs. As he
passes the center-door he speaks to Teddy, who is still sitting just
inside the center-door on the right partition-seat._] Hang that up
when I get on, will you, Teddy? [_Teddy jumps up and goes out to the
telephone, and holds it, waiting till Ritter gets on the extension
upstairs._]

FLORENCE. And Mrs. Rush has what it appears to me to be a
rather--primitive husband--[_Hossefrosse gives her a narrow look._] and
you have a very modern wife. So be wise, Clyde; you know what usually
happens to him who “loves the danger.” [_There is a loud knock at the
right door. Hossefrosse jumps to his feet and stands looking fearfully
toward it. Florence assumes all the dignity at her command, drawing
herself up, placing her right hand upon her throat, her left on her
hip, and waiting,--the proud but outraged wife. Mrs. Pampinelli holds
up both hands and looks in the direction of the door, to impress
everybody with the dramatic value of the situation. Teddy hangs up the
receiver and stands watching her. Nelly Fell straightens up briskly and
sits watching the door, in expectant attention. Then Mrs. Pampinelli
makes a gesture to Florence to go on with her lines._] Go into your
office, I’ll talk to this woman. [_Hossefrosse drops his head and
shoulders and slinks across in front of the table, a beaten man. He
continues up to the center-door and out, into the right hallway.
The knock is repeated at the right door. Mrs. Pampinelli motions
to Teddy that that is his cue to open the door. He comes through
the center-door and crosses above the piano to the right door, Mrs.
Pampinelli at the same time moving over to the arm-chair at the right
and enshrining herself. Teddy opens the door; and Mrs. Ritter swishes
in self-consciously. Nelly Fell and Mr. Twiller give a little ripple
of applause, but Mrs. Pampinelli holds one finger up toward Nelly and
shushes her. Mrs. Ritter is wearing a rather bizarre-looking hat,
set at something of a challenging angle, and as she comes forward at
the right of the piano, she bursts into a self-conscious giggle. But
Mrs. Pampinelli reproves her with a look. So she controls herself and
crosses below the piano, Teddy, simultaneously, crossing above the
piano. She stops at the corner of the piano and rests her left hand
upon it. Then she places her right hand upon her hip, and, tilting her
head back, looks at Teddy, who has stopped directly above her. Ritter
appears on the stairway, and moves down a step or two, watching his
wife, narrowly._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Flipping her left hand at Teddy, in an attempt to give a
fly impression_] Hello, kid.

TEDDY. Hello, Mrs. Arlington. [_Mrs. Ritter swishes down towards the
left, shaking her head from side to side and holding her arms akimbo.
She turns around to her left, gives Florence a look, supposed to be a
very contemptuous look, and stands in the middle of the room again,
facing Teddy._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Speaking directly to Teddy_] Is my sweetie in? [_Ritter
moves slowly down to the landing of the stairs, watching his wife as
though she were some baffling phenomenon._]

TEDDY. No, mam, he ain’t.

MRS. RITTER. [_Drawing her shoulders up, and speaking in a high
unnatural key_] What!

TEDDY. He went about six o’clock.

MRS. RITTER. Why, I had an appointment with _him_!

TEDDY. He might be back, maybe.

MRS. RITTER. But, I can’t wait unless I’m _certain_ that he’s coming
back.

TEDDY. He was expecting you.

MRS. RITTER. [_Still shaking her head and trying generally to appear
bold_] Yes, I know he was. [_Turning to the table at the left, back of
which Florence is standing_] I suppose I’d better leave a note for him.
[_She indicates the table with a waving gesture of her left hand._]

TEDDY. You’ll find that green one is the best pen.

MRS. RITTER. [_Stepping to the table_] Thanks. [_She looks at Florence,
who gives her a withering look over her right shoulder and turns away
to the mantelpiece at the left. Then Mrs. Ritter gives her idea of a
scornful laugh._] Ha! Ha! Ha!

RITTER. [_Sweeping his hand across his brow, groaning, and falling down
the stairs, into the right hallway_] Oh my God!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Seeing him fall, and jumping up_] Oh, my dear!
[_Everybody turns._]

TWILLER. [_Trying to catch him_] Hold it! [_Spindler rushes past Mrs.
Pampinelli and out the center-door into the right hallway. Teddy jumps
into a kneeling position on the right partition-seat and looks over the
partition. Florence and Mrs. Fell rush up to the center-door and try
to see what’s going on, Nelly dodging from one side of Florence to the
other, and peering through her lorgnon._] Are you hurt, old man?

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Handing his cane and gloves to Spindler_] Hold those,
please. [_Spindler takes them, and Hossefrosse prepares to assist
Twiller to lift Ritter from the floor._]

TWILLER. Get some water, somebody! [_Spindler rushes out the left
hallway. Mrs. Pampinelli sweeps up from below the table at the right to
the center-door._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Bewildered, in the middle of the room, as Mrs.
Pampinelli passes her_] What is it, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Now, don’t get excited, Paula. [_Mrs. Ritter steps
frantically across to the piano and turns, leaning against it, looking
wide-eyed at Nelly Fell._]

HOSSEFROSSE. Lift up his head.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking eagerly out into the right hallway_] Is he
hurt, boys?

TWILLER. I want to get him under the arms. [_They lift Ritter onto a
bench in the hallway. Nelly Fell turns away from the center-door with
an exclamation of distress._]

HOSSEFROSSE. We’d better lay him right here.

MRS. RITTER. Is it Fred, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. I don’t know, dear.

MRS. PAMPINELLI and MRS. FELL, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Addressing Hossefrosse and Twiller_] You can lay
  him right here, boys, I think it’ll be as good as any.

  MRS. FELL. What is it, Florence, did Mr. Ritter fall downstairs?

FLORENCE. I think so.

MRS. FELL. [_Covering her eyes and swaying_] Oh, dear child, don’t!
[_Florence puts her arm around her and guides her towards the arm-chair
at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Give me one of those pillows, Teddy. [_He hands her a
pillow from the partition-seat where he’s kneeling._]

MRS. FELL. [_Sinking into the arm-chair at the left_] Betty, I think
I’m going to faint!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to her_] Sit down, dear, I’ll get you some
water. [_Calling and beckoning out into the left hallway_] Jenny dear!
come here, please!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Rushing across from the right to the left hallway_] I
think I’d better call Dr. Wentworth. [_He snatches up the telephone and
works the hook violently._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, I would. [_She turns around to her left and
stands looking questioningly at Mrs. Ritter._] Go on with your lines,
Paula.

MRS. RITTER. Well, is he _dead_, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a definite little gesture of her right hand_]
Never mind! [_The curtain commences to descend, and she sweeps
forward._] We will go right on from where Mr. Ritter fell downstairs.


THE CURTAIN IS DOWN

AS IT RISES AGAIN FOR THE PICTURE

HOSSEFROSSE. [_At the telephone_] Landsdowne 8, please,--right away!
[_Spindler rushes in from the left hallway carrying a glass of water,
and followed immediately by Jenny. Twiller is ministering to Ritter.
Mrs. Pampinelli is standing in the middle of the room, facing the
center-door, and holding up both her hands, as a signal to the various
artists that the rehearsal is about to be resumed; so they quickly
step to the various positions in which they respectively were when Mr.
Ritter fell._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Addressing Teddy_] Yes, I know he was. I s’pose I’d
better leave a note for him.


END OF THE ACT




THE TORCH-BEARERS--ACT II.


NOTE:

The setting for this act consists simply of three wings set in the
middle of the stage about four feet from the footlights, and parallel
to the footlights, the wing in the middle, a plain one, and the one on
either side of it, a door-wing. These doors open toward the footlights,
and the one on the right is hinged to the right, and the one on the
left, to the left. From these door-wings, regular plain wings oblique
off to the back wall; and the whole thing is lashed and stage-screwed
after the fashion of regulation stage-setting. As the doors in the back
flat open, there can be had a glimpse of footlights, and just beyond
them, a neutral drop, in grayish black, to represent an auditorium.
Between the back flat and the stage footlights, (as distinguished from
the regular footlights) the miniature stage is set to represent the
interior of a doctor’s waiting-room. Through the door at the right
can be seen a desk and revolving chair, and a couple of plain chairs
against the wall; and through the left door, a table, littered with
magazines, a cabinet, a revolving bookcase and two more chairs. There
is a bright rug on the floor. Between the back flat and the regular
footlights, over toward the left, there is a stage-screw sticking right
up out of the floor; and between the two doors there is a plain chair
with its back against the flat. Over the door on the right, there is
a row of six electric bulbs with a cord and button depending from it;
and further right, half-way back, there is a wood-wing, set as though
it were the exterior backing for a window in the miniature set. Over at
the left, away back, fastened about head-high against the back wall,
there is a small switchboard-arrangement. Just below this there is an
old chair, without a back, with a newspaper lying upon it.


THE TORCH-BEARERS--ACT II.

_A waltz is being played somewhere off at the right. Florence and Mrs.
Ritter are standing in the middle of the stage, facing the flats,
talking. Florence is wearing a fawn-colored, one-piece coat-dress,
buttoned high at the throat, military fashion, and a toque made of
wine-colored velvet leaves. She wears fawn-colored slippers and
stockings, and carries a fitch muff. Mrs. Ritter is wearing a very
rich-looking coat-suit in blue serge, trimmed at the collar and cuffs
with white monkey-fur. Her hat is dark-blue felt, quite large, with
a bird of paradise set at a decidedly rakish tilt. Her slippers and
stockings are black, and she carries an umbrella. Over at the extreme
left, and forward, Mrs. Fell is hearing Mr. Twiller read his lines
from the manuscript. Mrs. Fell is gowned in a brilliant creation of
silver-cloth trimmed with sea-green satin. There are numerous strings
of crystal beads hanging in the front from the waist to the bottom of
the skirt, and she has a spreading poinsetta in scarlet velvet fastened
at her waist. There is a long, fish-tail train to the gown, lined with
the green satin, and she has a heavy rope of pearls and sea-green beads
around her neck, from which her lorgnon depends. There are diamonds in
her hair, diamonds galore upon her arms and hands, and she’s wearing
her diamond dog-collar. Her slippers and stockings are of pale green.
Mr. Twiller has on a double-breasted blue-serge suit, a black derby,
black shoes and fawn-colored spats, and a perfectly villainous-looking
black mustache, absurdly large, and obviously artificial. He stands
leaning upon a cane, reciting his lines to Mrs. Fell. Mr. Spindler,
in a dinner-suit, is trying desperately to unfasten the stage-screw
from the floor at the left, while Mr. Hossefrosse, wearing a light
business-suit, a light, soft hat, tan shoes and spats, and carrying a
cane and gloves, is pacing back and forth between the left door and the
extreme left, reciting his lines to himself. He is atrociously made up,
with the carmine smeared heavily on his cheek-bones. The stage manager,
in a tan jumper and army shirt, dirty white running-pumps, a battered
old cap adorned with many tobacco-tags, and carrying a hammer, wanders
on from the right and crosses the stage, passing below Florence and
Mrs. Ritter, who turn and look at him curiously, and continues on up
at the left to the switch-board, where he picks up the newspaper from
the broken chair, and, after lighting his pipe, sits down to read. He
is apparently disgusted with the world and utterly oblivious of his
surroundings. The waltz-music stops, and Mr. Hossefrosse comes to a
halt in his pacing, right outside the left door. It is instantly flung
open, knocking him toward the left, and disarranging his hat, and Mrs.
Pampinelli sweeps out--in a princess-gown of ruby-colored velvet, with
a long train, and heavily trimmed about the upper part of the bodice
with ornaments of ruby-colored beads. Her shoulders and arms are bare,
and she has a small string of rubies about her throat;--a bracelet and
several rings of rubies; as well as a high Spanish comb studded with
rubies. Her slippers are of black velvet. Mrs. Ritter gives a little
cry as Mr. Hossefrosse is struck by the door._


MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Holding the door ajar_] Oh, did I hit you, Mr.
Hossefrosse! I’m so sorry.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Settling his hat_] That’s all right.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To the ladies_] The setting looks splendid, girls!
[_Crossing quickly below Hossefrosse towards the left_] Will you come
here for a moment, Mr. Spindler?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning away to the right_] I don’t want to see it till
I go on.

FLORENCE. [_As Hossefrosse comes towards her_] You’d better keep away
from that door, Mr. Hossefrosse. [_She and Mrs. Ritter laugh._]

HOSSEFROSSE and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  HOSSEFROSSE. Yes, I think I had.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Up at the left, addressing the stage manager_] Are
  you ready, Mr. Stage Manager? [_He continues to read._]

HOSSEFROSSE and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  HOSSEFROSSE. [_Brushing his clothes_] I don’t think a whisk-broom’d be
  out of place on this stage, either.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Spindler, who is still occupied with the
  stage-screw_] Mr. Spindler, will you come here, please? [_Turning back
  to the stage manager_] Mr. Stage Manager! [_Spindler goes towards her,
  and Hossefrosse goes through the left door._]

STAGE MANAGER. [_Looking up from his paper, very peevishly_] Yes?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Are you all ready?

STAGE MANAGER and TWILLER, together.

  STAGE MANAGER. Yes, sure, I’m all ready. [_He resumes his newspaper._]

  TWILLER. [_Turning sharply to Spindler, who has stopped on his way to
  Mrs. Pampinelli to call Mrs. Fell’s attention to the stage-screw, and
  to warn her to be careful of it_] Oh, go away! Can’t you see we’re
  busy.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Spindler!

SPINDLER. [_Stepping briskly to her side_] Yes, mam?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Come here, please. [_Turning to the stage manager_]
Mr. Stage Manager--[_He looks up._] This young man will give you the
cue for the curtain, in case I am not here.

STAGE MANAGER. All right. [_He resumes his newspaper._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning and coming forward again, holding her skirt
up off the floor_] You stand right here, Mr. Spindler, and I’ll give
you the signal when I’m ready.

SPINDLER. All right.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Hurrying towards the left door_] Now, is everybody
all right?

FLORENCE. Yes.

MRS. RITTER. I think so.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. How are _you_, Paula?

MRS. RITTER. [_Giggling_] All right.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Where’s Mr. Hossefrosse? [_She glances frantically
about._]

FLORENCE and MRS. RITTER, together.

  FLORENCE. He’s just stepped on the stage.

  MRS. RITTER. He was here a minute ago.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Hossefrosse, where are you! [_She opens the left
door._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Calling_] Mr. Hossefrosse! [_He opens the right door and
comes out._]

HOSSEFROSSE. Yes?

TEDDY and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  TEDDY. [_Sitting at the desk over at the right, in the miniature set
  beyond the flats, to Mrs. Pampinelli, as she comes through the left
  door_] There he is.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Teddy, as she steps into the miniature set,
  through the left door_] Where’s Mr. Hossefrosse?

FLORENCE and MRS. RITTER, together.

  FLORENCE. [_To Hossefrosse_] Mrs. Pampinelli’s looking for you.

  MRS. RITTER. [_Calling_] Here he is, Mrs. Pampinelli! [_Hossefrosse
  steps quickly to the left door and starts in, just as Mrs. Pampinelli
  comes out through the right door. Florence steps over to the left door
  and catches Hossefrosse by the arm, and pulls him back._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming through the right door_] Where _is_ he?

MRS. RITTER. [_Pointing to Hossefrosse_] There he is! [_She laughs._]

FLORENCE. [_Drawing Hossefrosse back_] Mrs. Pampinelli wants you!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] I beg your pardon.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, Mr. Hossefrosse!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Crossing to the right towards her_] Yes?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Are you all right?

HOSSEFROSSE. I think so, yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. How is your make-up?

HOSSEFROSSE. All right, I think.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Indicating the right door_] Would you stand here for
a moment under this light until I see it?

HOSSEFROSSE. Certainly. [_He goes to the right door and stands with
his back against it. The light from the row of electric bulbs over the
door shines down on his face. Mrs. Pampinelli stands off to his right,
surveying his make-up critically._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Very good.

HOSSEFROSSE. Not too much red?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, I shouldn’t say so.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Indicating his right cheek_] Up here, I mean.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, I think the contour of your face requires it. It
heightens the expression. [_She starts across towards the left._] It’s
very good. [_Hossefrosse comes over and chats with the ladies about his
make-up._] Mr. Twiller! [_Twiller turns from Mrs. Fell._]

TWILLER. Yes? [_Turning back to Mrs. Fell_] Excuse me, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. Certainly.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. How is your mustache?

TWILLER. [_Touching it gingerly_] All right, I think.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Is it quite secure?

TWILLER. I think so. [_Mrs. Ritter, Florence and Hossefrosse turn and
look._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stepping back a step from him and looking at the
mustache, with her head tilted a bit to the left side_] You’ve made it
a little smaller, haven’t you?

TWILLER. [_Touching the left side of his mustache_] I cut it down a bit
on this side.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I thought you had.

TWILLER. I was a little conscious of it.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well,--I don’t know but that it’s better for the
characterization.

TWILLER. And how are my eyes? [_He turns and looks out and away off,
widening his eyes as though he were having his picture taken._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_After looking keenly at his eyes for a second_] Very
effective. [_She turns quickly away towards the right, and Twiller
turns back to his left to Mrs. Fell._] Now, is everybody ready? [_They
all smile and nod._] Your gloves and cane, Mr. Hossefrosse?

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Crossing above Florence and Mrs. Ritter towards Mrs.
Pampinelli, extending his cane and gloves_] Yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning towards Mrs. Fell_] Places, Nelly! Get
ready, Mr. Spindler!

SPINDLER. I’m all ready. [_Mrs. Fell closes the manuscript, excuses
herself to Twiller, and crosses, above him, towards the right. He goes
back at the left and says something to Spindler, then comes forward
again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Calling through the left door_] Are you all right,
Teddy?

TEDDY. [_Beyond the flats, over at the right_] All right. [_As Mrs.
Fell passes above Florence and Mrs. Ritter, on her way over to
the right, she whispers something to them which causes a general
laugh:--then she continues on over to the door at the right and takes
up her official position, as promptress._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning and addressing them generally_] Now, is
everybody all right? [_They all nod._] You both all right, girls?
[_Mrs. Ritter nods._]

FLORENCE. All right.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning around to the left to Mr. Spindler, and with
an authoritative gesture_] All right, then--take up the curtain!

SPINDLER. [_Waving his hand to the stage manager_] All right, Stage
Manager!

STAGE MANAGER. [_Getting up, very reluctantly_] Are you ready?

MRS. PAMPINELLI and SPINDLER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, all ready.

  SPINDLER. Let her go!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a kind of ceremonious flourish of the hand_]
Take up the curtain! [_The stage manager tosses his newspaper onto
the chair and steps out of sight, to the left. There is an anxious
pause. Then Mrs. Pampinelli starts violently and grabs the knob of the
left door._] Oh, wait one moment! [_Spindler rushes back at the left,
whistling._]

FLORENCE, MRS. RITTER, TWILLER and HOSSEFROSSE, together, [_as Mrs.
Pampinelli pulls open the left door._]

  FLORENCE. Wait a minute!

  MRS. RITTER. Oh, wait!

  TWILLER. Hold it!

  HOSSEFROSSE. [_Grabbing the door and holding it open_] Not yet!

MRS. RITTER. [_Calling to the stage manager_] Just a minute!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Going in through the left door_] One moment, please!
[_She vanishes to the right, and there is a slight pause, during which
the curtain, which had been raised four feet, can be seen through the
door to descend again. They all exchange looks of distress and amused
annoyance. Then Mrs. Pampinelli hurries out through the door again._]
All right!

SPINDLER. [_Who has come forward at the left_] Is it all right?
[_Hossefrosse releases the door and it closes._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, it’s all right. [_Spindler goes towards the back
at the left and she follows him half-way._]

SPINDLER. All right, Mr. Stage Manager!

STAGE MANAGER. [_Off at the left_] Are you ready?

MRS. PAMPINELLI and SPINDLER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, all ready, Mr. Stage Manager!

  SPINDLER. Let her go!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning and coming forward at the left_] Take it
up! [_She stands just to the left of the left door, peering through
the flats. Spindler is farther back at the left, peering, also; and
Mrs. Fell is over at the right door, peering. There is a pause. Mr.
Hossefrosse takes up his position outside the left door, preparatory to
making his entrance. He settles his clothes generally, and clears his
throat._] The curtain is going up, Mr. Hossefrosse, go on.

HOSSEFROSSE. Is it up?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, yes, go on! [_He opens the door, rather
magnificently, and swings in. There is a ripple of applause, and the
door closes after him; and they all try to find a crevice between the
flats that will afford a glimpse of the stage beyond. The stage manager
appears from the left carrying a regulation door-slam, which he brings
forward and drops, with a bang, just to the left of the left door. They
all turn and look at him, in resentful astonishment, but he simply
gives them a look of infinite disdain and returns to his chair at the
back to read._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Beyond the flats_] Anybody here, David?

TEDDY. [_Beyond the flats, over toward the right_] No, sir.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Beyond the flats, moving towards the right_] No
telephones?

TEDDY. No, sir.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Coming through the right door, without his hat_] Nothing
at all, eh? [_Mrs. Ritter is standing right in front of the door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Get away from the door, Paula! [_Paula jumps to the
left. Mrs. Fell takes advantage of the crevice caused by the door
being open, to try to see the audience._]

TEDDY. [_Who can be seen through the open door standing at the desk_]
No, sir.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Leaning over and laying his cane and gloves on the chair
between the doors_] All right, sir. [_The door begins to swing to
behind him._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Keep that door open, Mr. Hossefrosse! [_Spindler comes
forward at the left to see what’s the matter. Hossefrosse thrusts his
foot back and kicks the door open._]

HOSSEFROSSE. And I think that will do very nicely for this day. [_The
door begins slowly to swing to again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. There it goes again, Mr. Hossefrosse!

HOSSEFROSSE. It won’t _stay_ open! [_Mrs. Fell looks around the door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Take hold of that door, Nelly! [_Nelly puts one foot
around it, and stands looking at her manuscript. Spindler goes back at
the left and looks through the wings again, at the stage._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_In a frantic whisper_] Telephone!

MRS. FELL. Telephone, somebody!

HOSSEFROSSE. Good Lord!

FLORENCE. Mr. Spindler, telephone! [_Spindler rushes forward at the
left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Where is he?

SPINDLER. What?

FLORENCE. The telephone-bell!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Where’s your bell?

SPINDLER. [_Pulling the battery-arrangement out of his pocket_] Has the
cue been given?

TEDDY. [_Picking up the telephone on the desk beyond the flats_] Hello?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Ring it! Of course it’s been given! [_He rings the
bell, and Hossefrosse steps through the right door and watches Teddy
anxiously._]

SPINDLER. I didn’t hear it!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Annihilating him with a look, and starting over
towards the right door_] Well, why aren’t you over here when your cue’s
given and then you would hear it! [_Spindler trails over after her._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Over his shoulder, to Mrs. Pampinelli_] Shush!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning sharply back towards the left, and directly
to Spindler, who is right behind her_] Shush! [_She passes below him
and continues towards the left._] Keep away from that door, they’ll see
you! [_In attempting to keep out of the way of the door, Spindler turns
sharply and trips over the screw of a stage-brace, falling his length
across the open door. Mrs. Ritter gives a little scream, and Mrs.
Pampinelli whirls round and glares at him. He scrambles to his feet,
and Mrs. Ritter giggles and pulls him to the left, away from the door._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Standing in the open door, addressing Teddy_] Mrs.
A.? [_Teddy nods, and Hossefrosse pretends to pick up an imaginary
telephone from a desk just to the left of the right door._] Yes? All
right. [_He pretends to hang up and set the telephone down on the desk
again._] You can clear out of here now, David, any time you like,--Mrs.
Arlington is on her way up.

TEDDY. [_Rising, and settling the various papers on the desk_] All
right.

MRS. RITTER. [_Helping Mr. Spindler to brush off his clothes_] Did
you hurt yourself, Mr. Spindler? [_Mrs. Pampinelli tries to attract
Spindler’s attention to the door-slam._]

SPINDLER. No. [_He hurries over to the door-slam at the left and picks
it up._]

HOSSEFROSSE. I’ll let you off early Monday. [_Florence stands anxiously
outside the left door._]

TEDDY. Oh, that’s all right.

HOSSEFROSSE. And don’t forget to leave that list with the Robinson
people on your way down Monday.

TEDDY. No, sir, I won’t; I have it right here in me pocket. [_Florence
puts her lips against the left door and coughs hard. Then she shuffles
her feet; so does Spindler. Hossefrosse steps through the right door
and looks over toward the left door._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Addressing Teddy, in a subdued tone_] Is that someone
coming?

TEDDY. [_Looking toward the left door_] I think so. [_There is a slight
pause, then Mrs. Pampinelli makes a decisive movement to Spindler and
he brings the door-slam down with a thunderous bang. Mrs. Pampinelli
starts violently._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That’s too loud, Mr. Spindler!

SPINDLER. There’s too much wood in it! [_He starts across to the
right._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Stepping down to Teddy’s desk and picking up his hat_]
That can’t be Mrs. Arlington already. I won’t see anyone else. [_He
starts back towards the door._] Tell them I’ve gone; and don’t let
anybody wait. [_He takes hold of the door as he steps through._] Say
you’re just locking up the office. [_He comes through the door and
tries to close it, but Nelly’s foot is still around it, and she is lost
in the manuscript. He pulls at the door, but she is oblivious._]

MRS. RITTER. Nelly! [_Spindler gives a little whistle to attract her
attention._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Let go of the door, Nelly!

MRS. FELL. [_Jumping out of the way, to the right_] Oh, I beg your
pardon! [_Hossefrosse scowls at her and closes the door. Spindler jumps
to the door and turns a key, which he has in his hand, in the lock,
then touches the button at the end of the cord, extinguishing the row
of lights over the door, then rushes back towards the left door. Mrs.
Ritter is right in his way as he rushes back, and they dodge each other
twice before Mr. Spindler can get past. When he reaches the left door,
he raps violently, Mrs. Pampinelli directing his activities with little
nervous gestures. There is a pause: then the left door is opened by
Teddy. Mrs. Ritter is right in front of it._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing to the left of the door_] Get out of the
way, Paula! [_Mrs. Ritter jumps out of the way, to the right, then
looks back at Mrs. Pampinelli and giggles, but Mrs. Pampinelli puts her
finger on her lips._]

FLORENCE. [_Passing through the left door_] Good evening, son.

TEDDY. [_Reaching out and closing the door_] Good evening. [_There
is prolonged applause from beyond the flats, and everybody, having
seen Florence safely through the door, rushes to his favorite crevice
between the wings, or rip in the scenery, to see how she is being
received by the audience._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] Isn’t the Doctor in?

TEDDY. No, mam, he ain’t; he went about six o’clock.

FLORENCE. That’s unfortunate, I wanted to see him. [_Hossefrosse turns
away from the right door, where he’s been peeking, and mops his brow:
then he turns and puts his hat down on the chair._]

SPINDLER. [_Stepping towards him from the left door_] How do you feel?

HOSSEFROSSE. All right; but that door and that telephone got me kind of
rattled.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking over from the extreme left of the back flat,
where she has been peeking_] Shush, boys! [_Hossefrosse turns away and
tiptoes towards the right, and the others resume their peeking._]

MRS. FELL. [_Turning to Hossefrosse, as he passes below her_] What’s
the matter, Huxley, did something go wrong? [_Mrs. Pampinelli looks
over again to see who’s talking._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Indicating the right door_] That door kind of got me
rattled for a minute.

MRS. FELL. I don’t think the audience noticed it.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Shush! [_Nelly consults her manuscript, listening at
the same time to the dialogue beyond the flats, and Mr. Hossefrosse
continues to the extreme right and forward, trying to make the squeak
of his new shoes as inaudible as possible. Mrs. Pampinelli puts her ear
to the flat and listens keenly._]

TEDDY. [_Faintly, beyond the flats_] Why, he always asts me to wait
whenever he’s expectin’ his wife downtown. [_Spindler suddenly turns
from the wing where he has been peeking, and, breaking into quite
a jaunty little whistle, starts across towards the left; but Mrs.
Pampinelli turns abruptly and glares him into silence. He clasps his
hand over his mouth and apologizes with an obsequious little gesture._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] I see. And he was expecting her this
evening?

TEDDY. Yes, mam.

FLORENCE. Do you know her? [_Spindler trips and almost falls over the
stage-screw in the floor at the left. Twiller, who has been standing
down at the extreme left, makes an impatient move and goes up towards
the back._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, Mr. Spindler, for Pity’s sake do keep still for
one moment!

SPINDLER. [_Squatting down and attempting to remove the screw_] We’d
better get this thing out of here, before somebody gets hurt.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Now, don’t take that out of there, Mr. Spindler! You
might loosen the scenery.

SPINDLER. This isn’t connected with the scenery.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You don’t know whether it is or not! Leave it where it
is.

SPINDLER. [_Getting up and moving over towards the right_] Somebody’s
going to get their neck broken, the first thing you know.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Very well, then, that will be their misfortune! We’ve
simply got to be careful, that’s all. Get ready, Paula. [_Mrs. Ritter
giggles and takes up her position outside the left door._]

MRS. FELL. [_As Spindler comes towards her_] What’s the matter, Mr.
Spindler?

SPINDLER. [_In quite a temper, and indicating the stage-screw over at
the left_] Why, that thing there is sticking right up in the middle of
the floor, and the first thing you--

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Shush!--[_He turns and scowls at her, and she glares
at him. He passes below Mrs. Fell and over to Hossefrosse, at the
extreme right and forward, where he whispers his grievance._]

MRS. FELL. You all right, Paula? [_Paula nods yes._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Don’t be nervous, now, Paula. [_Twiller comes forward
at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. I’m not the least bit, dear, really.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, that’s splendid, dear. I’ll open the door for
you. [_She takes hold of the knob of the left door._]

MRS. RITTER. All right, thank you. [_They stand listening, keenly._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] Do you mind if I wait a few minutes, in
case he comes?

TEDDY. [_Beyond the flats_] Why, I was just going home.

FLORENCE. Oh, were you? [_Twiller lifts his hat and gives it a little
wave at Mrs. Ritter, and she waves her hand back at him._]

TEDDY. Yes, mam; and I have to lock up the office before I go.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Suddenly_] There it is now, dear. [_She opens
the door, and Mrs. Ritter steps back a bit, in order to make a more
effective entrance._] Good luck, darling.

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to her_] Thank you, dear. [_She steps through
the door, tripping awkwardly over the door-strip. Mrs. Pampinelli makes
a gesture of extreme annoyance. There is an outburst of applause;
then Mrs. Pampinelli closes the door, and they all step to the flats
and peek through, Mrs. Pampinelli at the left door, Mrs. Fell at the
right, Mr. Spindler between them, and Hossefrosse and Twiller about
half-way back at the right and left, respectively. There is a pause;
and then Mrs. Ritter can be heard beyond the flats._] Hello, kid!

TEDDY. Hello, Mrs. Arlington.

MRS. RITTER. Is my sweetie in?

TEDDY. No, mam, he ain’t.

MRS. RITTER. [_With an unnatural inflection_] What!

MRS. FELL. [_Calling over in a whisper to Mrs. Pampinelli_] Betty!
[_Mrs. Pampinelli doesn’t hear her, so she tiptoes over towards her._]
Betty!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What?

MRS. FELL. Did Paula trip?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming away from the flat, and moving down to Mrs.
Fell_] Yes. [_Mrs. Fell gives an annoyed shake of her head._] But I
don’t see how anyone can get onto _that_ stage _without_ tripping.

MRS. FELL. I don’t either.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. It seems an utter impossibility to me for anyone,
especially a woman, to get through those doors without catching her
heel or her skirt or something. [_Spindler crosses to the left, back of
the ladies, and speaks to Twiller._]

MRS. FELL. [_Returning to the right door_] It’s dreadful!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to her left and going back again to the
left door_] I don’t see the necessity of it.

MRS. FELL. [_Opening her manuscript_] I don’t either.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Listening keenly_] I’m afraid they’re not hearing
Paula at all.

MRS. FELL. What?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I say, I’m afraid Paula isn’t loud enough.

MRS. FELL. Well, why don’t you speak to her, Betty, she’s sitting right
here. [_She indicates the point right inside the right door, and Mrs.
Pampinelli, picking up her skirt, hurries over. Mrs. Fell steps out of
the way, to the right._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Putting her lips to the joining of the door-wing and
the side wing_] Speak a little louder, Paula! I’m afraid they’re not
hearing you!

MRS. FELL. Can she hear you?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. A little louder, dear! [_The right door is thrust open
by Teddy._]

TEDDY. [_In a frantic whisper_] There’s no pen and ink on the desk!
[_Spindler rushes over from the left._]

SPINDLER. What? [_Mrs. Pampinelli, Mrs. Fell and Mr. Hossefrosse rush
round to him from the right._]

TEDDY. No pen and ink!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What is it, Teddy?

TEDDY and SPINDLER, together.

  TEDDY. No pen and ink on the desk!

  SPINDLER. No pen and ink!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. My God!

MRS. FELL. Tell her to use a lead-pencil!

TEDDY and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  TEDDY.--[_To Mrs. Fell_] There’s none on there!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Give him a lead-pencil, Mr. Spindler!

SPINDLER. [_Whirling and springing towards the left_] Haven’t got one!
[_Teddy, Mrs. Pampinelli and Mrs. Fell rush after him._]

SPINDLER and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  SPINDLER. Twiller!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, dear, dear!

TWILLER. [_Rushing towards them from the left_] What’s the matter?

SPINDLER and TEDDY, together.

  SPINDLER. Got a lead-pencil?

  TEDDY. Give him a lead-pencil, Ralph!

TWILLER. [_Dropping his cane_] No! [_They fling him out of the way, to
the left, and rush on back to the stage manager._] What are you trying
to do, knock me off my feet!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Haven’t you got one, Mr. Twiller?

SPINDLER and MRS. FELL, together.

  SPINDLER. [_To the stage manager_] Got a lead-pencil, old man?

  MRS. FELL. [_At Mrs. Pampinelli’s heels_] There’s one in my bag
  somewhere!

MRS. PAMPINELLI, SPINDLER and TEDDY, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Mrs. Fell_] See what they’re doing out
  there, Nelly!

  SPINDLER. [_To the stage manager_] Or a fountain-pen!

  TEDDY. [_To the stage manager_] They need it on the stage!

MRS. FELL and STAGE MANAGER, together.

  MRS. FELL. [_Turning and rushing back towards the right door_]
  Certainly, darling!

  STAGE MANAGER. [_Feeling in his shirt-pockets_] Well, now, wait a
  minute, wait a minute!

MRS. FELL. [_Turning with a despairing gesture, after having opened the
right door and looked in_] My dear, they’re not doing a thing, they’re
just sitting there!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to the left_] Hurry, boys! [_Turning to the
right_] Tell them to say something, Nelly! Anything at all! Something
about the weather! [_Nelly runs to the extreme right end of the flat.
Teddy and Spindler come rushing forward at the left._] Did you get it,
Teddy?

TEDDY and SPINDLER, together.

  TEDDY. Yes!

  SPINDLER. Yes, he’s got it!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Indicating the left door_] Go on here, Teddy! [_He
grabs the knob of the door, but it won’t open._]

MRS. FELL. [_Calling through the flats_] Say something, Paula!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You should never leave the stage during a scene, Teddy!

TEDDY and MRS. FELL, together.

  TEDDY. [_Wrestling with the door_] Damn these doors!

  MRS. FELL. [_Calling through the flats_] Something about the weather!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Take hold of this, Mr. Spindler! [_He grabs the knob
of the door and Teddy runs across to the right door._]

TEDDY. I’ll go on here!

MRS. FELL. [_As Teddy goes through the right door_] If you can’t
use one door, use the other! [_The door closes after him; and Mrs.
Pampinelli turns and looks upon Spindler, who is still trying to get
the left door open._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You know, this is _all your fault_, Mr. Spindler. [_He
doesn’t look up._] You said you’d attend to all those properties!

MRS. FELL. What’s the matter with the door, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Spindler_] Never mind it now. [_She moves towards
the center of the stage._]

SPINDLER. We’d better get it open before somebody has to use it again.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Go away from it, I tell you! [_He walks away towards
the left, sulking._] It will probably open all right from the other
side. [_She comes forward slowly, touching her hair and relaxing
generally, then, suddenly, stands stock-still, and listens, wide-eyed.
She looks quickly at Mrs. Fell, who is carefully settling her necklace,
at the right door._] What’s wrong out there, Nelly? [_Nelly turns and
looks through the flats, then turns quickly to Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. FELL. I think he’s up!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Frozen to the spot_] Who? [_Nelly looks again, and
then back to Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. FELL. All of them!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Picking up her skirt and rushing towards the right
door_] Let me see! [_Nelly jumps out of the way, to the right, and
Twiller and Spindler rush to the left door and peek through. Mrs.
Pampinelli peeks through, and then speaks through the flats._] What’s
the matter, Teddy? Go over and get your hat and coat! [_Turning
frantically to Mrs. Fell_] He’s up in his lines! What is it?

MRS. FELL. [_In a panic_] Up in his lines!

MRS. PAMPINELLI and MRS. FELL, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Speaking through the flats_] Go over and get your
  hat and coat, Teddy! Don’t stand there like a jack!

  MRS. FELL. [_Handing the manuscript to Hossefrosse, who is at her
  right_] Oh, find that for me, will you, Huxley! [_He takes the
  manuscript from her and turns it over furiously, while Nelly opens
  her lorgnon._] About page eleven, I think it is! [_She assists him in
  finding the place._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What was the last line, Nelly? This is dreadful!

MRS. FELL. Now, wait a moment, darling! Don’t get me nervous, or I’ll
_never_ be able to find it! [_Twiller and Spindler are in a panic of
suspense over at the left door._]

HOSSEFROSSE. Here’s page eleven.

MRS. FELL. Is that eleven? Well, now, here it is, right here-- Why, a--
I’ll get you an envelope!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What’s the next?

MRS. FELL. The next is--a--why a--I’ve got to go now--

MRS. FELL and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  MRS. FELL. It takes me nearly an hour to get home!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Calling through the flats_] I’ve got to go now!

TEDDY and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  TEDDY. [_Beyond the flats_] I’ve got to go now!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Calling through the flats_] It takes me nearly an
  hour to get home.

TEDDY. It takes me an hour to get home!

MRS. FELL. Are they all right?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming away from the flats_] Yes, they’re all right
now. But you’d better stand right here, I’m afraid of Paula. [_She
moves towards the left._]

SPINDLER. [_Coming towards her_] You know, I could have _sworn_ I put a
pen and ink on that desk!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Imperiously_] Please, Mr. Spindler, don’t explain
anything! I am interested in results. [_She turns and moves back
again towards the right, and Spindler goes over to the left. Just as
he passes beyond the left door, the entire lock and knob fall to the
floor. He turns nervously, only to find Mrs. Pampinelli, who has turned
quite as nervously, looking at him dangerously._]

SPINDLER. I didn’t _touch_ it!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Will you go away, before you ruin the entire
performance! [_He snaps around and goes over to the left and up towards
the back._]

TEDDY. [_Opening the left door and swaying through_] Good night. [_He
is dressed in a brown sack-suit and wears tan shoes._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] Good night, son.

MRS. RITTER. [_Beyond the flats_] Good night, kid.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Going towards him_] You should _never_ walk off the
stage, Teddy, in the middle of a scene! [_He closes the door behind
him, and, pressing his hand to his brow, starts towards the left._] Do
something, no matter what it is! [_He falls backward in a full-length
faint. She catches him._] Oh, dear child! Mr. Spindler! Come here, Mr.
Twiller, Teddy’s fainted! [_Twiller, who has been standing over at
the left, and forward, rushes towards her; and Mrs. Fell, followed by
Hossefrosse, comes rushing from the right._]

MRS. FELL. [_In a panic_] What’s the matter, Betty!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Take Teddy over to the door, Mr. Twiller, he’s fainted!

TWILLER. [_Dropping his cane, in his excitement_] I _can’t_ take him
now, I’ve got a cue coming right here in a minute! [_Spindler comes
rushing down from the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Here, Mr. Spindler, take Teddy over to the door, where
he’ll get some air! He’s sick. Look at the color of him. [_She hands
him to Spindler, who half carries him up at the left; and she and
Twiller follow on behind them._] Hold on to him, now, Mr. Spindler.

MRS. FELL. [_Turning back towards the right door, and addressing
Hossefrosse, who has returned to his former position down at the
right_] I always said he wasn’t strong enough for that part! [_She just
gets past the right door when it is frantically opened and Mrs. Ritter
thrusts her head out._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Breathlessly_] Mr. Twiller! [_The door closes again._]

MRS. FELL. [_Running towards the left_] Mr. Twiller! They’re waiting
for you!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Rushing forward at the left_] What is it?

MRS. FELL. [_In a perfect frenzy_] They’re waiting for Mr. Twiller!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Twiller! [_He snatches up his cane from the floor,
but the hook of it catches in the stage-brace, and he has considerable
yanking to do to get it loose. Mrs. Fell raps on the left door._] Go
on, Mr. Twiller, for Heaven’s sake! the stage is waiting! [_She pulls
the door open for him. He straightens his hat and then raps on the
wing beside the door._] Oh, go on! never mind rapping! that’s been
done! [_He steps through the door and she slams it after him, catching
his left arm and hand. The cane is in his left hand, and it falls at
Mrs. Pampinelli’s feet. She pulls the door open again to release his
arm; then gives the door a definite slam. A burst of applause greets
Twiller’s entrance. Mrs. Pampinelli is in a perfect wrath. She sweeps
across towards the right, and back again all the way across to the
left; then turns and starts back towards the right. As she passes the
left door she sees Twiller’s cane, and, realizing in a flash that he
will have need of it in his scene, she picks it up, opens the left
door slightly, and flings it in onto the stage. Then she continues on
towards the right, turns and crosses back again to the left, holding up
her skirt and bristling with temper._]

MRS. FELL. [_Back at the right door, speaking to Hossefrosse, down at
the right_] How are my eyes? Instead of paying attention to his part!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming across to the right_] People rehearsing
their cues a thousand times, and then don’t know them when they hear
them! It’s positively disgusting! [_She turns and goes back again to
the left, turns, and starts back to the right. Hossefrosse tiptoes
towards her._]

HOSSEFROSSE. What happened to Teddy, did he get sick out there?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, just a little reaction. [_Hossefrosse nods
comprehendingly._] He gives too much to the scene. He doesn’t
understand emotional conservation yet. [_Hossefrosse shakes his head
knowingly and returns to the right, and Mrs. Pampinelli steps to the
left door and listens._]

FLORENCE. [_Just audibly, beyond the flats_] She’s waiting for my
very unpunctual husband. In fact, we are both waiting for him, to be
precise. But I’ve just been telling her I’m afraid we may as well give
it up, for he’s never kept an appointment in his life. I’m sorry he
isn’t here, if you wanted to see him.

TWILLER. [_Beyond the flats_] I don’t know whether I wanted to see him
or not; it depends.

FLORENCE. I don’t understand you.

TWILLER. I don’t fully understand myself! [_There is a very general
laugh from beyond the flats. Mrs. Pampinelli looks anxiously at Nelly,
and Nelly looks up at her from the manuscript._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What was _that_?

MRS. FELL. [_Not having caught what she said_] What?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What was that the audience was laughing at? [_Mrs.
Fell peeks through at the door where she is standing, then turns
desperately to Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. FELL. Half of Mr. Twiller’s mustache fell off! [_She looks through
the peek again. Mrs. Pampinelli puts her hand against her brow and
leans upon the stage-brace, the picture of tragedy. Mrs. Fell turns to
her again._] I don’t think the audience noticed it, he stuck it right
on again!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That doesn’t matter, there is absolutely no excuse for
it! He’s been here since four o’clock this afternoon! [_She crosses
towards the left and back again._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] What sort of a rumor was it, Mr. Rush,
if I may ask?

TWILLER. [_Beyond the flats_] The usual kind. [_There’s another laugh
from beyond the flats, and Mrs. Pampinelli stands petrified, just below
the left door. Mrs. Fell turns quickly and peeks, then turns to Mrs.
Pampinelli._]

MRS. FELL. [_Despairingly_] It fell off again! [_Mrs. Pampinelli raises
her fists and shakes them._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, why on earth hasn’t he brains enough to leave it
off!

MRS. FELL. He has his hat on, too! [_Mrs. Pampinelli steps to the left
door and speaks through it._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Leave your mustache _off_, Mr. Twiller! Leave it
_off_!--And take off your _hat_, you’re inside. [_Hossefrosse tiptoes
over from the right._]

HOSSEFROSSE. What’s the matter, did his mustache fall off?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, twice; and he keeps sticking it on again. [_He
shakes his head regretfully and tiptoes back to the right._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Beyond the flats_] It’s perfectly ridiculous!

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] Too bad my husband isn’t here.

TWILLER. [_Beyond the flats_] Yes, it is; I had counted upon seeing him.

FLORENCE. I’m sure he’d be able to explain.

TWILLER. Well, I hope he would!--the thing is damned annoying! [_Mrs.
Ritter gives an unearthly laugh, which is supposed to express derision.
Mrs. Fell looks up from her manuscript, and Mrs. Pampinelli smiles and
nods approvingly at her._] Even if _you don’t_ appreciate it!

MRS. FELL. Wonderful. [_She turns and smiles and nods at Hossefrosse;
then they all listen again. The stage manager, who has arisen from his
chair at the sound of Mrs. Ritter’s disdainful laughter, comes forward
at the left, with his pipe in one hand and his newspaper in the other.
He has a puzzled, inquiring expression, and looks from one to the other
quizzically; but Mrs. Pampinelli has her back to him, Mrs. Fell is
looking at her manuscript, and Mr. Hossefrosse’s face is, as usual,
utterly expressionless, so he steps to the juncture of the back flats
with the side wings and peeks through, curiously. Then he returns to
his chair up at the left, shaking his head from side to side._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Beyond the flats_] I don’t know what it is, yet!

TWILLER. [_Beyond the flats_] You know very well what it is!

MRS. RITTER. You haven’t told us.

TWILLER. You’re here, aren’t you!

MRS. RITTER. Yes.

TWILLER. Well, that’s it, exactly! [_Mrs. Pampinelli smiles
approvingly, and moves towards the right._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Calling Hossefrosse, who is engaged in studying his
lines from a paper, over at the right_] Mr. Hossefrosse.

MRS. FELL. [_Turning to him_] Huxley! [_He looks up, and tiptoes
towards Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. How is this hall to speak in?

HOSSEFROSSE. Why, I shouldn’t say it was good.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I thought not.

HOSSEFROSSE. It’s too big for the speaking voice.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a gesture_] You have to _project_ the tone, do
you not?

HOSSEFROSSE. Oh, yes, absolutely.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Taking a step towards the back flat, and listening_]
I’m afraid they’re not hearing Paula at all.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Putting his fingers to his throat_] I’m using my upper
register almost entirely.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Glancing at him_] You’re very fortunate to know how
to do it.

HOSSEFROSSE. Did it sound all right from back here?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, splendid, yes, Mr. Hossefrosse!--your voice is
beautiful. [_He raises his hand deprecatingly._] Really,--I was just
saying to Mrs. Fell, I’m so sorry there isn’t another act, that you
might sing a solo between them. [_He beams and deprecates again,
profusely, and turns to the right. Spindler comes down at the left and
towards Mrs. Pampinelli._] Really! Splendid. [_She sees Spindler._]
Where’s Teddy?

SPINDLER. He’s gone over to the drug store.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. With his make-up on?

SPINDLER. He said he wanted to get some aromatic spirits of ammonia.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You have a cue right here soon, haven’t you?

SPINDLER. [_Taking the telephone-arrangement from his pocket, and
crossing towards the right door_] Where are they?

MRS. FELL. [_Suddenly looking up from her manuscript_] Telephone, Mr.
Spindler!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. There it is now, ring it!

SPINDLER. [_Shaking it desperately_] It won’t ring! [_Mrs. Fell turns
to Hossefrosse in desperation._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI, MRS. FELL and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Shake it harder, it rang before!

  MRS. FELL. What’s the matter with the fool thing!

  HOSSEFROSSE. Hit it against something, Mr. Spindler!

SPINDLER. There’s something the matter with the battery!

FLORENCE. [_Audibly, from beyond the flats_] Hello!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Relaxing_] Let it go,--it’s too late now. [_Spindler
continues to tinker with it._] You’ve missed every other cue, [_She
moves towards the left._] you may as well be consistent for the rest of
the evening.

SPINDLER. [_Following her_] Well, good night! I can’t help it if the
electricity won’t work, can I?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning upon him furiously_] You should have
attended to it beforehand and then it _would_ work! [_Mrs. Fell waves
her hand at them, to be quiet._]

SPINDLER. Well, My God! I can’t be in a half-a-dozen places at the same
time!

MRS. FELL. Shush! [_Hossefrosse tiptoes up to her and deplores the
noise that Mrs. Pampinelli and Spindler are making._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No one is asking you to be in half-a-dozen places at
the same time! You’ve simply been asked to attend to your cues; and
you’ve missed every one you’ve had!

MRS. FELL and HOSSEFROSSE, together. Shush!

SPINDLER. You told me to take care of Teddy, didn’t you?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I told you to take him to the door! I _didn’t_ say to
take him all the way to the drug store!

SPINDLER. Did you want me to let the man wander off somewhere by
himself, and maybe die!

MRS. FELL. [_Waving her manuscript at them_] Shus--sh!

MRS. PAMPINELLI and SPINDLER, together.

  SPINDLER. Just for the sake of not missing a cue!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With bitter amusement_] There is very little danger
  of his dying! And even if he did die, your duty is here! [_She points
  to the floor with an imperative gesture. The right door is quietly
  pushed open, and Twiller, with one-half of his mustache gone, pokes
  his head out._]

TWILLER. Shush! [_He glances from one side to the other, withdraws
his head, and quietly closes the door. Spindler crosses below Mrs.
Pampinelli, to the left, then turns and looks at her angrily._]

MRS. FELL. [_Turning to Hossefrosse_] What did I tell you! Making more
noise out here than they are out there!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Still holding her gesture, but following Spindler
with her eyes_] Performances are never interrupted simply because one
of the artists happens to die! If you were a professional you’d know
that; but you’re not! [_She turns away from him, towards the right,
and, simultaneously, the left door is opened, almost striking her.
She raises her arm to protect herself. Mrs. Ritter is standing in the
doorway._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Speaking to Twiller, who is still beyond the flats_]
Look and see. [_The telephone-arrangement in Spindler’s hands suddenly
rings wildly._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to him frantically_] Oh, stop that thing!
[_Mrs. Ritter glances furtively over her left shoulder at Mrs.
Pampinelli. Mrs. Fell comes rushing over, motioning to Spindler to stop
the bell._]

SPINDLER. [_Struggling with the bell_] I can’t stop it! [_Mrs. Ritter
hastily steps back through the door and pulls it to after her._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, then, take it outside, where they can’t hear it!
[_Spindler scrambles towards the back and out of sight at the left.
Mrs. Pampinelli starts back towards the right._]

MRS. FELL. What’s the matter with that Spindler man, anyway!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I don’t know what’s the matter with him! I’ve given up
thinking about him.

MRS. FELL. He acts to me like a person that wouldn’t be in his right
mind! [_She goes back towards the right door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing in the middle of the stage_] He’s simply
not a professional, that’s all. [_The left door opens again and Mrs.
Ritter is standing in it. Mrs. Pampinelli turns suddenly and looks at
her. Mrs. Ritter repeats her unearthly laugh, which again arouses the
curiosity of the stage manager, to the extent that he rises and comes
forward again at the left to get a look at her. Then he returns to
his chair, taking the door-slam with him, and standing it against the
wing._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Addressing Twiller, beyond the flats_] What about the
gentlemen?

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] Jealous husbands, chiefly, aren’t they?
[_Twiller comes out through the left door, past Mrs. Ritter._] Didn’t
you want to leave a message for the Doctor, Mr. Rush? [_Twiller turns
right round and goes back to the door._]

TWILLER. Who, me?

FLORENCE. If you wish.

MRS. RITTER. [_Having some difficulty seeing Florence over Twiller’s
right shoulder_] He might leave an apology.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Very much annoyed, and stepping close to the flat,
just to the right of the door_] Get out of the doorway, Mr. Twiller!

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] Perhaps we haven’t convinced him of his
mistake.

MRS. PAMPINELLI and MRS. RITTER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Trying desperately to attract Twiller’s attention,
  and becoming more emphatic_] Get out of the doorway, Mr. Twiller,
  you’re covering Paula up!

  MRS. RITTER. [_Trying to talk to Florence over Twiller’s shoulder_]
  Well, he’ll apologize to me, whether we’ve convinced him or not.
  [_Mrs. Fell and Hossefrosse come over to see if they can be of any
  assistance._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI and TWILLER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Becoming desperate_] Paula! [_Paula gives her a
  nervous glance._] Will one of you go farther in! Mr. Twiller!

  TWILLER. [_Addressing Florence_] Have you convinced yourselves? [_He
  gives Mrs. Pampinelli an irritated look over his left shoulder._]

FLORENCE. That there has been a mistake?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Go farther in, one of you! [_Twiller gives her another
look, then speaks to Florence._]

TWILLER. Yes! [_Mrs. Pampinelli can contain herself no longer, so,
picking up her skirt, and holding her hand against the left side of
her head, she darts across the open door, to the left, and speaks to
them around the edge of the door. Mrs. Fell, taking advantage of the
circumstance of Mrs. Pampinelli’s crossing, tiptoes up to Twiller
and strikes him on the left arm, quite viciously, with the rolled
manuscript. As a polite remonstrance, he shakes his left hand and foot
at her. But, she is not dismayed, and repeats the attack, even more
viciously. Then he turns and glares at her, and she turns away towards
the right, desperately._]

FLORENCE. A great mistake.

MRS. RITTER. Disappointed? Because, you know, we can _invent_ a
scandal, if you insist.

MRS. FELL. Oh, what a man! What a man!

FLORENCE and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  FLORENCE. I’m afraid _my_ presence here would be a bit incongruous,
  even for that.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Go farther in, Mr. Twiller, don’t both of you stand
  wedged in the doorway that way, it looks dreadful!

TWILLER. [_Raising his right arm and resting his hand against the jamb
of the door, completely cutting off Mrs. Ritter’s view of Florence_]
That’s the rub. [_Mrs. Ritter stands on her tiptoes to try and see over
his arm, but being unsuccessful in this effort, stoops a bit, and tries
to look under his arm._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Take your arm down, Mr. Twiller! [_Mrs. Ritter reaches
up and quietly but firmly draws Twiller’s arm down. Mrs. Pampinelli
turns away to the left, disgusted._] My God! I never gave any such
direction as that!

FLORENCE. Be at ease, Mr. Rush; if you were not mistaken I should have
known it,--and so should you; I’m not a tragic woman. Did you want to
leave any message for the Doctor, Mrs. Rush?

MRS. RITTER. [_At Twiller’s right_] Yes,--[_Twiller turns his head
sharply and looks right into her eyes. She steps around back of him
and speaks to Florence over his left shoulder._] I wish you’d say that
my husband called--[_Twiller turns and looks into her eyes again, and
she steps around back of him again, to his right._] for my bill. [_She
reaches out and starts to draw the door to. Twiller, very ill at ease,
and awkwardly looking from side to side, not knowing just how to get
out gracefully, makes a full turn round to his right._]

TWILLER. [_Raising his hat to Florence_] Good evening, Mrs. Arlington.
[_Mrs. Ritter closes the door, causing him to drop his cane; but he’s
too excited to notice it._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Standing at the right door, extending his hand_] Great,
old man!

TWILLER. [_Dropping his gloves, as he shakes hands_] Thanks. [_He
continues to the right._]

MRS. FELL. [_As he passes below her_] Splendid, Ralph! What happened to
your mustache? [_She laughs._]

TWILLER. Can you beat that, Nelly! I couldn’t _coax_ that thing off
before I went on!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Holding the knob of the right door_] Shush!

MRS. FELL. I don’t think the audience noticed it.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Turning to them_] Shush! [_Twiller goes down to the
right, and Mrs. Fell returns to her manuscript. The left door is flung
open. They all watch eagerly._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Inside the left door_] If you will, please?

FLORENCE. Certainly.

MRS. RITTER. Thanks.

FLORENCE. Don’t mention it.

MRS. RITTER. [_Trying to appear very bold_] Good bye.

FLORENCE. Good bye. [_Mrs. Ritter gives another famous laugh, sways
through the door, tripping over the door-strip, closes the door,
looks at Mrs. Pampinelli, who is standing at the left, and bursts out
laughing. There is prolonged applause from beyond the flats._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Splendid, Paula!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Listening intently for his cue, from beyond the flats_]
Shush-shush! [_Mrs. Ritter looks at him, still laughing foolishly._]

MRS. FELL. [_Waving at Paula_] Lovely, dear!

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli_] I forgot my umbrella.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Where is it?

MRS. RITTER. I left it on the stage.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That doesn’t matter. [_Hossefrosse tries to silence
them by dint of impatient gesturing with his right hand._]

MRS. RITTER. Oh, Betty, I think I saw Clara Sheppard out there!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Not really?

HOSSEFROSSE. Shush!

FLORENCE. [_From beyond the flats_] You can come out now, Clyde,
they’ve gone. [_Hossefrosse yanks the right door open, causing the
wood-wing at the right to topple and fall forward._]

TWILLER. [_Leaping to catch it, before it hits Mrs. Fell_] Hold it!
[_Mrs. Fell hunches her arms and shoulders and screams._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Rushing over from the left_] What is it?

TWILLER. [_Struggling to set the wing up in place again_] This thing
nearly fell! Just got it in time! [_Mrs. Fell moves out of the way,
over to the left, and Mrs. Pampinelli tries to assist Twiller._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Is it all right now?

TWILLER. [_Brushing his hands and clothes, and coming forward at the
right_] Yes, it’s all right now. Just got it in time.

MRS. FELL. [_Rushing up to Mrs. Ritter, who is coming towards her
from the left, and shaking her by the arms_] Oh, you were marvelous,
darling! [_Mrs. Ritter giggles foolishly._] I could just hug you!

MRS. RITTER. I forgot my umbrella.

MRS. FELL. Wonderful performance! [_She steps to the right door and
opens her manuscript. Mrs. Ritter moves a little to the right and
stands looking at the wood-wing._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning from a more precise adjustment of the
wood-wing_] Oh, Mr. Twiller!

TWILLER. Yes?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. How did you and Paula get wedged in that door that
way, over there a moment ago?

TWILLER. [_On Mrs. Pampinelli’s right_] Oh, I’m awfully sorry about
that! I got a little twisted on-- [_Mrs. Ritter comes to Mrs.
Pampinelli’s left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Mrs. Ritter_] I was just asking Mr.
Twiller about that business in the door.

MRS. PAMPINELLI, MRS. RITTER and TWILLER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Of course, it really didn’t matter very much.

  MRS. RITTER. Oh, my dear, wasn’t that just too dreadful! But I didn’t
  know what to do! I knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t know
  what it was!

  TWILLER. It was _my_ fault. I got a little twisted there in my
  business-cues. I got up to the door a couple of speeches too soon.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I don’t think the audience noticed it.

MRS. FELL. [_Frantically searching in the manuscript_] Shush!

MRS. RITTER. Don’t you think they did, Betty?

MRS. FELL. Shush! [_They all turn and look at her. Mrs. Pampinelli
steps towards her._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Is somebody up? [_Nelly simply silences her with a
gesture, and opens the door slightly._]

MRS. FELL. [_Prompting through the door_] You’ve all been listening to
a lot of damned, cheap gossip!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_From beyond the flats_] You’ve all been listening to a
lot of damned, cheap gossip!

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] Which should show you that people are
talking.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Somebody up? [_Nelly just shakes her head and
relaxes._] Mr. Hossefrosse?

MRS. FELL. The “damned, cheap gossip” line.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Listening keenly_] Is he all right again?

MRS. FELL. Yes, he’s all right now;--but it’s funny how that line has
sent him up at every performance.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to rejoin Mrs. Ritter and Twiller_] It’s
purely mental.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_From beyond the flats, violently_] No! [_The stage
manager, over at the left, jumps to his feet, causing the hammer to
fall from his pocket. The door-slam also falls, with a bang. The stage
manager has been dozing, and the thunder of Mr. Hossefrosse’s outburst
has considerably startled him. He comes forward at the left and looks
over at Mrs. Fell, to inquire the cause of the disturbance._]

MRS. FELL. [_Motioning to him with her manuscript_] Shush! [_He looks
about and then goes back and picks up the hammer and door-slam. As he
resumes his seat he takes another glance around._]

MRS. RITTER. [_As Mrs. Pampinelli comes forward again at the right,
between her and Twiller_] You know, I felt like a perfect fool standing
there in that door, but I couldn’t catch what you were saying.
[_Twiller laughs._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, dear, I _really_ don’t think the audience
noticed it.

TWILLER. I hope they didn’t.

MRS. RITTER. It must have looked awful.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, dear, it didn’t, really; you both covered it up
very nicely.

TWILLER. I _tried_ to cover it up when my mustache fell off, too;--but
I had so many _lines_ right in there. I held it on as long as I could,
but I was afraid the audience was beginning to notice it.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I was so glad you had the presence of mind not to
attempt to stick it on again when it fell off the _second_ time.

TWILLER. I was afraid to take the time. I had a cue right there; so
when it fell off the second time, I just--let it lie there. [_He makes
a casual gesture with his right hand._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That was quite right.

TWILLER. [_Laughing a little_] It’s out there yet.

MRS. RITTER. [_Giggling_] So is my umbrella. [_They all laugh._] Oh,
listen, Betty dear! I think I’ll just run upstairs for a minute and use
that telephone--see how Fred is. [_She starts towards the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Following her_] Yes, do, Paula.

MRS. RITTER. I’m kind of worried about him.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. See if he’s regained consciousness yet.

MRS. RITTER. [_Regardless of the fact that a play is in progress_]
Excuse me!

MRS. FELL. [_Looking up from her manuscript_] Shush!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Certainly, dear. [_Twiller raises his hat towards
her, and she waves back at him. Then he goes up at the right and peeks
through the side wings._] Oh, Paula!

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning_] Yes, dear?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Be sure and get down in time for the curtains.

MRS. RITTER. Oh, yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I imagine there’ll be a lot of flowers come over.

MRS. RITTER. [_Starting up at the left_] I’ll be right down as soon as
I telephone.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, do, dear. [_Mrs. Ritter goes out at the left, and
Mrs. Pampinelli turns, touching her hair, and starts back towards the
right. Something falls beyond the flats. She stops dead, and listens.
Mrs. Fell turns quickly and peeks through the right door. Twiller comes
forward at the right and looks inquiringly._]

FLORENCE. [_Just audible beyond the flats_] Then, you’ve allowed him to
think so.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What’s that?

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] Perhaps it is.

MRS. FELL. [_Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli, and quite casually_] He
knocked the ash-tray over. [_Mrs. Pampinelli relaxes, and proceeds to
arrange the beaded ornaments on her dress, while Mrs. Fell moves a bit
farther over to the right and stands listening, manuscript and lorgnon
in hand. Twiller crosses to the left, below Mrs. Fell, and gathers up
his gloves and cane._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Beyond the flats_] You are deliberately misinterpreting
this situation! Yes you are! It’s perfectly ridiculous that a physician
cannot take a woman patient without being subjected to the whisperings
of a lot of vulgar scandal-mongers.

FLORENCE. This is not a romantic age, Clyde.

TWILLER. [_Coming to Mrs. Pampinelli’s right_] Was that inflection of
mine any better tonight on that line, “I’m puzzled.”?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, very much better, I was listening for it.

TWILLER. [_Thoughtfully_] I never seemed to get the sense of that line
until tonight. It just seemed to--come to me, out there on the stage.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, that is a very significant line, Mr. Twiller,
coming where it does. [_Spindler comes wandering on from the left,
comes forward, looks about, and goes up to the side wing and looks
through._]

TWILLER. I felt a great deal easier in that new business of
turning--down at the bookcase that you gave me last night.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a touch of smugness_] Much better.

TWILLER. Did you notice it?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, of course, I couldn’t see it, I was here; but I
could sense it; and I could tell from the _tone_ of the scene that it
was better. [_Spindler moves over to the extreme left, about half-way
back, and, taking the refractory telephone-bell-arrangement from his
pocket, starts to tinker with it._]

TWILLER. I just turned my head _this_ way, [_He turns his head sharply
to the right, keeping his body and shoulders perfectly rigid._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Excellent.

TWILLER. [_Turning back to her_] Without moving my body.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Very good.

TWILLER. Instead of making the full swing around, [_He makes a complete
swing around on his right foot._] the way I had been doing. [_Mrs. Fell
raises her lorgnon and looks over, curiously._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. A very good change.

TWILLER. [_Very seriously_] I _felt_ that it got them.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, you see, it gave them the full benefit of your
expression. [_They nod agreement._]

TWILLER. There’s a great deal of light and shade in that part, right in
there.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Deprecatingly_] Ho! my dear,--it is _all_ light
and shade;--even to the gestures. [_She makes a Delsartian movement
with her arms and hands. Mrs. Fell comes forward a little further and
observes the gesture keenly, through her lorgnon._] ....

TWILLER. [_Rather troubled, and shaking his head a bit_] I’ve got to
put in a lot of work on _my_ gestures,--they’re bad, I know.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, I shouldn’t exactly say that your gestures were
bad; but I think, perhaps----

TWILLER. [_Leaning heavily on his cane_] I--ah--I think I try too hard
to be natural.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Smiling, biting her lip, and rolling her eyes_]
That’s exactly what I was going to say. Your gestures are, in a way,
_too_ natural. [_She gives a little mirthless laugh, and, out of
courtesy, he joins her._] Of course, that is a very virtuous fault; but
it isn’t pretty, is it? [_She laughs again._]

TWILLER. No, it isn’t. [_The stage manager gets up, stretches himself,
and comes forward at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And, after all, the function of art is to be pretty,
is it not? [_She repeats the floating gesture._]

TWILLER. [_Trying to imitate her_] I don’t seem to be able--to _do_
that, the way you do. [_Mrs. Fell feels the call, and, putting the
manuscript under her arm, tries rather unsuccessfully to copy the
movement._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, it is purely a matter of experience, Mr. Twiller.
But when you’ve been in the work as long as I have,--you’ll realize
that the bird’s-wing gesture is the _only_ gesture. [_She illustrates
again, for the edification of her disciples; and they attempt rather
faithfully to imitate her. The stage manager stands looking at them._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] But it has its compensations--You’ll
have your memories, [_There is a confusion of voices from beyond the
flats, and cries of “Sit down!”_]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Startled_] What’s that? [_Mrs. Fell rushes to the
right door and peeks through, Twiller goes over to the right and up,
and the stage manager rushes back to his post and disappears at the
left._] What is it, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Turning suddenly to Mrs. Pampinelli_] They’re carrying a
man out of the audience! [_She looks back again through the peek, and
Mrs. Pampinelli steps to the left door and peeks. Mrs. Sheppard sweeps
on up at the left, and comes forward. She is a slim brunette, in her
thirties, very attractive, and wearing the very last whisper in widow’s
weeds. She looks around, rather dramatically, then sees the ladies.
Mrs. Fell looks away from the peek-hole and sees her._] Betty, there’s
Clara!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking at Nelly_] What?

MRS. FELL. [_Not wishing to be heard_] Clara Sheppard. [_Mrs.
Pampinelli turns quickly._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, Clara! [_She goes towards her, and Clara advances
a little._] I’m so glad to see you! [_Clara breaks down and weeps._]
Now, don’t do that, dear. You know Jimmy wouldn’t for anything in the
world want you to feel that way. So be brave, honey. It was splendid of
you to come here at all. And you look wonderful.

MRS. SHEPPARD. I must look perfectly dreadful.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You don’t look anything of the kind, darling, you look
perfectly beautiful.

MRS. SHEPPARD. All I’ve done is cry.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I know just how you feel.

MRS. SHEPPARD. But I didn’t want you to think I’d entirely forsaken the
cause.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Oh, my dear, we understood perfectly.

MRS. SHEPPARD. But I just felt I _had_ to come here tonight.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Have you been out in front, Clara?

MRS. SHEPPARD. Yes, I just _had_ to see it. I don’t think anybody saw
me; I came in late, and stood way at the back.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. They’d hardly see you.

MRS. SHEPPARD. I don’t think so; I kept my veil lowered. Of course, I
should _love_ to have been right down in front, where I could get all
those _wonderful_ little subtleties. But, you know how it is,--I was
afraid people might not understand my being here at all. It’s only
three weeks, you know.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. They wouldn’t, either.

MRS. SHEPPARD. That’s what I thought.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I don’t suppose there’s one person in _ten thousand_
that has dramatic instinct enough to appreciate the way you feel. [_She
turns to the left door and listens._]

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Beginning to cry again_] The flowers in the lobby are
perfectly beautiful.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Still listening_] Yes, but I’m not having them
passed over the footlights tonight.

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Drying her eyes_] No?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Except one bouquet for each of the ladies. It took up
too much time the last time.

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Glancing about_] Where’s Paula?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. She’s upstairs, telephoning. She’s rather annoyed
about Fred, you know.

MRS. SHEPPARD. What about him? [_Mrs. Pampinelli turns from the door
suddenly and looks at her._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] There is, my dear boy,--for lots of
people----

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Why, my dear, didn’t you hear?--about him falling
downstairs last night?

MRS. SHEPPARD. Oh, not really!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming towards her_] He fell almost the entire
flight.

MRS. SHEPPARD. Oh, dear me!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Poor Paula’s terribly upset.

MRS. SHEPPARD. What was he doing, coming down the stairs?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, he was watching our rehearsal. You know, we held
the final rehearsal at Paula’s house last night--we couldn’t get this
place.

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Solicitously_] Well, did he break any _bones_, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No,--Doctor Wentworth said--he was unconscious before
he hit the floor. He said the fall was the result of a collapse; and
that he would have fallen no matter where he had been. Unfortunately,
he just happened to be on the stairs. [_She turns back again to the
left door._]

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Retrospectively_] I _thought_ he looked pale when I
saw him out there tonight. [_Mrs. Pampinelli turns suddenly and looks
at her._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] And you have a very modern wife.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. When you saw him out here, you mean? [_She indicates
the audience beyond the flats._]

MRS. SHEPPARD. Yes; he was standing out there at the back, right near
_me_.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming towards her again_] You _must_ be mistaken,
Clara.

MRS. SHEPPARD. No, Betty, I’m quite _sure_ I saw him.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, the only thing _I_ know is that Paula said he
hadn’t regained consciousness when she left the house this evening at
seven-thirty. [_Mrs. Ritter comes on up at the back, from the left, and
comes forward._] Here’s Paula now!

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Turning round to her left_] Poor dear, she must be
terribly upset.

MRS. RITTER. [_Extending her arms_] Clara, dear! [_Mrs. Sheppard bursts
into tears again._] This is so nice of you! [_They embrace each other,
and Mrs. Ritter starts to cry._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Isn’t she the sweet thing! [_The door at the right
opens._]

MRS. FELL. [_To the ladies_] Shush! [_They all turn and look toward the
right door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a gesture to Mrs. Ritter and Mrs. Sheppard_]
Shush! [_Hossefrosse comes out the right door._]

FLORENCE. [_Beyond the flats_] It’s gotten very chilly.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Picking up his hat, cane and gloves from the chair_]
Yes, I know it has; I just came in a few minutes ago.

FLORENCE. You had tickets for the theatre, didn’t you?

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Stepping back through the right door again_] Yes.

FLORENCE. Why not take me?--for a change. [_The door closes._] You used
to--years ago.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Mrs. Ritter and Mrs. Sheppard_] Paula,
Clara says she thinks she saw Mr. Ritter out there tonight.

MRS. RITTER. [_Standing at the left_] My dear, Jenny just told me over
the telephone that he regained consciousness a half-hour after I left
the house, and went out. Said she thought from the way he talked he was
coming here.

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_In the center_] Yes, I was _sure_ I saw him standing
out there-- [_Turning to Mrs. Ritter_] I was just telling Betty.

MRS. RITTER. I wonder if he’s out there yet.

MRS. SHEPPARD. I don’t know, dear.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. How much of the play did you see, Clara?

MRS. SHEPPARD. Why, I stayed just as long as I could, Betty. But when
Paula came on, and I heard those lines of mine again, I just couldn’t
stand it. [_She breaks down, and buries her face in her handkerchief._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laying her hand on her arm_] I know, Clara--you’re
such an artist.

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Pressing her hands against her bosom_] Everything just
seemed to come back on me.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I know how it is, dear.

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Pampinelli_] I got thinking
how Jimmy would feel, if he could know, that _he_ was the cause of
standing in the way of my first _real_ opportunity. [_She cries
again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Raising her eyes to Heaven_] Perhaps he does know,
dear.

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Turning to her again_] I mean, you know, he was always
so anxious about my getting into the work. And, somehow or other, I
always _felt_--that I could have done so much with that part. [_Mrs.
Ritter gives a vague little laugh, and Mrs. Sheppard turns to her
quickly._] Oh, of course, you were perfectly _adorable_ in it, darling,
I don’t mean that-- [_The left door opens, and Florence is standing in
it, about to come out._]

MRS. FELL. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli, Mrs. Ritter and Mrs. Sheppard_] Shush!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning and going closer to the left door_] Excuse
me, Clara.

MRS. SHEPPARD. Certainly, dear. [_Twiller comes forward at the right._]

FLORENCE. [_Stepping through the door_] By the way, there was a Mr.
Robinson telephoned this morning, after you’d left the house-- [_Mrs.
Sheppard waves her handkerchief at Florence, and Florence replies
by quietly flicking her fingers at her. Then, still keeping in her
character, she moves slowly towards the right, leaving the door open
behind her._] He said something about a list being correct.

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Appearing in the doorway, carrying his hat, cane and
gloves_] Yes, I know. [_He reaches towards the left, beyond the flats,
as though he were pushing an electric-light button, then thrusts his
head through the door and says in a fierce whisper._] Lights.

FLORENCE. Lights out!

MRS. FELL and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  MRS. FELL. Put out the lights, somebody!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Lights, Mr. Stage Manager! [_The stage manager
  appears from the left, at the back._]

SPINDLER. [_Springing from the left, where he has been engaged in
trying to repair the telephone-battery_] Lights out!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Where are you! [_The stage manager reaches up and
pulls one of the switches on the switch-board at the back, and the
lights beyond the flats go out; then he disappears again at the left._]

SPINDLER and HOSSEFROSSE, together.

  SPINDLER. I was right here!

  HOSSEFROSSE. [_Coming through the door_] Yes, I know,-- [_Closing the
  door behind him_] I talked to him. [_Puts his hat on_]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, why aren’t you right _here_, where you should
be! Stand by for the curtain, now,--see if you can do that much right.
Surely, it’s the old story of the lark,--if you want a thing done, do
it yourself! Curtain!

SPINDLER. [_Shouting_] Curtain! [_The curtain, beyond the flats, begins
to roll down, and there is thunderous applause._]

MRS. FELL. [_To Florence_] Marvelous, darling! [_Florence waves at
her, turns, and rushes back towards the left._] Just lovely, Huxley!

HOSSEFROSSE. Thanks. [_He turns to the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Lights up! Splendid, children!

FLORENCE. I’m awfully glad to see you, Clara!

MRS. SHEPPARD, MRS. PAMPINELLI, HOSSEFROSSE and SPINDLER, together.

  MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Shaking hands with Florence_] You were wonderful,
  Flossie!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Take up the curtain, Mr. Stage Manager!

  HOSSEFROSSE. Thank you very much.

  SPINDLER. Lights up! [_The stage manager appears from the left and
  pulls the switch again, and the lights beyond the flats go on._]

SPINDLER. Take it up! [_The stage manager darts off again to the left.
The waltz-music on the piano, beyond the flats, begins again._]

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Lifting his hat and beaming_] Hello, Clara!

MRS. SHEPPARD. Wonderful! [_He deprecates profusely. The curtain rises
again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Go on, Mr. Hossefrosse! [_He opens the right door,
removing his hat._] Wait a moment, Mr. Hossefrosse! Come on, Florence!
[_Hossefrosse stops uncertainly in the doorway and looks at Mrs.
Pampinelli._] It’s all right! Go on! [_She opens the left door._] Here,
go on here, Florence! [_They go on, bowing, and there is prolonged
applause._] Come on, Paula! go on here! [_The curtain descends again.
Paula scurries to the left door, giggling._] Where’s Mr. Twiller!

TWILLER. [_Springing over from the right, where he has been talking and
laughing with Mrs. Fell_] Here I am!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to the left_] Take it up again, Mr. Stage
Manager! [_Turning back to Twiller, and opening the door_] Here, Mr.
Twiller, take Paula on! [_The curtain can be seen through the left
door rising again._] Come on, Paula! [_Twiller drops his cane, in
shifting it from his right hand to his left._] Hurry up! [_He snatches
the cane up, and, taking Paula by the arm, escorts her through the
door. But she trips over the door-strip, nevertheless. And there is
sustained applause. Mrs. Fell, over at the right, begins to preen
herself feverishly. Mrs. Pampinelli closes the door slowly, and stands
listening, smiling. Teddy appears up at the left and comes forward,
pressing his violet handkerchief to his brow, and looking very wan.
Mrs. Pampinelli turns to him._] Come on, Teddy, hurry up! They’re just
going on! How do you feel? [_The curtain descends._]

TEDDY. Only fair.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Taking him by the right arm and urging him towards
the right_] Here, Nelly, go on for a bow with Teddy! [_Rushing back
towards the left_] Take it up again, Mr. Stage Manager!

MRS. PAMPINELLI, TEDDY and SPINDLER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Spindler!

  TEDDY. [_Opening the right door_] Come on, Nelly!

  SPINDLER. [_Half-way back, at the left_] Take it up! [_Rushing forward
  at the left_] Yes?

MRS. PAMPINELLI and MRS. FELL, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Spindler_] Keep it going up and down till I tell
  you to stop! And keep it up the next time till the gentlemen get the
  flowers!

  MRS. FELL. [_Shrinking away a little more to the right of the door,
  but still preening herself, almost hysterically, and breaking into a
  little nervous laugh_] Oh, no, really, dear! I wouldn’t _think_ of it!
  [_Teddy goes through the right door. The curtain can be seen rising
  again; then the door closes after him; and Mrs. Fell continues
  talking, to herself._] Why, what have I done that I should go on. I
  wouldn’t mind if I’d taken some part in the play,--but I certainly
  don’t see--

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Rushing back to the right_] Go on, Nelly! what are
you waiting for? [_The curtain descends again. Mrs. Fell rushes towards
Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. FELL. [_Handing Mrs. Pampinelli the rolled manuscript_] Hold this!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Hurry, dear! [_Mrs. Fell rushes to the right door,
settles herself finally, and flings the door open. The curtain is just
rising. And, placing one hand upon her bosom, dropping her eyes and
smiling, Nelly sways through the door, acknowledging the plaudits.
Mrs. Pampinelli, standing in the middle of the stage, applauds, also,
hitting the manuscript against her hand. The door closes after Mrs.
Fell. Mrs. Sheppard, over at the left, suddenly bursts into tears and
buries her face in her handkerchief. Mrs. Pampinelli turns quickly and
looks at her, then crosses towards her._] Do you want to take a bow,
Clara?

MRS. SHEPPARD. Oh, no, thank you! [_Mrs. Pampinelli turns back to the
left door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Get those flowers, boys! Keep it up, Mr. Stage
Manager! Come on, Clara! go on for a bow! [_Reaches for Mrs. Sheppard’s
hand_]

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Giving Mrs. Pampinelli her hand, and allowing herself
to be drawn towards the right_] Do you think they’d understand, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Of course, they would, my dear! They know it isn’t
your fault that you’re not appearing! [_Mrs. Fell thrusts open the
right door. She has a basket of roses in her hand._]

MRS. FELL. They’re _calling_ for you, Betty! [_Someone in the audience
can be heard calling Mrs. Pampinelli’s name._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Here, Nelly, take Clara on for a bow!

MRS. FELL. [_Impatiently_] They’re calling for you, dear! [_Mrs.
Sheppard hastily throws her veil back, dramatically._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I’ll take one alone, afterwards! [_The applause swells
again._] Go on, Clara!

MRS. FELL. [_Extending her right hand_] Come on, dear!

MRS. SHEPPARD. [_Giving Mrs. Fell her left hand_] Oh, I don’t feel that
I should! [_Mrs. Fell keeps the door open, and Clara droops through,
bowing. Then Mrs. Fell closes the door and Mrs. Pampinelli turns to the
left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Keep it up, Mr. Spindler!

SPINDLER. Keep it up!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Thrusting open the left door_] Mrs. Pampinelli! [_There
is a vision through the door of the various artists bowing towards the
back wall, all the ladies laden with flowers._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. All right, dear! I’m coming! [_Hossefrosse closes the
door, and Mrs. Pampinelli deftly touches her hair and flings her train
out to its full length behind her. Then she speaks in a loud voice,
so that she may be heard by those on the other side of the flats._]
Everybody stand to one side! Stand to one side, everybody! [_She pulls
open the left door and stands, smiling: then she steps through the
door; and, instantly, the curtain falls with a deafening crash. The
door closes after her. Nelly Fell gives a piercing scream. Spindler
comes rushing down from the left to the left door._]

TEDDY. [_Shouting, beyond the flats_] Curtain!

HOSSEFROSSE. Take up the curtain!

TWILLER. Take it up! [_There is a babel of voices beyond the flats.
Then the left door is thrust violently open, and Mrs. Pampinelli looks
out._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Harshly, to Spindler_] What’s the matter with the
curtain?

SPINDLER. [_In a panic of excitement_] Something’s broke! [_The stage
manager rushes on from the left and comes forward._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming out through the door and calling to the stage
manager, whom she hasn’t seen yet_] Take up the curtain, Mr. Stage
Manager!

STAGE MANAGER. I can’t take it up, the guy-rope’s broken! [_He goes up
at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What? [_Mrs. Fell comes running through the right
door, carrying her basket of flowers, and crosses towards the left._]

MRS. FELL and SPINDLER, together.

  MRS. FELL. What is it, Betty?

  SPINDLER. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] He says the guy-rope’s broken!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Brushing him aside, to the left, and rushing up at
the left_] My God! did anyone ever hear of such stupidity!

MRS. PAMPINELLI, MRS. FELL and SPINDLER, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. I’ll go on at the side here!

  MRS. FELL. What’s the matter, Mr. Spindler?

  SPINDLER. [_Shouting after Mrs. Pampinelli_] He says he can’t get it
  up! [_Mrs. Sheppard comes through the right doorway with an armload
  of American Beauty roses, and stands looking anxiously from side to
  side. Teddy follows her out and stands at her right, discussing the
  incident. Florence opens the left door and comes out. Her arms are
  full of tiger-lilies. She moves to the right and speaks to Mrs.
  Sheppard, nervously._]

STAGE MANAGER. You can’t get through there, lady! [_Twiller comes out
the left door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI and STAGE MANAGER, together;

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. I must get through somewhere!

  STAGE MANAGER. That tormentor’s too narrow there!

MRS. PAMPINELLI, STAGE MANAGER and MRS. FELL, together.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning frantically and rushing forward again at
  the left_] I’ll try the other side! He says it’s too narrow there!

  STAGE MANAGER. I don’t know how you’re going to do it!

  MRS. FELL. [_As Mrs. Pampinelli sweeps between her and Spindler_] What
  is it he says is broken, Betty? [_Mrs. Pampinelli rushes over towards
  the right. She literally sweeps Twiller, who is in her path, out of
  the way, and he falls backward over a stage-brace, onto the floor.
  Mrs. Fell picks up her dress and runs after Mrs. Pampinelli._]

SPINDLER. [_Outrunning Mrs. Fell_] The guy-rope!

MRS. FELL. Well, why doesn’t he fix it! Betty! Betty dear! [_Mrs.
Pampinelli rushes up at the extreme right and tries desperately to find
a way of getting through; but everything is solidly masked. Hossefrosse
comes out the left door, and the stage manager comes forward at the
left and stands looking after Mrs. Pampinelli._]

HOSSEFROSSE. What’s the matter, can’t Mrs. Pampinelli get her bow?

STAGE MANAGER. She can’t get on any more from that side than she can
from this! [_Hossefrosse steps out through the door and looks toward
the right. The door closes after him._] There’s the same opening over
there as there is here! [_The applause beyond the flats, which has
kept up throughout the debacle, begins to die. Mrs. Pampinelli comes
sweeping back from the right with fire in her eye,--Nelly Fell and
Spindler still at her heels. She plants herself in the middle of the
stage and glares at the stage manager._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_In a voice shrill with anger_] My God! what’s the
matter with your curtain!

STAGE MANAGER. [_Losing his temper_] The guy-rope’s broken! I’ve told
you that about a dozen times! [_He turns doggedly away to the left, as
though he were going up to his chair; but he stops short and finishes
his remarks to her over his left shoulder._] What do you want me to do,
write you a letter! [_The left door is pushed quietly open; and Mrs.
Ritter, with her face just visible above a perfect screen of roses,
looks blankly at the stage manager._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Vaguely_] There’s something the matter with the curtain.
[_The real stage curtain commences to descend._]

STAGE MANAGER. [_Leaning towards her, assuming her general manner and
tone, and flipping his hand at her_] Y-E-E-S! [_He goes up towards his
chair, and Mrs. Ritter stands in wide-eyed astonishment._]


END OF THE ACT.




THE TORCH-BEARERS.

ACT III.


NOTE:

The setting for Act III is the same as for Act I except that the small
chair which Jenny brings on at the opening of the play is eliminated.


_Jenny is seated at the table below the piano, reading the Pictorial
Review. The door closes out at the right. She stops reading and
listens. Then resumes. Ritter wanders in from the right hallway,
wearing a black overcoat and a derby. The derby is a bit over one
eye and his cigar is at a comic angle. Jenny sees him and rises
immediately, circling around to the left to the middle of the room._


JENNY. Oh, Mr. Ritter! [_He comes into the center-door and stands
there, looking at nothing._] I didn’t hear you come in, sir. Is the
show over?

RITTER. [_Removing his gloves_] It’s all over town by this time.

JENNY. [_Standing slightly left of the center of the room, facing him_]
Mrs. Ritter just telephoned a minute ago.

RITTER. Is she alive?

JENNY. Alive, Mr. Ritter?

RITTER. [_Moving down to the table below the piano, and thrusting
his gloves into his overcoat pocket_] Because if she is, she’s got
a charmed life. [_Commencing to unfasten his coat_] The Seamen’s
Institute! God help them on a night like this.

JENNY. She was anxious to know if you were still unconscious.

RITTER. [_Taking off his overcoat_] If she telephones again, tell her
yes. [_He is in a tuxedo-suit._]

JENNY. [_Crossing to him and helping him with the coat_] Ain’t you
feelin’ well again, Mr. Ritter?

RITTER. No, Jenny, I’m not. [_He hands her his derby._]

JENNY. [_Taking the hat and coat to the partition-seat above the
piano_] Well, I’m sure I’m sorry, sir.

RITTER. [_Removing his scarf_] And after that exhibition tonight,--I
don’t think I ever shall feel exactly well again.

JENNY. [_Coming down at his left and passing back of him_] Was it a sad
play?

RITTER. [_Handing her his scarf, and speaking with measured
conviction_] The saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

JENNY. I allus cry when a show is sad.

RITTER. Is that so?

JENNY. Yes, sir; and a funny thing about me is--the sadder it is the
more I cry.

RITTER. You’d have had a big night if you’d been with me. [_She passes
back of him with the scarf, to put it with the other things._] You’d
better leave those things here, Jenny, I may leave town again tonight.

JENNY. I’ll leave them right here. [_She turns from an arrangement of
the things and comes forward to the middle of the room._] Did they clap
much when Mrs. Ritter finished?

RITTER. [_Still standing above the table near the piano, clipping the
tip of a cigar which he has taken from his pocket_] I didn’t wait for
the finish; they carried me out.

JENNY. I’m dyin’ till she gets home, for I know exactly how she felt.
[_He looks at her keenly--she is looking straight ahead._]

RITTER. Have you been on the stage, too, Jenny?

JENNY. [_Turning to him_] No, sir, I haven’t, Mr. Ritter, not lately.
But when I was at home in England I used to go on every once in a
while. For a bit of a change, you know.

RITTER. Yes, I know.

JENNY. We had a little club in the town I lived in, and we used to give
a show twice a year. [_Ritter nods slowly and comprehendingly._] I
always took off the comical parts.

RITTER. How is it they didn’t get you into this show tonight?

JENNY. Oh, I haven’t been on for a long time now, Mr. Ritter. My
husband put a stop to it. [_She looks away off._]

RITTER. [_Turning to her_] What was the matter?

JENNY. [_Turning to him, suddenly_] He died.

RITTER. [_Replacing his penknife_] I see.

JENNY. And I never felt much like cuttin’ up after that. [_The
telephone-bell rings. She turns quickly and starts for the
center-door._]

RITTER. [_Moving over towards the mantelpiece_] See who that is, Jenny.

JENNY. [_Hurrying out into the left hallway_] Yes, sir.

RITTER. [_Getting a match from the table below the mantelpiece_]
Anybody for me, I’ve gone into permanent retirement.

JENNY. [_At the telephone_] Yes? [_He listens narrowly._] Mr. Ritta?
[_He makes a rapid movement towards her._] Oh, Mrs. Ritta?

RITTER. [_In a subdued tone_] Who do they want?

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] No, mam, she hasn’t got home yet.
[_Lowering the telephone and speaking to Ritter_] Mrs. Ritter.

RITTER. [_Casually_] Who is it, the police? [_He lights his cigar._]

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] All right, Mrs. Livingston, I’ll give
her your message as soon as she comes in. You’re more than welcome I’m
sure. [_She hangs up and comes to the center-door._]

RITTER. [_Looking at her_] Mrs. Livingston?

JENNY. Yes, sir.

RITTER. What did she want?

JENNY. She sez she wanted to congratulate Mrs. Ritter on her perfect
performance tonight.

RITTER. Did she see the show?

JENNY. She didn’t say, sir.

RITTER. [_Conclusively, and crossing in front of her down to the window
at the right_] She didn’t see it. If any of those women come back here
with Mrs. Ritter, Jenny,--say that I’m not home yet, do you understand.

JENNY. [_Settling the overcoat on the partition-seat_] Yes, sir.

RITTER. [_Looking through the window_] And that you haven’t seen
anything _of_ me.

JENNY. Yes, sir, Mr. Ritter, all right.

RITTER. If my wife’s alone, let me know as soon as she comes in.

JENNY. Yes, sir, I will. [_The telephone-bell rings, and she hurries
out to answer it._]

RITTER. [_Half turning from the window_] You haven’t seen anything of
me, remember.

JENNY. No, sir. [_Into the telephone_] Yes, sir? [_He listens, without
turning._] No, sir, she hasn’t got home yet. [_She lowers the telephone
and looks at him, wide-eyed. He feels that she’s looking at him and
turns suddenly._]

RITTER. [_Taking a step towards her, below the piano_] What is it?

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] No, sir, _he_ hasn’t got home yet neither.

RITTER. [_Apprehensively_] Do they want me? [_She nods yes._] Who is
it? [_She nods that she doesn’t know._] Police Headquarters I’ll bet
a ten dollar note! [_He crosses down below the table at the left and
around up to the mantelpiece._] Tell them that I had absolutely nothing
to do with her going on! That I didn’t hear about it until last night!
[_He crosses back again down towards the table below the piano._] And
that I’ve been unconscious ever since.

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] The Times?

RITTER. [_Stopping above the table_] My God, the newspapers have got
hold of it!

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] Well, just a minute, please.

RITTER. [_Turning suddenly to her_] Tell them she did it on a bet!

JENNY. The Times newspaper wants to know if Mrs. Ritter has a
full-length photograph of herself for the morning paper.

RITTER. [_Emphatically, and going out through the center-door into the
right hallway and up the stairs_] Tell them NO!

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] Hello.

RITTER. But that she’ll have some taken as soon as she gets out of
jail. [_He goes through the arched doorway at the head of the stairs._]

JENNY. [_Into the telephone_] Why, I couldn’t say, sir, whether Mrs.
Ritter has a photograph of herself or not, sir; but I’ll give her your
message as soon as she comes in.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_In the right hallway_] Hurry, Theodore.

JENNY. [_Still at the telephone_] You’re more than welcome I’m sure.
[_She hangs up and hurries in through the center-door, glancing out the
right hallway as she comes and, gathering up Mr. Ritter’s overcoat,
derby and scarf, hurries over above the table at the left and out._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_In the right hallway_] Be careful of those jonquils.
Now, be careful, Theodore! Now go back and fetch the others. [_Coming
into view, and seeing Jenny coming in again at the left door_] Oh,
you’re up, Jenny, aren’t you! [_She comes through the center-door,
carrying her fan and an armload of orchids and red chrysanthemums, and
wearing an enormous flowing cape of ruffled black lace, touched all
over with tiny circular sequins in gold. Her dress, of course, is the
ruby-velvet one of the preceding act._]

JENNY. Yes, mam, I’m up.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Hastening to the table below the piano_] I’m so
glad; I hope I haven’t roused you. [_She puts her fan on the piano and
sets all the flowers down on the table._] Will you go out and get those
flowers from my chauffeur, Jenny?

JENNY. [_Going out through the center-door into the right hallway_]
Yes, mam.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Arranging the flowers on the table_] He’s set them
right down there in the hallway. I came right on in when I found the
door unlocked; I was afraid you’d be asleep.

JENNY. No, mam, I was waitin’ up.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Sweeping around to her left and up to the
center-door_] Well, that’s perfectly angelic of you I’m sure. [_She
stands on the left side of the center-door and looks out into the right
hallway._] Can you manage, dear?

JENNY. [_Appearing from the right_] I think so. [_She struggles through
the center-door carrying an enormous horseshoe, made of red and white
carnations and ferns. It is at least four feet high, set upon an easel,
and across the front of it is a strip of white-satin ribbon ten inches
wide with the word “SUCCESS” inscribed upon it in blue-velvet letters.
She is also carrying a huge basket of jonquils, and a star made of
white pansies. This last touch is fastened upon a violet easel._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Let me help you, child. [_She takes the basket of
jonquils and the star of pansies from Jenny._] Now, set that right down
there. [_She indicates a point in front of the mantelpiece for the
horseshoe, and Jenny crosses in front of her with it._] I want Mrs.
Ritter to see it _first_, when she comes in,--it’s so appropriate.
[_She sets the basket of jonquils on the piano._] I suppose we can put
these down anywhere here until she comes, can’t we? [_She sets the
easel of pansies down on the floor at the right of the table below the
piano._]

JENNY. [_Having set the horseshoe down in front of the mantelpiece_]
This way, Mrs. Pampinelli?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. No, dear, _facing_ the door.

JENNY. Oh, I see. [_She turns it round facing the center-door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That’s it. I want it to catch her eye as she comes in.
And now will you go back and fetch the others, Jenny?

JENNY. [_Hurrying out through the center-door_] Yes, mam.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Gathering up the chrysanthemums from the table_]
And these chrysanthemums, [_She sweeps across towards the mantelpiece
and turns to her left, strewing the chrysanthemums through the
center-door and down toward the table at the left._] I’ll just strew
in her pathway. [_Jenny comes in from the right hallway carrying a
huge anchor of vivid red roses, with a broad band of navy-blue ribbon
running diagonally across it, and the words “SEAMEN’S INSTITUTE” in
white-velvet letters. She stands right in the center-door, holding it,
waiting for instructions as to its disposition from Mrs. Pampinelli.
But Mrs. Pampinelli is lost in admiration of it, standing just to
the left of the center-door._] Now, set that right down here, Jenny.
[_She indicates a point at the extreme left, below the door, and Jenny
hastens to place it there, setting it down half-facing the center-door;
and Mrs. Pampinelli stands up at the center-door admiring it._] Hope!
[_Jenny turns to her and gives a faint little laugh._] Hope, for
the success [_She indicates the horseshoe with a gesture._] of our
enterprise. [_They both laugh, and Mrs. Pampinelli steps quickly down
to the table below the piano and picks up the orchids._] And these
orchids, I think I shall just put right here on this table. [_She
crosses to the table below the casement-window and puts them down; then
straightens up and sighs._] Ho, dear me, I’m warm! [_She crosses back
between the piano and the table below it, picking up her fan as she
goes._]

JENNY. [_Moving up and across back of the table at the left, towards
the center of the room_] ’Tis a bit warm.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Fanning herself, as she moves towards the middle of
the room_] And then I hurried so,--foolishly.

JENNY. Did everything go along all right?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Magnificently, my dear child! And Mrs. Ritter was a
positive sensation.

JENNY. Did she get all these flowers?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Deprecatingly_] Ho! This isn’t the half of them! We
sent three automobiles full to the various hospitals. And Mrs. Fell’s
car was still taking them when I left. [_Jenny shakes her head from
side to side in wonderment._] These are just a few that we rescued for
Mrs. Ritter. [_She moves towards the center-door._] Sort of a little
surprise for her, you know, when she gets home. [_She stands looking
out into the right hallway, expectantly._]

JENNY. They’re certainly ’andsome.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. She doesn’t even know that I’ve brought them.

JENNY. Is she comin’ right home, do you know, Mrs. Pampinelli?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Jenny_] Why, I _expect_ her, yes. I was
afraid she’d get here ahead of me. She was waiting for Mr. Ritter.
[_Coming forward a little_] We heard at the hall that he was there, and
she thought probably he’d come back and pick her up. He hasn’t _come_
home, has he?

JENNY. No, mam, I haven’t seen anything of him.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laughing a little, indulgently, securing a hair-pin,
and moving over towards the right_] Poor man! His wife’s success has
very likely gone to his head. [_She glances out the window._]

JENNY. He went out of here about eight o’clock.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning and coming back towards Jenny_] Yes, we were
so surprised to hear that he was there at all. Because Mrs. Ritter had
said that he hadn’t regained consciousness up to the time she left the
house.

JENNY. He hadn’t, neither. I thought I ’ad two ’eads on me when I came
in and saw him puttin’ on ’is ’at and coat.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, did he seem all right?

JENNY. Yes, he seemed right enough; but he was awful pale-lookin’. And
a couple a times I spoke to ’im, he gave me kind of a funny answer.
So I got a bit frightened, you know; and I asked ’im if he knew where
he was goin’. And he said, “Yes,” that he was goin’ to see “The
Torch-Bearers.” Kind a flightly, you know.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, he would be, naturally.

JENNY. So then,--when he got to the door, he turned around--and he sez
to me--“Jenny!--if you never see me again,--I want you to know I _died_
in the cause of Art.”--And he went out.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. He was probably rambling a bit.

JENNY. But, he walked straight enough.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning suddenly to the center-door_] I think I hear
a machine, Jenny.

JENNY. [_Stepping across quickly below the table to the
casement-window_] I’ll see.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Do quickly, dear.

JENNY. Is Mrs. Fell comin’ back tonight?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking out eagerly into the right hallway_] Yes,
she’s bringing the rest of the flowers. I’ve sent my car back for her.

JENNY. [_Turning abruptly from the window and hurrying across below the
piano towards the center-door_] Here’s Mrs. Ritta now!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Is Mr. Ritter with her? [_Intercepting Jenny_] No,
don’t go out, Jenny! I want to hear what they say when they see the
flowers. [_Turning her round by the shoulder and indicating the door
down at the left_] You go into the other room there, and I’ll hide
here-- [_She moves forward at the right and across below the piano._]
in this window.

JENNY. [_Hurrying towards the door at the left_] All right, mam.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stopping near the window and turning to Jenny_] And,
Jenny dear!

JENNY. [_Turning at the left door_] Yes, mam?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Don’t come out--until you hear _me_ say “SURPRISE!”

JENNY. All right, Mrs. Pampinelli, I won’t. [_Mrs. Pampinelli steps
into the alcove of the window, then turns again to Jenny._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Now, remember, Jenny,--“SURPRISE!”

JENNY. Yes, I know. [_She closes the door, and Mrs. Pampinelli conceals
herself behind the window-drapery. There is a slight pause; then Mrs.
Ritter hurries in from the right hallway, carrying a marvelous bouquet
of American Beauty roses. She comes in through the center-door and
stands, looking, with a touch of astonishment, at the horseshoe. Then
her eyes wander down to the anchor; and then over to the easel at the
right. She is gowned in a very pale shade of gray lace, with gray-silk
slippers and stockings; and around her head she is wearing a wreath
of laurel in gold, touched with brilliants. Her cloak is of black
chiffon-velvet, with a cape collar of black fox. She slides this cloak
from her shoulders onto the partition-seat at the right, and starts
across towards the door at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Opening the door_] Are you up, Jenny?--Jenny! [_She
closes the door again and crosses above the table at the left and over
to the one below the piano. Here she sets down a few of the roses, then
decides there is not sufficient room for all of them, and starts across
to the table at the left. Ritter appears at the head of the stairs and
starts down slowly. She sees him, and stops dead._] Fred! [_She moves
up towards the left of the center-door._] You don’t mean to tell me
you’ve been home here,--and there I’ve been waiting at the hall since
before ten o’clock. [_He wanders in through the center-door and leans
against the piano, holding a lighted cigar in his hand._] Why didn’t
you come back for me? Irene Colter had to bring me home. [_She starts
to cry._] Clara Sheppard _told_ me she saw you there, so, naturally, I
waited for you. And when you didn’t come back, why, of course, right
away--I thought something had happened to you. [_She cries into her
handkerchief._]

RITTER. [_Without moving, and in a toneless voice_] Something _has_
happened to me. [_She looks at him apprehensively._]

MRS. RITTER. What happened to you, Fred?

RITTER. [_Stonily, and moving down and across below the piano_] I’ve
seen you act.

MRS. RITTER. What? [_He raises his left hand solemnly and continues to
the corner of the piano nearest the window, where he leans. She moves
down a bit after him._] What’s the matter, Fred,--did you have another
of those spells that you had last night?

RITTER. Yes; only a great deal worse.

MRS. RITTER. Oh, isn’t that dreadful! What do you think it is, dear?

RITTER. [_Turning slightly, and glancing at the violet easel and over
at the anchor_] I don’t know what it is. It looks like a _wake_ to me.
Who’s dead?

MRS. RITTER. Dead?

RITTER. What are all these flowers doing here?

MRS. RITTER. Why, I imagine some of the ladies have been here from the
show--to fix up a little surprise for _me_.

RITTER. They should have lighted a few candles, and completed the
effect.

MRS. RITTER. But, these are just presents, Fred, from friends of ours.

RITTER. [_Straightening up, and moving across below the table_] They
are tokens of sympathy, that’s what they are. [_He crosses up and over
above the table at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Following him over_] But, there’s nobody _dead_, dear!

RITTER. [_Raising his left hand solemnly again_] Oh, yes there is! Oh
yes!

MRS. RITTER. _Really_, dear! [_He turns, just back of the arm-chair,
and pins her with a look._]

RITTER. You’re dead. [_She stands perfectly still, looking at
him, wide-eyed._] You died tonight,--down there on that stage at
Horticultural Hall. And so did everybody that was up there with you.

MRS. RITTER. [_With a troubled, uncomprehending expression_] Why, how
could I be dead, dear,--when I’m here,--talking to you? [_He stands
looking straight ahead, smoking. She bursts out crying, and turns to
the partition-seat at the right of the center-door._] Oh, Fred! it’s
terrible to see you this way!

RITTER. [_Sweeping his hand across his brow and starting across below
the table towards the right_] The human brain can only stand so much.

MRS. RITTER. [_Setting her roses down on the partition-seat_] You’ve
just been working yourself to death! But nobody could tell you
anything! [_She starts out into the left hallway for the telephone._]

RITTER. [_Stopping over near the window and turning_] What are you
going to do?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to him_] Why, I’m going to call Doctor Wentworth
of course.

RITTER. What for?

MRS. RITTER. Why, because you _need_ him!

RITTER. [_Taking a step or two towards her, between the piano and the
table below it_] I won’t see any doctor, now!

MRS. RITTER. [_Coming back through the center-door_] Now,--listen,
Fred--

RITTER. [_Raising his hand, and crossing to the left_] I won’t see any
doctor, I tell you--there’s nothing he can do for me: [_He stops above
the arm-chair at the left and rests his hand upon the back of it._]
it’s all been done. There’s nothing left for me but to get out of town.

MRS. RITTER. [_Following him over_] Well, just let him come over and
_see_ you, dear.

RITTER. What would I let him come over and _see_ me for? There’s
nothing the matter with me.

MRS. RITTER. Why, you’re as pale as a ghost!

RITTER. That’s nothing--I’ve had a scare.

MRS. RITTER. [_Solicitously_] What scared you, dear? [_He turns and
looks at her._]

RITTER. I was afraid every minute somebody was going to shoot _you_.

MRS. RITTER. [_After a bewildered pause_] But, why should anybody shoot
_me_, darling?

RITTER. For trying to act. [_He moves forward and across in front
of the table, to the right,--she watching him blankly._] Making a
laughing-stock of yourselves in front of the community.

MRS. RITTER. Didn’t you like me, Fred?

RITTER. [_Casually, as he nears the window_] I did till I saw you act.
[_He turns around to his right and leans on the piano. She moves over
towards the table below the piano._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Rather helplessly, as the situation dawns upon her_]
Why, Mrs. Pampinelli said I was a great artist.

RITTER. [_With vast amusement_] Ha! [_Then he looks at his wife and
speaks very exactly._] Mrs. Pampinelli is perhaps the world’s greatest
_NUT_. [_Mrs. Pampinelli, standing back in the widow-alcove at the
right, in a state of puzzled irresolution, reacts, physically, to
this last observation, causing an abrupt movement of the drapery.
But, neither Ritter nor his wife are looking in that direction at the
moment._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Laying the remaining roses on the table_] She says I
ought to go on with the work.

RITTER. [_Dryly_] She meant the housework. [_He replaces his cigar in
his mouth._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking at him with a touch of resentment_] No, she
didn’t mean anything of the kind. She says I ought to go to New York.
[_He takes the cigar from his mouth and looks at her keenly._]

RITTER. And what would you do when you’d _get_ there?

MRS. RITTER. Why, I’d go on the stage, of course.

RITTER. [_Very level_] How?

MRS. RITTER. Why, I’d go to the people that have charge of it.

RITTER. And, do you think they’d put you on the stage simply because
you wanted to _go_ on it?

MRS. RITTER. Well, Mrs. Pampinelli could give me a letter--

RITTER. Hum!

MRS. RITTER. So that I’d have it when I’d _get_ there.

RITTER. That’d do you a lot of good. You’d find a _thousand_ there
ahead of you, with letters from Mrs. Pampinellis. Nobody in New York
knows Mrs. Pampinelli; and if they did, it’d probably _kill_ any
chance that a person _might_ have otherwise. [_Mrs. Pampinelli can
contain herself no longer. She flips the window-drapery aside with
a deft movement and stands looking at Ritter, from a great height.
Mrs. Ritter, who is facing the window, utters an abrupt shriek of
astonishment. Then Ritter turns, rather casually, to see the cause of
his wife’s agitation, and finds himself looking into the frozen eyes of
Mrs. Pampinelli. He regards her rather impersonally, and then quietly
reaches up and secures his collar and tie. She steps majestically from
the window-alcove and moves a bit nearer to him, still holding him with
an icy stare._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_After a devastating pause_] You creature.

RITTER. [_Turning smoothly away, to his left, as though he had been
suddenly struck by something, in the right eye_] Another _actress_.
[_He moves along a few steps to the left, in front of the table, then
turns and speaks to Mrs. Pampinelli over his left shoulder._] What did
you do, come through the window?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I’ve been _hiding_ here.

RITTER. [_Resuming his walk over to the left_] I don’t blame
you,--after that show; I’ve been doing the same thing myself. [_He sits
in the arm-chair over at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Who has been standing in a panic in the middle of the
room, staring wide-eyed at Mrs. Pampinelli_] Oh, Mrs. Pampinelli,--you
_didn’t_ hear what he’s been saying?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Every word. [_She very regally deposits her fan upon
the piano, and Mrs. Ritter, turning to Ritter, makes a long, moaning
sound._]

MRS. RITTER. Now, Fred Ritter, you see what you’ve done! [_She bursts
into tears, and comes down to the chair at the left of the table below
the piano and sits down._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Moving to a point above the table_] And I wouldn’t
have missed it. I’ll know how to regard this gentleman in the future. I
came home hurriedly with these few flowers as a little acknowledgment
of the appreciation your work deserved; and all I hear is abuse; and a
very crude, but very venomous attempt at satire. [_Mrs. Ritter weeps
aloud._] Control yourself, darling, I wouldn’t please him.

RITTER. [_Quietly_] She’s acting again.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Withering him with a glance_] You barbarian! [_To
Mrs. Ritter_] Pull yourself together, dear.

MRS. RITTER. Oh, I just _can’t_, Mrs. Pampinelli.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Addressing Ritter directly, and indicating Mrs.
Ritter_] Look at the state of emotion you’ve got this poor girl into!

RITTER. She’s an emotional actress. [_Mrs. Ritter bursts forth again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Savage! [_To Mrs. Ritter_] Let me get you something,
darling.

MRS. RITTER. Call Jenny.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, dear. [_She crosses to a point just to the left
of the middle of the room, then stops and calls toward the door at
the left._] Jenny dear, _SURPRISE_! [_Ritter listens, with a puzzled
expression._] Come here, Jenny,--SURPRISE! [_Ritter turns around in the
chair, to his right, and looks at her curiously. She meets his eyes
with steady bitterness. Then he shifts his gaze to his wife._]

RITTER. Why didn’t you take your make-up off?

MRS. RITTER. I forgot it,--I was so worried about you.

RITTER. You look like a Dutch squaw. [_She bursts into tears again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Hastening over to her_] Let her alone! Don’t mind
him, Paula.

RITTER. She’s all made up! and it’s coming off.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, what if it is?

RITTER. [_Settling back into the arm-chair_] I don’t want to be
reminded of that show. [_Jenny enters hurriedly from the door at the
left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mrs. Ritter is ill, Jenny. [_Jenny comes quickly
across, above the table at the left._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Half turning to her_] My smelling-salts, Jenny.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing back of Mrs. Ritter_] Her smelling-salts,
dear.

JENNY. [_Hurrying out through the center-door_] Yes, mam.

MRS. RITTER. They’re in my bureau-basket.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning and calling after Jenny_] In her
bureau-basket, Jenny.

JENNY. [_Running up the stairs_] Yes, mam, I know where they are.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Gathering up the roses from the table_] Let me take
these flowers out of your way, dear. You’ve been treated abominably.
Although your husband’s attitude is entirely consistent with that
of the average husband’s, after his wife has distinguished herself.
[_Ritter makes a little sound of amusement, and she glares at him._]
And any observations of Mr. Ritter’s to the contrary, you _did_
distinguish yourself tonight, Paula. [_She turns to her right and puts
the roses on the piano._]

RITTER. [_Sitting away down in the arm-chair, smoking_] So did the
Cherry Sisters. [_Mrs. Ritter weeps again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning back again from the piano to Mrs. Ritter_]
We are not talking to you at all, sir. [_Mrs. Ritter has a slight
coughing spell._]

MRS. RITTER. Will you get me a drink of water, please?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Certainly, darling, where is it?

MRS. RITTER. You’ll find it just inside the breakfast-room. [_Mrs.
Pampinelli sails across the room towards the left door. Just as she
is passing back of Ritter’s chair, he turns and looks at her, and the
excessive grandeur of her manner causes him to burst out laughing. But
she simply freezes him with a look and goes out through the left door.
He continues to laugh; and Mrs. Ritter, not having seen the cause of
his laughter, stops crying and turns and looks at him, very troubled._]
Fred Ritter, you’re acting to me tonight--just like a man that’d be
losing his mind! [_He looks over at her._] I really thought that was
what was the matter with you when I first came in!

RITTER. [_Very confidentially_] Listen--When I didn’t lose my mind
watching that show tonight, I couldn’t go nutty if I tried.

MRS. RITTER. Well, if anybody else comes here tonight, you just keep
that kind of talk to yourself. There were lots of people there that
thought it was wonderful. Look at all these flowers.

RITTER. These flowers were all paid for long before anybody saw that
show. [_There is a staccato tap at the front door-bell. Jenny is
hurrying down the stairs with the smelling-salts._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Rising, and trying to fix herself up a bit_] Well,
that’s only your opinion. [_She starts for the center-door._] This
is very likely Nelly Fell. [_Turning back to him as she nears the
center-door_] Now, don’t you say anything to _her_, remember! She likes
you.

MRS. FELL. [_In the right hallway_] No, I think I can manage, Theodore.
[_Jenny hands Mrs. Ritter the smelling-salts, at the center-door._]

MRS. RITTER. Thanks, Jenny.

JENNY. You’re welcome. [_She hurries out into the right hallway, and
Mrs. Ritter comes forward to the chair below the piano, sniffing the
salts. Ritter rises and saunters around and up to the left of the
arm-chair._]

MRS. FELL. You can close that door, if you will! Couldn’t wait for you,
Jenny! [_She rushes in from the right hallway._] I’m too much excited!
[_She plants herself in the center-door, holding aloft in her right
hand a beautiful basket of tulips, and in her left, a huge bouquet of
violets._] Well, here _I_ am, with _my_ frankincense and myrrh! [_She
gives an hysterical giggle and teeters forward towards Mrs. Ritter._]
Oh, there you are, Frederick Ritter! We thought something had happened
to you! Pauline, dear child, I’ve come to worship at your shrine. [_She
places the basket of tulips down on the floor to the left of Mrs.
Ritter, then straightens up, regards Mrs. Ritter, giggles frantically,
and looks over at Ritter._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Laughing wanly, and trying generally not to appear as
though she’d been crying_] You’ve been very sweet.

MRS. FELL. Not half so sweet as you were on that stage tonight!
[_Speaking confidentially, and with great conviction_] Dear child,
you’re made! Absolutely made! [_Turning to Ritter_] Isn’t she,
Frederick? [_But he’s busy getting rid of some ashes in the fireplace,
so she returns to Mrs. Ritter._] It’s one of those overnight things
that one reads about! [_She picks up the basket of tulips from the
floor and teeters around above the table._] Dear me, look at this
wilderness of flowers! [_She sets the basket on the table._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Trying not to cry_] Yes, yes, aren’t they beautiful!
[_She darts a look at Ritter._]

MRS. FELL. [_Rapturously_] Not another word until I’ve kissed you!
[_She kisses her on the left side of the head._] Oh, you sweet child!
[_She shakes Mrs. Ritter by the shoulders._] what can I _say_ to
you! [_Then she teeters to the middle of the room, addressing Ritter
directly._] See here, young man! Why aren’t you just _pelting_ your
wife with these flowers? [_He tries to hide his appreciation of the
situation by turning away his head._] Answer me! [_He bursts out
laughing, and Nelly teeters back towards Mrs. Ritter._] My dear, the
man is so pleased he can’t talk! [_Ritter laughs a little more._]
And if you were any other woman but his wife, Paula, he’d be sending
you mash-notes! [_Ritter begins to laugh again, and Nelly teeters
towards him._] Oh, you can laugh all you like, Frederick Ritter,
but you can’t fool Nelly Fell! [_She comes back towards Mrs. Ritter,
addressing her._] I’ve had three husbands,--I know their tricks. [_She
places her finger on Mrs. Ritter’s shoulder._] Pauline, dear child,
you may be sure that that young man is proud of you tonight if he
never was before. [_Mrs. Ritter tries to laugh._] And when he gets you
alone--[_Mrs. Ritter’s attempt at laughter is instantly abandoned, and
she gives a startled glance toward Ritter, who turns away to his left
and goes up towards the mantelpiece._] Oh, when he gets you alone!
[_Mrs. Fell turns slowly and looks toward Ritter, with a roguish
expression and a measured shaking of her finger at him._] He’s going
to tell you you were the loveliest thing that ever stepped on a stage.
If he hasn’t done so already. Have you, Frederick? [_She looks at him
with a mischievous eye._] Have you? [_He laughs, at the irony of the
situation. She crosses towards him._] Come on, ’fess up!--I know the
position is difficult! [_He laughs hard, and she laughs with him; then
turns back to Mrs. Ritter. Jenny comes in from the right hallway._] You
see, my dear, the man is so pleased he can’t talk! [_She sees Jenny
passing along the hallway and steps quickly up to the center-door._]
Oh, Jenny dear! Will you take these violets out and put them in some
water.

JENNY. [_Taking the violets_] Yes, mam. [_Mrs. Pampinelli enters at the
left door, with a glass of water._]

MRS. FELL. I’m afraid they’ll be all withered. [_Jenny continues on
into the left hallway. Mrs. Fell turns around into the room again._]
Where’s Mrs. P.? [_Sees Mrs. Pampinelli_] Oh, there you are! I was just
wondering where you were.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Crossing above the table at the left, towards Mrs.
Ritter_] Did you get the smelling-salts, Jenny?

JENNY. Yes, mam, I gave them to Mrs. Ritter. [_She goes out at the left
hallway._]

MRS. RITTER. Yes, Betty, I have them.

MRS. FELL. [_Coming a step or two forward_] Well, Betty, you see we
managed to get them all here.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Back of the table below the piano, and at Mrs.
Ritter’s left_] Here, try and drink this, Paula. [_Mrs. Ritter takes
the water and tries to drink it; and Mrs. Pampinelli leans solicitously
over her. There is a pause._]

MRS. FELL. [_Coming anxiously down at Mrs. Ritter’s left_] What’s the
matter?--[_She looks at Mrs. Pampinelli._] Is Paula sick?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Straightening up, and very imperiously_] The
_critic_--has been giving his impressions of our play.

MRS. FELL. Who? [_She turns towards Ritter._] This critic here, you
mean? [_She indicates Ritter and then looks at Mrs. Pampinelli. Mrs.
Pampinelli inclines her head, with the suggestion of a derisive smile,
and passes up to the center-door. Mrs. Fell crosses quickly towards
Ritter._] What have you been saying, Frederick Ritter?--Huh?

MRS. RITTER. [_Laying the glass of water down on the table_] Oh, what
does it matter, Nelly, what he’s been saying!

MRS. FELL. [_Turning sharply to Mrs. Ritter_] What?

MRS. RITTER. [_Trying not to cry_] I say--I say [_She bursts into
tears._] I say what does it matter what he’s been saying!

MRS. FELL. It doesn’t matter in the least, as far as I’m
concerned--[_Mrs. Pampinelli turns at the center-door and comes forward
slowly in the middle of the room._] there’s only one thing he _could_
say, if he told the truth.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laying her hand on Mrs. Fell’s left arm_] Eleanor,
dear child,--husbands are not always particular about telling the
truth--where the abilities of their wives are concerned. If _I_ had
listened to the promptings of my own soul, instead of to my husband,
when I was a younger woman, I should in all probability be one of the
leading figures in the American Theatre today. But I was fool enough,
like a lot of other women, to believe that my husband had my welfare
at heart,--when the fact of the matter was, as I see it now, when
it’s too late,--he was simply jealous of my artistic promise. [_The
cuckoo-clock strikes the midnight hour. Ritter turns and looks up at
it, then glances at Mrs. Pampinelli. She is looking up at the clock
distrustfully. Mrs. Fell raises her eyes discreetly to it, then drops
them to the floor._] Why, the night I played Hazel Kirke, I had my best
friends in tears: yet, when I returned from the hall, and the entire
town of Cohoes ringing with my name,--my husband had the effrontery to
tell me that I was so terrific he was obliged to leave the hall before
the end of the first act. So,--[_She turns to Mrs. Ritter._] if this
gentleman here has set himself up as your critic, Paula,--remember _my_
story,--the actress without honor in her own house. [_She sweeps across
below the piano to the window._] Is my car out here, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Moving over a bit towards Mrs. Ritter_] Yes, it’s there. I
told Matthew he needn’t bother coming back for me, that you’d take me
home. [_Mrs. Ritter begins to cry softly, and Mrs. Fell steps to her
left and puts her hand on her shoulder._] Don’t do that, Paula. [_She
turns sharply and goes towards Ritter._] What was the matter with that
performance, Frederick Ritter?

RITTER. [_Over at the left, below the mantelpiece_] Why, they didn’t
even know their lines!

MRS. RITTER. [_Straightening up abruptly and looking at him,
reproachfully_] Oh!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning sharply from the window_] That is a
falsehood! They ran over every line last night, right here in this
room,--and they knew--practically all of them.

RITTER. What good was that, if they couldn’t remember them on the stage.

MRS. RITTER and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  MRS. RITTER. [_To Ritter_] I _could_ remember them on the stage!
  [_Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli_] I never missed _one_ line!

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Ritter_] They _could_ remember them on the
  stage!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] Not a line.

RITTER. She and that other woman sat there blinking at the audience
like a couple of sparrow-hawks.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. They did nothing of the kind.

MRS. FELL. Of course they didn’t!

RITTER. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Fell_] How do you know? _You_
weren’t out there.

MRS. FELL. I could see them through the scenery, couldn’t I? And they
didn’t look anything _like_ a couple of sparrow-hawks,--as you say.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Contemptuously_] Well, as I have never seen a couple
of sparrow-hawks, I cannot appreciate the comparison.

RITTER. Well, you’d have seen a couple tonight, if you’d been with me.

MRS. RITTER. Oh, don’t argue with him, Betty! He’s only trying to be
smart.

RITTER. Why didn’t one of them _say_ something?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What could they have said?

RITTER. Why, any commonplace! It’d have been better than just sitting
there blinking. [_Mrs. Ritter weeps._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. One can’t be commonplace in high comedy.

RITTER. Was that what it was?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Bitterly_] What did you _think_ it was?

RITTER. [_Turning and going up to the center-door_] _You_ tell her,
Nelly; I haven’t got the heart.

MRS. FELL. [_Moving a little towards the right_] You bold thing.
[_Nelly is wearing the gown she wore in the preceding act, and a heavy
cloak of old-rose-colored velvet. She lays her hand on Mrs. Ritter’s
left shoulder._] Don’t let him upset you this way, Paula. [_There is a
little pause. Ritter turns at the center-door and comes forward again
at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Picking up her fan from the piano_] I suppose _you_
would have eclipsed Edwin Booth, if _you_ had been up there.

RITTER. Well, I’d have known better than to sit there blinking at the
audience.

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning sharply to him_] I didn’t _blink_ at the
audience.

MRS. FELL. Don’t answer him, honey.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What could they have done under the circumstances?

RITTER. Why, they could have covered it up!--if they’d had any brains.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Covered it up with _what_?

RITTER. Why, with anything! Impromptu conversation! [_Mrs. Fell looks
at Mrs. Pampinelli and smiles pityingly._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And have the audience _laugh_ at them?

RITTER. They laughed anyhow, didn’t they?

MRS. FELL. [_Taking a step or two towards him_] That was not their
fault!

RITTER. [_To Nelly_] Whose fault _was it_?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Imperiously, and moving over to a point above the
table at which Mrs. Ritter is sitting_] It was Mr. Spindler’s fault.

RITTER. Mr. Spindler.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. He promised to attend to the various properties and he
did _not_ attend to them.--There was supposed to be a pen and ink on
the desk for Mrs. Rush to leave a note for Doctor Arlington;--and when
Paula sat down to write the note, there was no pen--and no ink. So she
simply had to go on sitting there until Mr. Spearing went off and got
them.

RITTER. I thought he’d left town.

MRS. FELL. Oh, he wasn’t gone so very long, Frederick Ritter!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Bitterly, to Mrs. Fell_] Not five minutes.

RITTER. I thought the show’ud be over before he’d get back.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. The door wouldn’t open when he attempted to go back,
so he was obliged to go around to the other side. [_She illustrates the
circumstance by waving her fan in a circular gesture about the table.
Ritter bursts out laughing. Nelly glares at him, then looks to Mrs.
Pampinelli, who, with a deadly, level look, turns and moves haughtily
up towards the center-door._]

RITTER. What happened to the skinny guy’s mustache, that it kept
falling off every other line?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to him, up near the center-door_] It only
fell off twice, don’t exaggerate. [_Ritter laughs again._]

MRS. FELL. You bold thing!

RITTER. How many times was it _supposed_ to fall off?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, what if it fell off a dozen times,--everybody
knew it wasn’t real! [_He roars._]

MRS. FELL. It’s a lucky thing for you, Frederick Ritter, that you’re
not _my_ husband!

RITTER. [_Quietly_] That goes both ways, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Moving across towards him_] Well,--when you do something
that you’ll get so many flowers that my limousine will have to make
three trips to get them to the various hospitals,--we may pay more
attention to what you have to say. [_She turns away and moves back
towards the center of the room, where Mrs. Pampinelli is just moving
forward from the center-door._]

RITTER. I suppose most of the audience have gone with the flowers,
haven’t they? [_Nelly whirls round to retort, but Mrs. Pampinelli lays
a restraining hand upon her right arm._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With immortal authority_] Don’t answer him,
Eleanor--“Envy loves a lofty mark.” The next time we have a part that
calls for a very limited intelligence, we’ll engage Mr. Ritter for it.
[_She moves a little down to the right towards Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. FELL. [_Looking at Ritter_] Now!

RITTER. [_Casually_] Well, if you do, he’ll know how to walk across the
stage without tripping every other step.

MRS. FELL. Who tripped every other step?

RITTER. [_Indicating his wife_] The weeping-willow there. [_Mrs. Ritter
begins to weep afresh._]

MRS. FELL. It’s a wonder to me you’re not afraid to lie so!

RITTER. She tripped when she first came through the door! I was looking
right at her.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to him_] She didn’t _fall_, did she?

RITTER. No, but it looked for a while there as though she were going
to. [_Mrs. Ritter’s weeping becomes audible again._] I very nearly had
heart failure.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laying her hand on Paula’s shoulder_] Don’t mind
him, Paula.

RITTER. She tripped when she came _on_ the stage, she tripped when she
went _off_, and she tripped over the rug when she went over to the desk!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With measured finality_] She didn’t trip any oftener
than anybody else. [_He laughs._]

MRS. FELL. [_Directly to Ritter_] No, nor half so often as some of the
others,--[_Turning towards Mrs. Pampinelli_] now that you speak of it!
[_She turns and goes up to the hallway._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I will admit that Mr. Hossefrosse is a bit
unsteady,--but that is due to his weak ankles.

RITTER. What was the star’s unsteadiness due to?

MRS. RITTER. The rugs!

RITTER. [_Looking at her keenly_] What?

MRS. RITTER and MRS. PAMPINELLI, together.

  MRS. RITTER. The rugs.

  MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Moving to the center of the room_] The rugs!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Those funny rugs--that they have down there. We didn’t
use them at the rehearsals,--and, naturally, when it came to the
performance,--Paula wasn’t accustomed to them.

RITTER. She was accustomed to rugs at home, wasn’t she?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Tersely_] Well, she wasn’t at home on the stage.

RITTER. [_With a gesture of complete acquiesence, and moving up towards
the center-door_] That’s my argument in a nutshell. [_Mrs. Pampinelli
stands frozen in the middle of the room, with an expression very much
as though she were trying mentally to assassinate him. He comes back
down again at the left, to his former position._] Why, I couldn’t hear
_two-thirds_ of what she said.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, evidently there were many people there who
_could_ hear what she said, for they laughed at all her points. [_She
turns and goes to the piano, where she picks up several roses. Mrs.
Fell comes forward through the center-door and down towards the piano._]

RITTER. I wanted to laugh, too, but I was afraid somebody’d turn around
and _see_ me.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to Mrs. Ritter_] Are you ready, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. Yes, I’m ready.

MRS. RITTER. Are you going, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, I must, darling, it’s getting late. [_She places
her hand on Mrs. Ritter s shoulder._] Good night, dear. [_She passes up
towards the center-door._]

MRS. RITTER. Good night, Betty.

MRS. FELL. [_Laying her hand on Mrs. Ritter’s shoulder_] Good night,
Paula child.

MRS. RITTER. Good night, Nelly. [_Nelly follows Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stopping in the center-door and turning to Ritter_]
Perhaps, at our _next_ performance,--Mr. Ritter will favor us with the
benefit of some of his suggestions. [_She regards him with a touch of
lofty amusement. He turns his head towards her and looks at her with a
kind of mischievous squint._]

RITTER. [_Quite pleasantly_] There aren’t going to be any more
performances, Mrs. Pampinelli, as far as anybody in _this_ house is
concerned.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_After a steady pause_] No? [_He inclines his head in
quiet emphasis._]

RITTER. Not until there’s a change in the management. [_There is
another taut pause._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coldly_] Really? [_He inclines his head again._]
Then, I’m afraid we sha’n’t have you with us, Mr. Ritter.

RITTER. [_Smiling_] I know very well you won’t have _me_ with you.
And as far as Mrs. Ritter’s concerned,--she’s got a very good home
here--and I love her; and any time she feels any dramatic instinct
coming on, there’s a very nice roomy attic upstairs, and she can
go up there and lock the door, and nobody’ll ever see or hear her.
But if she ever gets mixed up again in anything like that atrocity
I saw tonight,--I’m through. [_He speaks the last words with quiet
definiteness, and turns towards the door at the left._] And she’ll get
killed in the bargain. [_He hits the door open with the palm of his
hand and goes out. There is a slight pause: then Nelly Fell crosses
quickly towards the mantelpiece, addressing Ritter as she goes._]

MRS. FELL. Why, Fred Ritter!--I’ve heard you say yourself that you
were in _favor_ of a Little Theatre in this city!

RITTER. [_Coming in again through the door at the left, carrying his
overcoat, derby and scarf_] So I am! I say so again. [_He stops inside
the door._] But in the light of that cataclysm tonight, you’ll pardon
me if I add, that I do not see the connection.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Stepping forward to the middle of the room and
challenging him with a lift of her head and brows_] What did you
_expect_ to _see_, Mr. Ritter,--a finished performance from a group of
comparative amateurs?

RITTER. I expected to see something almost as bad as what I
saw;--that’s the reason I _fainted_ last night and was unconscious for
twenty-four hours at the prospect of it. [_He turns to Mrs. Fell and
speaks quite colloquially._] And that’s the first time in my life I’ve
ever fainted. [_Nelly just gives him a look and turns her head away._]

MRS. RITTER. Don’t mind him, Betty,--he’s only trying to show off.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With bitter amusement_] No, but I’m a bit
_curious_--to know just _how_ Mr. Ritter would expect to _accomplish_
the establishment of a Little Theatre here, unless through the medium
of such performances as this one this evening. How else is our local
talent to be discovered--or developed?

RITTER. Well, I’m equally curious, Mrs. Pampinelli, as to your exact
_qualifications_--as a discoverer or developer of talent for the
theatre.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That is a very familiar attitude. People who _do_
things--are constantly having their ability to do them called into
question. [_She moves a step further forward and towards Mrs. Ritter._]

RITTER. I’m afraid that’s something you’ve read somewhere. [_She glares
at him._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. The theatre is a matter of instinct.

RITTER. The theatre is a matter of qualifications,--the same as any
other profession; and it will only be _through_ those particular
qualifications that your Little Theatre will ever be brought
about. [_He crosses over in front of Mrs. Fell and up towards the
center-door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, perhaps you will come to the rescue;--you
seem so familiar with the various necessities of the Little Theatre.
[_He stops, just to the left of the center-door, and looks at Mrs.
Pampinelli straight._]

RITTER. [_Quietly_] I am also familiar, Mrs. Pampinelli, with a little
remark that Mr. Napoleon made on one occasion, a long time ago;--about
the immorality of assuming a position for which one is unqualified.
[_There is a pause,--he settles his coat on his arm, then moves slowly
out through the center-door into the hallway: while Mrs. Pampinelli,
with an expression of eternal exclusion, moves over between the piano
and the table towards the window._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning_] Fred Ritter, where are you going?

RITTER. [_Lighting his cigar in the hallway, just outside the
center-door_] I haven’t the faintest idea. But I shouldn’t be surprised
if I’d go on the stage.

MRS. FELL. [_Standing back of the arm-chair at the left_] One star is
enough in the family.

RITTER. [_Bowing very graciously to her_] Applause--[_She turns away
and looks straight ahead. Then Ritter bows towards Mrs. Pampinelli._]
and great laughter--[_Mrs. Pampinelli isn’t looking at him, but she
knows that that is meant for her, so she simply moves another step
or two towards the window. Mrs. Ritter turns to see what Ritter is
doing. He takes a step and leans forward towards her, speaking rather
confidentially._] followed by booing. [_She turns back again and
starts to cry, while he continues out into the right hallway and up
the stairs. As he mounts the stairs, he holds aloft his lighted cigar,
after the fashion of a zealous bearer of the torch._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Picking up the orchids from the table below the
window_] Paula, you should have Jenny put these orchids in water; they
keep ever so long in a cool place. [_She comes across towards the left,
below the piano._]

MRS. RITTER. Will you call her, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Crossing to meet Mrs. Pampinelli_] Give them to me,
Betty, I’ll take them out to her. [_Mrs. Pampinelli gives her the
orchids._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Tell her to put them in a cool place. [_Nelly starts
up for the center-door. The telephone-bell rings._]

MRS. RITTER. Will you answer that, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Setting the orchids down on the chair in the left
hallway_] Certainly, darling.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing back of Mrs. Ritter’s chair_] If it’s
anything concerning the play, I shall be at home on Tuesday at two.

MRS. FELL. [_At the telephone_] Yes?--Yes?--Who?--Oh,--well, wait just
one moment, please.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What is it?

MRS. FELL. [_Holding the transmitter against her bosom and leaning over
the partition towards Mrs. Pampinelli_] It’s the Star Moving Picture
Company.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. What do they want?

MRS. FELL. They want the address of Mrs. Ritter’s manager. [_Mrs.
Pampinelli gives a quick look at Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] I anticipated this. [_She goes
quickly towards the center-door, laying her fan and roses on the left
partition-seat, as she passes out into the hallway._] Give it to me,
Nelly. [_Nelly hands her the telephone, and, picking up the orchids
from the chair, tiptoes back of Mrs. Pampinelli and in through the
center-door._]

MRS. FELL. [_In an excited whisper to Mrs. Ritter_] What did I tell
you! [_She giggles nervously, shakes her finger at Mrs. Ritter, and
then watches Mrs. Pampinelli eagerly._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Hello-hello--This is Mrs.
Ritter’s manager speaking. Mrs. Pampinelli. Pampinelli. Mrs. J. _Duro_
Pampinelli. Capital P--a--m, p--i--n, e--double l--i.--Correct. Yes--I
see--I see.--Well, how do you mean, a thousand dollars, a thousand
dollars a day, or a thous--I see. Well, just one moment, please. [_She
lowers the telephone and leans towards Mrs. Ritter, speaking in a
subdued tone._] The Star Moving Picture Company wants to know if Mrs.
Ritter will appear in a special production of tonight’s play before the
camera.

MRS. FELL. [_Narrowing her left eye_] What’s the figure?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. One thousand dollars per week.

MRS. FELL. [_Definitely_] Fifteen hundred.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Hello-hello!

MRS. RITTER. [_Rising_] Maybe I’d better talk to them.

MRS. FELL. [_Suggesting with a gesture that she be quiet and resume her
chair_] Please, dear. [_Mrs. Ritter meekly sits down again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Why, I’m sorry,--but Mrs.
Ritter does not appear under fifteen hundred dollars per week.

MRS. FELL. [_Watching her shrewdly_] Net! [_Mrs. Pampinelli turns and
looks at her sharply, and Nelly emphasizes what she said by inclining
her head: then Mrs. Pampinelli speaks into the telephone again._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Net.

MRS. FELL. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] It’s a bargain at that. [_She nods
towards Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into telephone_] Twelve-fifty?

MRS. FELL. No compromise.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into telephone_] Well, just one moment. [_Covering
the transmitter and speaking to Mrs. Fell_] Twelve-fifty is offered.

MRS. FELL. [_Definitely_] Fifteen hundred dollars. They’ll lift it.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning back to the telephone_] Why, I’m very
sorry,--but Mrs. Ritter positively does not appear under fifteen
hundred dollars. [_Nelly inclines her head towards her._] Net. Well,
how do you mean satisfactory? Satisfactory at our figure? [_Mrs.
Pampinelli glances at Mrs. Fell and Mrs. Fell glances at Mrs. Ritter._]

MRS. FELL. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] Sign!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Very well, then,--signed at
fifteen hundred dollars per week,--

MRS. FELL. Net!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Into the telephone_] Net! And Mrs. Ritter appears.
[_She stands holding the telephone and listening._]

MRS. FELL. [_Whirling round and teetering down to Paula_] Our STAR! I
always said it! [_She shakes Mrs. Ritter by the shoulders._] I always
said it! [_She whirls round and teeters up towards the center-door._]
Haven’t I always said it, Betty? [_Mrs. Pampinelli is listening on
the telephone, and tries, by dint of thrusting the telephone towards
Nelly, to silence her. But Nelly is irrepressible._] That it was only
a question of time? [_She turns and flies down towards Mrs. Ritter
again._] We must telephone Mrs. Livingston at once, Paula!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Be quiet, Nelly, be quiet!

MRS. FELL. [_Rushing up towards the center-door again_] She’ll be so
interested! We must call up Mrs. Livingston right away, Betty!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Please, Nelly! [_Nelly is silenced. Mrs. Pampinelli
listens sharply, Nelly and Mrs. Ritter watching her; and there is a
dead pause._] Beg pardon? [_There is another slight pause; and then
Mrs. Pampinelli utters an abrupt shriek and sets down the telephone._]

MRS. FELL. What is it, Betty? [_Mrs. Pampinelli looks at her, then
straight ahead._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With venomous enunciation_] It’s Ritter! [_Mrs.
Ritter rises slowly._]

MRS. FELL. Ritter? [_Mrs. Pampinelli doesn’t stir._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Addressing Mrs. Pampinelli_] Fred?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I recognized his voice. [_She moves along the left
hallway and comes in through the center-door and forward, a little to
the left of the center of the room._]

MRS. FELL. [_Up just to the right of the center-door_] Why, where is he?

MRS. RITTER. [_Beginning to cry_] He must be on the extension upstairs.
[_Nelly listens keenly._]

MRS. FELL. It is he; I hear him laughing. [_She crosses down to the
door at the left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Taking a step towards Mrs. Ritter_] Sit down,
Paula. [_Mrs. Ritter sits down, rests her elbows on the table and weeps
bitterly. Nelly stops over at the door and turns._]

MRS. FELL. [_Positively_] Paula,--if he were _my_ husband, I should
lose no time in having him arrested. [_She goes out, at the left door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Standing back of Mrs. Ritter’s chair_] Paula dear,
I do hope that you are not going to allow Mr. Ritter’s flippancies to
discourage you. [_Paula clasps her hands in her lap and looks tearfully
at the backs of them._] The way of the essential artist is always hard;
and so very frequently the most serious obstacles are those to be
encountered at home.

MRS. RITTER. But, I feel so unsuccessful.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I know, dear--I know exactly how you feel. But you
must _go on_. Just remember that art is the highest expression of
truth,--and you cannot fail. For you have everything in your favor,
Paula.

MRS. RITTER. [_Weakly_] Thank you.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And the masses need you, dear; you are an altogether
_new note_ in the theatre.

MRS. RITTER. But--I don’t know whether Fred’ll _want_ me to go on any
more--[_Mrs. Pampinelli suddenly becomes very still and stoney, and
looks down at Mrs. Ritter with merciless inquiry. Mrs. Ritter senses
the change and turns hastily to explain._] the way he spoke.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And, do you mean that you will allow him to _stop_
you, Paula?

MRS. RITTER. [_Breaking down under Mrs. Pampinelli’s frozen amusement_]
Well, of course, he’s my _husband_, Betty. [_She cries. Mrs. Pampinelli
regards her with a kind of pained toleration; and settles her cloak,
preparatory to going._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Very well, then, Paula--if you feel that way about
it, I should advise you to keep him; and I shan’t waste any more of my
time encouraging you. [_She sweeps around to her left and up towards
the center-door._] There are far too many who are only too _willing_ to
make the necessary sacrifices without being urged. [_She picks up her
fan and roses from the partition-seat, lays them across her left arm,
and turns regnantly to Mrs. Ritter._] Only remember this, Paula,--there
will be actresses when husbands are a thing of the past. [_She sweeps
out through the center-door and out into the right hallway. There is
a slight pause; then Nelly Fell comes in at the left door. She misses
Mrs. Pampinelli._]

MRS. FELL. Where is Mrs. P., Paula?

MRS. RITTER. She’s just gone out to the car, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Stooping to pick up one of the chrysanthemums from the
floor_] Do you mind if I take one of these flowers, Paula? [_She stands
in the middle of the room, holding it, and looking at Mrs. Ritter._] I
want it for my dramatic shrine.

MRS. RITTER. You can take them all if you like.

MRS. FELL. Why, what would _you_ do, dear?

MRS. RITTER. I don’t want them.

MRS. FELL. [_Crossing towards her_] Now, you mustn’t feel like that,
Paula Ritter.

MRS. RITTER. [_Having all she can do to keep from crying_] I just can’t
help it.

MRS. FELL. I see in your husband’s attitude--nothing but a desperate
attempt to save his home;--for he _must_ know what your performance
tonight will inevitably lead to. [_Mrs. Ritter turns with a puzzled
expression and looks at her._]

MRS. RITTER. I don’t understand what you mean, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. Why, you must go to New York, dear; you can do nothing
dramatically here.

MRS. RITTER. But, I have a husband.

MRS. FELL. [_Very casually_] Every married woman has that cross,
darling. But you mustn’t let it stand in the way of your career; he
would very soon eliminate _you_, if you stood in the way of _his_.

MRS. RITTER. But, I don’t like the thought of breaking up his home,
Nelly. [_Nelly gives a hard, knowing little laugh._]

MRS. FELL. Don’t be unnecessarily sacrificial, darling. I made that
mistake with my first _two_ husbands; but I was _wiser_ with the third.
And I said to him, immediately we returned from the church, I said,
“Now, Leonard, you and I have just been made one; and _I_ am that one.”
[_She touches herself on the breastbone with her forefinger, then
touches Paula on the left shoulder._] And it worked out beautifully.
So be sensible, darling. [_She skips up towards the hallway._] I must
run along, Mrs. Pampinelli’s waiting! [_She teeters out through the
center-door into the right hallway._] Cheerio, Paula darling!

MRS. RITTER. Good night.

MRS. FELL. Cheerio! [_She giggles and vanishes into the right hallway.
Mrs. Ritter sits still for a second, looking from side to side,
at nothing, particularly, and presently gets up. The horseshoe of
“SUCCESS” over in front of the mantelpiece catches her eye, and she
wanders slowly towards it. But the irony of it all overcomes her and
she commences to cry again. Ritter appears at the head of the stairs
and starts down. She turns and looks at him, as he comes through the
center-door._]

MRS. RITTER. Fred Ritter, those women will never come inside that door
again, the way you talked to them. [_He moves to the piano and leans
against it._]

RITTER. Well, I don’t suppose that’ll make very much difference.

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking straight ahead_] Well, it _should_ make a
difference.

RITTER. They’d hardly come here to see _me_, anyway.

MRS. RITTER. Well, they’d come to see me.

RITTER. But _you_ won’t be here. [_She turns and looks at him blankly._]

MRS. RITTER. Why,--what--what do you mean, I won’t be here?

RITTER. [_With a touch of delicacy_] Why, aren’t you going on with _The
Work_?

MRS. RITTER. Well, I don’t want to go unless you _want_ me to.

RITTER. But, I _do_ want you to. I don’t think a talent like yours
should be hidden; [_He looks straight out, thoughtfully._] it’s too
unique.

MRS. RITTER. I thought you said a while ago you didn’t like me?

RITTER. [_Raising his left hand and crossing over and down in front of
her towards the arm-chair at the left_] You mustn’t hold me responsible
for what I said a while ago--[_He stops back of the arm-chair and rests
his hand upon the back of it._] I was panic-stricken at the thought of
having my home broken up. [_She moves down to the center of the room._]
But I’ve been thinking it over upstairs, and I’ve concluded that it’s
more important that the world should see you act, than that I should
have a home to come to.

MRS. RITTER. But, I don’t like the thought of breaking up your home,
Fred.

RITTER. [_Raising his right hand to her with a touch of solemnity_] You
mustn’t consider me in the matter at all, dear. Every great gift has
its victim--and I am, in a way, rather happy--to find myself chosen the
victim of yours.

MRS. RITTER. What would _you_ do, if I were to go?

RITTER. [_With the faintest shade of classic pose_] I’d go with you;
you’d need someone to look after the flowers--see that they got to the
various hospitals all right.

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking away out_] I might not like it, after I’d get
there.

RITTER. Maybe not. I suppose fame becomes monotonous like everything
else. But, I wouldn’t want you in the future, to look back and feel
that I had stood in your way.

MRS. RITTER. [_Carefully_] No, Fred,--I really don’t _know_ whether I
want to be a great actress or not.

RITTER. But, you are a great actress, dear.

MRS. RITTER. Thank you.

RITTER. [_Indicating the anchor of roses down at the left_] Look at
this anchor,--of hope. [_He steps back and picks up the horseshoe._]
And this horseshoe of “SUCCESS.” [_He brings it forward and sets it
down just to Mrs. Ritter’s left. Then he steps across in front of
it, takes her hand and slips his right arm around her waist._] And I
think, Paula, it might be a very sensible move, to just let the public
_remember_ you as a great actress--as they saw you _tonight_--_at your
best_.

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking wistfully straight ahead_] Do you think they
_will_ remember, Fred?

RITTER. [_Inclining his head, with a suggestion of the obsequious_]
Yes, I _think_ they will. [_Curtain._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning and sinking into his arms_] You’re awfully
sweet, Fred.


THE END OF THE PLAY




TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Inconsistencies in typesetting have been standardized.







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