PLEASE PASS THE CREAM

  A COMEDY


  BY
  CHARLES NEVERS HOLMES

  AUTHOR OF
  _“Their First Quarrel” and “Smith’s Unlucky Day.”_

  [Illustration]

  CHICAGO
  T. S. DENISON & COMPANY
  PUBLISHERS




PLEASE PASS THE CREAM


  MR. JOHN CLARK          _A “Self-Made” Man_
  MRS. JOHN CLARK      _A Former Schoolma’am_

  PLACE--_Anywhere_.

  TIME--_Breakfast_.

  TIME OF PLAYING--_Twenty Minutes_.


COSTUMES.

  MR. CLARK--_Breakfast Attire_.
  MRS. CLARK--_Morning Gown_.


PROPERTIES.

All listed in description of stage setting.


STAGE DIRECTIONS.

_R._ means right of the stage; _C._, center; _R. C._, right center;
_L._, left; _1 E._, first entrance; _U. E._, upper entrance; _R. 3 E._,
right entrance up stage, etc.; up stage, away from footlights; down
stage, near footlights. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience.


COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY T. S. DENISON & COMPANY.




PLEASE PASS THE CREAM


SCENE: _Dining-room of the CLARKS, cosily furnished in dark;
dining-table in center, two chairs at opposite ends, table set with
plates, knives, forks, spoons, glasses, coffee pot and cups at right
end, with sugar and a cream-pitcher; plate, knife, fork, spoons, glass
at left end; also a carafe of water; butter, salt and pepper boxes,
napkins, etc. A sideboard with silver. Rug under table. Modern hanging
lamp over it. Doors at right and left. Window at back beside sideboard.
Telephone on small table in left corner. MR. CLARK, about 40 years of
age, stout and easy going, seated in chair at left end of table. MRS.
CLARK, about 35 years old, rather slim and nervous, at the right end.
As the curtain rises both are eating some meat and potatoes, a clock in
hall behind door at right striking the hour of eight._

MRS. CLARK (_raising her napkin to her mouth_). I wish you wouldn’t say
“it don’t,” John. That isn’t grammatical!

MR. CLARK (_raising a piece of potato on his knife to his mouth_). It
ain’t--why isn’t it?

MRS. C. (_dropping her napkin to the floor, in a voice of utter
horror_). Oh, John, John! How many, _many_ times have I besought you
not to use that terrible, _terrible_ word “ain’t”?

MR. C. (_very cheerfully, raising another piece of potato on his
knife_). I dunno, Martha. I never was much good at mental arithmetic.

MRS. C. (_picking up her napkin, mournfully_). John, don’t you remember
that you _promised_ me when we were engaged never more to utter that
abominable word.

MR. C. (_cutting awkwardly at his meat_). I _ain’t_ quite sure that I
made such a promise, Martha.

MRS. C. (_sharply_). John Clark, you _certainly_ did make such a
promise--not once but _several_ times!

MR. C. (_starting to raise a piece of meat to his mouth, letting it
fall_). But, Martha, that was _only_ an engagement promise, and
engagement promises _ain’t_ no wise binding, so to speak, after the
wedding march is ended.

MRS. C. (_angrily, again dropping her napkin_). Mr. Clark, if you utter
that word _again_ I shall withdraw from the table!

MR. C. (_still cutting away awkwardly at the meat_). All right, Martha.
I won’t use that word no more.

MRS. C. (_picking up her napkin, sharply_). John Clark, what you have
just said is also ungrammatical. It is _very_ incorrect for you to say
“I won’t use that word no more.”

MR. C. (_raising another piece of potato on his knife_). But, my dear,
I don’t see _why_ it is incorrect for me to say that I won’t use the
word “ain’t” again. _Now_ you’re blaming me for _not_ using it.

MRS. C. (_a little confused_). You know _very_ well what I mean!
(_Suddenly and more sharply._) John, how many times have I requested
you not to _eat_ with your knife?

MR. C. (_letting his knife fall out of his hand to the floor_). But
what is a knife for if it isn’t to eat with?

MRS. C. (_in tone of utter disgust_). Oh, won’t you _ever_ speak
correct English. Why _couldn’t_ you have said, “What is the purpose of
a table-knife if it is not to use in eating?”

MR. C. (_very cordially, reaching down to pick up the fallen knife_).
You are _exactly_ right, my dear. I agree wholly with you--the purpose
of a table-knife is to be used in eating.

MRS. C. (_very sharply_). But a table-knife is _not_ a freight
elevator, John Clark!

MR. C. (_starting to raise more potato on his knife_). No, Martha, a
fork is the proper instrument with which to convey a piece of meat from
one’s plate to one’s mouth.

MRS. C. (_rising hastily, speaking quickly_). John, _stop_ that!
_Never_ use a knife, even at home, that has fallen to the floor! (_Goes
to the sideboard, opens a drawer, takes out a table-knife and exchanges
this knife for the one just dropped by MR. C._) There! (_Resuming her
seat._) Don’t you _dare_ to misuse _this_ knife as you misused the
other one, John Clark!

MR. C. (_rather humbly_). No, ma’am! Still, it’s ever so much easier to
eat with my knife than with my fork.

MRS. C. (_decidedly, beginning to eat again_). No, it isn’t! Besides,
it’s _very_ vulgar--and dangerous, too.

MR. C. (_now using his fork_). Yet I’ve read somewhere--I know I
have--that George Washington ate with his knife in the same way that I
did.

MRS. C. (_quickly_). Oh, well, forks were not invented then.

MR. C. (_drinking from his glass of water_). They never should have
been invented. Fingers are ever so much better than forks.

MRS. C. (_rising from her seat to go again to the sideboard_). I
expected you to say that fingers were invented before forks. How _did_
it happen that you forgot to make that remark--again?

MR. C. (_using his napkin very clumsily_). Really I can’t see why an
honest hungry man should be ashamed of eating with his knife.

MRS. C. (_returning to her seat with the sugar tongs_). Well, it’s not
the correct thing socially. Mrs. James’s husband _never_ eats with
_his_ knife. (_Quickly._) John, that isn’t a wash towel; it’s a napkin.

MR. C. (_dropping the napkin to the floor_). I wish that Mrs. James’s
husband would pay that $100 he has owed me for a year.

MRS. C. (_beginning to pour out the coffee_). You should feel proud
that a gentleman of _such_ high social position as Mr. James owes you a
hundred dollars.

MR. C. (_picking up the napkin_). Well, when a dozen other gentlemen of
high social position have each owed me a hundred dollars for more than
a year I don’t feel so proud of Mr. James’s owing me a hundred plunks.

MRS. C. (_beginning to put in some sugar with the tongs into the cup of
coffee_). Not a hundred _plunks_, dear. You mean a hundred _dollars_.

MR. C. (_a little crossly_). I mean _just_ what I say--a hundred
_plunks_! Perhaps if he ate with his knife and said “ain’t” the way I
do he would never have borrowed them hundred plunks.

MRS. C. (_in utter horror_). “_Them_ hundred plunks!” Oh, John!

MR. C. (_angrily_). Ye-es, _them hundred “bucks”_! (_More angrily._)
Now, see here, Martha Smith, I am a _ve_-ry _patient_ man. My father
was a patient man and my mother was the most patientest woman you ever
did see; but they have had their limits, and so have I. (_Bringing his
hand down firmly upon the table._) And when I get _real_ riled I ain’t
nearly as agreeable as aforetimes. (_Pauses for a moment as though
to emphasise his remarks._) As I said, I am a ve-ry _patient_ man,
but I have my limit. Now, Martha Smith, you have been a-pestering me
all breakfast time, and a-correcting me on my expressions of speech.
Also, you have been fault-finding with my table manners, and I have
got _ve_-ry tired of it. Now, I want you to understand, Martha Smith,
right _here_, that I won’t tolerate another word from you (_he rises
and then bangs his fist hard upon the table_), and I’ll say “it ain’t,”
“it hain’t,” “it don’t” as often as I _darn_ please! And I’ll eat with
my knife or my fingers as often as I _darn_ please! (_Raising his voice
still more._) Do you understand _that_, Martha Smith? (_He glares
angrily at her._)

MRS. C. (_very coolly and very deliberately_). Mr. Clark, you are _so_
amusing when you get “real riled.” If you could only _see yourself_
(_mimics him_) “when you ain’t nearly as agreeable as aforetimes.”
Now, I _never_ get angry myself, _never_. And at any rate not after
seeing you in a tantrum. It’s too disgusting. You are _not_ a handsome
man, even when you are _agreeable_, Mr. Clark; but when you are really
“riled,” _my!_ you’re _homely_, as homely as--well, words _fail_ me!
(_She laughs somewhat irritatingly._)

MR. C. (_walking furiously up and down the left side of the room,
savagely_). If you only was a man for a minute!

MRS. C. (_more coolly and deliberately_). I wish I were for only _half_
a minute.

MR. C. (_walking more furiously, speaking more savagely_). It is no
wonder your _first_ husband died!

MRS. C. (_rising quickly from her chair_). What do you _mean_, Mr.
Clark? (_Then she reseats herself just as quickly._) No, I never get
angry myself, _never_, and I’m _not_ going to become angry this time.
(_She rises again and carries the cup of coffee she has poured out,
placing it at his end of the table._) You see how _calm_ I am, Mr.
Clark--how _very_ calm. (_She returns to her seat with a martyr-like
smile._) If I were you I should drink that coffee before it gets cool.

MR. C. (_pausing in his walking angrily_). I don’t _want_ any coffee!
(_More angrily._) Martha Smith, I asked you if _you_ understood?

MRS. C. (_with great dignity_). Mr. Clark, please remember that I am
Mrs. Clark.

MR. C. (_in a lower tone_). Guess I’ll never forget _that_!

MRS. C. (_beginning to pour out some coffee for herself_). Don’t you
think you had better drink your coffee? It must be getting cool.

MR. C. (_with a flash of anger_). Oh, _darn_ the coffee!

MRS. C. (_putting in two lumps of sugar_). Just as you please, Mr.
Clark, just as you _please_.

MR. C. (_sitting down sulkily in his seat_). Martha Smith, this
_nagging_ of yours is getting on my nerves.

MRS. C. (_pouring from the cream-pitcher into her coffee_). I remarked
a short while ago that I am _Mrs. Clark_!

MR. C. (_settling down into his chair_). Well, because you are Mrs.
Clark doesn’t give you any right to nag me.

MRS. C. (_stirring her coffee_). I am _not_ nagging you. I have _never_
nagged anybody in my life, but when you said “them hundred plunks”--oh,
horrors!

MR. C. (_beginning to finger his coffee spoon_). But what _should_ I
have said?

MRS. C. (_still stirring her coffee_). What _should_ you have said?
Why--why--“those hundred dollars,” of course.

MR. C. (_in a grumbling tone_). It’s too blamed bad that a man can’t
speak as he wants to in his own home.

MRS. C. (_sipping her coffee_). You _may_, John, providing that you
follow the rules of grammatical English, as are observed by our best
society.

MR. C. (_less sulkily, still fingering his coffee spoon_). What do you
mean by our best society, Martha?

MRS. C. (_a little perplexed_). Our best society? Oh--yes--er--why, our
best society means those that are _in_ the best society--those who are
the recognized leaders of society--the men and women who are socially
“it.”

MR. C. (_quickly_). Martha! “Socially it”? I _am_ surprised to hear
such an expression fall from your lips. “Socially _it_”! Why, _what_ a
vulgar phrase. You _should_ have said, “Our best society consists of
those men and women who are the leaders of _élite_ society!”

MRS. C. (_with much dignity_). Your coffee _must_ be cold by this time,
John. Let me give you another cup?

MR. C. (_rather gleefully_). No, Martha, this coffee is all right; but
haven’t you forgotten something?

MRS. C. (_still with dignity_). What is it I have forgotten?

MR. C. (_cheerfully_). The milk, Martha, the _milk_. Please pass the
milk.

MRS. C. (_reprovingly_). Of course you mean the _cream_, John.
(_Passing the pitcher._)

MR. C. (_receiving the pitcher_). No, I mean the _milk_.

MRS. C. (_rather sharply_). But, my dear, it isn’t milk; it’s _cream_.

MR. C. (_obstinately_). It is _not_! It’s _milk_. (_Spelling it._)
M-i-l-k, _milk_!

MRS. C. (_stirring her coffee_). It is not _milk_, John. Milk is what
the cows give--this is _cream_!

MR. C. (_with a grin, still holding the pitcher_). I never knew before
that cream does not come from milk. _Very_ remarkable!

MRS. C. (_a little confused_). Now don’t try to misunderstand me. Of
course milk comes from cream, and that pitcher contains cream, _not_
milk.

MR. C. (_with another grin_). Martha, I never knew before that milk
comes from cream.

MRS. C. (_with dignity_). That was a slip of my tongue.

MR. C. (_gleefully_). Yes, just as when you say that this pitcher
contains cream.

MRS. C. (_sharply_). It _does_ contain cream, and _not_ milk!

MR. C. (_pouring some of it from the pitcher into a glass_). Now, see
_there_. Do you call _that_ cream? _Cream!_ It’s more like skim milk.

MRS. C. (_wearily_). Can’t you comprehend, John? _Socially_ it is
cream. You never ask for milk in your coffee but always for cream.

MR. C. (_impatiently_). I don’t care one continental what it is
socially. _Practically_ it is milk. (_Drinking from the glass into
which he has poured from the pitcher._) YES, that’s _milk_ all right.
(_Pushing the pitcher towards MRS. C._) Taste it yourself Martha. See
if it isn’t milk.

MRS. C. (_nervously sipping her coffee_). That isn’t the point at all.
Of course when it’s in a drinking glass it _may_ be milk, but when it’s
in a cream-pitcher it is _always_ cream.

MR. C. (_still more impatiently_). But pouring it into a drinking glass
doesn’t change its _real_ nature. If it’s milk, it’s milk, and if it’s
cream, it’s _cream_!

MRS. C. (_again sipping her coffee_). Yes, it is _just_ the same in the
pitcher as it is in the glass, only we call it, politely, cream when it
is in the pitcher and milk when in the glass.

MR. C. (_crossly_). Well, what has politeness to do with it, anyway? If
it’s milk in the glass it will be milk when it’s in the pitcher.

MRS. C. (_sipping her coffee with a half smile_). Don’t you _see_,
John, that it’s cream when it’s in the cream-pitcher?

MR. C. (_still more crossly_). I suppose that if that pitcher contained
only water it could be called cream!

MRS. C. (_putting down her spoon and drinking her coffee_). You are
_aw_-fully stupid--when you want to be, my dear.

MR. C. (_rising quickly and going over to the telephone_). You needn’t
take _my_ word for it. We’ll have some one else’s opinion. (_Takes down
the receiver._) Hello! Give me Main 203. (_Turns to MRS. C._) I’m going
to talk with Joe Williams. He’s head of the Wholesale Milk Company.
(_Speaking into ’phone._) Hello! Is this Joe? I’m John Clark. You see,
Joe, my wife and I have had a slight dispute. She declares up and
down that the milk we are using on our breakfast table is cream, and
not milk at all. I say that it’s _milk_--no matter whether it’s in a
cream-pitcher or not. She says that as long as it’s in a cream-pitcher
it’s cream and _not_ milk. Now, Joe, am I _right_? It’s milk, because
I have drunk some of it and I remember that Mrs. Clark told me this
morning the milkman had forgotten to leave the cream. (_Pauses a
moment._) What’s _that_? You _think_ I am right, but you are going to
ask your wife and will call me up soon? Thank _you_, Joe. (_He replaces
the receiver and returns to his chair._)

MRS. C. (_with a sweet smile_). I am sorry, John, that you have had to
call for assistance, but Mrs. Williams will, I am sure, wholly agree
with me.

MR. C. (_sourly_). Well, I was brought up on a farm and I ought to know
the difference between milk and cream.

MRS. C. (_with a very sweet smile_). I guess you were brought up on a
farm all right.

MR. C. (_angrily_). So were _you_! I found it out only a short time
ago. (_Laughing softly._) Ha! ha! ha!

MRS. C. (_mimicking him_). Ha! ha! ha! _ha!_ Now, I’m _not_ going to
lose my temper, whatever you may say. I _never_ get angry myself--no,
_never_!

(_The telephone rings._)

MR. C. (_hastening to the telephone_). _Now_ we shall see! (_Takes down
the receiver._) Hello! Hello, Joe. Oh, good morning, Mrs. Williams. How
do you do? Yes, thank you, both my wife and I are pretty well. _What_
did you say? (_Listens while she is speaking._) Is that so? It is? I
understand. _What_ did you say? Oh, of course _socially_--yes--yes!
No, our dispute is not serious; only a difference of opinion. As
I told your husband a very _slight_ difference. _Thank_ you for
your trouble, Mrs. Williams. Will you please ask Mr. Williams to
come to the telephone a moment? O! He has gone for the day? Thank
_you_--good-_bye_. (_Impatiently hangs up the receiver._)

MRS. C. (_laughing heartily_). Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! _ha!_ What did I
tell you, John? Didn’t Mrs. Williams agree _wholly_ with me?

MR. C. (_reseating himself_). Yes, of _course_ she did. I expected
_that_, but Joe, I’m sure, believes that I am _right_. You see he
didn’t _dare_ to tell me his real opinion when his wife was there.
Probably he will visit us a little later and convince you that you
are wrong. But he didn’t have the courage to say so in the presence
of his wife. Isn’t it _too_ bad, Martha, that Joe hasn’t some of _my_
independence?

MRS. C. (_a little angrily_). I hope that Mr. Williams is not as stupid
as you are--_sometimes_. (_More angrily._) John, how _very_ obstinate
you are! You know well enough that _I_ have the right of it, and yet
you won’t admit it.

MR. C. (_slowly stirring his coffee_). After all, Martha, I think I’ll
have some coffee. Will you please pass me the milk?

MRS. C. (_with considerable temper_). John Clark, I _never_ get angry
myself, _never_, but certainly you do try my patience--sorely. Now, I
don’t want you to call that cream milk--_again_! _Not again!_ (_She
rises from her chair._)

MR. C. (_still stirring his coffee_). Martha, will you please pass me
the--milk?

MRS. C. (_angrily stamping her foot_). John Clark, how _dare_ you!

MR. C. (_calmly_). Martha, will you _please_ pass me the milk!

MRS. C. (_in a furious temper, stamping her foot and then pounding upon
the table_). It _ain’t_ milk--it _ain’t_!

MR. C. (_with mock seriousness_). _Martha!_ It _ain’t_! That is _not_
grammatical. Oh, that terrible, _terrible_ word--_ain’t_!

MRS. C. (_very furiously_). I never said ain’t--never--_never_--_never_!

MR. C. (_very mournfully_). You did, Martha--you _did_. I heard you.
You said, “_It ain’t no milk!_”

MRS. C. (_wildly seizing the cream-pitcher and suddenly dashing it and
its contents to the floor, in view of the audience_). _There--darn it!_

MR. C. (_rising quickly_). Hold on! That is Grandmother Smith’s old
cream-pitcher!

MRS. C. (_in despair_). Oh, _what_ have I done! (_She stands for a
moment, looking silently at the ruins of the prized cream-pitcher, and
then sinks into her chair, pulling out her handkerchief and weeping
hysterically._)

MR. C. (_standing as though dazed, gazing upon the shattered pitcher._)
Gee _whiz_! (_Taking a step forward towards MRS. C., speaking kindly,
placing his right hand gently upon her shaking shoulders._) Well,
Martha, don’t feel so badly about it--it ain’t any use to “cry over
spilt milk!”

MRS. C. (_suddenly rising from her chair, glaring at MR. C._). It isn’t
spilt milk--it’s spilt _cream_!


CURTAIN.




TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.