A. W. Pinero’s Plays
                        Price, 60 Cents Each


=THE AMAZONS= Farce in Three Acts. Seven males, five females. Costumes,
  modern; scenery, not difficult. Plays a full evening.

=THE CABINET MINISTER= Farce in Four Acts. Ten males, nine females.
  Costumes, modern society; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full
  evening.

=DANNY DICK= Farce in Three Acts. Seven males, four females. Costumes,
  modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays two hours and a half.

=THE GAY LORD QUEX= Comedy in Four Acts. Four males, ten females.
  Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors and an exterior. Plays a
  full evening.

=HIS HOUSE IN ORDER= Comedy in Four Acts. Nine males, four females.
  Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening.

=THE HOBBY HORSE= Comedy in Three Acts. Ten males, five females.
  Costumes, modern; scenery easy. Plays two hours and a half.

=IRIS= Drama in Five Acts. Seven males, seven females. Costumes,
  modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening.

=LADY BOUNTIFUL= Play in Four Acts. Eight males, seven females.
  Costumes, modern; scenery, four interiors, not easy. Plays a full
  evening.

=LETTY= Drama in Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five females.
  Costumes, modern; scenery complicated. Plays a full evening.

=THE MAGISTRATE= Farce in Three Acts. Twelve males, four females.
  Costumes, modern; scenery, all interior. Plays two hours and a half.

                  Sent prepaid on receipt of price by
                       Walter H. Baker & Company
              No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts




                           Captain Cranberry

                    A Cape Cod Comedy in Three Acts


                                 By
                        GLADYS RUTH BRIDGHAM

        _Author of “Leave it to Polly,” “A Regular Scream,” “Not
            on the Programme,” “A Modern Cinderella,” “On the
                Quiet,” “A Regular Rah! Rah! Boy,” “Sally
               Lunn,” “Six Times Nine,” “Cupid’s Partner,”
               “Her First Assignment,” “A Case for Sherlock
                     Holmes,” “Ring-Around-a-Rosie,”
                      “Three of a Kind,” “The Turn
                        in the Road,” “The Queen
                            of Hearts,” etc._




                                BOSTON
                          WALTER H. BAKER & CO.
                                 1917




                           Captain Cranberry


                               CHARACTERS

  CRANFORD BERRY (CAP’N CRANBERRY), _keeper of the Bay Point Light_.
  ABNER FREEMAN, _a retired whaler_.
  OBADIAH DANIELS, _postmaster_.
  LEMUEL SAWYER, _constable_.
  SAMUEL SAWYER, _his son_.
  LEE GORDON.
  PETER PRETZEL POMEROY.
  NAT WILLIAMS.
  ARIEL FREEMAN, _Abner’s daughter_.
  HEPSY SAWYER, _Lemuel’s wife_.
  CYNTHIA TINKER.


                                 SYNOPSIS

    ACT I.--Living room in Cynthia’s home, Bay Point, Cape Cod.

    ACT II.--The same; the next morning.

    ACT III.--Room in Abner Freeman’s old fish-house on the shore; late
  afternoon of the same day.


[Illustration]


               COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY GLADYS RUTH BRIDGHAM

      _Free for amateur performance. Professional and moving picture
                              rights reserved._




                           Captain Cranberry




ACT I


SCENE.--_Living room in_ CYNTHIA TINKER’s _home. Exits_ L., R. _and_
  C. _There is a fireplace_ R. _front. There should be a stairway at_
  L.C., _but it is not absolutely necessary, as another exit may be
  used representing exit to up-stairs rooms. There is a large center
  table with a lighted lamp upon it. Old style chairs._

  (_As curtain rises_, CYNTHIA TINKER _stands by the fireplace. She is
    removing some vases and pictures from mantel and packing them into
    a box which is on the floor near the fireplace._ CYN. _is about
    forty, rather small, bright and energetic. There is a knock at the
    door_ C.)

  CYN. Come in and, for the land sakes, shut the door quick!

_Enter_ HEPSY SAWYER, C. _She is about thirty-five, tall and wiry. She
    wears a man’s oil coat and hat._

  HEP. (_as she enters_). Well, I should say! (_Slams the door._) Ain’t
this a night though?

  CYN. It certainly is. Are you crazy, Hepsy? Or is somebody sick?
Whatever on earth brought you out in all this storm?

  HEP. You, Cynthy! (_Removes coat and hat._) I thought I might be able
to help you some an’ I couldn’t bear to think of you alone here on your
last night.

  CYN. (_taking hat and coat_). That’s more’n kind of you, Hepsy.
There’s a roaring fire in the kitchen stove. I’ll hang your coat up to
dry, and put on some water to make a cup of tea.

(_Exit_, R. HEP. _walks to fireplace and stands warming her hands_.)

                        _Reënter_ CYN., R.

  HEP. You are really goin’ in the morning, Cynth?

  CYN. (_energetically_). I really am.

  HEP. Well, how you can be cheerful about it beats me! How do you know
you’ll like it over to Falmouth and how do you know as you’ll get along
with the people you’re going to keep house for?

  CYN. I don’t know anything about it, Hepsy, but I’ve got to give it a
try. I ain’t got money enough to live on an’ I can’t set down in this
house and starve. I can’t eat the shingles nor the wall paper. I’m
doing the only sensible thing there is to do.

  HEP. Trust you to do that, Cynthy. Can I do anything to help you? Hev
you got everything packed?

  CYN. Yes, all that I’m going to pack. I was just finishing the last
few little things. Cap’n Daniels thinks he can let the house all
furnished.

  HEP. (_explosively_). What?

  CYN. So that I won’t have to bother to have my things moved out an’
some--some day (_looking around the room with a sigh_), I may be able
to come home an’ everything will be here waiting for me.

  HEP. Cynthia Tinker, do you mean to say that Obed Daniels has let
this place already?

  CYN. He thinks so.

  HEP. (_excited_). Who to? Do tell, Cynthy!

  CYN. I don’t know who it is.

  HEP. Don’t know? My land! Do you mean that you didn’t ask him?

  CYN. I haven’t seen him yet. He jest sent me a message by Bennie Hill.

  HEP. And you ain’t the slightest idee who it is?

  CYN. Not the slightest.

  HEP. My land! I shan’t sleep a wink to-night. Land sakes! Who could
it be, Cynth? To want a house all furnished? Why in the land o’ goshen
ain’t they got furniture o’ their own? Must be somebody awful queer
coming to town. Good land, that reminds me! I most forgot to tell you!
Arey Freeman is at home.

  CYN. Why, what do you mean, Hepsy?

  HEP. Jest that! She come on the afternoon train. Her eyes hev give
out and the doctor won’t let her study any more this year an’ she’s
come home.

  CYN. Why, I can’t believe it. Are you sure, Hepsy? Have you seen her?

  HEP. Oh, yes, I’ve been over. My Sammy told me first an’ I declare to
goodness I didn’t know whether it was the truth or one of Sammy’s fairy
tales. Sometimes I think that young one will be the death of me an’ Lem
before we ever get him raised. It’s the most wearing thing! He keeps us
guessing all the time. You can’t tell more’n half the time whether he’s
telling the truth or lyin’!

  CYN. Oh, Hepsy, you shouldn’t speak that way about Sammy. He’s a dear
little fellow and awful good-hearted, and----

  HEP. (_interrupting_). Now don’t you go to takin’ his part! He’s all
you say maybe but that don’t make it out he can’t tell the biggest
yarns of any young one that walks! And what do you suppose? His father
went into the store the other day and found him telling one of his
tales to the Center Church minister. Lem like to have swooned. He said
he guessed things had gone jest about far enough and he walked Sammy
home in a hurry, I tell you! And do you know the Rev. Mr. Peters told
Lem he ought not to blame Sammy. Well, Lem was struck in a heap. “Not
blame him fer lyin’?” says Lem. “He don’t mean it that way,” says Mr.
Peters. “The boy is a wonder. Why, genius just burns in him and he
must let it out. If he keeps on this way you may have a famous writer
in your family some day.” Wal, I declare to goodness, Lem nearly went
crazy. He warmed Sammy plenty that night and then he set a shingle up
on the kitchen mantel and told Sammy to keep his eye on it, and when he
felt genius burning to jest remember that with his father’s help that
shingle could make things a good deal hotter for him than ever genius
thought of doing. A writer! My land! Lem can’t stand anything sissy,
you know. The Sawyers have always been able-bodied men, and able to do
a day’s work as long as they breathed. Why, Grandfather Sawyer lived to
be a hundred and three, and weighed two hundred, an’ the day he died he
worked six hours and ate seven pancakes and five hot biscuit for his
tea. That was his last night on this earth.

  CYN. (_dryly_). I should thought it might have been.

  HEP. Hey? What did you say, Cynthy?

  CYN. (_hastily_). I--I was--going to ask you about Ariel. You went
over?

  HEP. Yes, as soon as I made up my mind that Sammy was telling the
truth I started right over and what do you think I found? Five women
there ahead of me! Ain’t that terrible? Shouldn’t you think they’d
have let her alone, jest gettin’ home that way, an’ she looked tired
to death, though I must say she is prettier’n ever. An’ I says to her,
says I----.

  SAMUEL SAWYER (_outside_). Maw! Oh, maw! Be you in Miss Cynthy’s
house?

  HEP. (_starting up_). Good land! Sammy! What’s he want? (_Going
toward door_, C.) It’s a pity a body can’t go calling without bein’
chased up by the family! (_Opens door._) What do you want? No! You’re
too wet to come in.

  CYN. (_quickly_). No, he isn’t! (_Goes to door._) You come right in,
Sammy. I don’t mind a little water. I’ve lived too close to it all my
life to be afraid of it.

_Enter_ SAM., C. _He is about nine years old, small for his age and
    rather delicate looking. He is a decidedly pretty boy and in
    decided contrast to either mother or father. He wears raincoat and
    hat and rubber boots._

  HEP. Take your feet right off this floor!

  SAM. (_uncertainly lifting first one foot then the other_). How’ll I
do it? Where’ll I put ’em, maw?

  HEP. (_pulling him onto a rug_). Stand on a rug! My land! Did any one
ever see sech a young one? What do you want o’ me?

  SAM. A man has stole father’s pipe.

  CYN. (_astonished_). Good land!

  HEP. (_sternly_). Now, Samuel Henry, that will do right now before
you go any further!

  SAM. ’Tain’t no story, maw. It’s so. I was a-goin’ along an’----

  HEP. (_warningly_). Samuel Henry!

  SAM. (_beginning to whimper_). It’s so, maw. I tell you it’s so!

  CYN. Gracious, Hepsy, I’d listen to what he says.

  HEP. Listen to sech foolishness?

  SAM. ’Tain’t foolish, maw. Pa’s over to the store, you know he is.

  HEP. (_disgusted_). Yes, leave it to your pa to hang out at the store.

  SAM. An’--an’--it isn’t pleasant out----

  CYN. (_laughing_). No, I guess it ain’t. That’s one truthful story,
Sammy, if you never tell another.

  SAM. (_beginning to grow encouraged_). An’--an’--pa forgot his pipe
an’ he sent me home for it, an’--I was goin’ along holdin’ the pipe in
my hand--an’--an’--you can’t see a thing out, the fog’s so thick--an’ a
man come right out the fog an’ grabbed the pipe out o’ my hand an’ ran
off with it.

  CYN. (_with a gasp_). My land!

  HEP. Samuel Henry, where do you expect to go when you die?

  SAM. It’s so! It is so, maw!

  CYN. Well, of all the queer----

  HEP. Didn’t I tell you? He jest lost that pipe somewhere and that’s
the kind of a story he makes up, and the Rev. Mr. Peters thinks he is
smart.

  CYN. Well, my land, if he can tell it off as natural as all that and
look as innocent as he does, he sartain is smart. Sammy, you don’t
really mean a man took your father’s pipe away from you? Bay Point
folks don’t do things like that.

  SAM. I don’t believe it was any one in Bay Point.

  HEP. Nor in any other town. You march yourself home as straight as
you can go.

  SAM. No, no! I ain’t! Not alone! I ain’t a-goin’ out alone again
to-night. He’ll jump out at me again. I’m scared an’--an’--cold.

  HEP. Well, you jest go an’ tell your pa where his pipe’s gone to an’
you won’t complain about bein’ cold any more.

  SAM. (_beginning to cry_). It’s so, maw! It’s so!

  CYN. My land, Hepsy, he does look scared.

  HEP. (_grimly_). Yes, he knows his pa pretty well. Wal, I suppose I
got to travel along. All the time I get to make social calls you can
put in your eye. Lem can set in the store and talk hours on a stretch,
but I’d like to ever get a chance to say anything. I’ll get my coat.
                                                             [_Exit_, R.

  CYN. (_going to_ SAM. _and speaking coaxingly_). Sammy, if you lost
the pipe, why don’t you own up to it? It would be ever so much easier
for you in the end.

  SAM. (_throwing his arms around her_). I didn’t, Miss Cynthy. A man
took it!

                  _Enter_ HEP., _in hat and coat_.

  HEP. I’ll see you again ’fore you go, Cynthy.

  CYN. (_going to door with them_). All right. My land! Ain’t it thick?
                                           [_Exeunt_ HEP. _and_ SAM., C.

  HEP. (_outside_). I never see it worse. You can’t see an inch ’fore
your nose. Walk along, Samuel Henry!

  (CYN. _closes door, walks slowly to fireplace and puts some things
    into box_.)

  ARIEL FREEMAN (_calling from outside_). Miss Cynthy! Oh, Miss Cynthy!

  CYN. (_hurrying to door and opening it_). Ariel! You blessed child!

_Enter_ ARIEL. _She is about eighteen; light complexioned; exceedingly
    pretty._

  ARIEL. Don’t touch me! I’m soaked! (_Throws her coat off._) Will this
be all right?

  (_Throws coat over the back of a chair and turns chair toward fire._)

  CYN. Yes, of course. How in the world did you ever get here? You
can’t see your hand before your face.

  ARIEL. Well, I couldn’t if it was clear, so it doesn’t make much
difference, but I could find my way to your house if I was stone blind.

          (_Goes to_ CYN. _and throws her arms around her_.)

  CYN. (_alarmed_). Your eyes, Arey? It isn’t really serious?

  ARIEL. No, they will come out all right but it’s a good deal of a
nuisance. I can’t see across this room.

  CYN. Good land, you blessed child! You are sure you will get over it?

  ARIEL. Absolutely, but it will take time and I have got to try to
have patience. My, but it’s good to feel your arms around me!

  CYN. And it’s good to feel them there, but you ought not to have come
way over here such a night as this is!

  ARIEL. I ran away. Father said not to come, but they told me a
dreadful story about your going away in the morning and I just had to
see you. It isn’t true, is it?

  CYN. Yes, it is true, dearie. There’s no other way.

  ARIEL. Why, it can’t be true! There must be some way. Why, what am I
going to do without you? You are all the mother I have got, and I need
you to help me bear my troubles. Surely you could find something to do
here in Bay Point.

  CYN. No, I can’t. There isn’t a thing. The factory over to Tylerville
has shut down for good. Layford has failed, and there ain’t another
thing I can do in my own home, so I got to go out of it to earn a
living.

  ARIEL. Some one else will be sure to take the factory and you can get
work again.

  CYN. Some time, maybe, but I can’t set around and wait.

  ARIEL. It will be summer before long and maybe you could get some
boarders.

  CYN. Now you know, Arey, that summer people haven’t begun to come
here yet. Maybe they will some time, but I can’t wait for them, either.

  ARIEL. Well, I don’t care! It’s simply dreadful! I know you don’t
want to go! Why, you love this house and everything in it! I have heard
you say so time and time again.

  CYN. Yes, you have, dearie. It’s--true--(_breaking down_) I don’t
want to go.

  ARIEL (_kneeling by her_). Oh, how selfish I am! I was just thinking
of myself. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.

  CYN. I have tried to put a brave face on it, but it’s jest takin’ my
heart out.

  ARIEL. You are all worn out. I bet you have cleaned and packed all
day! Haven’t you?

  CYN. (_faintly_). Yes.

  ARIEL. And you haven’t had a mouthful of supper, have you?

  CYN. No, I don’t want anything.

  ARIEL. Yes, you do!

  CYN. (_protesting_). No, I couldn’t eat a thing, dearie.

  ARIEL (_rising_). Yes, you could! It’s just what you need. Now you
sit here and rest and I will get you something to eat.

  CYN. No, no----

  ARIEL. But I say, yes, yes!                                [_Exit_, R.

  CRANFORD BERRY (_outside_). Whoa! Port your hellum! (_Slight pause._
CYN. _listens and dabs at her eyes with her handkerchief_.) I say, Miss
Tinker! Ship ahoy!

  CYN. (_in a shaky voice, going toward the door_). Ye-es, Cap’n Berry!

_Enter_ BER. _He is about fifty, with gray hair and a smooth face
    browned by wind and sea. He has a kindly manner, a rough but hearty
    voice that can be heard at a long distance, and he carries a
    package._

  BER. Well, Miss Tinker, how be you?

  CYN. (_swallowing_). Pre-t-ty well.

  BER. Well, I’m glad to hear it! It’s more’n you’re lookin’. Obed
was jest telling me that you are setting sail for a new port in the
morning. I jest stopped in to tell you I’m sorry to hear it. You’ve
been mighty kind to me since I come a stranger to Bay Point, an’ I
couldn’t let you go ’thout tellin’ you I appreciate it. (_Places
package on table._) I brought you a little fruit from the store. Jest
as a little farewell gift. I don’t know how good it is. Obed don’t keep
much of a assortment but you can eat it on the train; ’twill help to
kill the homesickness.

  CYN. Oh-o-o! Cap’n Berry!

                (_Sits down and bursts into tears._)

  BER. (_very much upset_). There, now! There, now! I didn’t mean to
set you to pumping for salt water that way! I always was an awful
clumsy duffer!

  CYN. (_trying to control herself_). No, no, you’re not! You are jest
as kind as you can be! It’s your kindness that’s upset me. I’m awful
nervous to-night and tired! I don’t want to go, Cap’n Berry. I ain’t
lettin’ folks know it. I ain’t tellin’ Hepsy Sawyer and the rest of
them but what I’m tickled to pieces over it.

  BER. Good idee! What Mis’ Sawyer don’t know won’t hurt her, but what
she does know keeps pressing on her brain until she has to let it out
or die from concussion. (_Glances about the room._) You don’t feel that
there is any way you can stay here?

  CYN. No, there isn’t. I have thought of everything, but there is no
way. (BER. _walks to the fireplace and stands warming his hands and
looking thoughtfully into the fire_.) I love my little home, Cap’n
Berry. I was born here in this house. Mother died here and father
and me lived a long time here together. After father was too old to
go fishing he still had his pension, and with what I could get to do
we managed to pull along, and after he died I managed to get along
by myself though it wasn’t quite so easy. Father called this the
Anchorage, and I never supposed I would have to leave it. I’ve worked
hard to stay, and it doesn’t seem right for me to have to go.

  BER. You really mean that you don’t think it is right for you to have
to go?

  CYN. That’s the way it seems. Father left the home to me and
intended I should live here, and it doesn’t seem right to have to leave.

  BER. Then I shouldn’t leave. I should stay right here.

  CYN. (_astonished_). Good land, Cap’n, what do you mean?

  BER. Jest what I say! ’Tisn’t a good idee to do a thing you think it
ain’t right to do.

  CYN. But land sakes, Cap’n, how could I stay here? I can’t live on
empty air, can I?

  BER. Well, no, not exactly that. I’ll tell you, though I don’t know
as I’ll be very good at finding the right words to tell you jest what
I mean. You say you think it is right for you to stay here. Now if you
really think and believe that, why--stay! You say this is your home
and a way has always been provided for you to live here. Miss Cynthy,
you have faith in something. All of us have! We all have a Beacon
light we’re steering our course by. Well, jest as long as it’s been
fair weather an’ you had your Beacon plain in sight you sailed along
all serene, but jest the minute the fog shut in you lost your grip
on the steering gear. Miss Cynthy, I reckon the Keeper of the Beacon
expects you to believe that He is there and the Beacon is shining jest
as bright as ever, and when the fog lifts the rays will be all the
brighter to guide you in the right course.

  CYN. (_astonished and somewhat breathless_). But--I don’t understand
exactly. What do you think I ought to do?

  BER. Jest keep your faith in the Beacon! Miss Cynthy, if a ship was
trying to make port and the fog was so thick they couldn’t see my
light, I should feel mighty bad if they thought I was laying down on
the job jest because the weather was rough. No, Miss Cynthy, they know
I am there, and the light is burning, and they jest stop a while until
the fog lifts and they can see their course more clearly. Miss Cynthy,
why don’t you jest stop a while and say with all your might--“this is
my home in foul weather as well as fair. The fog is lifting and the
Keeper of the Beacon is sending me brighter rays to steer my course”?

                _Enter_ ARIEL, R., _carrying a tray_.

  ARIEL (_gaily_). Now for supper! (_Stops suddenly._) Oh, I beg your
pardon. I didn’t know you had callers, Miss Cynthy.

  (_Looks uncertainly toward_ BER., _who she can see but indistinctly.
    He gives her one look, reels back against the mantel breathing
    hard_.)

  BER. (_hoarsely_). Who--who----

  CYN. (_is upset herself and doesn’t notice his agitation_). Miss
Freeman. Abner’s daughter. Arey, this is Cap’n Berry.

  ARIEL. Oh, yes, the new keeper of Bay Point. I’m glad to meet you.

  BER. (_recovering_). Same to you, Miss. Well, I’ll set sail for the
Point, Miss Tinker. I wish you didn’t feel that you had to be leaving
us in the morning, but whatever course you steer jest keep your eye on
the Beacon and I wish you luck.

                    (_Shakes hands with her._)

  CYN. Thank you, Cap’n Cranberry. (_Aghast._) Oh, I beg your pardon.
You see so many call you that and----

  BER. That’s all right! That’s all right! I got to be a Berry, and
I might as well be a cranberry as any other kind. Evenin’, ladies.
                                                             [_Exit_, C.

  ARIEL (_arranging things on the table, and pouring tea_). Here’s
supper, Miss Cynthy. You’ll feel better after you have some hot tea.

  CYN. (_looking after_ BER.). I--I believe I’m feeling better anyway.

  BER. (_outside_). Belay there! Heave to! All aboard! Gid’ap! Now,
we’re off!

  ARIEL (_smiling as she listens_). I like him, Miss Cynthy; although I
only saw him a minute and didn’t really see him either.

  CYN. (_sitting by table and beginning to eat_). He’s a splendid man
if there ever was one!

  ARIEL. Who is with him at the light?

  CYN. An old shipmate. They’re doing their own housekeeping, an’ I
must say I’d like to see the inside of a house run by a couple of men.
Cap’n Berry followed the sea for years, and I have heard tell that he
lost his wife and child in a shipwreck. I don’t believe he’s ever got
over it. From something he said one day I imagine he’s had a pretty sad
and lonesome life, but he certain makes the best of it. He’s invested
in a cranberry bog up the cape, an’ that and his name was enough to set
folks goin’, and he’s pretty generally called Cap’n Cranberry, but I’m
mortified to death to think I should call him that right to his face.

  ARIEL. I don’t believe he cared.

  CYN. He wouldn’t let on if he did. My land, Arey, you ain’t told me
a thing about yourself yet. Weren’t it hard to leave school? Won’t it
make a difference when you go back?

  ARIEL. No, I can catch up with my class when I get my eyes again,
and they bothered me so much I was rather glad to give up the fight
and come home. There’s only one thing bothering me. Father says Nat
Williams is expected home any day.

  CYN. (_sharply_). Well, what of it?

  ARIEL. You know what of it!

  CYN. Now see here, Arey, your father has surely got over that
foolishness. As well as he loves you he won’t try to marry you to a man
you don’t love. Didn’t say anything to-day, did he?

  ARIEL. No, only that Nat is coming and praised him to the skies, the
way he always does. I can’t imagine why he cares so much for Nat.

  CYN. (_decidedly_). Well, you don’t have to even if he does. I don’t
believe your father will start that thing to going again.

  ARIEL (_with a sigh_). If he does I had about as soon be dead. I owe
so much to my father, and I want to please him but I never could make
up my mind----(_Stops abruptly._)

  CYN. No, of course you couldn’t. I never was struck on Nat myself. I
can’t imagine what ails your father.

  ARIEL (_rising_). I must go back. Dad went to the store and I slipped
out. (_Takes her coat from chair and puts it on._) If he goes home and
finds me gone such a night as this, he will sound the fire alarm and
get out a searching party. (_Kisses_ CYN.) Good-night, Miss Cynthy.
I--I--oh, I won’t say anything more to make you feel badly, but I can’t
believe there is anything right about your going away. I’ll see you in
the morning. Good-night. (_Opens door_, C.)

  CYN. Good-night, dearie. My land, it grows worse! You ought not to
try to go home alone.

  ARIEL. Nonsense! (_Exit._) I guess I know Bay Point.

  (CYN. _closes door, walks back to table and pours another cup of tea.
    She starts to drink it._)

  BER. (_outside_). Whoa! Avast there! Heave over your anchor! Ahoy,
Miss Tinker!

  CYN. (_surprised_). Yes, Cap’n. (_Starts toward door._)

  BER. (_entering_). Didn’t expect me back quite so soon, did you?
I’ve lost my pipe. (_Feels in his pocket._) It’s durned queer! I most
generally keep it in this pocket. I thought maybe I dropped it here.

               (_Begins to look about on the floor._)

  CYN. (_joining in search_). I haven’t seen it. Are you sure you had
it with you?

  BER. Sartain! I never travel without it, an’ I declare I’d about as
soon go back home without my head.

  CYN. Land sakes! You can buy another pipe, can’t you?

  BER. Yes, but not jest like this one. This pipe came clear from
Calcutta and it sartain is one of my best friends. That pipe an’ me
has faced some black times together and she has always proved a true
comrade in rough weather. Well, I guess I didn’t drop her here. (_Tries
to speak carelessly._) Little gal gone?

  CYN. Ariel? Yes.

  BER. (_curiously_). Ariel? That ain’t no name for a girl.

  CYN. Ain’t it? I always thought it was real kind of pretty and fancy.

  BER. Fancy enough, but it’s a boy’s name. How’d she happen to be
called that?

  CYN. Well, of course Cap’n Freeman didn’t know her real name and he
said Ariel was some spirit of a storm or a tempest or something, and
the name seemed real fitting.

  BER. (_with an effort_). Ain’t--ain’t she Freeman’s own daughter?

  CYN. Land, no! Ain’t you never heard nobody tell about Arey Freeman?

  BER. (_leaning against the table and gripping the edge with his
hand_). No. Where’d she come from?

  CYN. Abner found her when she was a baby. It was after a big storm
and there’d been a lot o’ shipwrecks and she was lashed to a spar.

  BER. Where was it?

  CYN. Near some foreign port. I forget where. At first he thought she
was probably a foreign baby, but as she grew older he declared her
folks must have been good Yankees. At any rate he has made a good one
of her. (_Suddenly noticing him._) Why, Cap’n Berry, what’s the matter?

  BER. (_pulling himself together_). Nothin’, Miss Cynthy, nothing
but a memory. I’ll say good-night again, but not good-bye. Somehow,
something tells me that you ain’t goin’ ter leave us after all.
(_Exit_, C. _Outside._) Port your hellum, Nathan. All aboard!
                            [_Exit_ CYN., R., _with some of the dishes_.

  (_There is a knock at the door. The knock is repeated._ ABNER FREEMAN
    _enters_, C. _He is about fifty, tall and straight, iron gray hair
    and beard; is rather nervous and inclined to be irritable._)

  ABNER (_as he enters_). Cynthy! Cynthy!

                    _Enter_ CYN., R., _hurriedly_.

  CYN. Land, it’s you, Cap’n Abner?

  ABNER. Yes. Is Cranberry here?

  CYN. No, he has been here but he is gone. Hasn’t been gone but a few
minutes though.

  ABNER. Couldn’t catch him such a night as this if he hadn’t been gone
but a minute.

  CYN. Dreadful, ain’t it?

  ABNER. Couldn’t be much worse. I hear you are leaving in the morning,
Cynthy. Doesn’t seem as if there was any need of that.

  CYN. Doesn’t seem so, does it? I have about decided that it isn’t
right.

  ABNER (_sharply_). Isn’t right? What do you mean by that?

  CYN. Why, this has always been my home and I think father would want
me to stay in it.

  ABNER. Your father? What are you bringing him up for? He’s dead. You
don’t know what he would want.

  CYN. (_surprised_). Goodness, Cap’n Abner, you are touchy to-night.

  ABNER. Foolishness always makes me touchy. I suppose some simpleton
has hinted to you that your father was cheated or something and if you
had what was rightfully yours you wouldn’t have to leave.

  CYN. (_astonished_). Why, Cap’n Abner, have you gone crazy? No one
ever dreamed of such a thing.

  ABNER. ’Twould be just like them! (_Abruptly changes the subject._)
Have you heard that Ariel is at home?

  CYN. (_guardedly_). Yes, I heard.

  ABNER. Nat Williams has come home to-night, too.

  CYN. (_shortly_). Has he? Why do you name them two almost in the same
breath?

  ABNER. Good couple to name together.

  CYN. To your way of thinking, perhaps.

  ABNER (_walking toward door_). It’s a mighty good way. (_Turns
uneasily and comes back._) See here, Cynthy, if you want me to, I’ll
lend you some money to keep you going until you can get some more work
of some kind.

  CYN. Why, Cap’n Abner, that’s more’n kind of you.

  ABNER. I’d be glad to do it. I was always a good friend of your
father’s. You know that, don’t you?

  CYN. Yes, indeed. Father thought everything of you.

  ABNER. Well, how much do you want?

  CYN. Not anything. I appreciate your kindness but I couldn’t do that.

  ABNER. Better do it. I’m perfectly willing.

  CYN. No. No, thank you.

  ABNER (_walking to door_). Well, just as you like, but don’t say I
didn’t offer to help you. Good-night.

  (_Exit_, C. CYN. _stands looking after him puzzled for a second; then
    she walks to fireplace, turns and looks about the room slowly,
    repeats softly._)

  CYN. “This is my home in foul weather as well as fair. The fog is
lifting and the Keeper of the Beacon is sending me brighter rays to
steer my course.”

  (_Suddenly and determinedly takes the pictures and vases from box and
    places them back on the mantel._)

  OBADIAH DANIELS (_knocking on the door_). I say, Cynthy! This is
Obed! Kin I come in a minit? (_Enters_ C. _He is small and wiry, white
hair and whiskers._) Land, Cynth, I’m nearly drowned! Sech a night an’
the queerest thing’s happened. Fer the love of Admiral Farragut will
you lend me a lantern?

  CYN. (_laughing_). I’ll lend you one for love of yourself, Obed. We
don’t need to go way back to Admiral Farragut.

  OBAD. I wish you meant that, Cynth. ’Tain’t no way to joke with me
’bout love. I should think you’d be ashamed to. You know I’ve been
dying of love for you ever since we learned our a-b-abs together.

  CYN. ’Tain’t love that ails you, Obed, it’s indigestion. You fell in
love with my lunch pail years ago and thought it was me. You never have
got over your love for my--lunch pail!

  OBAD. By tunket, that ain’t fair, Cynth. I come over here to-night to
tell yer there ain’t no need of your leavin’ Bay Point. If--if--you’d
jest take a pardner into your business--you--you know I’m ready--more’n
ready--hev been fer years.

  CYN. Don’t, Obed! Please! You are kind. I know how kind, and you
deserve a good deal better partner than I would ever make.

  OBAD. I’d be satisfied. I shouldn’t fret ’bout that a mite.

  CYN. I thought you came for a lantern, Obed.

  OBAD. No, I wuz comin’ anyway, but I decided I needed a lantern.
Fog’s so thick you can’t cut it with an axe and somebody’s stolen my
pipe.

  CYN. (_astonished_). What?

  OBAD. Ever hear tell o’ sech a thing?

  CYN. (_staring at him_). Never!

  OBAD. Land sakes, Cynth, be you struck?

  CYN. I don’t know but I am, or else everybody else is. How did it
happen?

  OBAD. Why, I wuz walkin’ along an’ some one runs up behind me, puts
his hand in my pocket and then kites off fast as he could go. At first
I was so s’prised I didn’t know what had happened, an’ then after a
second I puts my hand in my pocket an’ my pipe wuz gone. I suppose he
thought he’d got my pocketbook.

  CYN. I ain’t so sure o’ that. You’re the third I’ve heard about
that’s had their pipes took this evening.

  OBAD. (_at the top of his voice_). What? Well, fer the love o’
Admiral Nelson who’s the others?

  CYN. Lemuel Sawyer and Cap’n Cranberry.

  OBAD. Wal, sufferin’ cats! I’m goin’ right over ter Lem’s! Must be a
lunatic loose in Bay Point, an’ gosh all fog horns, he’ll murder some
one in this fog ’fore he gets through!

  CYN. Wait a second! I’ll get you a lantern!

  (_Exit_, R. OBAD. _walks about very much upset_. CYN. _re-enters with
    lantern_.)

  OBAD. (_grabbing it and starting for the door_). Much obleeged!

  CYN. Obed, you sent word you had somebody to take this house for me.

  OBAD. Yes, I hev, Cynth, some folks up to Barnstable.

  CYN. (_slowly_). Well, tell them please the place ain’t for rent any
longer.

  OBAD. Hey? How’s that? You mean somebody else has took it?

  CYN. No. I’m going to stay myself.

  OBAD. You? Why, I thought you couldn’t. What’s happened? Air you
goin’ ter hev some more work to do?

  CYN. (_hesitating a second_). Ye-es, I’m going to have some more work
to do.

  OBAD. (_curiously_). What are you goin’ ter do, Cynth?

  CYN. I--I can’t tell you to-night.

  OBAD. Secret, eh?

  CYN. Yes, a secret jest now. I’ll tell you later.

  OBAD. Wal, I kin wait, I reckon. I’m mighty glad you’re goin’ ter
stay. Good-night, Cynth.                                     [_Exit_, C.

  CYN. Good-night, Obed. (_Locks the door; goes to fireplace; picks
up box; carries it out_ R.; _reënters; goes to mantel; winds a clock;
goes to center table; picks up lamp; starts toward stairs; stops; half
turns back; repeats softly_.) “The fog is lifting and the Keeper of
the Beacon is sending me brighter rays to steer my course.” (_Suddenly
speaks impatiently._) Cynthia Tinker, you sartain are the biggest fool
that walks! (_Starts toward the stairs._)

  LEE GORDON (_knocking at door_). Oh, I say! The house! (CYN. _turns
back and listens, startled._) Is anybody home? (_Knocks again._) May I
come in?

  CYN. (_uncertainly_). Who--is it?

  LEE. You won’t know if I tell you. I’m a stranger around here. I’m
lost and I want some one to tell me where I am at.

  CYN. (_putting lamp on table, then slowly unlocking and opening
door_). You sound all right. I’ll risk it even if you are a stranger in
Bay Point. Come in!

_Enter_ LEE. _He is about twenty-one, very slight and boyish in
    appearance and manner. Decidedly likeable._

  LEE (_with a gasp_). Thanks! (_Slams the door._) My name is Gordon.
Lee Gordon. (_Leans back against the door._) I never was so nearly all
in!

  CYN. I don’t wonder. I don’t know when we ever had sech a night. Go
over by the fire and get dry. And hev something to eat.

  LEE (_going toward table_). Great! I could eat a whale!

  CYN. (_taking teapot from table_). I’ll get you some hot tea!
                                                             [_Exit_, R.

  LEE (_hurrying to door, opening it and speaking cautiously_). Pete!
Are you there? Come up into the shelter of the door and I’ll let you
in as soon as I can. (_Shuts door; hangs coat on chair by fire._ CYN.
_reënters with tea; pours him a cup. He sits down by table._) Say, but
you are kind! I’ve heard about the Cape Cod folks before, and now I can
well believe what I have heard. It’s great of you to do this. How do
you know but what I’ll murder you and get away with the silver?

  CYN. I’ll risk it. If you want to murder me for a butter knife and
seven teaspoons, go ahead. That’s all I got that’s solid.

  LEE. Thanks for the tip. I guess it isn’t worth while. In return for
your hospitality I will tell you the history of my bright young life.
I’m an artist and I have come down the cape looking for a place to stay
a while and do some sketching. I have made the trip in an auto, and I
should have had sense enough to have stayed in Orleans over night. I
didn’t realize how bad the storm was going to be.

  CYN. Where’s your car?

  LEE. Anchored somewhere above here. I simply couldn’t make it budge
another inch so I had to come on afoot. (_Rises._) I’ll have to find
lodgings. Gee! (_Looks about._) I hate to go on. Say, you couldn’t
consider----(_Hesitates and looks at her doubtfully._) I don’t suppose
you would think of such a thing as--as----

  CYN. As taking you in?

  LEE (_eagerly_). That’s what I meant. Of course it’s awfully nervy of
me but I do like this little house--and--and I like you, too. You have
been so mighty kind. It seems almost as if I was sent right here.

  CYN. (_looking at him with a staring look_). It does seem that way,
that’s a fact. You can stay.

  LEE. Honest? You mean just over night, or as long as I please?

  CYN. As long as you please.

  LEE (_joyfully_). Say, but that’s great! Gee! What luck!

  CYN. (_rising suddenly_). Ain’t it? I’ll go right up and see about
your room.

       (_Exit_, R. _Reënters with a lamp and exits by stairs._)

  LEE (_looking after her, goes to door_, C., _and opens it_). Pete!
Quick! Come in!

_Enter_ PETER POMEROY, C. _He is about_ LEE’s _age; inclined to be
    stout and usually very good-natured, but now he is decidedly out of
    patience_.

  PETER. Say, of all the----

  LEE. Hush! I’m going to stay here! Did you ever hear such luck?

  PETER. Never! Where am I going to sleep? In the shade of the pump in
the back yard?

  LEE (_glancing uneasily toward stairs_). No, I’ll try to get you
up-stairs for to-night. The landlady seems to be alone here and she
will never know the difference.

  PETER (_going to table_). And you had some eats! Do you know what
h-o-g spells?

  LEE. Hush! Will you? Here! (_Opens door_, L., _cautiously and looks
out_.) Get in here out of sight! (PETER _grabs some food from table_.)
Now, don’t move until I say the word. (_Pushes him toward door._)

  PETER (_as he exits_ L.). Sure! Fido doesn’t come till he’s called.

                      _Enter_ CYN., _by stairs_.

  CYN. It’s all right, Mr. Gordon. I’ll get you some towels and then
you can go right up.

  (_She exits_ R. _Lee rushes to door_, L., _and pulls Peter into
    room_.)

  LEE. Pete! Quick!

  PETER. For heaven’s sake! I had just got settled to eat lunch!

  LEE. Up the stairs, quick! (_Pushes him toward stairs._) I’ll be
right up!

  PETER (_starting to go up-stairs, turns back_). Say, I forgot to tell
you I got three. (_Takes three pipes from his pocket._)

  LEE (_impatiently_). Three what? Oh, pipes! Three pipes already! Good
work, old fellow! This is going to be some adventure.

  PETER. Huh? I should worry about the adventure. I want my stomach
filled up and a night’s sleep!
                             [_Exit by stairs, eating a piece of bread._

      _Enter_ CYN., R., _and hands_ LEE _a lamp and some towels_.

  CYN. Now, you can go right up; first door on the right.

  LEE. If you knew how much I appreciate your kindness. Why, it’s too
good to be true. (_Starts toward stairs._) I think I must be dreaming.

  CYN. Not yet.

  LEE (_looking back and laughing_). But soon! Good-night.

  CYN. Good-night. (LEE _exits by stairs. She stands looking after
him._) Well, Cynthia Tinker, maybe you ain’t such a fool after all!


                                CURTAIN




                                 ACT II


           SCENE.--_Same as in Act I. The next morning._

  (_The table is set for breakfast._ CYN. _and_ LEE _are seated at the
    table. The center door is open. It is a bright sunlight morning._)

  CYN. More coffee, Mr. Gordon?

  LEE (_passing her his cup_). Don’t care if I do, Miss Tinker. Do you
know, I am positive that I am dreaming!

  CYN. I ain’t sure but I am myself. This has all been rather sudden.

  LEE. That doesn’t express it, Miss Tinker. When I think of all the
things that have happened since I left Orleans yesterday noon, I feel
as if I had been struck by a landslide, and landed right side up in
Paradise.

  CYN. Land, Mr. Gordon, that ain’t no way to talk.

  LEE. Isn’t it? Well, if these muffins aren’t heavenly, I never struck
anything that was. The only thing that worries me is a fear that you
will regret your kindness in taking in a derelict, and want to withdraw
from your part of the bargain. Do you? I hate like time to give you the
opportunity, but I know I took advantage of the storm to get a shelter
last night. Do you want me to release you?

  CYN. I ain’t said anything about it, have I?

  LEE. No, but you certainly are taking a chance. You haven’t even
asked me for references.

  CYN. No, I’m taking you on faith, and if I’m satisfied to do it I
shouldn’t think you need to worry.

  LEE (_reaching across the table and shaking hands with her_). Miss
Tinker, you’re a brick! I feel just as if I had come to visit my aunt,
or something. I hope you will never regret your kindness. (_As_ CYN.
_passes him the plate of muffins_.) No, don’t. Have mercy. If I eat
another mouthful I shall have to be helped from the table. (_Rises._)
That’s the best breakfast I ever ate, and believe me, the landlady is
way ahead of the breakfast.

  CYN. Land sakes, that’s no way to talk to a woman my age. What do you
think of the view from here?

  LEE (_going to door_). Perfectly corking. It cleared off great,
didn’t it?

  CYN. Think this will be a good place for your work?

  LEE. Yes, if you happen to have a window on the back looking out onto
a nice quiet little hen-house.

  CYN. (_astonished_). What on earth do you mean? You don’t want to
paint a hen-house, do you?

  LEE. Paint a----(_Suddenly realizes what she means._) Oh, no, no, of
course not! I get you now! You--you don’t understand me, of course.
Well, I have to work where there’s nothing to look at.

  CYN. Land o’ goshen, what do you paint?

  LEE (_airily_). Oh, anything, any little thing I take a fancy to.
I have a good long look at it, and then I paint it from memory. If I
should look at the object I was painting I shouldn’t paint, I should
just sit and look.

  CYN. Well, I never heard the beat!

  LEE. Odd, isn’t it? I suppose you have heard of the impressionist
art. Well, I belong to a new line. It’s called the memorist art.

  CYN. You don’t say? Well, folks are never satisfied. They’re always
getting up something new. Land, if you’re so newfangled as all that
(_glancing at table_), I don’t know as I’ll be able to suit you.

  LEE (_starting toward stairs_). I should worry! I may have an
up-to-date line of art, but I’ve got an old-fashioned stomach.
                                                      [_Exit by stairs._

  CYN. (_looking after him and smiling_). Land sakes!

          (_She takes some dishes from table and exits_, R.)

       _Enter_ SAM., C., _in his school suit, cap and sweater_.

  SAM. Miss Cynthy! Miss Cynthy! (_Stops and listens, then goes to
table._) Gee! Muffins!

  (_Puts one in his pocket, and starts to eat another. He goes to door,
    listens; to stairs, listens; takes two pipes from his pocket, looks
    about uncertainly, puts one in the pocket of_ LEE’s _raincoat which
    still hangs over chair by fire. He still looks about uncertainly;
    goes to table; opens the sugar-bowl, puts other pipe in, and
    puts cover on. He then runs out_, C. _Slight pause._ LEE _comes
    half-way down-stairs_. CYN. _enters_ R. _with a pan but without
    noticing_. CYN. _exits_, C.)

  LEE (_looking up the stairs_). Come on! Hurry up! She has gone out
but she is apt to come back!

                      _Enter_ PETER _by stairs_.

  PETER. Say, how long do you suppose I am going to stand this “come
on, hurry up” business? You seem to think I’m a regular little baseball
ready for you to bat around whenever you happen to be in a playful mood.

  LEE. There, don’t be peeved. Didn’t I get you a shelter from the
storm? Now, get out, quick, and come back later, and ask Miss Tinker to
board you. It’s best we should be in the same house but whatever you
do, don’t let on that you know me.

  PETER. Don’t fret! I wish I didn’t. I’m not at all proud of the
acquaintance. (_Goes to table._) The way you always manage to get next
to the eats is a caution.

               (_Eats a muffin and pours some coffee._)

  LEE. We must get to work just as soon as possible. I’ve got to throw
a bluff about the artist business. Say, what are you going to pretend
you are doing in Bay Point?

  PETER. Don’t let that worry you!

  LEE. Well, you don’t want to choose the same thing I have.

  PETER. Say, you make me tired! You haven’t got the only crop of
brains on earth. I guess I can think up something for myself, and you
just bet it won’t be any such silly line of labor as you are engaged in.

  (_Takes all the muffins from the plate and exits_, C. LEE _stands
    looking after him a second and then slowly exits by stairs. Slight
    pause._)

                           _Enter_ HEP., C.

  HEP. Cynthy! Cynthy! (_Looks about, goes to door_, R.) Where are
you? (CYN. _enters_ C., _with a pan of potatoes_.) Oh, there you are!
I couldn’t hardly wait to swallow my breakfast. Obed Daniels came over
last night an’ he said you’d got some more work an’ weren’t goin’ ter
leave after all. I wouldn’t ’a’ been ten seconds gettin’ here if it
hadn’t been for the night. Did yer ever see sech a storm as we had last
night? I wuz scared to come over agin. How’d you happen ter git work
after I left, Cynthy? Weren’t it dreadful sudden?

  CYN. Yes, it was rather sudden.

                (_Sits down and pares some potatoes._)

  HEP. And my land, how did you happen ter get work on sech a night?

  CYN. The storm sent the work to me.

  HEP. (_astounded_). The storm sent it? Cynthia Tinker, what air you
goin’ ter do?

  CYN. Well, I suppose you might as well know one time’s another. I’ve
taken a boarder.

  HEP. (_with a little scream_). A boarder! Cynthy Tinker, who? Fer the
land’s sake, tell me before I die!

  CYN. Hush!

                       _Enter_ LEE _by stairs_.

  LEE. Pardon me, Miss Tinker.

  CYN. That’s all right. Mr. Gordon, this is one of my neighbors, Mrs.
Sawyer.

  LEE. Delighted, I’m sure.

  HEP. (_all eyes_). Land sakes, I’m pleased to be acquaintanced.

  LEE (_taking his coat from chair_). I think I’ll go up shore and see
what has become of my car.

  HEP. I hope you will find it there all right.

  LEE. Oh, it’s there! I’m not worried about that. What troubles me is
how I’m going to get it here. [_Exit_, C.

  HEP. (_breathlessly_). Cynth--is that--you ain’t never--do tell--my
land!

  CYN. Well, Hepsy, are you overcome?

  HEP. I--I am! Cynthy, is that young flip your boarder?

  CYN. Yes.

  HEP. Where--where did he come from?

  CYN. Out of the storm last night.

  HEP. You ain’t telling me that you’ve took in a stranger?

  CYN. No, I’m not telling anything. You are doing the telling, but
it’s what I did.

  HEP. What do you know about him?

  CYN. He paid me a month in advance. I don’t need to know any more.

  HEP. Well, I’m beat! I never heard the match! Where did he come from,
and what did he come for?

  CYN. You will have to ask him a few things yourself. I haven’t known
him very long.

  HEP. Well, if he’d stayed in my house over night I’ll bet I’d have
known.

  CYN. (_impatiently_). Do you think we sat up all night?

  HEP. And do you know, I wuz so upset when Obed told me about you
gettin’ some work, an’ he didn’t know what, said it wuz a secret. My
land, I thought I should go out o’ my head, I wuz so upset. I forgot
to ask him about that family who wuz coming without any furniture. It
went clean out o’ my mind until he’d gone out an’ then it come over me
all to once. I made one leap for the door and opened my mouth good and
wide to yell Obed! An’ jest then a gust o’ wind and rain come round
the corner an’ knocked my breath clean down my throat. I thought I
wuz a goner fer a second, but the thought o’ them people without any
furniture brought me to, but by that time Obed hed gone an’ I don’t
know yet who they be.

  CYN. (_dryly_). That certain is a pity, Hepsy.

  LEMUEL SAWYER (_outside_). Hepsy! Hepsy! Be you in there?

  HEP. Yes, Lem! What is it?

_Enter_ LEM. _He is tall and angular; about forty years old, and
    self-important._

  LEM. Mornin’, Miss Cynthy. I hear you ain’t leavin’ us after all.

  CYN. No, I’ve decided to stay.

  HEP. Lem Sawyer, what do you suppose Cynthy has up an’ done?

  LEM. I swan, I give up. You wimmen folks is likely ter do most
anything. What now?

  HEP. She’s took a boarder. A teetotal stranger! Took him right out o’
the fog last night.

  LEM. Well, that ain’t the only queer thing that wuz done in the bay
last night. Where’s Samuel?

  HEP. Samuel? Mercy sakes, gone to school, I suppose. (_Looks at
clock._) No, ’tain’t time yet. I don’t know where he is.

  LEM. Well, I got to get holt o’ him before he gets into school. Come
an’ look for him!

  HEP. What on airth has he been up to now?

  LEM. Nothing. I got to find out some more ’bout that pipe business. I
guess fer once there wuz more truth than poetry in what he told. There
wuz seven pipes stole last night.

  HEP. }
  CYN. }(_together_). Seven?

  LEM. Yep! An’ the post office wuz broke into!

  HEP. What?

  CYN. Mercy sakes!

  LEM. I guess there ain’t been sech doin’s in this town fer quite a
spell. I reckon as constable o’ Bay Point I’m goin’ ter be pretty busy.
By the way, Cynthy, you say you’ve took a stranger in? Where does he
hail from?

  CYN. Why--why, he didn’t say. Land sakes, Lem, he’s nothing but a
boy. You wouldn’t go to suspecting any one jest because they was a
stranger in town.

  LEM. I dunno. I’ll be back later. I got to keep my eye on everybody,
strangers especially.

  HEP. That’s right, Lem. I see this little flip that’s boardin’ with
Cynthy an’ I don’t like the looks of him at all. I wouldn’t trust him
as fur as I could heave a cat!

                     (_Exit_, C., _followed by_ LEM.)

  CYN. (_indignantly, following them to door_). Hepsy Sawyer! (_Stands
looking after them a second, and goes slowly back to table. She
suddenly discovers the empty muffin dish._) My land! Two dozen muffins!

                 (BER. _sticks his head in the door_.)

  BER. (_at the top of his voice_). Fresh mackerel!

  CYN. (_turning with a start_). Land sakes, Cap’n! Is it you?

  BER. (_laughing and stepping in_). I reckon it is! You didn’t go
after all?

  CYN. No, I didn’t. Cap’n Berry, it’s the strangest thing. After you
left last night, I--I got to thinking about what you said. It was
enough to set anybody thinking and the more I thought about it, the
more I believed you were right and finally I said jest what you told
me to, and I put back all the things I had been packing and made up my
mind to stay right here. Then I said it again, and I was jest thinking
that I was making a terrible fool of myself, when there comes a knock
at the door, and a young fellow comes in out of the storm and wants to
board with me.

  BER. (_smiling_). Yes?

  CYN. My land! Is that all you are going to say? Aren’t you surprised?

  BER. No. It was odd the way it happened, but something, you know, was
bound to happen.

  CYN. Well, I’m beat! I ain’t got over it yet.

  BER. (_taking her hand_). I’m glad, Miss Tinker, glad as I can be,
an’ now you jest keep your eye on the Beacon and you will make port all
right. Like your boarder?

  CYN. Oh, yes, he’s a nice little fellow with a real taking way, if
I can only keep him filled up. If he eats everything the way he eats
muffins I don’t know. Ain’t you over early, Cap’n?

  BER. Yes, rather. The constable telephoned fer me to come over
soon’s I could. Seems to have been a good deal goin’ on last night.
Post-office robbed and seven pipes took.

  CYN. You didn’t find yours then?

  BER. No.

  CYN. Ain’t it the queerest thing?

  BER. Seems kind of that way. I’ll look in agin before I go back to
the point. I’d kind of like to get a look at your boarder.

  CYN. Well, I guess you won’t be the only Bay Pointer taken that way.
I expect the whole town before the day is over.

  BER. (_laughing_). Shouldn’t wonder. Well, I’ve got a special reason
for wantin’ to see him. (_Heartily._) I’m glad, Miss Cynthy, more’n
glad!                                                        [_Exit_, C.

  (CYN. _clears the remaining things from the table and exits_ R.,
    _leaving sugar bowl and pitcher of water on the table_. PETER
    _knocks several times at door, and finally steps in_. CYN.
    _enters_, R., _and looks at him in surprise_.)

  CYN. Land sakes! I thought I heard some one knocking.

  PETER (_with a low bow_). Yes, madame, I knocked but receiving
no response to my vociferous attack upon your door, I took the
unprecedented privilege of entering your charming domicile, I will not
say unheralded but unbidden.

  CYN. (_staggering_). Well, for the mercy, wh-what--did you want to
see me?

  PETER. If you rejoice in the euphonious name of Cynthia Tinker, it is
you I seek. Are you Miss Tinker?

  CYN. Good land, yes! What on airth do you want?

  PETER. I seek a place to satisfy the cravings of the inner man. Also
a place to rest my weary brain.

  CYN. I should think likely your brain would be weary. I don’t seem to
understand yet what it is you’re driving at. If you’d jest tell me kind
of plain like what you want of me.

  PETER. I would like to board with you.

  CYN. (_staggered_). What?

  PETER. Alas! Is that not plain enough? How can I say it in a more
simple form? I would like to sleep in one of your rooms, eat of your
delicious muffins.

  CYN. Muffins? What do you know about my muffins?

  PETER. In faith not much, but you have a look about you which tells
me that you are an expert at muffins.

  CYN. (_half convinced_). Whatever made you come here?

  PETER. I met a lady somewhat loquacious, but seeming n’ertheless to
know whereof she spoke, who advised me to come.

  CYN. Is that so? Must have been Hepsy Sawyer. Hum! Mighty free about
advising people to go to other people’s houses. What did she say?

  PETER (_doubtfully_). You really wish me to tell you?

  CYN. (_grimly_). Yes, every word.

  PETER. Let me think. She said inasmuch as you had been foolish enough
to take in one poor silly imitation of a man, you might be crazy enough
to accommodate as big a fool as I appeared to be.

  CYN. Indeed? To pay her for that I will take you. If I’m going to
have the reputation of running a lunatic asylum I might as well have
plenty of inmates. Who be you?

  PETER. Peter Pretzel Pomeroy. (_Bows low._)

  CYN. For the land----

  PETER. From Brookline, Mass.

  CYN. What are you going to do here? Write poetry stuff about the sand
dunes and the ocean?

  PETER. Alas, no! I am no poet. I am an agent for the Holton-Holland
Co. I am demonstrating a useful little household article, called the
Ladies’ Little Charm. No housekeeper can possibly be happy without one.

  (_Takes a clothes sprinkler from his pocket and shows it to her._)

  CYN. For the land--what is it? Looks like the top of a pepper-pot.

  PETER. You have never seen one?

  CYN. (_hesitating_). No-o, I guess not. What is it for?

  PETER. Oh, joy! Oh, bliss! Oh, rapture! They haven’t reached Bay
Point yet. I’m the first on hand. This, dear madam, is a clothes
sprinkler. (_Takes a bottle from his pocket._) If you will just let me
fill this with water, I will show you how it works. (_Takes pitcher
from table._) Is this water or champagne? Water, of course! (_Fills the
bottle and puts on the sprinkler-top. He then places a handkerchief on
table._) Spread your clothes on the table and sprinkle lightly, wets
them all over the same. It can likewise be used to sprinkle the floor
(_illustrating_) before sweeping. To water the flowers!

  CYN. For the land sakes, stop! There won’t be a dry spot in the house!

  PETER. Likewise to shampoo the hair.

      (_Waves the bottle over his own head and then over hers._)

  CYN. (_desperately_). If you will stop I will buy one.

  PETER. You, madame? Never! I give this to you from the depths of a
grateful heart. (_Bows and places it on the table._) Just show it to
your friends. (_Abruptly changing the subject._) What room do I occupy?

  CYN. Why, come right up and see! (_Goes toward the stairs followed
by_ PETER.) The best room is taken but I guess I can satisfy you maybe.

  PETER. Not the least doubt of it, madame. To be fortunate enough to
secure a room in your house is like finding the dime in a birthday
cake.                                          [_They exeunt by stairs._

  (_Slight pause._ ARIEL _enters_, C., _in a white linen dress, with a
    cap and sweater_.)

  ARIEL. Miss Cynthy! Miss Cynthy!

                            _Enter_ LEE, C.

  LEE (_stopping and regarding her in astonishment_). Ariel!

  ARIEL (_doubtfully, as she turns toward him_). Why--why--it’s Lee,
isn’t it? (_As he moves toward her._) Why, I can’t believe it can be!

  LEE (_taking her hand_). And I can’t believe it is you! Why, Ariel,
how do you happen to be here?

  ARIEL. My eyes are troubling me and I had to come home.

  LEE. Home? My heaven, Ariel, is Bay Point your home?

  ARIEL. Yes. Didn’t you remember?

  LEE. No. I remembered it was Cape Cod but I didn’t remember the town,
and to think that I have come to your home! Ariel, it seems years since
I have seen you.

  ARIEL. Why did you leave New Haven without seeing any of your friends?

  LEE. I know what you must think of me. Things looked too black
against me, but, Ariel, I am not as black as I was painted. I have
come down here to start all over again. I have been told that I have
a brilliant future ahead of me along a certain line. I have splendid
opportunity, and I am going to make good or die. Do you understand why
I’m so anxious to make good? Did you understand before--before the
smash came, how much I cared for you? And I dared to hope that you
cared a little, too. Did you, Ariel?

  ARIEL (_breathlessly_). Oh, you mustn’t talk this way!

  LEE. Can’t you give me just a word of hope to encourage me to work? I
will never bother you. I will never ask anything of you until I prove
to you that I am straight. Ariel, didn’t you care just a little?

  ARIEL (_softly_). Yes.

  LEE (_joyfully_). Ariel!

  ARIEL. Oh, why did I say that? I have no right to offer you any
encouragement.

  LEE (_stepping toward her_). Ariel----

  ARIEL. Hush! I hear some one coming. (_Suddenly._) Why, Lee, I was so
surprised to see you that I never thought. Have you taken this house?
Has Miss Cynthy gone?

  LEE. Gone? Of course not! I am boarding with her.

  ARIEL. Boarding with Miss Cynthy? Why, you can’t be! She was going
away.

_Enter_ CYN. _by stairs_.

  LEE. Well, here she is to answer for herself.

  CYN. Oh, it’s you, Arey? I wondered who was talking down here. Do you
know Mr. Gordon?

  ARIEL. I have met him before. He went to Yale and my school is near
there, you know. We have met at--at some social affairs.

  CYN. (_delighted_). Well, now, that’s real pleasant, ain’t it? I have
taken another boarder, Mr. Gordon. I hope you don’t mind.

  LEE. Not at all. The more the merrier. Who is it?

  CYN. I don’t believe I can ever remember what he said. It’s Peter, I
am sure of that much, and he sells clothes sprinklers for a living.

  ARIEL (_amused_). What?

  LEE (_astounded_). Good lord!

  CYN. Real kind o’ comical, ain’t it?

  LEE. I should say it was!

  ARIEL (_taking up the bottle on the table_). Is this one of them?

  CYN. Yes, and it works real kind of cute, too.

  LEE (_looking at it_). Good-night! Oh, Miss Tinker, I got my car up
here and I was going to ask you if it would be all right to run it into
this little house out back here?

  CYN. Why, yes, if it’s big enough.

  LEE. Just about right, I think. Thank you. I will see you later, Miss
Freeman.

  ARIEL. Good-morning, Mr. Gordon. (LEE _exits_, C. ARIEL _goes to_
CYN. _and throws her arms around her_.) Oh, Miss Cynthy, you aren’t
going after all! Wasn’t it dreadful sudden, your taking Mr. Gordon?

  CYN. Well, it was rather unexpected. He was hunting around in the fog
last night for a place to stay, and he came here, and after he got here
he didn’t want to leave.

  ARIEL. Wasn’t that wonderful?

  CYN. (_with a curious smile_). Yes, I think it was kind of.

  ARIEL. I’m so glad. I never needed you so much in my life as I do now.

  CYN. What’s the matter?

  ARIEL. Nat Williams came home last night. It--it seems that before
he sailed this last time father about the same as promised him that I
would marry him after I graduate.

  CYN. Arey, what are you talking about?

  ARIEL. What am I going to do?

  CYN. As you please, of course. Your father is crazy.

  ARIEL. It’s so hard. I want to please father and there isn’t a thing
in the world against Nat. He is a good man and doing well.

  CYN. There’s lots of good men doing well in this world, but that
don’t make it out you got to marry them all.

  ARIEL. I just can’t make up my mind to marry Nat.

  CYN. Of course you can’t. (_Decidedly._) You are too young to marry
any one.

  ARIEL. Why, lots of girls younger than I am marry.

  CYN. Well, because some folks is foolish----(_Suddenly stops and
looks at her._) Land o’ goshen, Arey, there ain’t some one you want to
marry, is there?

  ARIEL (_faintly_). I didn’t say so.

  CYN. Who is it?

  ARIEL. No one in Bay Point, Miss Cynthy. And it can’t ever come to
anything. He is just the kind that father wouldn’t approve of.

  CYN. I never knew it to fail.

  ARIEL. And I’m so unhappy. (_Begins to cry._)

  CYN. (_dryly_). Of course! Dyin’ of a broken heart!

  ARIEL (_reproachfully_). Why, Miss Cynthy!

  CYN. (_going to her and putting her arms around her_). There, child,
you know I’m sorry for you. Only you’re so young, it seems so kind of
foolish for you to be talking about marrying any one.

  ARIEL. I haven’t got any mother--and--and--(BER. _enters_, C.,
_unnoticed_) dad’s going against me, and--if--if--you don’t stand by me
I’ll die!

  CYN. There, child----(_Suddenly notices_ BER., _who is trying to make
a quiet exit._) Oh, it’s you, Cap’n?

  ARIEL (_springing to her feet_). Oh!

  CYN. It’s Cap’n Berry!

  ARIEL (_trying to choke back her tears_). Good-morning.

  CYN. Go in my room, dearie. [_Exit_ ARIEL, L., _hastily_.

  BER. (_awkwardly_). I’m sorry I happened----

  CYN. That’s all right, Cap’n. I guess you think women folks are
always crying.

  BER. That’s their privilege and safety valve. There’s times when the
men would like durned well to cry, but they swear instead. Wha-what did
she mean about her--her father’s going against her?

  CYN. Oh, she didn’t just realize what she was saying. I don’t believe
Abner would ever really go against her. He worships the ground she
walks on, but he is acting queer all of a sudden.

  BER. What’s the trouble? Of course ’tain’t none of my business, but
sometimes an outsider can help, unexpected like, you know.

  CYN. I’m afraid no outsider can help in this. It looks like some
trouble between Arey and Abner. He’s set on her marrying Nat Williams.

  BER. Cap’n Williams that sails for Howland Gordon o’ Boston?

  CYN. Yes.

  BER. Well, he’s said to be a likely sort o’ chap, ain’t he?

  CYN. Oh, yes, but you don’t believe in a girl’s being forced to marry
a man she doesn’t care for, do you, even if he is a likely sort of chap?

  BER. Is Cap’n Abner forcing her?

  CYN. I don’t know as he is exactly, but he’s terrible set on it, an’
I don’t see why. He’s had two spells before this of trying to induce
her to say “yes” to Nat. It’s terrible queer. He tries to make her feel
that she owes everything, even her life, to him, and it’s her duty to
obey.

  BER. (_frowning_). Oh, he does, eh? Then she knows she ain’t really
Freeman’s daughter?

  CYN. Oh, yes, she knows it, but she doesn’t realize the difference.
She wasn’t more’n a year old when he found her.

  BER. Never had no clues as to whom her own folks was?

  CYN. No, I guess not, although I think I’ve heard tell he has some
things that were on her, a locket or something, I don’t remember what.
He’s been a good father to her all these years. I can’t imagine what
ails him now. Well, there’s lots o’ queer things in this world, and
lots of unhappiness. (_Suddenly._) Well, if I’m going to get dinner
for--land, Cap’n Berry, I forgot to tell you. I’ve taken another
boarder.

  BER. Well, you are rushing things, ain’t you? Say, Miss Tinker, do
you know anything about the young chap you took in last night?

  CYN. No, not a thing!

  BER. Seems a good sort of fellow?

  CYN. He certain does. He’s got a real taking way with him.
(_Alarmed._) What’s the matter, Cap’n Berry?

  BER. Well, of course there was considerable excitement in town last
night, and of course a stranger always causes a lot of talk, and his
coming mysterious like----

  CYN. (_interrupting_). There wasn’t nothing mysterious about it fur’s
I can see.

  BER. Well, some people look at it different, especially Hepsy
Sawyer. That woman’s got a northeast gale blowing off the end of her
tongue fresh every hour. Anyway they’ve got it going that this chap
you’ve took in may be concerned, and I expect you will have the whole
crowd down here in a few minutes.

  CYN. My land, Cap’n Berry, that boy never had nothin’ ter do with it
in this world. He is as innocent as--as--as a little ba-a lamb. Cap’n
Berry, you don’t believe that I did wrong in taking him in? You know
you--you----

  BER. Yes, I know, and I think you done jest right. I know you
wouldn’t have taken a stranger in if it hadn’t been for what I said,
and don’t you worry a mite, Miss Cynthy, no matter what any one says,
I will stand by you. Where is your boarder? I’d like to have a look at
him.

  CYN. He’s out in the back yard trying to get his car into father’s
old carpenter shed. Come out and see him.

                                         [_Exit_, R., _followed by_ BER.

_Enter_ LEE, C. _He wears his raincoat_. PETER _comes
down-stairs_.

  LEE (_joyfully_). Well, old man, you got in?

  PETER (_with dignity_). Certainly. I should worry but what I could
get into any place where they would take you. Have you heard the
excitement in town this morning?

  LEE. No, I have been up shore after the car. What’s going on?

  PETER. Seven pipes were stolen last night.

  LEE. Seven? Why, you said three.

  PETER. I said I took three.

  LEE (_puzzled_). Well--but----(_Staggered_.) You don’t mean to say
some one else look the other four?

  PETER (_looking surprised_). Why, I supposed you were the some one
else!

  LEE. Well, you have another think. I know absolutely nothing about
it. I left that part of the job to you, and why--great heavens, Pete!
Seven pipes? Just the number we planned on taking!

  PETER. Exactly. That’s why I thought you had a hand in it.

  LEE. But what do you make of it?

  PETER. I don’t make. We wanted a mystery. We’ve got it! The sooner we
get to work the better.

  LEE. That’s right.

  PETER. I’ll go out and see if I can hear something more.

  LEE. Good idea, but whatever you do, don’t let on that you know me.

  PETER. Don’t fret about that. I never saw you before.

    (_Exit_, C. LEE _looks after him a second and exits by stairs_.)

_Enter_ NAT WILLIAMS, C. _He is tall, dark complexioned, about
    thirty-five, and rather self-important. He has the appearance
    of always getting what he goes after. He glances about._ ARIEL
    _enters_ L.

  NAT (_rushing forward and taking her hand_). Ariel! I have been
chasing all over Bay Point after you. Hepsy said she thought you came
down here. I couldn’t wait to see you again.

  ARIEL (_with an effort_). How do you do, Nat?

  NAT. I couldn’t realize my good luck when I heard you were at home,
although of course I am sorry about your eyes. I wish you would tell me
that you are glad to see me.

  ARIEL. Why, of course I am always glad to see old friends.

  NAT. That is too impersonal. I want you to say you are glad to see me.

  ARIEL. You are somewhat exacting, aren’t you?

  NAT. Ariel, don’t talk to me that way. I can’t stand it. You know how
much I care, and you must try to care, too.

  ARIEL. Must?

  NAT. You understand what I mean.

  ARIEL (_wearily_). Haven’t we been all over this before?

  NAT. We have several times, and we are going over it again and again.
I have thought of you all this home trip, little dreaming that I was
coming straight to you. I thought I should have to wait until summer
before I saw you again. Now that I haven’t got to wait I don’t intend
to lose one minute.

  ARIEL (_impatiently_). I shouldn’t say you did.

  NAT. There is no one in my way. I’ll make you care for me.

  ARIEL (_angrily_). Will you, indeed? Do you expect to do it by
yourself? I guess you will have to call for help.

  NAT. Your father will give me all the help I need.

  ARIEL. This is something he cares nothing about.

  NAT (_growing angry_). You know better than that.

  ARIEL. Oh, what’s the use? We always quarrel. Why start it again?

  _Enter_ ABNER, C.

  NAT. Captain Freeman, would you mind saying to your daughter what you
said to me last night?

  ARIEL. Oh, never mind about it. Don’t trouble yourself, father. I can
imagine what you said, and I can be just exactly as happy if I don’t
hear it.

  ABNER. Ariel, I don’t want you to go to acting this way with Nat.
You just make him mad, and I don’t wonder. Sometimes you are enough to
make St. Peter swear. Nat wants to marry you, not now, but when you
graduate. I don’t see any earthly reason why you shouldn’t promise to.
Nat’s a fine fellow and doing well. You haven’t anything against him?

  ARIEL. Certainly not, but I don’t care to promise myself to any one.
Graduation is quite a long ways off yet.

  ABNER. Ariel, I don’t very often ask anything of you. I don’t
remember that I have ever asked any very special thing. Don’t you think
it’s your duty to do this first thing that I ask?

  ARIEL. Oh, dad, how can you make such a request in such a way?
(_Bursts into tears and runs out_, R.)

  ABNER. Well, Nat, this looks mighty foolish to me. If a girl won’t,
she won’t.

  NAT. Do you intend to let her do as she pleases?

  ABNER. Let her? Good lord, do you expect me to force her into a
marriage with you?

  NAT. Don’t you feel that you owe me some recompense?

  ABNER. Well, great heaven, won’t anything but Ariel satisfy you?

  NAT. No.

  ABNER (_angrily_). Well, I must say you----

  NAT (_quietly_). Captain Freeman, what were you doing in the
post-office last night?

  ABNER (_starting_). In the post-office?

  NAT (_pointedly_). Yes, long after it closed?

  ABNER (_growing angry_). What do you mean?

  NAT. Just what I say. I know you were there. There is no use in
denying it.

  ABNER (_beside himself_). Why, you--do you mean to insinuate----

  NAT (_calmly_). Just explain your presence there. (_Slight pause._
ABNER _remains silent_.) You didn’t find what you were looking for,
did you? I was before you, Captain Freeman. Before I sailed this last
time, I made a midnight visit to the post-office myself, but I covered
my tracks. I think something must have scared you off before you had a
chance to pick things up.

  ABNER. You dare to tell me that you entered the post-office?

  NAT. Oh, yes, you won’t say anything about it. If you did I should be
obliged to show the papers I went after, and you wouldn’t have any one
see those papers for a farm.

  ABNER (_desperately_). I don’t know what you are driving at.

  NAT. Oh, yes, you do. See here, Captain Freeman, all in this world I
want is your influence with Ariel. This is a mean way to get it, I’ll
admit, but I want the girl and I don’t care how I get her.

  ABNER. And if I refuse to bother Ariel any more what is it you are
threatening?

  NAT. Why, I don’t know as I have exactly threatened anything.
Threatened isn’t a nice word. Of course you know that you owe as much
to Miss Tinker as you did to my father. I don’t know exactly how you
would come out if the thing was to go to court, but as long as Miss
Cynthy is in need of money it looks to me like a question of honor on
your part. I understand she is about to leave town to look for work.

  ABNER (_snapping the words out_). She isn’t going! (_Beside himself
again._) If you think you can frighten me you are mistaken! I
absolutely deny that I was inside the post-office last night.

  NAT. Oh, well, of course if you are going to take that stand I
shall----

  ABNER (_warningly_). Hush!

                     _Enter_ LEM. _and_ OBAD., C.

  LEM. Oh, you are here, Cap’n Freeman?

  OBAD. (_all out of breath_). We’ve hunted all over town for yer. Fer
the love of John Paul Jones, stay put fer a while until we see if we
can get at any facts to help us.

  LEM. What’s become o’ Cap’n Cranberry, an’ where’s Miss Cynthy?

            _Enter_ CYN. _and_ BER., R. ARIEL _enters_, R.

  BER. We’re here, Lem. What’s the matter?

_Enter_ HEP., C., _dragging after her_ SAM., _who is not at all willing
    to be dragged_.

  HEP. Lem, here’s Sammy! I’ve chased all over town and I declare ter
goodness I’m----

  LEM. Never mind where you’ve chased, as long as you got him.

  HEP. And I had to drag him every step of the way. He wuz bound he
would not come.

  SAM. (_fearfully_). I ain’t got nothin’ ter tell, dad!

  LEM. You will tell all right if I get after you.

  SAM. You always said not to tell things, an’ I ain’t got nothin’ to
tell.

  HEP. Ain’t he the beatenest young one!

  BER. (_picking_ SAM. _up_). You keep him frightened to death all the
time. He will tell all about who took the pipe from him when you get
ready to hear it.

  LEM. Miss Cynthy, you hev taken a boarder?

  CYN. I have taken two.

  HEP. Two? You don’t ever in this world mean that you have taken in
that crazy----

  LEM. Hepsy! Will you hush up? I don’t mean that fellow that’s just
come to town this morning selling clothes sprinklers. I mean that
fellow who was prowling around Bay Point last night in the fog.

  CYN. (_indignantly_). Who says he was prowling?

  LEM. I say so. Prowling around----

  BER. Oh, belay there, Lem! There weren’t nothin’ a stranger could do
last night but prowl around. It was hard enough for us folks that lives
here all the time.

  LEM. Well, maybe so, Cap’n, but we hev got to inquire what he was
doing. (_Importantly._) In fact we got to inquire into everybody’s
business that was out last night. It ain’t so much those durned pipes,
though it certainly beats tunket who took them, but the post-office was
broken into, you must remember, and Obed’s safe was broke open.

  OBAD. (_excited_). Gosh all fog horns, yes! And, Abner, I found your
pipe on the floor right by the safe.

  ABNER (_staggered_). What? I don’t believe it!

  OBAD. (_handing him a pipe_). Yes, sir! Yours all right! I know your
pipe as well as I do my own.

                  _Enter_ LEE _by stairs, unnoticed_.

  ABNER (_breathing hard_). Do you--do you mean to say that you think
that I----

               (_Glances at_ NAT _and stops abruptly_.)

  LEM. Why, o’ course not! The idee, Cap’n Freeman! We know you ain’t
in no ways concerned, but don’t you see? It goes to show that the
fellow that stole the pipes broke into the post-office?

  ABNER (_with a sigh of relief_). Oh!

  LEM. And now I want to see this boarder of yours, Miss Cynthy.

  LEE (_stepping forward_). Am I the one you wish to see?

  LEM. I guess you be. I suppose you have heard tell all about what
happened in town last night?

  LEE (_bowing_). Yes.

  LEM. Well, we want to find out everything we can ’bout sech a
mystery, an’ we feel obleeged to inquire about any strangers who came
ter town last night.

  LEE. I see. Well, my name is Lee Gordon. I came down the Cape from
Boston in my auto. I am going to do some sketching.

  LEM. So? Want tew know! Wal, can you inform me if you went near the
post-office last night?

  LEE. I may have. I don’t know.

  LEM. Do you know your glove when you see it? Them’s your initials?
L. G.?

                (_Hands_ LEE _a heavy driving glove_.)

  LEE. Yes, this is my glove. Where did you find it?

  OBAD. (_dramatically_). I found it on the post-office steps.

  ALL. What?

  LEE. I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t be surprised to know that I
visited the meeting-house. I couldn’t tell where I was going.

  BER. Of course you couldn’t. This is all foolishness.

  LEE. Of course if you want to believe I was mixed up in the robbery
just because you found my glove on----

  (_He is carrying his raincoat on his arm and as he speaks he
    impatiently flings it over onto the other arm and the pipe which_
    SAM. _put in the pocket drops to the floor_.)

  HEP. My land! What’s that?

  OBAD. (_at the top of his voice_). It’s a pipe!

  (LEM. _picks it up and examines it_. LEE _looks at it in
    astonishment_. SAM. _looks frightened and begins to edge toward the
    door._)

  BER. Well, by tunket, hasn’t the fellow a right to own a pipe?

  LEM. He has sartain, one o’ his own, but I can’t no wise see that he
has any right to yourn, Cap’n Berry.

              (_Hands it to_ BER., _who is completely staggered_.)

  ALL. What? Did you ever? It is! Cap’n Cranberry’s!

  SAM. (_thinking things are moving in a manner favorable to him, opens
sugar bowl_). And here’s another in Miss Cynthy’s sugar bowl!

  ALL. What?

  CYN. (_dropping into a chair_). Mercy sakes!

  HEP. Land, Cynthy’s overcome!

       (_Grabs clothes sprinkler from table and sprinkles_ CYN.)

  LEM. (_to_ LEE). Wal, now what hev you got to say, young man?

  LEE. Absolutely nothing. I haven’t words equal to this occasion.

  LEM. What room did he sleep in last night, Miss Cynthy?

  CYN. (_sufficiently recovered to be indignant_). I shan’t tell you.
He never had nothing to do with this in the world, never!

  LEE (_gratefully_). That’s mighty kind of you, Miss Tinker, but it is
also foolish. (_To_ LEM.) My room is up-stairs, the first on the right.
                                               [_Exit_ LEM. _by stairs_.

  OBAD. Wal, I cal’late there ain’t much more ter be said.

  ARIEL (_stepping forward_). Well, there is a whole lot more. Mr.
Gordon is a friend of mine.

  ALL. What? He is?

  HEP. Do tell!

  ABNER. Well, how long since?

  ARIEL. Quite a long time since.

  ABNER. Is that so? Queer I never heard of him before. Where did you
meet him?

  ARIEL. At a friend’s in New Haven while Mr. Gordon was at Yale.

  NAT. If you knew Mr. Gordon at Yale perhaps you know how he happened
to leave college?

  ARIEL. Yes, I know. He left under circumstances which didn’t look
favorable to him but none of his friends believed he was at all to
blame, any more than I believe it now.

  HEP. Well, do tell!

  NAT. Mr. Gordon always seems to be found under circumstances which
look anything but favorable to himself.

  ABNER. How do you happen to know this fellow, Nat?

  NAT. He is the son of Howland Gordon, the man I sail for. After he
was expelled from Yale he went to work for his father. He is just
leaving his father under circumstances which don’t look favorable.

                     (LEM. _comes down the stairs_.)

  OBAD. Find anything, Lem?

  LEM. Yes, by Crismus, three more pipes! (_Shows them._)

  ALL. What? You don’t say? Let’s see!

  CYN. (_overcome_). My land! My land!

  HEP. (_applying clothes sprinkler_). There, Cynthy! There!

  LEM. (_to_ LEE). Well, young man, I guess I’ll arrest you!

  LEE (_with a shrug of his shoulders_). All right! Go ahead!

  BER. (_wrathfully_). Yes, go ahead, and I’ll bail him out!

  LEE. I’ll admit that you have plenty of evidence against me, but here
comes a man who can at least explain my connection with those pipes.
(_Points to the pipes in_ LEM.’s _hand_.)

                          _Enter_ PETER, C.

  PETER (_stopping short and looking at the assembled company in
astonishment_). By my faith, I didn’t know it was old home week!

  LEM. (_to_ PETER). Young man, what do you know about this fellow?

  PETER (_innocently, pointing to_ LEE). What do I know? About him?
Absolutely nothing! I never saw him before in my life!

  (LEM. _claps his hand on_ LEE’s _shoulder and walks him to the door_.
    CYN. _is overcome and_ HEP. _again applies the clothes sprinkler_.)


                                CURTAIN




                                ACT III


SCENE.--_A room in_ ABNER’S _old fish-house, supposed to be on the
  shore. There is one exit_, L. _An old-fashioned bureau_, R. _A doll’s
  house. Some rag rugs on the floor. Some old chairs. An old lounge_,
  L., _front. A hammock. On a stage where it is possible there should
  be a large door in the center with a view of the water beyond. An
  impression of the room being up-stairs would add to the scene_.

    (_As the curtain rises_, SAM. _stands by the exit listening_.)

  ABNER (_outside_). Come up-stairs, Nat! (SAM. _gives a frightened
look around the room and crawls under the sofa_. NAT _and_ ABNER
_enter_.) This is a good place to talk things over. Hardly any one
but Arey ever comes up here. (_If there is a door_ C., _he throws it
open_.) There’s a fine view from here. On a clear day you can see way
down to High Land. This used to be Arey’s playhouse.

  NAT (_looking about_). Well I know that. We boys used to come up here
to tease the girls because the cake that went with the tea parties
appealed to us. It was here I fell in love with Arey. It was here I
first asked her to marry me.

  ABNER. I’m sorry, Nat, that Arey doesn’t care for you.

  NAT. It’s plain to see now why she doesn’t care.

  ABNER. Nonsense!

  NAT. No nonsense about it. Look at the way she took the part of that
darned little sand peep. Well, I’ll make her see what he is before I
get through.

  ABNER. You are crazy jealous, Nat. Don’t make a fool of yourself.
Ariel is good-hearted and impulsive, and quick to take the part of any
one who is in trouble.

  NAT. She wouldn’t help me if I was dying.

  ABNER (_impatiently_). Well, perhaps she wouldn’t! Might as well say
one thing as another. It’s a waste of time and energy to argue with a
man who is madly in love and insanely jealous.

  NAT. Are you going to let her take up with this little crook and
throw me over?

  ABNER. Crook is a strong word, Nat. The boy may have been expelled
from college, and may be in wrong with his father, but he didn’t break
into the post-office last night. I think it is more than likely that he
called there in his efforts to find a boarding place. I was scared off
by some one’s knocking on the door.

  NAT (_with an exclamation of satisfaction_). Ah! Then you admit that
you were the one who entered the post-office?

  ABNER. Certainly. I don’t know how I am going to pull out, but I
can’t let this fellow face a charge of which I am guilty. How did you
know I was there?

  NAT. After we had our little talk last night, I guessed you would go
there and I followed you. I thought you might be interested in looking
over Cap’n Obed’s old papers.

  ABNER. Yes, I was. Well, now we will face the situation. I have
several times offered you money which you have refused to take.

  NAT. I’m not interested in money. I’m doing well enough. You know
what I want.

  ABNER. Yes, I do know. You want me to actually force my daughter into
marrying you.

  NAT. Well, why not? You admit I am all right. There is no reason why
she wouldn’t be happy with me.

  ABNER. And in case I refuse, just what are you going to do?

  NAT. Well, of course I don’t suppose you want all your old friends
and neighbors to know how you cheated my father and old Joel Tinker,
and of course now there is Miss Cynthy.

  ABNER. Well, I can’t see any way of giving her money without telling
the whole thing.

  NAT. The land this building stands on is hers, isn’t it?

  ABNER. I’m not saying just what belongs to her. (_Suddenly and
determinedly._) See here, Nat, if you can show me a way out of the hole
I am in, I will see what I can do with Arey.

  NAT. That sounds like sense. Get Ariel to give me her promise and
I’ll hand over the papers I stole from Obed’s safe last winter, and you
will never hear another word from me.

  ABNER. Well, what about last night? I was a tarnation fool.

  NAT. I’ll take the responsibility of it. I’ll say that I did it. I’ll
hatch up an excuse of some kind. I don’t suppose you really made away
with anything? (_Laughs._)

  ABNER. It isn’t at all likely. Obed will find all his stuff after a
while. I couldn’t very well speak up and tell him where I put the money
box.

  NAT. Well, if he doesn’t find it, you can tell me, and I will tell
them where it is when I get around to a confession.

  ABNER. Well, that will pull young Gordon out of the post-office
business, but it doesn’t make it out he didn’t steal about six pipes.
Mine is accounted for.

  NAT. Oh, Gordon is up to something. That’s the kind of a little snipe
he is. His father has nothing but trouble with him. How soon will you
see Arey?

  ABNER. Right off. I don’t see that we have provided any way to
straighten things out with Miss Cynthy.

  NAT (_easily_). Well, she has managed to pull along all these years.
Why fret now? What she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her.

  LEM. (_outside_). Cap’n Abner, are you up there?

  ABNER (_going to door_). Yes.

  OBAD. Well, for the love o’ Admiral Dewey, listen to this! (_Enters,
followed by_ LEM.)

  LEM. Say, Obed has discovered that there weren’t nothin’ took from
the post-office last night.

  OBAD. Gosh all fog horns, no! I found the money box! Not a cent gone!
Everything upset from one end the place to the other, and nothing took!
That young Gordon chap must be a lunatic. Cranberry has gone his bail,
but I reckon he ought ter be in an asylum instead o’ traveling around
loose.

  LEM. Wal, it’s the durndest piece o’ business I ever heard tell on,
and everybody don’t believe he took all those pipes even if there is so
much evidence against him. Some says it was a big fellow and some says
it was a little one.

  OBAD. I stick to it the man that stole my pipe wuz a little bit of a
feller. He up behind me and put his hand in my pocket (_illustrating as
he talks_) an’ scat before you could so much as wink.

  LEM. Yes, an’ Jim Hincks says he wuz a big feller.

  ABNER. And Sammy said so once, and then he shied off and wouldn’t say
much of anything.

  OBAD. No wonder. The way Lem talks at the kid is enough to frighten a
whale.

  LEM. An’ Cranberry didn’ know when his pipe was took and wouldn’t say
nothin’ if he did. He’s took an awful shine to Miss Cynthy’s boarder.

  OBAD. Say, suppose we find the feller and tell him we found out he
didn’t take nothin’ from the post-office an’ see what he says.

  ALL. That’s right. Good idee!

  LEM. Maybe he’ll own up ’bout the pipes if he finds out the charge
agin him ain’t so serious.

  OBAD. Maybe so, but it’s my opinion the feller is plumb crazy.

  (_They all start to exeunt._ ARIEL _comes to door followed by_ HEP.)

  ARIEL. Father, are you here? (_Stops abruptly._) Oh, a meeting of the
vigilance committee? Is Sammy up here?

  ABNER. No.

  ARIEL. Hepsy can’t find him, and sometimes he comes up here when I am
home, you know, so I thought perhaps he was here.

  HEP. My land! I’ve been all over town. I’m beat out. He didn’t go to
school and I ain’t seen him since he was over to Cynth’s this morning.

  OBAD. By tunket, I don’t blame the kid. He will run away some o’
these days an’ never come back, an’ it’ll serve Lem durned right.

  LEM. (_angrily_). What in thunderation would I do? Let him grow up to
be a teetotal liar?

  OBAD. Gosh all fog horns, yes, if he wants ter be! Half the world
gets their living that way!

             (_All exeunt but_ ARIEL. ABNER _comes back_.)

  ABNER. You are going to stay up here, Arey?

  ARIEL. I think so, dad, a little while. I haven’t been up here since
last summer.

  ABNER (_uneasily_). You--you were always happy up here, little girl?

  ARIEL. Yes, dad, and happiest when I knew you were down-stairs.

  ABNER. And I was happy when I knew you were up here. Arey, I have
tried to be a good father to you and give you a happy home.

  ARIEL (_going to him and putting her arms around him_). You have,
dad! You have! No girl could ask for a kinder father or a happier home.

  ABNER. And I want to know you are going to have a happy home when I’m
gone. Arey, Nat’s really in love with you.

  ARIEL (_turning away from him_). Oh, father!

  ABNER. If you knew it meant a good deal to me, would you tell him
yes? To please me? To help me? He could give you a good home. Could
make you happy.

  ARIEL (_slowly turning to him_). Do you mean--there is a--a reason
why you want me to marry Nat? That I really could help you by marrying
him?

  ABNER. Yes, that’s what I mean.

  ARIEL. I can’t understand how such a thing can be, but if that is the
case I will do it for you, if you will tell him I don’t care for him
and explain the reason I am marrying him. Will you do that?

  ABNER. Yes.

  ARIEL (_turning away_). Very well.

  ABNER (_stepping toward her_). Arey!

  ARIEL (_with an effort_). Dad, will you go away please and leave me
alone?

  ABNER (_hesitating a second_). Very well.

  (_Exits with bowed head._ ARIEL _gives a long sigh, goes to_ C. _door
    and stands looking out for a second, then goes to doll house,
    opens door and takes out a large doll. She goes to bureau, unlocks
    a drawer, takes out a small box. Suddenly leans forward on the
    bureau, her head on the doll._)

  ARIEL. Oh, Alicia, has it come to this? (SAM. _crawls cautiously out
from under sofa. He steals toward the hammock and throws a pipe into
it, then starts for door._ ARIEL _suddenly turns_.) Who is it? Who is
there?

  (_She starts forward._ SAM. _hastily crawls under sofa again_. ARIEL
    _walks forward with the little box in her hand_.)

  BER. (_outside_). Ship ahoy! Anybody on deck?

  ARIEL (_going to door_). Father isn’t here, Captain Berry. I’m up
here alone.

  BER. That so? Can I come up?

  ARIEL. Why, certainly, if you like. (BER. _enters_.) This is my
playhouse up here. I have spent the happiest days of my life up here
in this old room. I think I have spent the only happy ones I will ever
know.

  BER. Nonsense! That’s a pretty way for a young girl like you to be
talking, jest when you got all your life before you.

  ARIEL. I wish I didn’t have. I wish this was the last day of my life.

  BER. (_aghast_). Miss Freeman, you don’t know what you are saying.
Something must have happened to pretty much upset you. You don’t look
like a coward. I can’t somehow believe you are one.

  ARIEL (_surprised_). A coward?

  BER. It’s only a coward, a pretty contemptible one at that, who would
rather die than face what’s coming to him.

  ARIEL (_suddenly standing straight and throwing her head up_). You
are right. I didn’t think of that. Thank you, Captain Berry. That was
just what I needed to hear. You--you spend a good deal of time over
here in town, don’t you?

  BER. (_smiling_). Is that a reflection on my duties as keeper of Bay
Point Light?

  ARIEL (_hastily_). Oh, no, no, no! I didn’t mean that. I was just
thinking that you must like our town. I know you have an assistant, and
any one doesn’t have to meet you but once to realize that your duty
would stand before anything else in the world.

  BER. (_pleased and touched_). Why, Miss Freeman, I thank you for that
from the bottom of my heart. You can’t understand how much I appreciate
that coming from you.

  ARIEL. Why from me, especially? Oh!

              (_Drops the little box and a little ring._)

  BER. (_picking them up and looking at the ring fascinated_). What is
this?

  ARIEL (_slowly_). That--that is a link, Captain Berry. The only
connecting link between Ariel Freeman and the girl she really is.

  BER. (_breathing hard_). What do you mean?

  ARIEL. I suppose you know I’m not Captain Freeman’s daughter?
Everybody knows.

  BER. Yes, I’ve heard.

  ARIEL. That little ring is the only thing which could throw any light
on who I really am. That was on my finger, and that was absolutely all
there was to help.

  BER. How did this help?

  ARIEL. There is a name engraved inside the ring.

  BER. (_slowly_). And the name is Alicia.

  ARIEL. Why, who told you that?

  BER. (_realising what he has said_). Why--why--it’s right here!
(_Hastily examines the ring._) You can see it for yourself!

  ARIEL. You have wonderful eyes. I have always known what the name
is, and I have hard work to trace it. You see what a curious little
old-fashioned ring it is; it has a German mark in it. Captain Freeman
traced this to a German jeweler who in 1878 engraved the name Alicia
in a baby ring for a Mrs. Emerson. The address was a hotel in Berlin.
Father moved heaven and earth to trace it still further, but that was
all he ever found out. He decided that my mother must have been Alicia
Emerson, but whom she married, who my father is, will probably always
remain unknown. Somewhere in the world I may have a mother--a father.

  BER. You have been happy here?

  ARIEL. Oh, yes, indeed. I couldn’t have had a kinder father than
Captain Freeman. Gracious, Captain Berry, I can’t imagine why I have
told you all these things! I never speak of them to any one but
Miss Cynthy. Somehow you seem to be the kind of man one tells their
innermost secrets to. It was so kind of you to help Lee Gordon this
morning.

  BER. Nonsense! Nothing kind about it. Justice, that’s all. He ain’t
any more guilty than I am.

  ARIEL. You really think so?

  BER. Certain! One look at his face will tell you that.

  ARIEL. But the evidence against him? Such a lot of it!

  BER. By tunket, the circumstantial kind or I’ll eat my hat.

  ARIEL. Why, Captain Berry (_suddenly grabbing pipe from hammock_),
look! Here’s a pipe in my hammock! What in the world----

  BER. (_taking pipe_). Jumping jingoes! Seth Mason’s! Got his name on
it!

  ARIEL. I thought some one was up here just before you came up. It
seemed to me that some one who was small was moving around. I was over
by the bureau and I can’t see across the room, you know. I was startled
for a second and by the time I got my senses together to cross the room
they were gone.

  BER. Um! So? (_Looks about. Crosses room away from_ ARIEL. _He
suddenly stoops and looks under sofa._) This is a queer mix up, ain’t
it? (_Bell rings._) What’s that?

  ARIEL. That’s the house bell. Dad had it connected so we could hear
it when we were over here and Hannah was out. I think she is out now, I
will just run over to the house if you will excuse me.

  BER. Certain! (ARIEL _exits_. BER. _goes to sofa_.) Come out! Come
out here, I say! It’s no use, Sammy! I have caught you square! You
might as well come out! All right then! I’ll bring you out myself.
(_Reaches under sofa and pulls_ SAM. _out by one foot_. SAM. _yells and
kicks_.) Belay there! That ain’t no way to act with your old uncle. I
ain’t going to hurt you. (_Sits down on sofa and holds_ SAM. _in his
arms_.) Now hush up, and tell Uncle Cran the whole business.

  SAM. (_struggling to get away_). No! I ain’t got nothin’ to tell!

  BER. Oh, yes, you have, Sammy! Sit still! You tell Uncle Cran what
you stole all those pipes for. I was the only one in the room that was
watching you this morning, and I guessed somewheres near the truth. You
were frightened when that pipe fell out of Mr. Gordon’s pocket, and
then when you found that no one was going to suspect you, you opened
up the sugar-bowl and took the other one out, and now you just brought
this one up here and put it in Arey’s hammock.

  SAM. (_thoroughly frightened_). Pa will kill me!

  BER. No, he won’t. Now listen, Sammy, this whole thing has got to
come out some way. Your father will get it out of you, and you know how
he will get it. Now, you tell me the truth and I’ll promise you that I
will make things right with your father. I won’t let him touch you. You
can trust me, can’t you?

  SAM. (_holding him around the neck_). Yes, Uncle Cran.

  BER. Well, then, when did you get a chance to go up into Mr. Gordon’s
room and leave those three pipes there?

  SAM. I didn’t take those.

  BER. (_reproachfully_). Now, Sammy, I said if you told me the truth.

  SAM. That’s the truth, Uncle Cran! I took this pipe, and the one in
the sugar-bowl and the one in Mr. Gordon’s pocket, but I didn’t take
the others.

  BER. By Crismus, you look as if you were telling a straight story.
Why in the name o’ all that’s sensible did you steal any of the pipes?

  SAM. Well, a man took dad’s away from me, an’ maw didn’t believe
it and I knew there wouldn’t any one believe it, and pa whales the
stuffins out of me for telling things and--and--I thought if some more
people lost their pipes he’d believe me. So I stole three and--and--pa
had to believe me.

  BER. (_striking his knee_). Well, by tunket, if that ain’t one on
Lem! (_Suddenly looks serious and speaks half to himself._) But belay
there, Cranberry! You ain’t got but half the story yet! There’s those
other pipes! Well, Sammy, I’ll pull you out of this some way, although
I don’t know as it’s the right thing for me to do.

  SAM. (_stretching_). Oh, I’m awful tired! I been layin’ under this
sofa awful long. More’n an hour, more’n three hours, I guess. Nat
Williams was up here an’ Cap’n Abner. Say, Uncle Cran, it was Cap’n
Abner that broke into the post-office last night.

  BER. (_at the top of his voice_). What?

  SAM. He was hunting for a paper. And--and--Cap’n Abner cheated
Miss Cynthy. Nat said the land this house stands on belongs to her,
and--and--Cap’n Abner cheated Nat’s father, too,--and--and--Cap’n Abner
is going to make Miss Arey marry Nat--and--and--she cried over there
(_pointing to bureau_) on top of her doll--and--and--I guess I don’t
remember any more.

  BER. Well, that’s quite sufficient if it’s truth you are telling.

  SAM. Of course it is! I wouldn’t tell you any stories, Uncle Cran.

  BER. (_a trifle dazed_). All right. Now listen, Sammy, you forget
this stuff you have been telling me jest as soon as ever you can. Don’t
you breathe a word of it to a living soul. If I ever hear that you
have, I’ll forget to make peace with your father, and there won’t be
any more trips with me over to the Point to visit the light.

  SAM. Oh, I’ll never tell, Uncle Cran! Honest! Hope to die!

  BER. All right. Now you go and find Cap’n Abner and tell him that I
am up here and want to see him. Then you go home as hard as you can
pelt. Your mother is looking for you.

  SAM. (_exits_). All right, Uncle Cran.

  (_Slight pause._ BER. _sits on the sofa looking down at the floor_.)

  BER. Great jumping jingoes!

                       _Enter_ LEE _and_ PETER.

  LEE. Captain Berry, I was just talking with Miss Freeman and she said
you were up here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kindness
to me. I don’t see how you ever happened to stand by a stranger the way
you did.

  BER. I guess it was because you are Miss Cynthy’s boarder.

  LEE. Captain Berry, this is Mr. Pomeroy and (_laughing_) he is the
best friend I have got on this earth.

  BER. (_shaking hands with_ PETER). Well, he certain didn’t act the
part this morning.

  PETER. Entirely his own fault, I assure you.

  LEE. Say, Captain, may we talk with you for a little while?

  BER. Certain! Glad to have you. Sit down.

  LEE. You have proved such a good friend that we are tempted to make a
clean breast of things and tell you our part in this affair.

  BER. Heave ahead! If you can throw a search-light on the mystery it
will be a good thing.

  LEE. It is true that I have been expelled from college and that I’m
in trouble with my father.

  PETER (_heartily_). He isn’t to blame in either case, Captain Berry.

  LEE (_to_ PETER). Thanks, old man. (_Turns to_ BER.) When I was at
Yale I was connected with a college magazine and I have several times
been told that I had a great future ahead of me as a newspaper man
or magazine editor. My friend Pomeroy here had to leave college last
year because an invalid uncle who had brought him up was dying. The
uncle left Pete all his money and when I got into a mess with dad,
Pete suggested that he buy a magazine he had heard about that was on
its last legs and see if we could give it a brace. I jumped at the
chance. It was what I would most like on earth. Pete bought it and we
have started to publish and edit a startling fiction magazine called
_The Red Cap_. For a starter we have announced a serial detective
story--“The Mystery of the Seven Pipes.”

  BER. Well, by tunket!

  PETER. It’s going to be the greatest thing on record. We write all
but the last chapter and offer a prize for the best solution of the
mystery. Gee! Folks run after the first issue as if it was soothing
syrup and they had a kid with the colic. I had been down on the Cape,
so I suggested that we lay the scene down here somewhere.

  LEE. And to give local color I suggested that we come down and carry
out some of the story ourselves. Last night when we arrived there was a
thick fog and it seemed a good chance to make a start. We drew lots and
it fell to Pete to steal the pipes.

  PETER. We planned on stealing seven but I only got as far as three.

  LEE (_laughing_). For the love of Pete, have you any idea who took
the other four?

  BER. Yes, by tunket, I have! This beats the Dutch and no mistake!
You go find Obed and Lem and tell them what you have told me. Then you
bring them back here and we will clear up the mystery.

  LEE (_jumping up_). Done, by jingo!

  PETER. Lead us to it!                                  [_They exeunt._

                   (_Slight pause._ ABNER _enters_.)

  ABNER. Did you send Sammy after me?

  BER. Yes, I did. I’ve got something to say to you and I thought this
would be a good place up here. Cap’n Freeman, I’m Ariel’s father.

  ABNER (_staggered_). What? What do you mean? (_Suddenly growing
furious._) What kind of a trick is this? Do you expect me to take your
word for it? What’s your game?

  BER. (_calmly_). I married Alicia Emerson twenty years ago this
month. Two years later she and our year old daughter made a trip with
me. We ran into a storm and were wrecked. My wife’s body was recovered.
The child’s was not. I supposed her dead, of course. She wore a ring, a
ring that had been her mother’s. It had her name, Alicia, engraved in
it, also the mark of a German jeweler and----

  ABNER (_hoarsely_). Enough! How long have you known this?

  BER. I guessed it last night when I saw Alicia’s face in your
daughter. I made sure of the truth this afternoon.

  ABNER. Well, what are you going to do? She is under age. The law
would give her to you, I suppose. Are you going to take her away from
me after all these years?

  BER. You love her?

  ABNER. How can you ask such a question? She is all I have! Ask any
one in Bay Point. Ask the girl herself!

  BER. (_quietly_). And yet loving her you ask her to marry a man she
doesn’t love. Kind of curious, ain’t it?

  ABNER (_furiously_). Now see here, Cranberry, that’s my business.

  BER. (_decidedly_). It’s mine, also. She is my daughter. If you will
not give the girl happiness, I will take her from you and give it to
her myself.

  ABNER (_desperately_). You mean that--that----

  BER. Just this! Drop this Nat Williams business and never take it up
again, and give Miss Cynthy Tinker what you owe her.

  ABNER. What do you know about Cynthy Tinker?

  BER. What does it matter? I know you have been cheating her for
years. Do you want me to go into details?

  ABNER (_hastily_). No. Supposing I refuse?

  BER. Well, it will be my gain. I shall be able to find a little
happiness with my daughter. I only had her a year. I only had her
mother two years. Then they were both taken from me at the same time.
I’ve had a lonely life, always at sea or keeping a light on some dismal
point. Often when the gales have come and the storms have lashed around
the old house and there’s been nobody but jest old Cranberry and his
pipe, I have looked around my lonely settin’ room and wondered how it
would seem to have Alicia on the other side of the fire and a little
girl on the floor near by.

  ABNER. My heaven, Berry, I hadn’t thought of your part of this!

  BER. No, we usually get our own point of view. Mighty seldom we get
the other fellow’s.

  ABNER. And if--if I agree you are willing to swear you will not take
the girl?

  BER. On my word of honor. You do love the girl after all.

  ABNER. But great heaven man, I can’t square things with Cynthy Tinker
without having people know the facts. Nat will tell.

  BER. Why don’t you do the telling yourself? If you have been cheating
perfectly innocent people I think you will find that confession is a
good thing for a guilty conscience. Anyway you have two paths to choose
from, and you know what is at the end of each.

  (LEE _and_ PETER _rush in_, ARIEL _follows_. OBAD. _and_ NAT. _and_
    LEM., CYN. _last with a letter in her hand_.)

  LEE. Well, Captain, we have told them! And it didn’t kill them
either!

  PETER. Yes, they rejoice in all the horrible details.

  OBAD. Gosh all fog horns I should say we did! Did any one ever hear
the like? A story! “Mystery of the Seven Pipes!”

  LEM. I always said writers wuz half cracked. I never was so sure of
it as I am this minit! But the mystery ain’t all cleared by a long
sight. Mr. Pomeroy only took three pipes. Who took the other four?

  BER. I suppose, Lem, as constable of Bay Point, you would like to
have the mystery cleared up?

  LEM. I sartain would, and then I could go back to work at something
sensible.

  BER. Well, I’ll tell you what you want to know if you’ll jest do me a
little favor.

  LEM. (_puzzled_). Why, sartain, Cap’n, always glad to do anythin’ fer
you.

  BER. Well, Sammy took three pipes.

  ALL. Sammy?

  LEM. My Sammy?

  OBAD. Gosh all fog horns!

  BER. Mr. Pomeroy stole yours from Sammy. You wouldn’t believe the
boy, he was afraid of you and he took some pipes on his own hook to
make his story sound true.

  OBAD. Rev. Mr. Peters said he was smart and by Crismus, he is! He’s
too smart fer you, Lem!

  LEM. Wal, he’ll find out how smart I am when I get home.

  BER. Lem, you promised me a little favor, you know?

  LEM. Sure!

  BER. You are not to touch Sammy.

  LEM. (_astonished_). I’m not to---- (_Suddenly stops and grins._)
Well, all right. You’ve got me, Cap’n. You always did spoil that kid.
Wal, there’s still another pipe.

  ABNER. Yes, mine. I dropped it when I broke into the post-office last
night.

  ALL. What? You? Abner!

  OBAD. Fer the love o’ Admiral Sampson what fer?

  ABNER (_steadily_). I wanted to find some old papers in a business
deal between your father and me. I suppose you remember that your
father sold me this whole shore property here?

  OBAD. Yes, sartain.

  ABNER. Well, I found out right after I bought it that half the land
didn’t belong to him to sell. There was a mistake in his title and
some of the land belonged to Nat’s father and some of it belonged to
Miss Cynthy’s father.

  CYN. Land o’ goshen!

  ABNER. They didn’t seem to know. They must have thought old Mr.
Daniels knew what was his property. I didn’t say anything. You know why
I wanted the property and the money I have made here. I knew if they
realized this land was theirs they wouldn’t have sold. They would have
used it themselves. I knew I had a good thing and I kept it. I made
a pile and I kept them from their chance of making money when shore
property was worth its weight in gold. That day has long gone by, but
I’m ready to pay Miss Cynthy whatever seems right. I’ll leave it to
Cap’n Cranberry to figure it out. I have offered money to Nat and he
has refused to take it. He wants my daughter instead. Well, he had
better take my money, for he can’t have my daughter unless she wants
him.

  ARIEL (_joyfully_). Father!

  NAT (_furiously_). Thunderation!                              [_Exit._

  ALL. Good work! That’s the talk, Cap’n Abner!

  ABNER (_slowly_). I have deceived and cheated all these years. Of
course I realize that I’ve got to lose my friends, that I will be the
talk of the town.

  BER. I don’t see why. It’s taken a pile of courage to come out and
say you were wrong and make it right. If your neighbors are good
friends they will stand by you. They won’t go back on you.

  OBAD. That’s right, Abner. Of course we won’t.

  LEM. And there ain’t a mite of reason why any one should know
anything about this. I for one shan’t mention it to Hepsy, and
(_grimly_) I guess if she don’t know it you’re safe.

  CYN. (_earnestly_). And I ain’t got the least bit of feeling against
you, Cap’n Abner.

  ABNER. Thank you, Cynthy. Thank you all. I don’t deserve such
treatment from you.

  LEE. Say, Miss Tinker, just because you are suddenly coming into
money I hope you won’t be so set up that you’ll bounce your boarders.

  CYN. Well, I guess it won’t be such an awful lot o’ money that I need
to be set up too high. I said you could stay as long as you wanted to
and I meant it. You can.

  LEE. Good news!

  PETER. Rah, rah, rah! Thank heaven we don’t lose those muffins!

  CYN. (_suddenly_). And I declare to goodness, Mr. Gordon, here’s a
special delivery letter that come for you. (_Gives it to him. He tears
it open._) I thought it must be important and I come out to look for
you and so much has happened that it went clean out of my head.

  LEE. Well, say, this is certainly the day for unusual things to
happen. Look at this, Pete! (_Hands the letter to_ PETER.)

  PETER (_glancing it over_). What now? Well, glory be! Listen, you who
heard Mr. Williams denounce Lee this morning. The fellow who was guilty
in the Yale mix up has been found out and they want Lee to go back to
college. His father has also found out his mistake and he wants Lee to
go back to work for him.

  ARIEL (_going to_ LEE). Oh, Lee, I’m so glad!

  LEE. Well, they are just too late. Lee is going to stay right here on
his present job until he makes good.

  LEM. Wal, I guess we got everything cleared up; we might as well be
moving along.

  OBAD. Gosh all fog horns, yes! I been so excited I ain’t had hardly a
bite to eat to-day. I’m faintin’ dead away if any one should ask you.

  (BER. _walks to door_, C., _and stands looking out_. CYN., LEE,
    PETER, OBAD. _and_ LEM. _exeunt_. ABNER _starts to follow, then
    looks back at_ BER. _uncertainly_. ARIEL _goes to_ ABNER _and
    throws her arms around him_. BER. _watches them from the door_.)

  ARIEL. Oh, dad, I can’t tell you how happy I am.

  ABNER. I’m glad to hear you say it, Arey. I come mighty near asking
you to sacrifice your happiness.

  ARIEL (_joyfully_) But you didn’t quite do it after all.

  ABNER. Not quite.

  ARIEL. Father dear, don’t think anything you said can make a bit of
difference. I only love you more than ever before.

  ABNER. Lord, Arey, what can I say to a thing like that?

  BER. (_coming forward_). Say you are a fortunate man to have such a
daughter.

  ABNER. Yes, that’s what I ought to say. It’s true. I’m afraid I don’t
realize how true. (_Pats_ ARIEL _on the shoulder_.) Run along, little
girl, and be happy. (ARIEL _exits_.) Captain Cranberry, I----

  BER. If you please, Abner, I don’t believe I can talk any more just
now. If you’d just leave me up here alone for a while. It’s all right
that you should have her. It’s you that’s been the real father to her.
You have had the privilege that I have missed. You--you see she’s
Alicia’s little girl and I’ve jest got to get over it, that’s all.

  ABNER (_grasping his hand_). All right. I won’t talk. Some
day--later, I’ll try to tell you all that I feel.               [_Exit._

      (BER. _stands in the center of the room with bowed head_.)

  BER. Alicia’s little girl! (_Slight pause._)

  CYN. (_outside_). Arey! Arey! (_Enters._) Land, Cap’n, I thought Arey
was here. Are you here all alone?

  BER. (_slowly_). Yes, alone, Cynthy. The way I’ve lived the most of
my life. The way I’ll always have to live it.

  CYN. My land, Cap’n, you must be dreadful down and out to talk that
way.

  BER. I ain’t a mite o’ good to any one on the face of the earth.

  CYN. You? You ain’t? Well, I’d like to see the man, woman or boy in
Bay Point that you ain’t some good to. Cap’n Berry, I didn’t suppose
you ever got to feeling like this. I think you must have lost sight of
the Beacon.

  BER. (_suddenly looking up_). By tunket, Miss Cynthy, you’re right!
That’s jest what I’ve done! I reckon I’m kind of tuckered out. I was
jest naturally making a fool of myself, thinking there weren’t nobody
on earth that loves me, and by Crismus, why should there be? I ain’t
got relations same’s other men and I ain’t got no right to expect the
same kind of happiness as other men. Well, I’ll set sail for the Point
and go on duty. That’s the thing for me to do. I’ve been spending too
much time over here and I need to go to work.

  CYN. Cap’n Berry, I should think you would be ashamed to talk so.
Nobody loves you! Why, everybody in Bay Point loves you, and you know
it.

  BER. (_suddenly and bluntly_). Do you, Miss Cynthy?

  CYN. (_very much confused and upset_). Why, my gracious, Cap’n! What
a way to put it! How you talk!

  BER. (_looking at her curiously_). I’m a regular old fool, Cynthy.
I’ve had this on my mind for a long time and now, by tunket, I’m going
to get it off and then I’ll stop mooning around like a sixteen-year-old
kid! The first day I met you I loved you and I have been loving you a
little more every time I have seen you since. I wouldn’t want you to
marry unless it meant the same to you as it does to me, and I can’t
believe that’s possible. I reckon I know what you’re thinking. I reckon
I know what your answer will be, but I might as well have it from you
straight. (_Goes to her, and puts his hands on her shoulders._) Cynthy,
do you think it would be possible for you to find happiness with a
frost-bitten old Cranberry?

  CYN. (_looking up at him_). I think it would, Cran, if you were the
Berry.

                                CURTAIN




                          MUCH ADO ABOUT BETTY

                         A Comedy in Three Acts

                          _By Walter Ben Hare_

  Ten male, twelve female characters, or seven males and seven
females by doubling. Costumes, modern; scenery, two easy interiors.
Plays a full evening. Betty, a moving picture star, going south on a
vacation, loses her memory from the shock of a railway accident, and
is identified as a rival, Violet Ostrich, from a hand-bag that she
carries. In this character she encounters the real Violet, who has just
eloped with Ned O’Hare, and mixes things up sadly both for herself and
the young couple. An exceptionally bright, clever and effective play
that can be highly recommended. Good Negro, Irish and eccentric comedy
parts.
                           _Price, 35 cents_


                               CHARACTERS

  LIN LEONARD, _Betty’s one best bet_.
  MAJOR JARTREE, _of Wichita, not only bent, but crooked_.
  NED O’HARE, _a jolly young honeymooner_.
  MR. E. Z. OSTRICH, _who has written a wonderful picture-play_.
  DR. MCNUTT, _solid ivory from the neck up_.
  JIM WILES, _a high-school senior_.
  ARCHIE, _a black bell-boy at the Hotel Poinsettia_.
  OFFICER RILEY, _who always does his duty_.
  OFFICER DUGAN, _from the Emerald Isle_.
  MR. EBENEZER O’HARE, _a sick man and a submerged tenth_.
  MRS. EBENEZER O’HARE, _“Birdie,” the other nine-tenths_.
  AUNT WINNIE, _Betty’s chaperone_.
  LIZZIE MONAHAN, _Betty’s maid, with a vivid imagination_.
  ETHEL KOHLER, _a high-school admirer of Betty_.
  VIOLET OSTRICH, _a film favorite, Ned’s bride_.
  MRS. K. M. DIGGINS, _a guest at the Hotel Poinsettia_.
  DAFFODIL DIGGINS, _her daughter, “Yes, Mamma!”_
  MISS CHIZZLE, _one of the North Georgia Chizzles_.
  PEARLIE BROWN, _Violet’s maid, a widow of ebon hue_.
  VIOLET, _Violet Ostrich’s little girl aged seven_.
  DIAMOND, _Pearlie’s little girl aged six_
            _and_
  BETTY, _the star of the Movagraph Co._

    Jartree may double Dugan; Ned may double Riley; Jim may double
  Archie; Mrs. O’Hare may double Ethel; Aunt Winnie may double Pearlie
  and Lizzie may double Miss Chizzle, thus reducing the cast to seven
  males and seven females. The two children have no lines to speak.


                              SYNOPSIS

  ACT I. Betty’s apartments near New York. Married in haste.

  ACT II. Parlor D of the Hotel Poinsettia, Palm Beach, Fla. Three days
later. Betty loses her memory.

  ACT III. Same scene as Act II. A full honeymoon.




                        JUST A LITTLE MISTAKE

                         A Comedy in One Act

                         _By Elizabeth Gale_

  One male, five female characters, or can be played by all girls.
Costumes, modern; scenery, an easy interior. Plays forty minutes. Mrs.
Ball receives a cablegram from her sister Lucy stating that _Jerry_
will arrive that day and begging her to be cordial. Mrs. Ball then goes
out to hire a cook, leaving three young friends to receive the unknown
guest. The cook, sent down from the agency in haste, is greeted and
entertained as Jerry and when the real Jerry (Miss Geraldine Take)
arrives she is sent out to the kitchen. After considerable confusion
and excitement she is discovered to be the “Little Miss Take.” Strongly
recommended.
                          _Price, 25 cents_




                         THE SUBMARINE SHELL

                       A War Play in Four Acts

                         _By Mansfield Scott_

  Seven males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors.
Plays two hours. Royalty for amateur performance $10.00 for one, $15.00
for two performances. Inspector Malcome Steele, of the U. S. Secret
Service, devotes himself in this thrilling play to unravelling the
German plots that surround Prof. Middlebrook’s submarine shell that is
to bring the downfall of the Hun. The battle between his wits and those
of “Tom Cloff,” the German secret agent, is of absorbing interest.
An easy and effective thriller that can be recommended for school
performance.
                          _Price, 35 cents_


                             CHARACTERS

  HANS KRAFT, _alias James McGrady_.
  OTTO HERMAN, _alias William_.
  MR. WARREN MIDDLEBROOK.
  MONSIEUR CHARLES LECLAIR.
  PROFESSOR HENRY WESTERBERG.
  DETECTIVE ALBERT BRADBURY.
  INSPECTOR MALCOME STEELE.
  “TOM CLOFF.”
  MRS. MIDDLEBROOK.
  ELEANOR MIDDLEBROOK.
  MARGARET LINDEN.
  DELIA.


                              SYNOPSIS

  ACT I. The living-room. August 11, after dinner.

  ACT II. Same as Act I. August 12, 1:30 P. M.

  ACT III. The private laboratory. That evening, 7:30.

  ACT IV. Same as Act III. Later, 10 P. M.




                          THE AMERICAN IDEA

                         A Sketch in One Act

                          _By Lily Carthew_

  Three males, two females. Costumes, modern; scenery, an interior.
Plays twenty minutes. Royalty for amateur performance $5.00. Mignon
Goldman, following the American Idea, throws off the parental yoke and
marries the man of her choice and not the choice of her parents. She
brings home for the parental blessing John Kelly. Abe, her father, is
disconsolate at this prospect until he sees John and recognizes in him
Yan Kele Operchinsky, rechristened in accordance with “The American
Idea.” Originally produced at The Peabody Playhouse, Boston. Strongly
recommended.
                          _Price, 25 cents_




                        THE CROWNING OF COLUMBIA

                     A Patriotic Fantasy in One Act

                        _By Kathrine F. Carlyon_

  Twenty-five boys and twenty-four girls. Costumes, modern and
picturesque. Nothing required in the way of scenery but a platform.
Plays half an hour or less. Columbia is approached by the Foresters,
the Farmers, the Miners, the Pleasure Seekers, the Ammunition Workers
and even the Red Cross Workers, all asking her to be their Queen, but
it is only when the Soldiers and the Red Cross Nurses come, asking
nothing and giving all, that she yields. Easy, pretty, timely, and
strongly recommended. Introduces music.
                          _Price, 25 cents_




                              THE AIR-SPY

                        A War Play in Three Acts

                          _By Mansfield Scott_

  Twelve males, four females. Costumes, modern; scenery, a single
interior. Plays an hour and a half. Royalty, $10.00 for first, $5.00
for subsequent performances by same cast; free for school performance.
Inspector Steele, of the Secret Service, sets his wits against those
of German emissaries in their plot against Dr. Treadwell’s air-ship,
a valuable war invention, and baffles them after an exciting pursuit.
An easy thriller, full of patriotic interest. Easy to get up and very
effective. Strongly recommended for school performance. Originally
produced by The Newton (Mass.) High School.
                          _Price, 35 cents_


                             CHARACTERS

  DR. HENRY TREADWELL, _inventor of the Giant Air-ship_.
  VICTOR LAWRENCE, _his pretended friend--a German spy_.
  HAROLD FELTON, _of the United States Army_.
  CARLETON EVERTON, _a young Englishman_.
  KARL SCHONEMAN, _of the German Secret Service_.
  FRANZ MULLER, _his assistant_.
  ARTHUR MERRILL, _also of the United States Army_.
  INSPECTOR MALCOME STEELE, _of the United States Secret Service_.
  HENRY GOOTNER, _a German agent_.
  FRANCIS DRURY, _one of Treadwell’s guests_.
  CORPORAL THAYER.
  PRIVATE FREEMAN.
  RUTH TREADWELL, _Treadwell’s daughter_.
  MURIEL LAWRENCE, _Lawrence’s daughter_.
  MRS. TREADWELL.
  MARGARET LINDEN, _a friend of Ruth’s_.

  THE TIME.--America’s second summer in the war.

  THE PLACE.--A deserted mansion on a small island near Eastport, Maine.


                              SYNOPSIS

  ACT I.   The afternoon of June 10th.

  ACT II.  The evening of September 21st.

  ACT III. _Scene 1._ The afternoon of the next day. About 1:30.
           _Scene 2._ An hour later.




                        ART CLUBS ARE TRUMPS

                         A Play in One Act

                      _By Mary Moncure Parker_

  Twelve females. Costumes of 1890 with one exception; scene, a single
easy interior. Plays thirty minutes. Describes the trials of an
ambitious woman who desired to form a club in the early days of club
life for women about thirty years ago, before the days of telephones
and automobiles. A capital play for ladies’ clubs or for older women in
general. The costumes are quaint and the picture of life in the year
of the Chicago World’s Fair offers an amusing contrast to the present.
Recommended.
                          _Price, 25 cents_




                               HAMILTON

                         A Play in Four Acts

                 _By Mary P. Hamlin and George Arliss_

  Eleven males, five females. Costumes of the period; scenery, three
interiors. Plays a full evening. Royalty for amateur performance where
an admission is charged, $25.00 for each performance. Special royalty
of $10.00 for performance by schools. This play, well known through the
performances of Mr. George Arliss still continuing in the principal
theatres, presents the builders of the foundations of the American
Republic as real people, and its story adroitly illustrates not merely
the various ability of its leading figure, Alexander Hamilton, but
the unconquerable courage and determination that were his dominating
characteristics. The vividness with which it vitalizes the history
of its period and the power with which it emphasizes Hamilton’s most
admirable and desirable quality, make it most suitable for school
use, for which special terms have been arranged, as above. Strongly
recommended.
                          _Price, 60 cents_


                             CHARACTERS

  ALEXANDER HAMILTON.
  GENERAL SCHUYLER.
  THOMAS JEFFERSON.
  MONROE.
  GILES.
  TALLYRAND.
  JAY.
  ZEKIEL.
  REYNOLDS.
  COLONEL LEAR.
  FIRST MAN.

  BETSY HAMILTON.
  ANGELICA CHURCH.
  MRS. REYNOLDS.
  SOLDIER’S WIFE.
  MELISSA.


                             THE SCENES

  Act I.--The Exchange Coffee House in Philadelphia.

  Act II.--A room in Alexander Hamilton’s house in Philadelphia. (The
office of the Secretary of the Treasury.)

  Act III.--The same. (Six weeks later.)

  Act IV.--A reception room in Alexander Hamilton’s house. (The next
morning.)




                            THE MINUTE MAN

        A Patriotic Sketch for Girls of the High School Age in a
                     Prologue and Three Episodes

                         _By Nellie S. Messer_

  Thirteen girls. Costumes, modern, Colonial and of the Civil War
period. Scenery, three interiors. Plays an hour and a half. Betty and
Eleanor, typically thoughtless girls of the present day, run across the
diaries of Bess’s mother and grandmother, which relate the experiences
of girls of their age and kind at previous periods of their country’s
history, and learn a vivid lesson in patriotism. The scenes of the
past are shown in dramatic episodes visualizing the matter of the
diaries that they read. A very clever arrangement of a very stimulating
subject, strongly recommended for all occasions where the promotion of
patriotism is desired. A timely lesson strongly enforced.
                          _Price, 25 cents_




                         A. W. Pinero’s Plays

                         Price, 60 Cents Each


=MID-CHANNEL= Play in Four Acts. Six males, five females. Costumes,
  modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays two and a half hours.

=THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH= Drama in Four Acts. Eight males, five
  females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors. Plays a full
  evening.

=THE PROFLIGATE= Play in Four Acts. Seven males, five females. Scenery,
  three interiors, rather elaborate; costumes, modern. Plays a full
  evening.

=THE SCHOOLMISTRESS= Farce in Three Acts. Nine males, seven females.
  Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening.

=THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY= Play in Four Acts. Eight males, five
  females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full
  evening.

=SWEET LAVENDER= Comedy in Three Acts. Seven males, four females.
  Scene, a single interior; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening.

=THE THUNDERBOLT= Comedy in Four Acts. Ten males, nine females.
  Scenery, three interiors; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening.

=THE TIMES= Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven females. Scene, a
  single interior; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening.

=THE WEAKER SEX= Comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, eight females.
  Costumes, modern; scenery, two interiors. Plays a full evening.

=A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE= Comedy in Three Acts. Five males, four
  females. Costumes, modern; scene, a single interior. Plays a full
  evening.

                  Sent prepaid on receipt of price by
                       Walter H. Baker & Company
              No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts




                  The William Warren Edition of Plays

                          Price, 25 Cents Each


=AS YOU LIKE IT= Comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four females.
  Costumes, picturesque; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening.

=CAMILLE= Drama in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Costumes,
  modern; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening.

=INGOMAR= Play in Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. Scenery,
  varied; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening.

=MARY STUART= Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four females,
  and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the period; scenery, varied and
  elaborate. Plays a full evening.

=THE MERCHANT OF VENICE= Comedy in Five Acts. Seventeen males, three
  females. Costumes, picturesque; scenery varied. Plays a full evening.

=RICHELIEU= Play in Five Acts. Fifteen males, two females. Scenery,
  elaborate; costumes, of the period. Plays a full evening.

=THE RIVALS= Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Scenery,
  varied; costumes, of the period. Plays a full evening.

=SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER= Comedy in Five Acts. Fifteen males, four
  females. Scenery, varied; costumes, of the period. Plays a full
  evening.

=TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL= Comedy in Five Acts. Ten males,
  three females. Costumes, picturesque; scenery, varied. Plays a full
  evening.

                  Sent prepaid on receipt of price by
                       Walter H. Baker & Company
              No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts




                          Transcriber’s Notes

  Changed =landside= to =landslide= in “I had been struck by a
   landslide”.

  Changed =Beech= to =Beach= in “Palm Beach, Fla.”.

  Changed =air ship= to =air-ship= in “Dr. Treadwell’s air-ship” for
    consistency.

  The word =land= appears to be used as a euphemism for =lawd= or
    =lord=.  This has not been changed.

  Minor punctuation changes have been made for consistency.