Part 2

I’m goin’ to git the law to help us if it can. [_She goes out and bangs the door._]

[_JIMMIE, left alone, is very bored and listless. He turns over the book, then lets it fall, twists himself wearily. Suddenly his whole face brightens happily at a step outside. PAT’S gay whistle is heard coming up-stairs._]

PAT.

[_Entering._]

Hi, Jimmie-boy! There’s the great lad for ye! All shtuffed full and a-runnin’ over he is wid fine learnin’ out of books. Did ye ever see the loike o’ him? Sittin’ up dressed like folks! Faith, it’s the proud Pat I am this day! Let’s see what great thing about the wide worrld is a-hidin’ itself inside o’ this yere. [_Picks up book._]

JIMMIE.

I’m tired o’ that. Tell me a story.

PAT.

A shtory, is it? An’ me to be sittin’ here tellin’ a young lad shtories at the high noon of the day, and the job takin’ itself wings to fly off, I might be catchin’ and holdin’ down and I to go afther it instid! [_Sitting down by JIMMIE._] Where’s your Maw?

JIMMIE.

I dunno. She said she wasn’t going to be no fool softy no more, and then she went out quick like. What’s a fool softy?

[_PAT is very uneasy. He does not answer, then goes to the door, looks out, comes back slowly._]

JIMMIE.

Paw, me leg hurts awful today. Tell me a story.

PAT.

All right, lad, I’ll tell ye a story. [_Sits down near sofa._] Did I ever tell you about the king of Ireland and his siven sons? No? Once upon a time there was a great, high-up, noble king reigned over Ireland with a golden crown on his noble head an’ a rulin’ shtick in his hand—Whin’ll your Maw be back?

JIMMIE.

I dunno. Go on with the story.

PAT.

Well, this grand king had siven sons, all fair and beautiful they were in armour of silver and shteel, an’ on their heads helmets covered with precious stones dug up out o’ the earth that would make your eyes blink for the shinin’. Bye-and-bye the siven lads grew up strong and mighty, and whin the king saw that they were gettin’ to man’s eshtate he got him together all of the workmen out of a job there were in the kingdom of Ireland, and he sets ’em to buildin’ siven great castles, each wan on a different high-up mountain-top, so high that the peaks and shpires of some of them made holes right through the blue sky, do ye mind? Well, whin the castles were all grand and ready he called his siven sons together, an’ he stood ’em all up in a glitterin’ row and he said to ’em, “Now, me byes, it’s no end of a foine time ye’ve been havin’ a-skylarkin’ ’round me kingdom, but it’s siven high castles I’ve built for ye now and ye’d better be gettin’ yourselves wives and some bits of furniture on the installment plan, maybe, and settlin’ down. Go forth now through all the world and find ye siven beautiful princesses, and the wan of ye that gits the beautifullest shall have the biggest castle.”

[_NORA enters, grim. PAT notes her demeanor, but concludes comment is unwise. She takes off her bonnet and shawl and goes to her tub, listening to PAT._]

JIMMIE.

Go on, Paw, what did they do thin?

PAT.

[_Keeping a weather eye on NORA._]

What did they do thin? Well, they looked and looked fer a year and a day, ivery one o’ them in a different counthry, but whiniver one of the siven would be findin’ a princess who seemed handsome and likely, whin he looked again careful like, he’d be feared one of his brothers would be findin’ a handsomer one, so he’d let her go and move on.

JIMMIE.

An’ all the beautiful princesses, weren’t there any anywhere no more?

PAT.

[_Slapping his leg in the joy of a sudden inspiration._]

Faith, Jimmie-boy, it’s just comin’ into me head what was the throuble! Shure the siven grand princes must ’a’ looked in the church window the day I married your Maw, and seein’ her that wanst o’ course no princess could plaze ’em afther. It was green-eyed envy filled their siven souls that day, I’m thinkin’, for Pat O’Flaherty gettin’ such a jewell and nobody left beautiful enough for them at all!

JIMMIE.

Paw, quit yer jokin’! Git along with the story.

PAT.

Jimmie darlin’, it’s not jokin’ I am. Your Maw’s a jewell, a rael beautiful jewell, and that’s the truth. I don’t deserve her, I don’t. [_Suddenly breaks down and sobs._]

JIMMIE.

Aw, Paw, don’t do that—don’t.

[_He begins to whimper. NORA starts to comfort him when a knock is heard. PAT shakes himself together and opens the door, and JOHN BING, a policeman, enters._]

PAT.

[_To NORA._]

A policeman!

JOHN BING.

[_Glancing at paper in his hand._]

Does Patrick O’Flaherty live here?

PAT.

Faith, he does that, an’ what would the majestic arrm o’ the law be wantin’, if ye please, intrudin’ in a peaceful man’s house?

JOHN BING.

I’ve a warrant here for the arrest of Patrick O’Flaherty on the ground of repeated violence towards his wife.

PAT.

Howly Saints! An’ who shwore out that warrant?

JOHN BING.

[_Glancing at paper._]

Nora O’Flaherty. [_Looking at NORA._] I guess it’s true, all right. Come along.

PAT.

Nora! You niver did that to your own man? [_NORA makes no reply but a sniffle._] Nora!

JOHN BING.

Well, hurry up. Better come quietly.

JIMMIE.

Paw, what’s the matter? What’s he come for? Make him go ’way.

PAT.

[_Taking BING’S coat lapel confidentially._]

Mr. Officer—you see the little lad there? He’s—well—well, he’ll never walk no more. Perhaps you got childer yourself? Would you mind just waitin’ a bit of a minute, or maybe two, till I finish a shtory I was tellin’ him? He’ll let me go aisier so.

JOHN BING.

[_Looking at his watch._]

Five minutes, then.

PAT.

Thank ye kindly. [_Returns to JIMMIE, giving his lounge a little push so JIMMIE will not see JOHN BING._] Now, me lad, where were we in the shtory?

JIMMIE.

About the beautiful princesses.

PAT.

Shure, I’m thinkin’ it’s mortal weary them siven princes will be lookin’ for their beautiful princesses all this time, when right here in this room with us two all so happy an’ lovin’-like is your Maw, out o’ their reach. [_JIMMIE suddenly laughs out merrily, the first time he has done more than smile wanly._] So what do you think they did next?

JIMMIE.

I dunno.

PAT.

Guess.

[_Here NORA, who has been weeping and washing harder and harder, makes a dash and throws open the door to the hall, grabbing the warrant meanwhile out of the hand of JOHN BING._]

NORA.

Mr. Officer, you walk right out o’ here and down them shtairs and don’t you be waitin’ no more for Patrick O’Flaherty. He ain’t goin’ with you. He’s goin’ to git a job stiddy and shtay here.

JOHN BING.

You withdraw the charge? I’ll have to report it at the station.

NORA.

Charge nothin’! You git out o’ here.

JOHN BING.

[_Stopping to gaze at her a moment._]

Well, what do you think of that? The next time one of them suffragist ladies asks me what I think, I’ll tell her I think women is fools, that’s what I’ll tell her. Yep, all fools! [_He goes out._]

[_PAT has sat discreetly silent, twirling his thumbs rapidly and looking in front of him._]

JIMMIE.

Paw! What’s Maw talkin’ about? What ’u’d he want?

PAT.

Niver you mind, Jimmie-boy. It was just payin’ the O’Flaherty family a call he was, nice and friendly like. Your Maw invited him, but when she saw how dishturbin’ his august prisence was in our happy home, she invited him out again. Ain’t that it, Nora darlin’?

[_He holds out his hand to NORA. NORA weakly approaches, sniffling, then falls on his neck._]

NORA.

Oh, Pat, Pat! I niver meant to do that awful thing—I niver did. I dunno what made me. It was that nurse a-talkin’ at me. She put a spell on me, she did. Oh Pat, oh Pat!

PAT.

[_Patting her._]

Niver mind, niver mind. I know ye didn’t. It’s all right. Niver mind, gurrl.

[_A knock at the door. NORA pulls herself free and opens the door to MISS CARROLL._]

PAT.

[_Retreating._]

It’s that dam’ nurse! She’ll be the death o’ me yit.

MISS CARROLL.

[_Coming quickly forward towards JIMMIE._]

I can’t stop a second. I just ran in to tell Jimmie-boy I’ve been telephoning and it’s all fixed. The bran’-new suit’s going to happen next Saturday. It’s my half-holiday and I’ll come for you in a taxi and we’ll go down-town and we’ll buy it all bran’ new to fit, made just for Jimmie.

JIMMIE.

Aw! ’tain’t so. You’re kiddin’ me!

MISS CARROLL.

’Tis so, honor bright! Cross my heart and hope to die. Well, I must run. [_Suddenly appreciating NORA’S aspect._] Why, Mrs. O’Flaherty, what’s the matter?

NORA.

The matter is you’re a wicked, interferin’ woman, a-makin’ me do them awful things to me pore man there! Look at him, so sweet and gentle like! Ain’t ye ’shamed o’ yourself, a-plottin’ and workin’ to put apart them as God has j’ined together in the howly estate of matrimony? It’s a bad, wicked woman I am to be listenin’ to your terrible talk. That there horrid big officer in his shiny buttons, lookin’ so fat and so satisfied, waitin’ there at the door to grab up me pore man hasn’t a coat to his back hardly!

MISS CARROLL.

What about the boot, Mrs. O’Flaherty?

NORA.

The boot, is it? Shure it’s the careless woman I am, happenin’ in the way whin he was takin’ ’em off and he with a bit of the creature in him made him excited like.

MISS CARROLL.

All right, Mrs. O’Flaherty, I’m sorry. I won’t give any more advice. It’s against the rules. I shouldn’t have said anything. [_She looks at PAT, who has been regarding her quizzically while NORA holds forth, and now, catching her eye, has the impertinence to wink. MISS CARROLL struggles hard not to respond to his grin, but can’t quite keep her gravity._] You see, I haven’t any man of my own, so I suppose it’s hard for me to understand married life. Good-bye till tomorrow. [_She waves her hand to JIMMIE, accomplishes one severe look at PAT, and vanishes. PAT waves her off gaily._]

PAT.

Goo’-bye, Miss Carroll, goo’-bye! Goo’-bye! [_He gets his hat and coat, chuckling to himself._]

JIMMIE.

Did ye hear that, Maw? A bran’-new suit made just for me. Nobody else never wore it at all, an’ we’ll go in a taxi to buy it on Saturday. Gee! Ain’t it nice?

PAT.

[_Sidling up to NORA at the tub._]

Nora darlin’, I’m thinkin’ it’s a foine job I’ll be gettin’ this day for the askin’; the heart’s that big in me for gratitude, it’ll shine right out through me two eyes and make me hopeful and stiddy-lookin’, so that some boss’ll think he’s got a grand man to work for him. I’d better be startin’ along now, I suppose, er some other chap’ll git there before me. Say, Nora, it’s only about twinty cints I do be needin’ for carfare.

NORA.

Pat, twinty cents is a lot. Where you goin’?

PAT.

Well, maybe fifteen cints would do if I walk the wan way where there ain’t no transfer. Shure it’s hard on the poor when the shtreet-car companies git mad at each other. Say, Nora, I know a place where a good job is waitin’ for Pat O’Flaherty, but the great city lies between us. Cruel long and wide it is, and hard stones all the way. It’s too weary and sad like I’d look on arrivin’, an’ I couldn’t ride on the cars to git there. Oh, come across with the fifteen cents!

[_NORA dubiously gets down an old china teapot from the shelf and takes out five cents, which she gives him gravely. She then gets five cents from another secret place._]

PAT.

[_As she is getting the money._]

Faith, there’s money all over the place.

[_NORA then gets five pennies from the depths of her pocket and slowly counts out the fifteen cents into his hand._]

PAT.

[_Kissing her._]

Oh! That’s the shweetest wife ever blessed a bad, bad spalpeen of a husband. Good-bye, gurrl! ’Bye, Jimmie-boy. Be thinkin’ what the siven princes could do, they havin’ seen your Maw through the church window, and I’ll finish the shtory tomorrow.

[_PAT exits, whistling, NORA watching him at the door._]

JIMMIE.

Maw, what’s a fool softy?

[_NORA wilts._]

CURTAIN.

THE DRAMA CLASS OF TANKAHA, NEVADA

(Written in collaboration with Harriet Calhoun Moss)

_Played for the first time on October 23 and 24, 1914, by Mrs. CHAS. ATKINSON, Mrs. CHAS. HUBBARD, Mrs. SAMUEL CHASE, Mrs. HOWARD SHAW, Mrs. LAIRD BELL, Mrs. SAMUEL INSULL, Miss EVELYN SHAW, Mrs. ARTHUR ALDIS, Mr. CHAS. ATKINSON, Mr. DORR BRADLEY, and Mrs. HENRY HUBBARD._

THE DRAMA CLASS OF TANKAHA, NEVADA.

THE PROLOGUE.

CHARACTERS:

MRS. BENNETT, _Hostess of the Class for the Day, a recent arrival in Tankaha, young, well-dressed, progressive._ MRS. FESSENDEN, _Chairman of the Drama Class, a firm lady, native of Tankaha, with Standards._ MISS JENNINGS, _Secretary of the Class, unwed and emotional._ MRS. STEDMAN, _a Mother, pre-eminently._ MRS. BROKMORTON, _an Aspirant of Culture._ MISS FESSENDEN, _daughter of MRS. FESSENDEN, the Chairman, a young woman struggling under difficulties towards Modernity._ MRS. BENNETT’S MAID.

_Characters of the Play within the Play_:

PAOLO Mr. Algernon Manning ANNA, _his wife_ Miss Sibyl Carrington MARIO, _his brother_ Mr. Emil Konrad MADDELENA, _an old family servant_ Miss Frances Nellis

(Taken by members of a theatrical company playing a week’s engagement at the Tankaha Opera House.)

SCENE: _The sitting-room of the hostess of the day—MRS. BENNETT. A tastefully furnished apartment, modern; at left (from audience) a desk or writing-table; at right a sofa; back, a fireplace; entrance at R. and L.; a few books, photographs, flowers, etc._

_When the curtain rises MRS. BENNETT, with the MAID, is discovered completing the arrangements to receive the Drama Class. She puts a small table with paper and pencil in the middle of the room and counts six seats, three on each side, glances at the clock. MRS. and MISS FESSENDEN enter; usual greetings._

MRS. BENNETT.

How do you do! How do you do! I can’t help feeling a little nervous, entertaining the class for the first time—a new-comer, you know.

MRS. FESSENDEN.

[_Taking off things._]

Oh, no need; no need.

MRS. BENNETT.

But you’re all so clever, you seem to know just how to look up everything. Now I—[_She breaks off to greet new-comers, MISS JENNINGS and MRS. STEDMAN._] How do you do! How do you do! Do take off your things, etc., etc. [_Bustle of taking off wraps, which maid takes away while MRS. BENNETT speaks to MRS. FESSENDEN._]

MRS. BENNETT.

Madam Chairman, you’ve no idea the trouble I’ve had trying to find out about Giacosa for the class today. There wasn’t anything about him or by him to be found in Tankaha. At the library they said the only Italian writer that they had was Longfellow’s translation of Dante. They told me one of the members of the Board of Trustees had once wanted to buy some of D’Annunzio’s plays, but as his resignation was sent in immediately after making the proposal, nothing had been done. [_MRS. BROKMORTON enters._] Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Brokmorton? [_Glances around._] I think we are all here, Madam Chairman.

[Illustration: MRS. STEDMAN: THERE IS A FAR MORE IMPORTANT REASON FOR BREVITY THAN CONSTRUCTION. EVEN A ONE-ACT PLAY MAY BE ONE ACT TOO LONG]

MRS. FESSENDEN.

[_Taking the Chair and picking up gavel._]

Will the meeting please come to order? We will listen to the minutes of the previous meeting.

[_MISS JENNINGS rises and clears her throat._]

MISS JENNINGS.

[_Reading._]

The Drama and Poetry Class of Tankaha Culture Club met on Tuesday, January 10th, at the residence of Mrs. Brokmorton, Mrs. Fessenden, the Chairman, presiding. The minutes of the previous meeting were read and approved, then followed the program for the day, subject, Omar Khayyam, essayist, Mrs. Brokmorton. The paper thoughtfully considered the work of the Persian poet from the standpoint of its influence in the home. Discussion followed:

Mrs. Stedman said that whereas she appreciated the beauty of many of the lines and was glad the Drama Class had chosen it as a subject, she thought it would be unwise to place this poem in the hands of young people.

Miss Fessenden said she thought young people should be allowed to read beautiful literature, no matter what the subject.

Mrs. Bennett thought the philosophy inconclusive, quoting the line “But evermore, came out by the same door wherein I went.”

Mrs. Brokmorton, the essayist, said the more she had studied the beautiful quatrains the more she had been convinced that it was extremely difficult for us in America to appreciate and understand the poet’s point of view.

Mrs. Fessenden, the Chairman, said it did not surprise her that the poem was sad, when the poet evidently had no religious faith. She then announced the subject of the next meeting—a paper on the Italian dramatist Giacosa, by Mrs. Bennett, the meeting to be held at the home of the essayist of the day on January 24th. On motion the meeting adjourned.

MRS. FESSENDEN.

If there are no objections the minutes will stand approved. They are approved. Are you ready, Mrs. Bennett?

MRS. BENNETT.

[_Rising._]

Madam Chairman, I started to tell you that I found it very difficult to ascertain anything about Giacosa in Tankaha. Yesterday I learned that one of the members of the company now playing at the Opera House knew of a play by Giacosa. I called on her at the hotel with the result that I have a surprise for you. Four of the members of the company are going to give us this afternoon a short play by Giacosa called “Sacred Ground” right here in this room. [_She stops and looks around for encouragement. Stir of excitement and surprise in the class. MRS. BENNETT hurries on to explain._] They said they didn’t need any scenery, and told me how to arrange the room. We are to go into the dining-room. I thought it was much nicer than writing a paper on an author I didn’t know anything about.

[_MRS. FESSENDEN and MRS. STEDMAN both glance protectingly at MISS FESSENDEN._]

MRS. FESSENDEN.

That is very interesting, a surprise indeed. Do you—er—know anything about the play? It would have been wiser, perhaps, to consult—

MISS FESSENDEN.

Oh, mamma, it’s such a nice plan! [_To MRS. BENNETT._] Are they here now? Right here in this house? The actors and actresses?

MRS. BENNETT.

Yes, they are waiting up-stairs.

MRS. FESSENDEN.

Well, I suppose it is all right, quite a surprise— [_She rises, as do they all._]

MRS. BENNETT.

Now please sit there near the doorway.

[_The ladies step down in front, off stage, some a little dubiously, MISS FESSENDEN and MISS JENNINGS enthusiastically._]

MRS. BENNETT.

Minnie! [_The MAID enters._] Here, quickly, help me move these things the way I showed you. [_They move chairs off, tables back, etc._]

[_The MAID disappears. MRS. BENNETT steps down and joins others._]

_Play follows—“Sacred Ground.”_

_The story is briefly as follows: ANNA has remained true to PAOLO, her husband, in spite of her love for the latter’s cousin LUCIANO, who has committed suicide just before the play opens, because of her resistance. PAOLO discovers the reason for LUCIANO’S death through ANNA’S letters which he finds on the body and reads. He tries to probe to the depths of his wife’s soul. She warns him to desist, finally cries out that she loved LUCIANO, and ends by leaving PAOLO._[2]

EPILOGUE.

_After the Giacosa play ANNA, PAOLO, MARIO and MADDELENA come out to bow to the applause of the Drama Class. The ladies step up on the stage again. MISS JENNINGS is sniffling; MRS. BENNETT and MISS FESSENDEN rush up enthusiastically, the others more slowly. MRS. FESSENDEN has paper and pencil in her hand. MRS. BENNETT introduces the players—“Miss Jennings, Mr. Algernon Manning, Miss Sibyl Carrington, Mrs. Fessenden, our Chairman,” etc. Congratulations and general flutter._

MISS CARRINGTON.

You’re very kind. Pleasure to play to you! Such a sympathetic audience! So comprehending! It was nothing to “put it over” to you! [_Turns to MR. MANNING, snuggling up to him._] Poor darling! I do treat you atrociously, don’t I? But you know I don’t mean it! [_Affectionate business between “ANNA” and “PAOLO” as they disappear._]

MRS. FESSENDEN.

[_Through her lorgnons._]

Are they man and wife?

MRS. BENNETT.

I think that—well— Perhaps they’re—they’re engaged—

MRS. FESSENDEN.

Ladies, the meeting will please come to order for the purpose of discussing the play. [_They move quickly the chairs and tables to their former positions, as in the prologue, and take their places._] I think we are agreed as to our indebtedness to the essayist of the day, Mrs. Bennett, for arranging the play. We do not need to pass a formal vote of thanks. Our hostess cannot fail to have seen our evident—er—interest. A discussion of the play is now in order. To facilitate this I have jotted down a few questions which occurred to me during the presentation of this—er—unusual play. Here is the first question. [_Reads._] “Is it to be regretted that Giacosa compressed the material for a rare psychological development into the narrow frame of a single act?”

MRS. BROKMORTON.

[_Rising._]

Madam Chairman, it seems to me the volcanic character of the problem presented calls for brevity rather than prolixity. The eruption was sudden, torrential, devastating, and does not need, nay, does not permit of elaboration. What would have been gained had we had a preceding act, for instance? Nothing. Had we witnessed the despair and suicide of Luciano the situation would not have been developed more clearly than it was by Paolo’s explanation to Mario about the letters. It seems to me this play is a masterpiece of construction; I consider one act is sufficient.

MRS. STEDMAN.

[_Rising very slowly._]

There is a far more important reason for brevity than construction. Even a one-act play may be one act too long. For a mixed audience, or for innocent young minds, I should suggest the less the better of this sort of food. [_Sits down hard._]

MRS. FESSENDEN.

I think that this play is strong mental pabulum for any age! We will consider one act is sufficient. [_Picks up paper._] Here is the second question: “Are Paolo’s nature and the quality of his love for Anna above or below those of the average well-bred gentleman of our acquaintance?”

MISS FESSENDEN.

Well, I don’t think a well-bred gentleman ought to pry like that.

MISS JENNINGS.

I haven’t any husband, of course, but I should think a husband would want to know whether—

MRS. BENNETT.

But she’d done all she could! She’d been faithful, hadn’t she? She couldn’t help what she felt. What right had he to force her confession?

MRS. FESSENDEN.

Let us put the question in another form first. “Should a wife have a secret of any sort from her husband?”

MRS. STEDMAN.

[_Rising slowly again and commanding attention from her majesty of demeanor._]

Never! A true wife’s mind should be as clear, as transparent as glass, permitting her husband to read every thought. Paolo, the husband, had the right to know!

MRS. BENNETT.

But—but—

MRS. STEDMAN.

Paolo had the right!

MRS. BENNETT.

But the question was—

MISS FESSENDEN.

Yes, yes—whether Paolo— He tormented her—

MRS. BENNETT.

He had no right—

MRS. BROKMORTON.

But let us consider the play as a play. This is a drama class—what matter whether he had or he hadn’t—

MISS JENNINGS.

It seems to me—

MRS. STEDMAN.