Part 1

Transcriber’s Note: Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like this_.

Hearts _and_ Clubs

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

_By Amy E. Blanchard_

[Illustration]

PHILADELPHIA THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 1913

COPYRIGHT 1896 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY

HEARTS AND CLUBS

CAST OF CHARACTERS

MR. FOSSIL _An elderly gentleman, with a hobby_ TOM BESTMAN _A nephew of Mr. Fossil_ MR. ALLJOY _A gentleman fond of his club_ MISS DOTING _A spinster who adores Beauty and Emerson_ MINTRA TRIPTOE _Miss Doting’s niece_ MRS. ALLJOY _A would-be invalid_ MRS. FRISK _A stout lady, an advocate of physical culture_ MRS. BODKIN _A thin lady, an advocate of physical culture_ MISS STEIN _A teacher of physical culture_

MRS. PALLIDE AND OTHER LADIES OF THE X. Y. Z. CLUB

COSTUMES--MODERN.

In Act I, Scene II, ladies should wear free, easily fitting dresses or gymnasium suits. Miss Doting’s dress is always gay and coquettish.

TIME IN REPRESENTATION--ONE HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES.

HEARTS AND CLUBS

ACT I

SCENE I--_A seaside hotel._ MRS. ALLJOY’S _sitting-room, prettily furnished. Table and chairs_ R. _Sofa_ L. _Doors_ R. _and_ L. _At rise of curtain_ MR. ALLJOY _is discovered seated_ R. _of table reading a newspaper_. MRS. ALLJOY _is lying upon sofa_.

MRS. ALLJOY. (_sighing_) O dear!

MR. ALLJOY. (_looking over top of paper_) What is the matter now, Lolly?

MRS. ALLJOY. The same old thing, this pain in my side, and there is a strange feeling in the back of my head. I wonder what it is!

MR. ALLJOY. Oh, you want something to distract you. Come, jump up, and let us go down-stairs and hear the music. You might as well be at home as moping up in this room. Come, it will do you good.

MRS. ALLJOY. O Joey! I couldn’t possibly dress and go down to-night. Just suppose I should faint!

MR. ALLJOY. Well, suppose you do; you are not likely to, you know. You would soon get over it, and you wouldn’t be a mile from your own room.

MRS. ALLJOY. You are so heartless. I think it is cruel of you to talk that way. Even if I didn’t faint, those parlors are so draughty, and the music always makes my head ache.

MR. ALLJOY. Very well, we needn’t go. (_Silence, excepting the rustling of the paper._)

MRS. ALLJOY. Joe, can’t you read without making such a noise with the paper? It does distract me so. My poor nerves cannot stand much.

MR. ALLJOY. I cannot very well spend my evening spelling out the advertisements on one side of the paper. (_Sarcastically_) Perhaps I may be able to find a newspaper of a single sheet only--one of those patent-inside arrangements--if so, I certainly shall take it. (_Getting up_) Since I am so unpleasantly distracting, I had better leave you in peace. They don’t mind speaking above a whisper at the club. (_Throws down paper and takes up his hat_) Good-night; don’t sit up for me. (_Goes out_, R.)

MRS. ALLJOY. (_burying her head in the pillow and sobbing_) There he goes again to that hateful old club, leaving poor forlorn me all alone. Oh, these heartless men! (_A knock at the door_, R.)

(_Enter_ MRS. FRISK.)

MRS. FRISK. Why, Lolly, what is the matter?

MRS. ALLJOY. (_sitting up and wiping her eyes_) O Anna! I am so glad you came in! It is the same old story, of course. Joe has gone over to the club, leaving me alone with nothing to do; I cannot do fancy work, it makes my back ache; I cannot read, for it makes my head ache, and so here I am deprived of everything, even my husband’s society. I am a perfect martyr.

MRS. FRISK. (_laughing_) Laura, you do make me laugh, you are so bent upon being miserable. Now, don’t put on that injured look. I have something to tell you.

MRS. ALLJOY. (_brightening up_) Have you? What is it? I am dying to hear.

MRS. FRISK. First, look at me. Do you see this new gown?

MRS. ALLJOY. Yes. How well you look in it.

MRS. FRISK. (_triumphantly_) That is just it. I am one inch longer in the waist than I was two months ago, and it is all due to physical culture.

MRS. ALLJOY. Physical culture?

MRS. FRISK. Yes. You have no idea what it does for one, and it would be just the thing for you.

MRS. ALLJOY. Oh, no! I never could swing those dreadful Indian clubs and jump over a rope four or five feet high or squirm in and out of little square places like a snake. As for a trapeze, I have a perfect horror of one.

MRS. FRISK. Nonsense! That isn’t what you have to do. Why, it is as simple as can be, to begin with, and has cured more headaches and backaches than I could begin to tell you of. See, I will show you a few of the first exercises. (_Rises, and goes through a few movements rather awkwardly_) There, now, that isn’t so dreadfully hard, is it? Come, Laura, say you will join our club.

MRS. ALLJOY. Club! Did you say you had a club?

MRS. FRISK. Yes; one must do something in Lent, and it is awfully stupid down here, so we have organized a club, the X. Y. Z. The culmination of knowledge, you see, as opposed to A. B. C. The X. Y. Z. Club, composed of about a dozen ladies who are seeking different ends through the same means; I, for instance, am bent upon decreasing my size; even “add a cubit to my stature,” and it would not come amiss if I were able to stretch up to it and out of my avoirdupois. Mrs. Bodkin, on the contrary, pines for flesh, for breadth of chest, and mightiness of muscle. Miss Doting, the dear soul, thinks the movements “such lines of beauty,” and her prophetic eye sees herself, though spare of flesh, an undulating, willowy figure, gliding before some hero’s vision and into his heart; while dear Mintra, her niece, who has come down here with her, does it all “just for the fun of the thing.”

MRS. ALLJOY. Well, I really believe I will join you, since Mr. Joe is so absorbed in his club, and I will show him that I can have a club, too. Yes, I really will join you.

MRS. FRISK. (_delightedly_) That is right. We meet to-morrow in Mrs. Bodkin’s rooms at three o’clock. Now I must go. Good-night. Don’t get up.

MRS. ALLJOY. Oh! I feel better already. I will go to the door with you. (_They go toward door_, L.)

CURTAIN

SCENE II--MRS. BODKIN’S _drawing-room, handsomely furnished. Large table with lamp down_ R. _Doors_ R. _and_ L. _and_ C. _in flat. Ladies are all present and are preparing for a meeting of the Club_. MRS. FRISK _and_ MRS. ALLJOY _down_ C.

MRS. FRISK. Now, Lolly dear, you see us as we are, absolutely afraid of our teacher, each other, and our own selves. Mrs. Bodkin, (_addressing_ MRS. B., _who stands near_) do you know I have lost a whole pound, and I am at least an inch longer in the waist.

MRS. BODKIN. Really? Well, I have found your pound, and am triumphantly wearing it; and, as for your inch, I have added that to my chest measure.

MRS. ALLJOY. You have? What is that Mrs. Pallide is saying, “Ma za?” Is she seeking a rhyme?

MRS. FRISK. (_laughing_) No, that is for exercising the muscles of the mouth, and so is the sentence she is practicing now, “Most men want poise and more royal margin.”

MRS. ALLJOY. Do you suppose we really need to exercise the muscles of our mouths? I fancy our husbands will hardly think so.

MRS. FRISK. Rank treason, my dear! Do they not need to exercise their biceps?

MRS. ALLJOY. Do look at Miss Doting. Is she invoking Juno?

MRS. FRISK. No, she would never invoke any one but Venus, my dear.

MISS DOTING. (_who has been going through some of the arm movements most extravagantly, shakes her finger at the three ladies as she approaches_) Ah, my dears, I see you laughing at me, but as that dear Emerson says in his ode to “Beauty,” “Unmake me quite, or give thyself to me.” And, oh! (_clasping her hands in a soulful way_) I do so long for “Beauty;” not the tender tints of spring, not the rose flush of June, but the beauty of autumn. Oh, surely, surely I may consider that I am not too late in seeking that aftermath.

MRS. ALLJOY. Oh, surely, surely not too late, Miss Doting.

MRS. FRISK. You look so well to-day.

MRS. BODKIN. That is a most becoming costume.

MISS DOTING. Oh! do you think so? Pet laughed at me, and though she is too dear a child to say so, I know she thinks me too old to wear pink; but, as I said to her, “Beauty is its own excuse for being,” and the rosy streaks of sunset are as beautifully tender as the auroral glow of morn. And why may I not be clad like the sunset?

MRS. FRISK. Why, of course you may. (_Aside_) There is no one to say you may not; but can you, and not look like a guy, that is the question. (_Aloud_) Speaking of Pet, is Mintra not here? Ah, there she is.

(MINTRA _enters and_ MRS. ALLJOY _meets her, goes front; other ladies go through different gestures very awkwardly, laughing and talking with one another_.)

MRS. ALLJOY. Mintra, dear, I want so much to see you for a moment. I must enlighten you in a matter upon which I happen to be informed, and you do not. Old Mr. Fossil is here.

MINTRA. (_starting_) Is he?

MRS. ALLJOY. Yes, and Tom Bestman told my husband--you know what old friends they are, and you will forgive it, I know--he told my husband that his uncle was furious with him. Your aunt does not know of your engagement, does she?

MINTRA. No, indeed; I have told her nothing about it. She has only seen Tom twice, and doesn’t know he has an uncle. You know mamma could not have told her, for she did not stop in Philadelphia at all.

MRS. ALLJOY. Well, Tom’s uncle vows he shall never marry any one but a strong-minded daughter of the soil; at least--not exactly that--but he advocates only sensible women, as he calls them, and objects in the most strenuous manner to high heels, small waists, and society foibles and follies.

MINTRA. Well!

MRS. ALLJOY. Not at all well. You dear, silly little goose (_putting her arm affectionately around her_), do you know what that means? Why, it means that your dear Tom is thrown off to shift for himself, and instead of having a very comfortable berth he will have nothing at all; and though he is by no means a fool, yet it will be years before he is in a position to marry, if he doesn’t marry to please his uncle, and his uncle has conceived a frantic dislike to you.

MINTRA. Me?

MRS. ALLJOY. Yes, “me” (_mimicking her_), and “me” must go to work and disabuse the old gentleman of his ridiculous ideas.

MINTRA. But how?

MRS. ALLJOY. My dear goosie, you see the means before you. Physical culture, of course. Send to the city for low-heeled shoes; increase your waist measure at least four inches; be an enthusiastic walker; stand up straight; give him the idea that your one aim in life is to be sensible, that your ideal of perfection is a healthy peasant, and--well, that is all.

MINTRA. (_enthusiastically_) I’ll do it.

MISS DOTING. (_approaching_) Ah, Pet, dear! you see I was right to wear my pink gown. I have received many compliments, I assure you. “I builded better than I knew,” as dear Emerson says. I want to tell you something, I met such a charming man just before I came upstairs.

MINTRA. (_indifferently_) Who was it, auntie? You meet so many “charming men.”

MISS DOTING. (_coquettishly_) Now, Pet, how can I help it if they make themselves charming to me? Surely I do nothing to attract them, and you know how terribly soon my ideals vanish. But this time!--O Pet! (_theatrically_), “When half gods go, the gods arrive!” and Mr. Fossil is Jove-like in his dignity.

MINTRA. (_excitedly_) Mr. Fossil?

MISS DOTING. Yes, Mr. Fossil; and O Pet! he is so interested in our club, and he asked me--well (_coyly_), perhaps he should not have done so upon so short an acquaintance; but when I told him that we proposed giving an exhibition of our talent to the guests of the house, at a later date, he asked me (_giggles_), he asked me if he might come, and I said yes.

MINTRA. (_laughing_) Well, auntie, I don’t think that was so terribly forward. I shall not object, for one.

MRS. BODKIN. O Mrs. Frisk! do you know your lesson? (_Proceeds with a stanza of_ “Young Lochinvar,” _hesitates and breaks down_.) There! I knew I could not do it.

MRS. FRISK. Oh! never mind. You will be all right. At any rate, there are plenty to keep you company. I wonder where Miss Stein is.

MRS. PALLIDE. She will be a little late, I think, for I saw her talking to Mr. Fossil, and you know his hobby. Do you know I cannot remember that neck movement to save my life.

SEVERAL. Oh! can’t you? Why, this is it. (_All proceed to show her, differently._)

MRS. PALLIDE. I don’t see that I am any wiser than I was before. However, I will ask Miss Stein to show me. Do, somebody see if I say this correctly. (_Begins another stanza of_ “Lochinvar,” _but stops to giggle_) Now, Mrs. Frisk, if you look at me in that way I cannot say it. I’ll tell Miss Stein of you. There she is now. (_All rush up to_ MISS STEIN, _who enters the room_, C.)

CURTAIN

ACT II

SCENE--_Porch of hotel. Gravel walk across stage in front of porch. Exits_ R. _and_ L. _Main entrance to hotel_ C. _in flat. Full-length windows_, R. _and_ L. _Wicker chairs scattered about porch._ MR. FOSSIL _and_ MR. BESTMAN _discovered seated down_ L.

MR. FOSSIL. (_rising_) Yes, sir, I say that the young men of the present day are idiots. Yes, sir, brainless idiots. Do you suppose for one instant, sir, that I intend my money to go toward supporting a race of wasp-waisted, deformed, hollow-chested women? (_Walking about porch excitedly_) Not for my right hand. I would rather see you married to a German peasant with thick ankles and a thick head than to a simpering silly society girl tottering along on her high-heeled, pointed-toed shoes. (_Stopping before_ TOM) Look at that. (_Takes a slipper from his pocket_) That is the kind of shoe I mean. Now, can you deny that this is the same style of footgear that your charming, lovely Mintra wears? (_Takes out a photograph_) I found this stuck in your mirror. Look at that waist. No wonder she stands with her back to you. I should think she would be ashamed to show her face. How does she breathe? Where are her lungs? Where is her heart? No, sir, it is time this folly--no, it is worse than folly--this crime, I call it--should be stopped, and I, for one, give no consent toward the encouragement of monstrosities. Now, you have my answer. You can marry your high-heeled, wasp-waisted, narrow-chested deformed ninny if you want to; but if you do, you leave my office at once, and every cent of my money shall go toward the founding of gymnasiums for women.

TOM. But, uncle, you do not expect me to give up the girl I love simply because she does not measure a yard around her waist. What in the world has that to do with her moral character or her lovely, amiable qualities?

MR. FOSSIL. It has everything to do with them. A girl that distorts the body the Lord gave her hasn’t proper moral perception, and as for her charming qualities, I suppose you can live on them.

TOM. But, uncle, it is ridiculous to take a dislike to a girl you have never seen. Let me present you, and--

MR. FOSSIL. No, and I do not wish to see her. I hope I never shall. I know enough of the species already. I shall go back to the city to-night, and I expect you to go with me.

TOM. Now, sir, that is a little too much. She is just like all girls. I mean she isn’t like all girls, but she has had no opportunity for doing differently because she has had no example before her, and you surely do not expect me to--

MR. FOSSIL. I expect nothing, and if her nonsensical style suits you my ideas do not, so there is an end of it. (_Exit_ C.)

(_Enter_ MINTRA, R.) Tom, is that you?

TOM. (_rising_) Yes; what is left of me.

MINTRA. Why, what is the matter?

TOM. Oh, nothing but what I shall have to stand. Uncle expects me to go back to the city with him to-night.

MINTRA. Well, never mind. You can come back again. Now, Tom, don’t look so glum. You know I want you to stay, but old people are apt to be a bit cranky, and it is best to humor them sometimes, then they get over their little tempers sooner. You should see how I have to manage Auntie. Was he so very angry when you--when you told him about me? (_shyly._)

TOM. (_savagely_) Yes. Confound his impudence!

MINTRA. Now, Tom, don’t be so savage. You know “the course of true love,” and if it is only this I don’t mind. As long as you are my own dear boy, the whole world may turn against me. We’ll have him on our side yet, you see if we do not.

TOM. You dear little girl (_puts his arm around her_), if he could but see you once, he couldn’t help being on your side.

MINTRA. Tom, have I such a very small waist?

TOM. Yes, you are quite like a wasp.

MINTRA. Oh, you mean thing. I am not like one of those horrid, shiny, blue wasps.

TOM. No, I didn’t mean a wasp. I meant a dear little busy bee.

MINTRA. The reason I asked is--but, please promise not to tell any one.

TOM. All right, I promise.

MINTRA. You know there is a club organized here, just to fill up this stupid season, and you know how dull it is for me when you are not here, for I cannot write to you every hour in the day. Well, at first I wasn’t a bit interested, but I really am now. You see I had never thought of narrow chests, or little bits of waists being so very injurious. I thought it was just a fad of old people, like Auntie; but when I heard Miss Stein talk--you know she has come down to give us lessons--I was converted at once, it all seemed so sensible. And so I have joined the club for Physical Culture, and--

TOM. (_rapturously_) You have!

MINTRA. Yes. Are you glad? Do you approve?

TOM. Approve! I should think so.

MINTRA. I am so glad. Well, now you see, I practice often, oh! real often, and Tom, although you don’t seem to think so, I am ever and ever so many inches larger in the waist. And now the funny thing I was going to tell you is this: I sent to the city for some low-heeled shoes, for I have discarded all my high heels; but last night as I was going to close my shutters, one of them stuck. I couldn’t quite reach the catch, so I took up one of my high-heeled slippers--for the heel makes an excellent hammer--and as the catch sprang suddenly, it knocked the slipper out of my hand and it went flying out of the window. Of course, it was dark, but I told one of the hall boys to try and find it, and this morning he said he had hunted everywhere, but it was not to be seen. Now, who in the world do you suppose could have picked it up?

TOM. Ha! ha! ha! That is funny! Forgive me, my darling, but it is so funny, I can’t help laughing. I think I could tell where it is.

MINTRA. O Tom! did you find it?

TOM. Never mind who found it. I have seen it, and that is all I shall tell you. It is perfectly safe.

MINTRA. Well! I think you are very mean. Do, please, throw it away where no one can find it. Do, like a good boy. Now I must go. You must not worry, dear.

(_Exit, both_, L.)

(_Enter_ MRS. ALLJOY, C.)

MRS. ALLJOY. I am so glad no one is here. Now I can practice a little without being heard. (_Begins_) Ma-za-sca-ah. (_Goes through some gestures._)

(_Enter_ MR. ALLJOY, R.)

MR. ALLJOY. Why, Laura, what are you doing?

MRS. ALLJOY. (_looking at him steadfastly and seriously_) Most men want poise, and more royal margin.

MR. ALLJOY. So they do; so they do. (_Aside_) Good gracious, now did she hear of that little speculation? I might as well own up. (_Aloud_) I know, my dear, I should have had more poise; but you know I don’t often lose my head, and a man certainly does need a royal margin when he is dabbling in stocks.

MRS. ALLJOY. Joseph Alljoy, are you crazy?

MR. ALLJOY. No. Are you?

MRS. ALLJOY. Not at all. My mind is perfectly clear.

MR. ALLJOY. I, Joseph Alljoy, being of sound mind--

MRS. ALLJOY. Joseph, you certainly are insane. I presume you have left at the club the small amount of brains you once possessed. Now at my club--

MR. ALLJOY. Ye powers above! She has a club! Clubs are trumps, and we seem to hold a full hand. How fortunate that you are my partner! I thought you always called for diamonds though?

MRS. ALLJOY. Well, I don’t get them if I do--not when you deal.

MR. ALLJOY. Now, Lolly, don’t let’s quarrel. We have done so much of it lately, and you have seemed so like your old self, for the past few days, that I hoped--indeed, I did hope that our old happy days might come back.

MRS. ALLJOY. But you didn’t go to the club, then.

MR. ALLJOY. Neither did you. No, hearts were trumps, and they are best after all. Clubs! They are a man’s refuge

“From ev’ry stormy wind that blows, From ev’ry swelling tide of woes;”

but a woman and a club are about as incongruous as a woman and a base-ball bat. You didn’t need clubs before we were married.

MRS. ALLJOY. Neither did you.

MR. ALLJOY. No; for you were very entertaining then, and did not need to be coaxed to go walking or driving. You cannot go anywhere with me now; but you are well enough to go to clubs.

MRS. ALLJOY. You will be sorry you spoke to me in this way. I meant to tell you all about it, but I shall not now.

MR. ALLJOY. Now, Laura, do.

MRS. ALLJOY. Aha! Curiosity is it?

MR. ALLJOY. Oh! no! But it is your duty to tell me.

MRS. ALLJOY. (_scornfully_) Duty!

(_They walk off_, L., _talking and gesticulating in an animated manner, as enter_ MISS DOTING _and_ MR. FOSSIL, C.)