Part 4

RODNEY. Here they are. (_He produces large blue-print_) Pretty real looking, aren’t they?

PEALE. You don’t mean you’ve actually got some nut to build us a factory?

RODNEY. No, no, they are for father.

PEALE. Oh, yes, I must admit that is some idea. (_Takes blue-print_)

RODNEY. If he ever does drop in to make a deal I thought we ought to have something to make a front, something that looks like a plant.

PEALE. _Plant_ is right.

RODNEY. And by the way, if we can, let it leak out that it’s the Ivory Soap people who are backing us with unlimited capital.

PEALE. The Ivory Soap people?

RODNEY. Sure, father’s always hated ’em in business. His oldest friend, though, is John Clark, one of the big bugs in Ivory Soap. Clark’s got a son, Ellery, that father dislikes because he’s such a success in business—always held him up to me as a model son to pattern by. It’d make father wild if he thought that old Clark was going to back us; Ivory Soap’s the only bunch he’s never been able to lick. (_Rises and goes down R._)

PEALE. (_Goes down L._) Then that scheme ought to be good for a great rise out of father.

RODNEY. Say, by the way, I put over a corker on him this morning: I arranged for a parade of sandwich-men up and down in front of his house. I just sent another bunch to his office.

PEALE. Oh, we’re bound to land him sooner or later, keeping after him the way we have.

RODNEY. Funny, though, nobody’s tried to buy any soap from us yet.

PEALE. Well, it takes time to create a demand. These 200 cakes of pink castile you bought looked swell in our old rose wrappers, didn’t they?

RODNEY. Say, where’s Miss Grayson? Have you seen her to-day?

PEALE. No, and it’s after eleven.

RODNEY. I’ll bet she was here before either of us—she always is. By George, isn’t she a corker?

PEALE. (_Indifferently_) Oh, she’s all right. (_Takes pad and pencil from pocket and sits in arm-chair L._)

RODNEY. All right!? Why, the girls you read about don’t mean anything compared to Mary. She’s got Juliet beat a mile. Every time I think of her I want to yell or do some darn fool thing, and every time I see her I just want to get down and kiss her shoes. I just want to walk around after her all the rest of my life and say “Are you comfortable, my love? Are you happy? If there is anything on the wide earth you want, let me get it for you, Mary.” What a wonderful name that is—just like her, simple and honest and beautiful! Mary!

PEALE. (_Reflectively_) If we could only land one hard wallop on father after that Buffalo business!

RODNEY. (_Indignantly_) Didn’t you hear what I said?

PEALE. Not a word.

RODNEY. I was talking about Mary.

PEALE. I know you were. That’s why I didn’t listen.

(_MARY enters from door upper R. with MSS. case. Hangs up hat, then goes to desk, sitting back of it C._)

MARY. Good-morning.

RODNEY. (_To MARY_) Ah, you’re here—now everything’s all right, it’s a great world.

MARY. Don’t be silly; this is a business office.

RODNEY. By George, Mary——

MARY. Miss Grayson!

RODNEY. By George, Miss Grayson, you do look simply stunning! You’re twice as pretty to-day as you were yesterday, and to-morrow you’ll be——

PEALE. Hey, hey, change the record or put on a soft needle!

MARY. (_To PEALE_) Quite right—in business hours, only business. (_Takes list of assets and liabilities from case_)

RODNEY. But you are the prettiest thing——

MARY. Never mind that—you listen to me. This firm’s broke.

RODNEY. That we can’t be——

PEALE. It must be some mistake in the books——

MARY. Is it? I was surprised myself when I balanced our accounts this morning. I have here a statement of our assets and liabilities. We owe $22,818.09.

PEALE. What’s the 9 cents for?

RODNEY. What are our assets?

MARY. $133.13.

RODNEY. That’s quite a showing for a month.

MARY. Mr. McChesney, the advertising man, was here this morning, and he won’t wait any longer for his money.

RODNEY. But we paid him $5,000.

MARY. (_Looking at statement_) Yes, and owe him $9,400. And unless he has $2,500 of it to-day he’ll put you out of business.

PEALE. That’s the trouble of dealing with business men. They’re so particular about being paid. Now, you take a lot of actors——

MARY. But what about McChesney?

RODNEY. Yes, what are we going to do when McChesney comes here to-day for money—cash?

PEALE. Well, we don’t do any more business with him.

MARY. No, I guess we won’t.

PEALE. Well, don’t you worry, old son, we’ll fix father somehow. Nobody can stop good advertising. Why, I met a little fellow on the train last night. He gets $50,000 a year just for writing ads. He says a good trade-mark is 70% of the battle, and we’ve got the best trade-mark I ever heard of.

MARY. You think we ought to keep on advertising?

PEALE. Sure, if we can get credit.

RODNEY. I suppose we might as well owe forty thousand as twenty.

PEALE. Absolutely. Half of all modern advertising success is based on a good trade-mark, and ours is a bird.

RODNEY. By George, that’s true, we simply have got to keep going. We’ll manage somehow.

MARY. I like to hear you say that.

PEALE. Now you’re talking. We’ll conduct the greatest campaign since George W. Advertising was a young man.

MISS BURKE. (_Entering with one letter from door upper R._) Here’s the morning mail. (_RODNEY takes letter, returns front of desk, MISS BURKE exits R._)

PEALE. Pretty heavy mail. (_Coming down L. of RODNEY_)

MARY. I’ll bet it’s another bill. (_Coming down R. of RODNEY_)

RODNEY. Hurrah! Hurrah! It’s from the Countess.

MARY. What does she say?

PEALE. (_Grabbing letter, and looking at it_) Oh, French stuff.

RODNEY. She says she was delayed abroad, but that she’s due to-day on the Imper_a_tor or Rotter or whatever you call it, this morning, and that she’s coming to see us at eleven.

MARY. It’s half-past eleven now. Oh, dear.

PEALE. Fear not. Remember, though a Countess, she is still a woman: give her time.

MARY. Does she say anything about the $15,000?

RODNEY. No.

PEALE. Well, I’ve got a hunch everything’s going to be all right, or she wouldn’t have written us at all.

RODNEY. Her $15,000’ll keep us going for quite a while.

MISS BURKE. (_Entering from door upper R._) Mr. McChesney is here to see you.

MARY. The advertising man. (_Goes to typewriter desk, and pounds on it_)

MISS BURKE. He seems very angry, too.

RODNEY. Tell him I’m out. (_Goes to chair behind desk and sits_)

MCCHESNEY. (_Entering from door upper R._) Thought I’d come right in instead of waiting to have her tell me you were out. (_Going to RODNEY_)

(_MISS BURKE exits._)

RODNEY. (_Genially_) Why, hello, Mr. McChesney.

PEALE. (_Trying to shake hands_) How are you, Mac?

MCCHESNEY. (_Throwing him off_) You may be in the soap business, but cut out the soft soap with me. Where’s my money? Have you got it?

RODNEY. Why—er—the fact is——

MCCHESNEY. That means you haven’t.

RODNEY. Well, you see——

MCCHESNEY. That doesn’t go with me. Do you think you can put me off? You can bet your blooming liabilities you can’t. I think this whole concern is bunk and I’m going after you good——

RODNEY. I don’t care for that kind of loud talk. Drop it.

PEALE. Drop it.

MCCHESNEY. (_Surprised_) What?

PEALE. He said, drop it.

RODNEY. It’s simply that I haven’t had time to examine your bill in detail. This afternoon, however, I——

MCCHESNEY. I’ve heard that before. Now, see here, Mr. Martin—your father’s an honest man: he won’t stand for his son not paying me my money. I’ll see him now. (_He starts for door_)

RODNEY. Wait a minute, wait a minute. I’ll give you a check for $2,500 on account. I presume that will be satisfactory.

MCCHESNEY. (_Taken aback_) Why, yes—sure—but——

RODNEY. You understand, Mr. Peale, that not a cent of that fifty thousand dollars we appropriated for our October advertising campaign is to go to him?

PEALE. Absolutely.

MCCHESNEY. Now, Mr. Martin, I’ll admit I’m hasty tempered. I’m sorry I made a mistake, but a contract is a contract and——

RODNEY. Here’s your check. Good-day.

MCCHESNEY. But, Mr. Martin——

RODNEY. Show Mr. McChesney out.

PEALE. (_Goes to MCCHESNEY, takes his arm and leads him to door upper R._) Come on, Mac—this way to the elevator. (_Delighted_) Watch your step.

(_MR. MCCHESNEY exits._)

RODNEY. (_Gleefully_) Well, I fixed him, didn’t I?

MARY. (_Rises and goes to RODNEY_) No, you’ve only got us into more difficulty. You know, there’s no money in the bank.

RODNEY. But the check won’t go through the clearing-house until to-morrow morning and by then we’ll have the $15,000 from the Countess.

PEALE. But where is the Countess?

MARY. I’ll go telephone now to see if the Imperator’s docked yet.

PEALE. I’ll bet she sank in mid-ocean!

MISS BURKE. (_Entering_) Mr. Ellery Clark to see you.

RODNEY. How I hate that fellow!

PEALE. What’ve you ever done to him?

RODNEY. Nothing. I wish I could. That’s the fellow I told you about. John Clark’s pride.

PEALE. Oh, yes, the son of Ivory Soap. Let’s have a peek at him?

MISS BURKE. Yes, sir. (_She exits_)

PEALE. I never saw a model son before.

MARY. (_She starts down R._) Oh, Rodney, find out how Ellery’s doing in business, will you?

RODNEY. Oh, I suppose so.

(_MARY exits door lower R._)

PEALE. (_Crosses to arm-chair L._) You’re spoiling that girl. She used to be a good business woman. Now half the time, instead of using her brains she just sits and looks at you as if you were some marvellous antique work of art. (_Sits_)

(_ELLERY enters door upper R._)

ELLERY. Hello, Rodney, mind if I come in?

RODNEY. I’m very busy to-day, Mr. Clark.

ELLERY. Oh, I suppose you are. Must take a lot of time to get up your advertisements.

PEALE. (_Rises, goes to ELLERY and offers hand_) You like ’em? I write ’em! My name’s Peale! (_Goes back to chair L. Sits_)

ELLERY. (_Turning from him, bored_) How do you do? (_Sits in arm-chair R._)

RODNEY. What is it, Mr. Clark?

ELLERY. You see, it’s like this, old top. I’ve been having rather a time with father lately—silly old man—insisted on the absurd idea of my going into business. Beastly bore.

RODNEY. But you wanted to do that?

ELLERY. I should say not.

RODNEY. But I thought you loved work?

ELLERY. It’s a preposterous idea—men of intelligence go in for the professions. I paint.

PEALE. (_Half aside_) You look it!

RODNEY. I’d heard you were a model son.

ELLERY. But I don’t consider it a compliment to be a success in business—think of all the blighters who are.

PEALE. Yes, the bally rotters!

ELLERY. Father keeps reminding me of your success every day—most irritating. You see, of course he’s sore, because I never bothered much about business. Oh, I have tackled a thing or two. But luck was always against me. It just happened it didn’t work out right. Not my fault, you understand?

PEALE. You couldn’t be to blame.

ELLERY. Of course, if I ever devoted myself to business! But, after all, when you know you can do a thing you want to, why bother to do it, if it bores you?

PEALE. Yes, life is a damn nuisance.

ELLERY. (_Sighing_) And father has been so offensive lately, I’ve decided to give a little time to business and make a success of it. I can, you know.

RODNEY. Indeed?

PEALE. Seems simple.

ELLERY. Oh, rather. I have it all figured out. For my scheme I’ve got to raise seventy-five hundred dollars, and I wanted to talk to you about it. This idea of mine is an automobile proposition. I really need $10,000, and I’ve only got $2,500.

(_RODNEY and PEALE exchange looks and walk over to ELLERY, one on each side of him._)

RODNEY. Ellery, why do you want to go into the automobile business? It’s dangerous—unsafe——

PEALE. The risk’s tremendous.

RODNEY. Ellery, our families are old friends. Now, if you really want to show your father you’re a money-maker, why don’t you buy some shares in our company?

ELLERY. I don’t care much about the idea of being in the soap business—rather vulgar.

RODNEY. But you don’t have to be in the business.

PEALE. Absolutely not.

RODNEY. It’s a very simple proposition. All you do is invest and then sit still and deposit your checks when we pay dividends.

ELLERY. I say, that sounds a bit better.

RODNEY. We’re not letting the general public in—but it’d be such a joke on your father for you to make money.

ELLERY. Yes, wouldn’t it? (_They all laugh_) I fancy he’d be mighty glad I had sense enough to go in with you.

RODNEY. Yes, wouldn’t he?

ELLERY. But is it a safe investment?

RODNEY. Why, we’d guarantee you against loss from our assets.

PEALE. Yes, from our assets.

ELLERY. That sounds rather ripping. But what would I get for my twenty-five hundred?

PEALE. A receipt.

ELLERY. I know, I know, but what interest in the business?

RODNEY. Two and one-half per cent.

ELLERY. I say, is that much?

RODNEY. Think what two and a half per cent in the steel trust would mean.

PEALE. And more people use soap than steel.

ELLERY. (_Wisely_) Isn’t steel dearer?

RODNEY. It’s quantity that counts.

PEALE. Four cakes a year to every person in this country would represent an annual output of 400,000,000 cakes—and think of all the babies who’ll be born next year. They’ll all have to be washed.

ELLERY. Very true, very true. What is the annual birth-rate?

RODNEY. Let me see, let me see; do you know, Peale?

PEALE. There’s one born every minute.

ELLERY. I fancy that’s true.

PEALE. You can bet it is.

RODNEY. Now, what do you say, Ellery, about investing in our company?

ELLERY. (_After a long pause, rises and shakes hands with RODNEY_) I’ll do it.

PEALE. God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world! (_Crosses L._)

RODNEY. Have you the money with you?

ELLERY. Why, no.

PEALE. Then you’ll send us a check to-day?

ELLERY. I don’t get the money until next week.

RODNEY. Why not?

ELLERY. Father didn’t promise it to me till next Monday.

PEALE. Well, ask him for it now.

ELLERY. Oh, I’m afraid I can’t. He’s out of town.

RODNEY. We can’t agree to hold the matter open until next Monday. (_Goes to chair behind desk and sits_)

PEALE. No, not till way next Monday. Why don’t you telephone him?

ELLERY. Yes, that wouldn’t be so distressing. If I can get him—I find him considerably easier to talk to on the ’phone. I can always ring off.

PEALE. Come this way—it’ll be quieter for you if he’s noisy. (_Goes to ELLERY, takes his arm, and leads him to door lower R._)

MARY. (_Enters door lower R._) Oh, how do you do, Mr. Clark?

ELLERY. Oh, how do you do? (_They shake hands_)

PEALE. (_Pushing him out_) Never mind the social chatter. Ellery, you don’t mind my calling you Ellery—do you, Ellery? (_To her_) You see, Ellery has work to do. (_Exit ELLERY. MARY goes to L._) If that’s a model son, thank God I was born a black sheep!

RODNEY. (_To MARY_) Has the Imperator docked?

MARY. Three hours ago.

PEALE. Then I’ll bet the Countess has been hit by a taxi! (_Drinks_)

MARY. Oh, Rodney, did you find out how well Ellery’s doing?

RODNEY. Oh, great! Hasn’t made a cent. Wanted to borrow some money from me.

MARY. Your father’d be glad to hear that.

PEALE. Oh, where is our wandering Countess? (_Crosses to L._)

MISS BURKE. (_Entering_) The Countess de Boureen.

PEALE. By golly, she enters on the cue.

RODNEY. We’re saved now.

MARY. Oh, I do hope so.

RODNEY. Get her right in here, quick.

(_MISS BURKE exits._)

ELLERY. (_Sticking his head in at door_) How do you use this ’phone? I’ve never run a switchboard!

MARY. Oh, I’ll come show you. (_Crosses to R._)

ELLERY. Oh, thank you. I’m not much at mechanical problems. (_He exits_)

RODNEY. (_To MARY as she goes_) And get his father for him; it may mean $2,500 more for us.

PEALE. (_Runs to door R. shouting to MARY_) Do anything: hold his hand—kiss him! (_She exits. To RODNEY_) Do you need an interpreter for the Countess?

RODNEY. (_As he speaks, goes over and pulls down a shade on which is painted an advertisement in French_) I can understand anything she says about money. You can help me count it.

PEALE. That’s the grandest sensation I know. (_Crosses to L._)

MISS BURKE. (_Announcing_) The Countess de Bowreen.

(_COUNTESS sweeps in. RODNEY delighted. Goes to her and kisses her hand._)

RODNEY. Ah, bonjour—bonjour.

COUNTESS. Bonjour—bonjour.

RODNEY. (_Pointing to window shade_) Regardez.

COUNTESS. Ah, magnifique, superbe, superbe! Je suis désolée d’être si en retard, mais c’est très compliqué à la douane. (_Coming down in front of desk_)

RODNEY. Not at all. (_Going to her_)

PEALE. Not at all. (_Going to her_)

COUNTESS. (_Threatening_) Vous avez reçu ma lettre?

RODNEY. Letter? Yes, I got your letter.

PEALE. (_Leaning forward eagerly to her_) Oh, you little life-saver.

RODNEY. (_To her_) Mon manager, you remember?

COUNTESS. Je suis enchantée de vous revoir.

(_PEALE bows very low._)

RODNEY. Kiss her hand—it’s French stuff.

(_PEALE kisses her hand._)

PEALE. She looks like money—ask her—ask her.

RODNEY. (_Nervously_) You have the money?

COUNTESS. Eh?

PEALE. (_Snapping his fingers_) Come on, kid, say yes, say yes.

RODNEY. Vous avez argent?

COUNTESS. Oui, oui, j’ai l’argent.

PEALE. What does she say?

RODNEY. She says yes.

PEALE. Shall I kiss her?

RODNEY. Do you want to spoil everything? Don’t kiss her till we get the money. The money with you?

COUNTESS. Eh?

RODNEY. Argent avec vous?

COUNTESS. Oui, j’ai l’argent ici. (_Opening bag and taking out check_)

PEALE. It’s real.

COUNTESS. C’est un chèque de Morgan Harjes pour cent mille francs.

RODNEY. (_Looking at it_) Draft for $20,000 in full payment for French rights of the 13 Soap.

COUNTESS. Je vous donnerai ce chèque pour vingt mille dollars, mais comme je ne vous dois que quinze mille, vous pourrez me donner votre chèque pour cinq mille. Cela finira notre affaire.

PEALE. Slip it to me, kid, slip it to me. I’m dying on my feet. (_Takes check from RODNEY_)

RODNEY. She says she’ll give us the draft for $20,000, but as she only owes us $15,000, we must give her back our check for $5,000.

PEALE. That seems simple, give her the check.

RODNEY. But we haven’t any money in the bank. Suppose we get her check cashed first. Then we can pay her.

PEALE. Sure, great! I’ll go right over to the bank to get it certified. (_COUNTESS takes check from PEALE and tears it up_) What’s the matter with you? What’s the matter?

(_COUNTESS is smiling._)

RODNEY. She’s crazy——

COUNTESS. Ah mais non, l’affaire c’est fini maintenant——

PEALE. Talk French to her.

RODNEY. Pourquoi tear it up—pourquoi—pourquoi?

COUNTESS. Gee, but you’re funny!

RODNEY. She spoke English! She’s a fake. (_RODNEY and PEALE stare at her speechless, PEALE pointing toward the draft_)

PEALE. The draft was phoney, too.

COUNTESS. (_Smiling_) Sure it was.

PEALE. But what’s the idea, kid?

COUNTESS. (_Sits on desk_) You see, I was going to trim you out of your $5,000 check, but as long as you haven’t any money, your check’s no good, so you’ve busted up my whole scheme.

PEALE. But why pick on us?

COUNTESS. I didn’t start out to: you wished it on yourselves. I came to trim your father. You remember, I wanted to see him, but I looked so soft you thought you’d grab me off and sell me the French agency of your Thirteen Soap. I didn’t think your father could be as big a boob as you were, so I changed my plans. Do you get me?

PEALE. Yes, I get you and now I’m going to get the cops to get you. (_Starts up-stage_)

COUNTESS. (_Laughs. Crosses down L._) I should burst into laughter. Why, you pikers, I’m on: you’re busted. You haven’t any money and you have got a phoney company.

RODNEY. Now, see here—(_Goes to her_)

COUNTESS. Preserve it. Preserve it. (_Crosses to center_) Don’t forget, I’ve understood everything you two guys were talking about.

PEALE. Whew! (_Sits in arm-chair R._)

RODNEY. Gee! (_Goes to arm-chair L._)

COUNTESS. (_To RODNEY_) “Kiss her hand—it’s French stuff.” (_To PEALE_) “Ah, there, you little life-saver.” (_To RODNEY_) “The money with you—argent avec vous?” Gee, your French is rotten. (_To PEALE, who moves away_) “Shall I kiss her?” (_A pause_) Send for the cops and I’ll blow the whole thing to the papers. (_A pause_) Well, I guess we’re quits. If you had any money I’d ask for a piece of change to keep me quiet, but as it is, I can’t waste my time.

RODNEY. (_Rises_) You’re not French at all?

COUNTESS. I was educated over there—immense, wasn’t I? You never tumbled at all.

PEALE. (_Rises_) But why the foreign stuff?

COUNTESS. Well, I can talk good French—but my English is punk. (_Sits on desk_)

RODNEY. You won’t say anything now?

COUNTESS. No, I don’t hit a fellow when he’s down. Anyhow, we’re all in the same class. Three fakes.

PEALE. She has spilled the beans.

RODNEY. Great Scott! And McChesney has our check for $2,500.

PEALE. (_To RODNEY_) Gee! We will just have to get that $2,500 from ELLERY.

RODNEY. What’s happened to Ellery? Let’s find him. (_They start for door R._)

PEALE. If he falls down on us——

ELLERY. (_Entering_) Can I see you a moment?

RODNEY. I should say you could.

PEALE. You seem very beastly pleased, Ellery.

ELLERY. Oh, I am.

RODNEY. Then everything’s all right about father?

ELLERY. Oh, yes, so to speak—in a way.

RODNEY. Ah?

PEALE. (_Suddenly suspicious_) What do you mean—so to speak, in a way?

ELLERY. Well, I couldn’t reach the old man on the ’phone, and that did make matters so much easier. I don’t fancy talking to father on the ’phone.

PEALE. Why couldn’t you reach him?

ELLERY. (_Smiling happily_) Why, he’s on his yacht somewhere on the Sound—he won’t be home till Monday, so I can’t possibly get the money for you to-day.

(_RODNEY and PEALE walk up-stage while the COUNTESS drops her handkerchief. ELLERY picks it up and smiles back delightedly at her. MARY enters from door lower R._)

MARY. Look out. McChesney’s coming back here—I just saw him across the street.

PEALE. Try and keep him out.

MARY. I’ll do my best. (_She exits door upper R._)

RODNEY. Ellery, you’ll have to go—we’ve got a big job on our hands. Au revoir, Countess.

COUNTESS. Au revoir, Monsieur. (_With marked accent_) Is there no one to see me to my taxi? These American buildings are so big I am lost.

RODNEY. Ellery, you take the Countess.

ELLERY. Oh, I’d love to.

RODNEY. Madame la comtesse de Beaurien—Ellery Clark.

COUNTESS. Dee-lighted.

ELLERY. So am I.

RODNEY. (_Opens door lower L._) You can go out the private entrance.

ELLERY. (_Going toward left_) Oh, certainly.

COUNTESS. (_As they go_) You speak the French?

ELLERY. No, not at all.

COUNTESS. A pitee.

ELLERY. But I can speak German.

COUNTESS. Aber prachtvoll—Ich habe die Deutche sprache so furchtbar gern.

ELLERY. Ich auch——

COUNTESS. Warum laden sie mich nicht zum Biltmore zum Thee ein?

ELLERY. Mit dem grössten——

COUNTESS. Vergnuegen?

ELLERY. (_Relieved_) Yes, that’s the word—Vergnuegen.

PEALE. I’ll bet there’s a Berlitz in her family somewhere.