Dorothy Clyde;OR,The Squire’s Daughter.A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS.CHARACTERS:Barton Clyde,a country squire.Leslie Raymore,a clerk.Morley Dingle,a rich man’s son.Caleb Weatherspout,an old bachelor.Dorothy,the Squire’s daughter.Mrs. Felton,a poor widow.Em’ly,her only child.Parthenia Philp,an heiress.Mercy,her maid.MASQUERADERS.Scene: A Pennsylvania village.Time: The present.ActI.Interior of widow’s cottage.ActII.The masquerade.Costumes:For first act—modern. For second act—Squire, sailor; Raymore, Chinese; Dingle, knight; Weatherspout, monk; Dorothy, gypsy; Mrs. Felton, ghost; Em’ly, peasant; Miss Philp, duchess; Mercy, French maid. Masqueraders to suit fancy.ActI.Scene:Interior of widow Felton’s cottage. Table, C. Rocking-chair, L. C. Door Pract. in F., windows, etc. Time, morning. Mrs. Felton discovered seated in rocking-chair; Em’ly standing R. facing L.Em’ly.—Mother, I was never so insulted in my life; she threw the dress on her toilet stand, and fairly ground her teeth with rage.Mrs. Felton.—Dear! dear! dear! what shall we do! I depended on the money for making that dress to pay at least a month’s rent. Did you explain our distressed condition to Miss Philp?Em’ly.—Mother, dear, I did my best to reason with her, but she only stamped her foot, and bade me hold my saucy tongue. She said the dress was ruined.Mrs. Felton.—Our lot is indeed hard. What a dreadful misfortune my sickness has proved to be.Em’ly.—Dorothy Clyde stopped me on the road opposite the mill; she saw that my eyes were red, and pressed me so hard that I made a clean breast of the whole matter. She said she would be over about ten o’clock with her father, the Squire.Mrs. Felton.—Oh, if your poor, dear papa had only lived, how different our lot would be to-day. Alas! I fear we shall soon be homeless.Em’ly(Kneels at her side).—Do not give way to such gloomy thoughts; God has promised to care for the widow and the fatherless; let us trust in His goodness.Mrs. Felton.—My child, your mother is justly rebuked. We will trust in the Lord, come what may.[Knock at the door.]Em’ly(Rises and opens door).—Oh! walk in, Miss Philp.(Enter Miss Philp and Mercy, the latter bearing a bundle.)Miss Philp.—Walk in! Do you suppose I would run in, crawl in or creep in? Walk in! Of course I’ll walk in, and when I am ready, I shall walk out again. Humph!Mrs. Felton.—Em’ly, dear, give the lady a chair. Pray be seated, Miss Philp.Miss Philp(Dusts the chair with her handkerchief).—I think I shall stand.Em’ly.—The chairs are perfectly clean, Miss Philp; I carefully dusted them early this morning.Miss Philp.—I prefer to stand, however.Mrs. Felton(To Mercy).—Sit down, Mercy.Mercy.—Thank you. (Attempts to sit on chair.)Miss Philp.—Stop! how dare you sit when your mistress is standing! Place that bundle on the table; such brazen conduct is intolerable. And as for you, madam, you have not only ruined my robe, but you have prevented my attendance at the ball to-night.Mrs. Felton.—Mercy!Mercy(starts).—Eh?Mrs. Felton.—It was merely an ejaculation. (To Miss Philp).—I deeply regret having incurred your displeasure.Em’ly.—Perhaps we can remedy the defect if it is but trifling; it is yet early in the day.Mercy(Places bundle on table).—Why yes; I will open it (Begins to untie bundle).Mrs. Felton.—That’s it; how stupid we are.Miss Philp.—Don’t include me; I am not willing to be classified with dolts.Em’ly.—Oh, dear, no!Mrs. Felton.—I meant no offense.Mercy(Takes dress from paper).—Look at it, Mrs. Felton.Miss Philp.—Silence! Stop talking all together like quacking ducks; your din will drive me distracted. Have you no refinement, no breeding? How I dislike to mingle with vulgar persons. Young woman, ah, that is, Em’ly, hold up that dress.Em’ly(Takes up dress).—Yes, miss.Miss Philp.—Just try it on, so that I may show your mother her stupid work.Mrs. Felton.—Pardon me, but—Miss Philp.—Silence! I am talking.Mercy(Aside).—Shame upon you, you spitfire!Em’ly(Putting on dress).—I am sure we can fix it in time for this evening.Mercy(Assisting Em’ly).—How well you become fine clothes; you were intended to be a lady. Just see what a graceful figure.Miss Philp.—Ridiculous; the idea! Why the girl looks like a jointed doll.Mrs. Felton.—Em’ly, dear, hold still.Em’ly(Raises dress to her eyes).—Mother—Miss Philp.—Here, don’t wipe your eyes on that dress, if you please.Em’ly.—Mother, I do not think it womanly in Miss Philp to thus take advantage of our reverse in fortune.Mrs. Felton.—There, there, Em’ly! Never mind, let me examine the dress. Where is the fault, Miss Philp?Miss Philp.—The sleeves are too long, the neck is too small, and the skirt is too short.Mrs. Felton.—Alas! I fear it is spoiled. My mind has been so burdened with trouble that I am beside myself.Mercy.—It fits Em’ly to perfection.Em’ly.—How can we ever pay you for the material? What shall we do?Miss Philp.—Madam, what is your bill for making this dress?Mrs. Felton.—I sent you the bill.Miss Philp.—Ah, yes, I recollect. (Draws bill from pocketand reads.) “To making dress, twelve dollars.” Well, it is of no use to me; you may keep it—take the dress and receipt the bill.Mrs. Felton.—But our rent—if we do not pay something to-day we may be turned out into the world, homeless.Miss Philp.—I am not a charity visitor; you should study economy. Ahem! Mercy, follow me. [Exits door F. followed by Mercy.]Mrs. Felton.—My child, my child! (They embrace and stand weeping.)[Enter Squire and Dorothy; they pause and observe Mrs. Felton and Em’ly.]Squire(Aside).—This is, indeed, a tableau. (Aloud) Ladies!Mrs. Felton.andEm’ly.— (Start) Oh!Dorothy(Taking their hands).—Why are you weeping? Papa will fix things all right. Do not worry.Squire.—Mrs. Felton, your husband was a man whom I esteemed highly. He at one time rendered me a valuable service, and it is but common gratitude that I now befriend his family. Here is a check for double the amount of all arrears of rent due on your cottage. (Hands her check.) Accept it as a loan until you are able to return it.Mrs. Felton.—I could not think of it.Squire.—You must!Dorothy.—Take it for my sake; do not refuse; take it and welcome.Mrs. Felton.—Oh, what kindness!Em’ly(Kisses Dorothy on forehead).—My own, dear Dorothy.Squire.—Now for a little talk on another subject. Be seated. (All take chairs) Mrs. Felton, you are aware that I am agent for the Dingle estate, of which your cottage is a part. I have long acted in that capacity as a matter of courtesy to my old friend,Caspar Dingle. I shall look after his property no longer.Mrs. Felton.—No doubt it is a great annoyance to you—Squire.—Not at all. Listen. I am rich, and my friend Dingle, in order to augment his already immense estate, desires his son Morley to become the husband of my daughter.Dorothy(Confused).—Oh, papa, how can you talk of that horrid young man! You know I detest his very name.Squire.—My dear child, if you will allow me to talk, I can easily show you the necessity of taking these ladies into our confidence.Dorothy.—Pardon me, papa, dear; although I have never met Mr. Morley Dingle, yet from your description of his interview with you, I am sure he is very rude and ill-bred.Squire.—True. Now in order that he may have a pretext for visiting our village, he will in future collect his rents in person. He will be here to-day, perhaps may now be on his way to your cottage.Mrs. Felton.andEm’ly.— Oh, horrors!Squire.—You have my check.Mrs. Felton.—True, true, kind sir; I had for the momentforgotten it.Squire.—Morley Dingle knows that my daughter has a generous nature and abhors meanness in any guise; therefore, he would act his best were he introduced to her. I prefer Dorothy should see him in his ordinary character.Dorothy.—And how can I, papa?Squire.—He will call here for the rent. He knows Mrs. Felton is largely indebted. Ladies, my plan is this: You and I will take a walk in the grove back of the cottage. Dorothy will remain and represent herself to be Em’ly; she can promisethe rent within a week; plead for time, anything, so that his manliness may be thoroughly tested.Dorothy.—No, no, papa!Squire.—Take off your hat, throw an old shawl over your shoulders. (Points through window.) See! there he comes. Let us be off.Em’ly(Aside).—I wish I could stay and peep.Mrs. Felton.—I hope he will not be cross to the dear child—Squire.—Come, quick![Exit all except Dorothy.]Dorothy(Hurriedly searching).—What can I get? (picks up apron) Ah, this will do! (removes hat) I hear his footstep on the gravel walk. (Listens.) Gracious, how my heart beats![Loud knock at the door.]I wish papa was here.[Prolonged knock.]Well, he can’t eat me, anyhow. (Opens door.)[Enter Dingle.]Dingle(Surveying Dorothy through eye-glasses).—Ah! I presume you are the daughter of the, ah—Dorothy.—Yes, sir; I am the daughter.Dingle.—Is it possible!Dorothy.—Sir, will you be seated?Dingle(Aside).—What airs these poor creatures assume. (Aloud) Miss, (takes card from case) this will probably explain both who I am and the nature of my business.Dorothy(Takes card and reads aloud).—“Morley Dingle, Dingleton, Dingle Township, Pennsylvania,” (aside) Dingle, dong, dingle—(Aloud) I am not prepared to pay you anything to-day, Mr. Dingle. There has been very little money earned in this house since the last payment was made.Dingle(Sits on a chair and puts feet on table).—You must settle with me before I leave this village, or give up the house (pulls book from pocket). Let me see; yes, here it is—Felton—March,April, May, June—twelve dollars a month, just forty-eight dollars. What do you take me for?Dorothy(Aside).—How I would like to tell you. (Aloud.) O sir, if you but knew the sufferings of the poor I am sure your sympathy would guide your action.Dingle.—Not a bit of it. The laws of this State protect the defenseless landlord more effectively than any other government on the globe—except Ireland. I’m proud that I am a Pennsylvanian.Dorothy.—Surely, sir, you would not invoke the law to distress a poor widow and her child?Dingle.—John Felton signed a lease giving me the right to sell all his effects for any arrears of rent due upon this house.Dorothy.—Does not the law exempt a certain amount of household chattels?Dingle.—John Felton waived the benefit of the exemption law.Dorothy.—But he is dead.Dingle.—Young woman, his family must suffer the consequences of his act.Dorothy(Indignantly).—This is unjust; it is contrary to the letter and spirit of the law.Dingle(Looking through eyeglass).—You talk like a member of the bar; that is, a country member—a squire.Dorothy.—The exemption law was enacted as a merciful barrier against the sweeping tide of adversity—a life-boat for helpless castaways: how then dare any man’s hand thwart the law and defeat its purpose? To waive that law repeals it: is this an absolute monarchy?Dingle.—This government is run upon a solid cash basis: if you have cash, you can smile at waivers. The remedy, young woman, is cash. That’s my prescription for landlords’warrants; it’s a powerful antidote. (Taps his pocket and laughs).Dorothy.—You shock me, sir; you fill me with alarm; would you strip us of these poor household necessities.Dingle.—I am a benefactor to women. If I see they have no possibility of keeping house I resort to heroic measures—I sell ’em out. What’s the result? They get situations, get plenty to eat and comfortable quarters.Dorothy.—And the little children?Dingle(Pulls out watch).—It is time to end this nonsense. Have the rent by to-night. Good morning. [Exit door F.]Dorothy(Sits in chair).—So that’s the suitor for my heart and hand! Whew![Enter Squire, followed by Mrs. Felton and Em’ly].Squire(Pointing with cane).—There he goes! Look at him; see how pompously he struts; observe the elevation of his nose! [All look towards window]. Take care! down he goes! [All laugh boisterously].Dorothy.—Poor fellow, I wonder if he is hurt!Em’ly.—His hat is completely demolished.Mrs. Felton.—Rather a bad fall.Squire.—Off he starts again. There goes the strut—up goes the nose—the lesson is lost. (To Mrs. Felton) Madam, now that we have arranged for the masquerade, banish your sorrows: forget the trials of the day in the pleasures of the evening. Your daughter knows her part well; she will personate Dorothy in her conversation with Dingle, until all unmask.Dorothy.—And my voice will convince him that I am his delinquent tenant.Em’ly.—Dorothy, dear, do you really think Miss Philp will not recognize this dress?Dorothy.—She will be too eager to be seen by MorleyDingle, Esquire, to even waste a thought on the toilet of any one save her precious self. [All listen.]Weatherspout(From without).—This way, Leslie, this way; I’ve not forgotten the art of climbing rail fences, even if I am seventy-five.Squire.—My old friend Weatherspout, as I live![Enter Weatherspout].Weatherspout(Pausing on the threshold). I—I—beg pardon!Squire.—Come in, my long-tried friend.Weatherspout.—The door was open and it seemed kind o’ natural to walk right in—so Leslie and—(turning to door) why, I thought he came in! We have just helped ourselves to a draught of your delicious spring water.Em’ly(Goes to door).—Come in, Leslie.[Enter Leslie Raymore.]Leslie.—Pardon my intrusion, ladies; I assure you I had no idea you were engaged.Mrs. Felton.—You are welcome.Dorothy.andEm’ly.—No apology is necessary.Weatherspout.—Ladies, Mr. Raymore has been in my employment for a number of years; in fact, since his boyhood. I have every confidence in his honor and integrity.Squire.—We all know Leslie, and every one is acquainted with you, Mr. Weatherspout: and it is exceedingly gratifying to hear of the cordial relations which exist between two such worthy men—but you were about to say—Weatherspout.—I was about to remark that I have come here solely for the purpose of attending the masquerade ball to-night.Leslie.—Mr. Weatherspout has stated the fact. I showed him the invitation from Squire Clyde, and he gave me permissionto accept only on condition that I would allow him to accompany me.Squire.—Which I take as a high compliment to myself, and shall do all in my power to make you remember the hospitalities of Clyde Hall. [All make show of conversing.]Dorothy(To Leslie).—I am so glad you have come.Leslie.—I am more than glad; I cannot express my happiness.Dorothy.—And papa wrote his consent—were you not surprised?Leslie.—No, Dorothy, love; your father is sensible, and judges a man by his personal worth rather than by the weight of his purse.Dorothy.—You have told no one?Leslie.—Only my employer.Dorothy.—You rogue! No wonder he came with you.Squire.—Yes, yes; that is so, we had better go to the mansion. Mrs. Felton, we will depart. Recollect, Em’ly, until we unmask you are Dorothy Clyde—that is, to Morley Dingle. Good day, ladies.[All exit except Mrs. Felton and Em’ly.]Mrs. Felton.—Em’ly, my child, God is good. Something seems to tell me that there are better days in store for us.Em’ly.—Let us hope, mother; (takes her hand) my heart, too, seems lighter.Mrs. Felton.—We will hope.[CURTAIN.]End of the first act.ActII.Scene:Interior of Clyde Hall. Seats arranged at wings. Door pract. in Flat, through which flowers are visible. Em’ly and Dingle discovered standing C. Both are masked.Dingle.—By yonder fair moon whose radiance is reflected in a thousand dewy gems; by the glorious splendors of this summer night, I adjure you to remove that mask.Em’ly.—Sir Knight, if eloquence could tempt me to reveal my face before the proper time, then your words would win your wish. I am not what you think I am. Knights woo not poor peasant maids, and I am poor, and humble, too.Dingle.—The wealth of those bright eyes would make one rich though he were a beggar.Em’ly.—Flattery from friends is at best embarrassing; from strangers it is wholly out of place.Dingle(Aside).—There’s no humbleness in that remark. (Aloud) I crave your forgiveness; I am the last man in the world who would do an ungallant act.Em’ly(Aside).—You are among the latest who did. (Aloud) Are you always mindful of a woman’s feelings? Do you treat them all with gentle courtesy?Dingle(Aside).—There’s a little sarcasm in that; I wonder what she means? (Aloud) Certainly! I would scorn, loathe, abhor a man who could forget his duty in that regard.Em’ly.—Even though she owed him money?Dingle.—Eh! (Aside) What is she driving at? (Aloud) Miss Clyde, you are severe.Em’ly.—If any one designated me as Miss Clyde they erred. Once more I repeat that I am not Dorothy Clyde.Dingle(Laughs).—We will not discuss that point. I have danced with you twice to-night, and I have danced with no one else; and yet I have had the honor of twice dancing with the lady whose name you mentioned.Em’ly.—The music has ceased. The guests will come this way. Excuse me.[Exits hastily L.]Dingle(Looking L).—O Jupiter, what a beauty! Howlightly she trips across the hall. Sweet Dorothy, thou hast won my heart.[Enter Dorothy R.]But why does she persist in denying her identity? A servant volunteered to point out both her and the Felton girl; she evidently desires to—Dorothy(Coughs).Dingle(Aside).—The tenant’s daughter. I would recognize that haughty minx though she were doubly masked.Dorothy.—Pardon me, sir; I would inquire the way to the banquet room.Dingle(Aside).—It will never do to let her recognize my voice; I will assume a falsetto tone. (Aloud) You had better find a servant, Miss Gypsy Queen; I am not posted in the commissary department.Dorothy.—I perceive that all knights are not Quixotes in gallantry. Thanks, however, for your suggestion.Dingle(Sarcastic bow).—Don’t mention it, fair fortune-teller.Dorothy.—If you knew me you would try to be more courteous; thus have you unmasked your nature, though your face is still unseen.[Exit L.]Dingle.—The saucy beggar! Well, in some natures poverty serves to intensify pride; I will seek the Squire.[Exits R.](Enter Weatherspout and Miss Philp, Door F.; she leans upon his arm.)Weatherspout.—The night is lovely; years and years ago it was my delight to wander forth beneath the moon’s soft rays—Miss Philp.—Years and years ago! There! you talk like a sexagenarian. I will wager you what you will that you are under twenty-five! Aye, that I know your name!Weatherspout.—In a few minutes the guests will assembleand unmask; if you guess my name I will anticipate that ceremony. Can you not detect the tremor of age in my voice?Miss Philp(Aside).—The servant volunteered to tell me this man’s name. He is merely assuming the ancient quaver. His form is as straight as a pin oak. (Aloud) My eyes are not deceived, Mr. Morley Dingle.Weatherspout.—Not knowing the party for whom you take me, I am unable to rate the value of your compliment.Miss Philp(Aside).—It is Dingle, sure! (Aloud) Then, holy Monk, be my father confessor and learn that Mr. Morley Dingle is a perfect Adonis, a gentleman of rare attainments, one whose name any woman would be proud to—to—that is—include among her list of friends.Weatherspout.—Or read upon her teaspoons—I comprehend.Miss Philp.—Of course I speak from hearsay only; I have not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with the gentleman; although I think I have enjoyed his company this evening.Weatherspout.—My child, you are mistaken; I am not Dingle. I am glad for your sake that you are deceived. You will also be satisfied when you have reflected upon the matter.Miss Philp(Angrily).—Do you know to whom you are talking?Weatherspout.—Candidly, I do not.Miss Philp(Aside).—I see; he fears I will penetrate his disguise. (Aloud) Oh, you are deep, very deep.Weatherspout(Offering his arm).—Permit me to escort you to the drawing-room.Miss Philp(Takes his arm).—What a dreamy, soul-inspiring night.Weatherspout(Yawning).—Very.[They exit L.]Squire(From without).—I will tell you. Step this way.(Enter Squire and Leslie R., each holding mask in hand) Knowing that Dingle was anxious to identify my daughter, and that Miss Philp was dying to meet Dingle, I instructed a trusty servant to mislead them by making certain remarks within their hearing. The thing has worked like a charm, and the most ludicrous blunders have resulted.Leslie.—I thought that Dorothy was unusually interested in the movements of certain couples. So the little rogue is a party to your conspiracy!Squire.—The motive justifies the means; I desire to reclaim an arrogant young man and a silly woman; both are difficult cases, yet I hope to succeed.Leslie.—Some one is calling—hark!Mercy(Without).—Quick! quick! Squire, quick! (Enters L. running) Oh! oh! oh—!Squire.—Speak, girl, what is amiss?Mercy.—Oh, sir, you wouldn’t joke if you knew the trouble. It may end in bloodshed!Squire.—Who’s joking?Mercy.—You asked me a conundrum.Squire.—Never!Mercy.—You asked me what is a miss—every girl knows what a miss is.[Exits R. running.]Leslie.—The girl is mixed. [Leslie and Squire mask.]Dingle(Without).—You shall apologize or fight. (Enter L.) Ah, here are gentlemen who will see fair play. Come on, sir, come on![Enter Weatherspout L.]Weatherspout.—Silence! Give me a chance to explain.Dingle(Drawing sword).—Retract, sir! Eat your words! (Flourishes sword) Feast upon them! Swallow them!Weatherspout.—Gentlemen, hear him! His tongue would madden an auctioneer with envy.Dingle.—Ha! more insults! Hold me back! (Makes a pass at Weatherspout.) Let me dissect him![Squire and Leslie take hold of Dingle.]Squire.—Remember where you are!Leslie.—Do nothing rash, sir!Weatherspout.—Release him; I fear his jargon, not his blade; let me explain, and if he then insists on satisfaction, I will thrash him with my staff.Dingle.—My honor! (Flourishes his sword) must I submit to this!Squire.—Let the monk speak.Weatherspout.—While standing on the porch enjoying the cool breeze, my companion, a lady, playfully called me Dingle. I replied that the air was filled with Dingles, whereupon this fellow sprang from behind a bush, and would have throttled me, had I not sneezed in his face.Dingle.—What right had he to mention my name?Squire.—You are a masked knight—how should he know you are the champion of one Dingle?Dingle(Aside).—What a donkey I have made of myself. (Aloud) Gentlemen, there is a blunder here. Mr. Monk, I ask your pardon (Sheathes his sword). I apologize.[Enter Mrs. Felton D. F. She pauses C.]Squire.—Gentlemen, you’ve raised the dead with your noise. Look!Weatherspout.—Beg pardon, sir?Leslie.—Were you addressing me?Dingle.—What did you observe, sir?Squire.—I say it is a shame when even spirits cannot rest.[All look at each other for explanation.]Dingle.—My dear sir, you’ve indulged too freely in lobster salad; you’ve got the nightmare.Squire(Points at Mrs. Felton).—Brave Sir Knight, look over your shoulder.Dingle(Turns slowly, sees Mrs. F., and runs off L.)Weatherspout(Same business).Leslie.—Well, gentlemen—(Turns and sees Mrs. F.) Ugh! (Runs off R.)Mrs. Felton(Removing pillow case from head).—Is it possible that I am such a hideous object that priests, soldiers and brigands flee from my presence?Squire(Removes mask).—My dear Mrs. Felton, they were frightened almost to death before you came; they were longing to disperse, and you furnished the excuse.Mrs. Felton.—This has been a night of excitement and pleasure to the young folks; to me it has proved a season of consternation. One man was so terrified on meeting me in the hall that he fell into a tub of egg flip; another individual dropped the arm of his lady-love and ran howling into the midst of the dancers.Squire.—When the guests behold your face, their fears will turn to admiration.Mrs. Felton.—Oh, now, really, Squire!Squire.—I have long sympathized with you in your bereavement; I have observed your trials and sorrows with positive pain; sympathy often ends in love—Mrs. Felton(Aside).—Is he going to propose? (Aloud) Don’t, don’t, Squire.Squire.—I repeat, sympathy often ends in love; Dorothy loves you well.Mrs. Felton(Aside).—Dorothy! (Aloud) She does, I am sure. Ahem!Squire(Falls on his knee).—And so does her father.[Enter Mercy L.; she pauses unobserved.]Mrs. Felton(Takes his hand).—This is indeed an honor.Squire.—A true woman is an honor beyond price. I am the honored one (Look bashfully at each other).Mercy(Aside).—Well, if this isn’t the spooniest collection of humans I ever was thrown among, then my name’s not Mercy. (Aloud) Excuse me.Squire.— (Start) Eh!Mrs. Felton.— (Start) Oh, my!Mercy.—I’ve lost my mistress and I want to find her. It’s time to go home.Squire.—The masqueraders are coming; (Mrs. Felton and Squire mask) you will soon see your mistress. (Waltz music in distance, to continue until masqueraders enter, when change to march.) They are now dancing the last waltz.Mrs. Felton.—How sweetly the strains of music fall upon the ear.Squire(Extending his arms).—Do you waltz, my dear madam?Mercy.—The idea!Mrs. Felton(Retreating).—Oh, no, no, no.Mercy.—Here they come!(Squire and Mrs. Felton take position C. Mercy L. E.)Squire.—They come, my dear Mrs. Felton.Mrs. Felton.—Yes, they come.Squire.—My dear madam, let them come.[Enter Dingle and Em’ly, Leslie and Dorothy, Weatherspout and Miss Philp, 2 L. E., followed by masqueraders; all countermarch to music, and take final positions as follows: Dingle and Em’ly R. C., Leslie and Dorothy L. C., Weatherspout and Miss Philp R., masqueraders form semi-circle in rear.]Squire(Removing mask).—As your host I bid you each and all unmask.(All unmask.)Miss Philp(Astonished).—Only look! (Aside) Old as sin!Squire.—I will first present my daughter.Dingle(Bows to Em’ly).Squire.—Ladies and gentlemen (takes Dorothy’s hand), this is Miss Dorothy Clyde (all bow).Dingle(Aside).—The widow’s daughter! (Aloud to Em’ly) Surely, this is a joke; are you not Miss Clyde?Dorothy.—No, sir;myname is Dorothy Clyde, and the young lady at your side is the one who didnothear your gallant views on the subject of arrears of rent.Dingle.—Do you mean to say—?Em’ly.—She means to say that I am Em’ly Felton.Squire.—And that you are by no means a stranger to Dorothy.Miss Philp.—And Mr. Dingle, pray what has become of him?Squire.—The ladies first. This is Miss Philp, my friends; this is Miss Felton, and last, but not least, this is my esteemed—ah—that is—my very esteemed friend, her mother. Now, Miss Philp, allow me to introduce to your kind consideration Mr. Morley Dingle, of Dingleton, Dingle Township, Pennsylvania.Dorothy(Aside).—Dingle, dong, dingle.Dingle.—I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss.Miss Philp.—It is such a pleasure to place your name—Weatherspout(Aside).—On your teaspoons, if you could.Miss Philp.—Among those of my chosen friends.Squire.—Perhaps it would give Mr. Dingle exquisite pleasure to escort you home.Dingle.—I have already a lady.Dorothy(To Dingle).—Are you going to distrain the household chattels?Dingle.—Not with such good collateral security. I was wrong. I deeply regret my action.Dorothy.—Then the court has reversed its decision?Dingle.—Completely! The waiver is a fraud.Squire.—Ladies and gentlemen, this is my old chum, Caleb Weatherspout, and this is my future son-in-law, Leslie Raymore.Weatherspout.—Of the firm of Weatherspout & Raymore.Miss Philp.—Mercy, get my wrap, quick.Mercy.—Must you go home alone?Weatherspout.—Not by any means. I shall see you both safely home.Miss Philp(Aside).—He don’t look so aged after all. (Aloud) How kind, sir.Squire.—Now that we have thrown off our masks, let us keep them off.Mrs. Felton.—And let us clasp hands in the light of a perfect understanding.(All join hands.)Leslie.—This is mainly due to Dorothy Clyde—Em’ly(Nods to Dorothy).—The Squire’s Daughter.[Curtain.]—Geo.M. Vickers.
OR,
The Squire’s Daughter.
A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS.
CHARACTERS:
MASQUERADERS.
ActI.Interior of widow’s cottage.
ActII.The masquerade.
Costumes:For first act—modern. For second act—Squire, sailor; Raymore, Chinese; Dingle, knight; Weatherspout, monk; Dorothy, gypsy; Mrs. Felton, ghost; Em’ly, peasant; Miss Philp, duchess; Mercy, French maid. Masqueraders to suit fancy.
ActI.
Scene:Interior of widow Felton’s cottage. Table, C. Rocking-chair, L. C. Door Pract. in F., windows, etc. Time, morning. Mrs. Felton discovered seated in rocking-chair; Em’ly standing R. facing L.
Em’ly.—Mother, I was never so insulted in my life; she threw the dress on her toilet stand, and fairly ground her teeth with rage.
Mrs. Felton.—Dear! dear! dear! what shall we do! I depended on the money for making that dress to pay at least a month’s rent. Did you explain our distressed condition to Miss Philp?
Em’ly.—Mother, dear, I did my best to reason with her, but she only stamped her foot, and bade me hold my saucy tongue. She said the dress was ruined.
Mrs. Felton.—Our lot is indeed hard. What a dreadful misfortune my sickness has proved to be.
Em’ly.—Dorothy Clyde stopped me on the road opposite the mill; she saw that my eyes were red, and pressed me so hard that I made a clean breast of the whole matter. She said she would be over about ten o’clock with her father, the Squire.
Mrs. Felton.—Oh, if your poor, dear papa had only lived, how different our lot would be to-day. Alas! I fear we shall soon be homeless.
Em’ly(Kneels at her side).—Do not give way to such gloomy thoughts; God has promised to care for the widow and the fatherless; let us trust in His goodness.
Mrs. Felton.—My child, your mother is justly rebuked. We will trust in the Lord, come what may.
[Knock at the door.]
Em’ly(Rises and opens door).—Oh! walk in, Miss Philp.
(Enter Miss Philp and Mercy, the latter bearing a bundle.)
Miss Philp.—Walk in! Do you suppose I would run in, crawl in or creep in? Walk in! Of course I’ll walk in, and when I am ready, I shall walk out again. Humph!
Mrs. Felton.—Em’ly, dear, give the lady a chair. Pray be seated, Miss Philp.
Miss Philp(Dusts the chair with her handkerchief).—I think I shall stand.
Em’ly.—The chairs are perfectly clean, Miss Philp; I carefully dusted them early this morning.
Miss Philp.—I prefer to stand, however.
Mrs. Felton(To Mercy).—Sit down, Mercy.
Mercy.—Thank you. (Attempts to sit on chair.)
Miss Philp.—Stop! how dare you sit when your mistress is standing! Place that bundle on the table; such brazen conduct is intolerable. And as for you, madam, you have not only ruined my robe, but you have prevented my attendance at the ball to-night.
Mrs. Felton.—Mercy!
Mercy(starts).—Eh?
Mrs. Felton.—It was merely an ejaculation. (To Miss Philp).—I deeply regret having incurred your displeasure.
Em’ly.—Perhaps we can remedy the defect if it is but trifling; it is yet early in the day.
Mercy(Places bundle on table).—Why yes; I will open it (Begins to untie bundle).
Mrs. Felton.—That’s it; how stupid we are.
Miss Philp.—Don’t include me; I am not willing to be classified with dolts.
Em’ly.—Oh, dear, no!
Mrs. Felton.—I meant no offense.
Mercy(Takes dress from paper).—Look at it, Mrs. Felton.
Miss Philp.—Silence! Stop talking all together like quacking ducks; your din will drive me distracted. Have you no refinement, no breeding? How I dislike to mingle with vulgar persons. Young woman, ah, that is, Em’ly, hold up that dress.
Em’ly(Takes up dress).—Yes, miss.
Miss Philp.—Just try it on, so that I may show your mother her stupid work.
Mrs. Felton.—Pardon me, but—
Miss Philp.—Silence! I am talking.
Mercy(Aside).—Shame upon you, you spitfire!
Em’ly(Putting on dress).—I am sure we can fix it in time for this evening.
Mercy(Assisting Em’ly).—How well you become fine clothes; you were intended to be a lady. Just see what a graceful figure.
Miss Philp.—Ridiculous; the idea! Why the girl looks like a jointed doll.
Mrs. Felton.—Em’ly, dear, hold still.
Em’ly(Raises dress to her eyes).—Mother—
Miss Philp.—Here, don’t wipe your eyes on that dress, if you please.
Em’ly.—Mother, I do not think it womanly in Miss Philp to thus take advantage of our reverse in fortune.
Mrs. Felton.—There, there, Em’ly! Never mind, let me examine the dress. Where is the fault, Miss Philp?
Miss Philp.—The sleeves are too long, the neck is too small, and the skirt is too short.
Mrs. Felton.—Alas! I fear it is spoiled. My mind has been so burdened with trouble that I am beside myself.
Mercy.—It fits Em’ly to perfection.
Em’ly.—How can we ever pay you for the material? What shall we do?
Miss Philp.—Madam, what is your bill for making this dress?
Mrs. Felton.—I sent you the bill.
Miss Philp.—Ah, yes, I recollect. (Draws bill from pocketand reads.) “To making dress, twelve dollars.” Well, it is of no use to me; you may keep it—take the dress and receipt the bill.
Mrs. Felton.—But our rent—if we do not pay something to-day we may be turned out into the world, homeless.
Miss Philp.—I am not a charity visitor; you should study economy. Ahem! Mercy, follow me. [Exits door F. followed by Mercy.]
Mrs. Felton.—My child, my child! (They embrace and stand weeping.)
[Enter Squire and Dorothy; they pause and observe Mrs. Felton and Em’ly.]
Squire(Aside).—This is, indeed, a tableau. (Aloud) Ladies!
Mrs. Felton.andEm’ly.— (Start) Oh!
Dorothy(Taking their hands).—Why are you weeping? Papa will fix things all right. Do not worry.
Squire.—Mrs. Felton, your husband was a man whom I esteemed highly. He at one time rendered me a valuable service, and it is but common gratitude that I now befriend his family. Here is a check for double the amount of all arrears of rent due on your cottage. (Hands her check.) Accept it as a loan until you are able to return it.
Mrs. Felton.—I could not think of it.
Squire.—You must!
Dorothy.—Take it for my sake; do not refuse; take it and welcome.
Mrs. Felton.—Oh, what kindness!
Em’ly(Kisses Dorothy on forehead).—My own, dear Dorothy.
Squire.—Now for a little talk on another subject. Be seated. (All take chairs) Mrs. Felton, you are aware that I am agent for the Dingle estate, of which your cottage is a part. I have long acted in that capacity as a matter of courtesy to my old friend,Caspar Dingle. I shall look after his property no longer.
Mrs. Felton.—No doubt it is a great annoyance to you—
Squire.—Not at all. Listen. I am rich, and my friend Dingle, in order to augment his already immense estate, desires his son Morley to become the husband of my daughter.
Dorothy(Confused).—Oh, papa, how can you talk of that horrid young man! You know I detest his very name.
Squire.—My dear child, if you will allow me to talk, I can easily show you the necessity of taking these ladies into our confidence.
Dorothy.—Pardon me, papa, dear; although I have never met Mr. Morley Dingle, yet from your description of his interview with you, I am sure he is very rude and ill-bred.
Squire.—True. Now in order that he may have a pretext for visiting our village, he will in future collect his rents in person. He will be here to-day, perhaps may now be on his way to your cottage.
Mrs. Felton.andEm’ly.— Oh, horrors!
Squire.—You have my check.
Mrs. Felton.—True, true, kind sir; I had for the momentforgotten it.
Squire.—Morley Dingle knows that my daughter has a generous nature and abhors meanness in any guise; therefore, he would act his best were he introduced to her. I prefer Dorothy should see him in his ordinary character.
Dorothy.—And how can I, papa?
Squire.—He will call here for the rent. He knows Mrs. Felton is largely indebted. Ladies, my plan is this: You and I will take a walk in the grove back of the cottage. Dorothy will remain and represent herself to be Em’ly; she can promisethe rent within a week; plead for time, anything, so that his manliness may be thoroughly tested.
Dorothy.—No, no, papa!
Squire.—Take off your hat, throw an old shawl over your shoulders. (Points through window.) See! there he comes. Let us be off.
Em’ly(Aside).—I wish I could stay and peep.
Mrs. Felton.—I hope he will not be cross to the dear child—
Squire.—Come, quick!
[Exit all except Dorothy.]
Dorothy(Hurriedly searching).—What can I get? (picks up apron) Ah, this will do! (removes hat) I hear his footstep on the gravel walk. (Listens.) Gracious, how my heart beats!
[Loud knock at the door.]
I wish papa was here.
[Prolonged knock.]
Well, he can’t eat me, anyhow. (Opens door.)
[Enter Dingle.]
Dingle(Surveying Dorothy through eye-glasses).—Ah! I presume you are the daughter of the, ah—
Dorothy.—Yes, sir; I am the daughter.
Dingle.—Is it possible!
Dorothy.—Sir, will you be seated?
Dingle(Aside).—What airs these poor creatures assume. (Aloud) Miss, (takes card from case) this will probably explain both who I am and the nature of my business.
Dorothy(Takes card and reads aloud).—“Morley Dingle, Dingleton, Dingle Township, Pennsylvania,” (aside) Dingle, dong, dingle—(Aloud) I am not prepared to pay you anything to-day, Mr. Dingle. There has been very little money earned in this house since the last payment was made.
Dingle(Sits on a chair and puts feet on table).—You must settle with me before I leave this village, or give up the house (pulls book from pocket). Let me see; yes, here it is—Felton—March,April, May, June—twelve dollars a month, just forty-eight dollars. What do you take me for?
Dorothy(Aside).—How I would like to tell you. (Aloud.) O sir, if you but knew the sufferings of the poor I am sure your sympathy would guide your action.
Dingle.—Not a bit of it. The laws of this State protect the defenseless landlord more effectively than any other government on the globe—except Ireland. I’m proud that I am a Pennsylvanian.
Dorothy.—Surely, sir, you would not invoke the law to distress a poor widow and her child?
Dingle.—John Felton signed a lease giving me the right to sell all his effects for any arrears of rent due upon this house.
Dorothy.—Does not the law exempt a certain amount of household chattels?
Dingle.—John Felton waived the benefit of the exemption law.
Dorothy.—But he is dead.
Dingle.—Young woman, his family must suffer the consequences of his act.
Dorothy(Indignantly).—This is unjust; it is contrary to the letter and spirit of the law.
Dingle(Looking through eyeglass).—You talk like a member of the bar; that is, a country member—a squire.
Dorothy.—The exemption law was enacted as a merciful barrier against the sweeping tide of adversity—a life-boat for helpless castaways: how then dare any man’s hand thwart the law and defeat its purpose? To waive that law repeals it: is this an absolute monarchy?
Dingle.—This government is run upon a solid cash basis: if you have cash, you can smile at waivers. The remedy, young woman, is cash. That’s my prescription for landlords’warrants; it’s a powerful antidote. (Taps his pocket and laughs).
Dorothy.—You shock me, sir; you fill me with alarm; would you strip us of these poor household necessities.
Dingle.—I am a benefactor to women. If I see they have no possibility of keeping house I resort to heroic measures—I sell ’em out. What’s the result? They get situations, get plenty to eat and comfortable quarters.
Dorothy.—And the little children?
Dingle(Pulls out watch).—It is time to end this nonsense. Have the rent by to-night. Good morning. [Exit door F.]
Dorothy(Sits in chair).—So that’s the suitor for my heart and hand! Whew!
[Enter Squire, followed by Mrs. Felton and Em’ly].
Squire(Pointing with cane).—There he goes! Look at him; see how pompously he struts; observe the elevation of his nose! [All look towards window]. Take care! down he goes! [All laugh boisterously].
Dorothy.—Poor fellow, I wonder if he is hurt!
Em’ly.—His hat is completely demolished.
Mrs. Felton.—Rather a bad fall.
Squire.—Off he starts again. There goes the strut—up goes the nose—the lesson is lost. (To Mrs. Felton) Madam, now that we have arranged for the masquerade, banish your sorrows: forget the trials of the day in the pleasures of the evening. Your daughter knows her part well; she will personate Dorothy in her conversation with Dingle, until all unmask.
Dorothy.—And my voice will convince him that I am his delinquent tenant.
Em’ly.—Dorothy, dear, do you really think Miss Philp will not recognize this dress?
Dorothy.—She will be too eager to be seen by MorleyDingle, Esquire, to even waste a thought on the toilet of any one save her precious self. [All listen.]
Weatherspout(From without).—This way, Leslie, this way; I’ve not forgotten the art of climbing rail fences, even if I am seventy-five.
Squire.—My old friend Weatherspout, as I live!
[Enter Weatherspout].
Weatherspout(Pausing on the threshold). I—I—beg pardon!
Squire.—Come in, my long-tried friend.
Weatherspout.—The door was open and it seemed kind o’ natural to walk right in—so Leslie and—(turning to door) why, I thought he came in! We have just helped ourselves to a draught of your delicious spring water.
Em’ly(Goes to door).—Come in, Leslie.
[Enter Leslie Raymore.]
Leslie.—Pardon my intrusion, ladies; I assure you I had no idea you were engaged.
Mrs. Felton.—You are welcome.
Dorothy.andEm’ly.—No apology is necessary.
Weatherspout.—Ladies, Mr. Raymore has been in my employment for a number of years; in fact, since his boyhood. I have every confidence in his honor and integrity.
Squire.—We all know Leslie, and every one is acquainted with you, Mr. Weatherspout: and it is exceedingly gratifying to hear of the cordial relations which exist between two such worthy men—but you were about to say—
Weatherspout.—I was about to remark that I have come here solely for the purpose of attending the masquerade ball to-night.
Leslie.—Mr. Weatherspout has stated the fact. I showed him the invitation from Squire Clyde, and he gave me permissionto accept only on condition that I would allow him to accompany me.
Squire.—Which I take as a high compliment to myself, and shall do all in my power to make you remember the hospitalities of Clyde Hall. [All make show of conversing.]
Dorothy(To Leslie).—I am so glad you have come.
Leslie.—I am more than glad; I cannot express my happiness.
Dorothy.—And papa wrote his consent—were you not surprised?
Leslie.—No, Dorothy, love; your father is sensible, and judges a man by his personal worth rather than by the weight of his purse.
Dorothy.—You have told no one?
Leslie.—Only my employer.
Dorothy.—You rogue! No wonder he came with you.
Squire.—Yes, yes; that is so, we had better go to the mansion. Mrs. Felton, we will depart. Recollect, Em’ly, until we unmask you are Dorothy Clyde—that is, to Morley Dingle. Good day, ladies.
[All exit except Mrs. Felton and Em’ly.]
Mrs. Felton.—Em’ly, my child, God is good. Something seems to tell me that there are better days in store for us.
Em’ly.—Let us hope, mother; (takes her hand) my heart, too, seems lighter.
Mrs. Felton.—We will hope.
[CURTAIN.]End of the first act.
ActII.
Scene:Interior of Clyde Hall. Seats arranged at wings. Door pract. in Flat, through which flowers are visible. Em’ly and Dingle discovered standing C. Both are masked.
Dingle.—By yonder fair moon whose radiance is reflected in a thousand dewy gems; by the glorious splendors of this summer night, I adjure you to remove that mask.
Em’ly.—Sir Knight, if eloquence could tempt me to reveal my face before the proper time, then your words would win your wish. I am not what you think I am. Knights woo not poor peasant maids, and I am poor, and humble, too.
Dingle.—The wealth of those bright eyes would make one rich though he were a beggar.
Em’ly.—Flattery from friends is at best embarrassing; from strangers it is wholly out of place.
Dingle(Aside).—There’s no humbleness in that remark. (Aloud) I crave your forgiveness; I am the last man in the world who would do an ungallant act.
Em’ly(Aside).—You are among the latest who did. (Aloud) Are you always mindful of a woman’s feelings? Do you treat them all with gentle courtesy?
Dingle(Aside).—There’s a little sarcasm in that; I wonder what she means? (Aloud) Certainly! I would scorn, loathe, abhor a man who could forget his duty in that regard.
Em’ly.—Even though she owed him money?
Dingle.—Eh! (Aside) What is she driving at? (Aloud) Miss Clyde, you are severe.
Em’ly.—If any one designated me as Miss Clyde they erred. Once more I repeat that I am not Dorothy Clyde.
Dingle(Laughs).—We will not discuss that point. I have danced with you twice to-night, and I have danced with no one else; and yet I have had the honor of twice dancing with the lady whose name you mentioned.
Em’ly.—The music has ceased. The guests will come this way. Excuse me.
[Exits hastily L.]
Dingle(Looking L).—O Jupiter, what a beauty! Howlightly she trips across the hall. Sweet Dorothy, thou hast won my heart.
[Enter Dorothy R.]
But why does she persist in denying her identity? A servant volunteered to point out both her and the Felton girl; she evidently desires to—
Dorothy(Coughs).
Dingle(Aside).—The tenant’s daughter. I would recognize that haughty minx though she were doubly masked.
Dorothy.—Pardon me, sir; I would inquire the way to the banquet room.
Dingle(Aside).—It will never do to let her recognize my voice; I will assume a falsetto tone. (Aloud) You had better find a servant, Miss Gypsy Queen; I am not posted in the commissary department.
Dorothy.—I perceive that all knights are not Quixotes in gallantry. Thanks, however, for your suggestion.
Dingle(Sarcastic bow).—Don’t mention it, fair fortune-teller.
Dorothy.—If you knew me you would try to be more courteous; thus have you unmasked your nature, though your face is still unseen.
[Exit L.]
Dingle.—The saucy beggar! Well, in some natures poverty serves to intensify pride; I will seek the Squire.
[Exits R.]
(Enter Weatherspout and Miss Philp, Door F.; she leans upon his arm.)
Weatherspout.—The night is lovely; years and years ago it was my delight to wander forth beneath the moon’s soft rays—
Miss Philp.—Years and years ago! There! you talk like a sexagenarian. I will wager you what you will that you are under twenty-five! Aye, that I know your name!
Weatherspout.—In a few minutes the guests will assembleand unmask; if you guess my name I will anticipate that ceremony. Can you not detect the tremor of age in my voice?
Miss Philp(Aside).—The servant volunteered to tell me this man’s name. He is merely assuming the ancient quaver. His form is as straight as a pin oak. (Aloud) My eyes are not deceived, Mr. Morley Dingle.
Weatherspout.—Not knowing the party for whom you take me, I am unable to rate the value of your compliment.
Miss Philp(Aside).—It is Dingle, sure! (Aloud) Then, holy Monk, be my father confessor and learn that Mr. Morley Dingle is a perfect Adonis, a gentleman of rare attainments, one whose name any woman would be proud to—to—that is—include among her list of friends.
Weatherspout.—Or read upon her teaspoons—I comprehend.
Miss Philp.—Of course I speak from hearsay only; I have not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with the gentleman; although I think I have enjoyed his company this evening.
Weatherspout.—My child, you are mistaken; I am not Dingle. I am glad for your sake that you are deceived. You will also be satisfied when you have reflected upon the matter.
Miss Philp(Angrily).—Do you know to whom you are talking?
Weatherspout.—Candidly, I do not.
Miss Philp(Aside).—I see; he fears I will penetrate his disguise. (Aloud) Oh, you are deep, very deep.
Weatherspout(Offering his arm).—Permit me to escort you to the drawing-room.
Miss Philp(Takes his arm).—What a dreamy, soul-inspiring night.
Weatherspout(Yawning).—Very.
[They exit L.]
Squire(From without).—I will tell you. Step this way.(Enter Squire and Leslie R., each holding mask in hand) Knowing that Dingle was anxious to identify my daughter, and that Miss Philp was dying to meet Dingle, I instructed a trusty servant to mislead them by making certain remarks within their hearing. The thing has worked like a charm, and the most ludicrous blunders have resulted.
Leslie.—I thought that Dorothy was unusually interested in the movements of certain couples. So the little rogue is a party to your conspiracy!
Squire.—The motive justifies the means; I desire to reclaim an arrogant young man and a silly woman; both are difficult cases, yet I hope to succeed.
Leslie.—Some one is calling—hark!
Mercy(Without).—Quick! quick! Squire, quick! (Enters L. running) Oh! oh! oh—!
Squire.—Speak, girl, what is amiss?
Mercy.—Oh, sir, you wouldn’t joke if you knew the trouble. It may end in bloodshed!
Squire.—Who’s joking?
Mercy.—You asked me a conundrum.
Squire.—Never!
Mercy.—You asked me what is a miss—every girl knows what a miss is.
[Exits R. running.]
Leslie.—The girl is mixed. [Leslie and Squire mask.]
Dingle(Without).—You shall apologize or fight. (Enter L.) Ah, here are gentlemen who will see fair play. Come on, sir, come on!
[Enter Weatherspout L.]
Weatherspout.—Silence! Give me a chance to explain.
Dingle(Drawing sword).—Retract, sir! Eat your words! (Flourishes sword) Feast upon them! Swallow them!
Weatherspout.—Gentlemen, hear him! His tongue would madden an auctioneer with envy.
Dingle.—Ha! more insults! Hold me back! (Makes a pass at Weatherspout.) Let me dissect him!
[Squire and Leslie take hold of Dingle.]
Squire.—Remember where you are!
Leslie.—Do nothing rash, sir!
Weatherspout.—Release him; I fear his jargon, not his blade; let me explain, and if he then insists on satisfaction, I will thrash him with my staff.
Dingle.—My honor! (Flourishes his sword) must I submit to this!
Squire.—Let the monk speak.
Weatherspout.—While standing on the porch enjoying the cool breeze, my companion, a lady, playfully called me Dingle. I replied that the air was filled with Dingles, whereupon this fellow sprang from behind a bush, and would have throttled me, had I not sneezed in his face.
Dingle.—What right had he to mention my name?
Squire.—You are a masked knight—how should he know you are the champion of one Dingle?
Dingle(Aside).—What a donkey I have made of myself. (Aloud) Gentlemen, there is a blunder here. Mr. Monk, I ask your pardon (Sheathes his sword). I apologize.
[Enter Mrs. Felton D. F. She pauses C.]
Squire.—Gentlemen, you’ve raised the dead with your noise. Look!
Weatherspout.—Beg pardon, sir?
Leslie.—Were you addressing me?
Dingle.—What did you observe, sir?
Squire.—I say it is a shame when even spirits cannot rest.
[All look at each other for explanation.]
Dingle.—My dear sir, you’ve indulged too freely in lobster salad; you’ve got the nightmare.
Squire(Points at Mrs. Felton).—Brave Sir Knight, look over your shoulder.
Dingle(Turns slowly, sees Mrs. F., and runs off L.)
Weatherspout(Same business).
Leslie.—Well, gentlemen—(Turns and sees Mrs. F.) Ugh! (Runs off R.)
Mrs. Felton(Removing pillow case from head).—Is it possible that I am such a hideous object that priests, soldiers and brigands flee from my presence?
Squire(Removes mask).—My dear Mrs. Felton, they were frightened almost to death before you came; they were longing to disperse, and you furnished the excuse.
Mrs. Felton.—This has been a night of excitement and pleasure to the young folks; to me it has proved a season of consternation. One man was so terrified on meeting me in the hall that he fell into a tub of egg flip; another individual dropped the arm of his lady-love and ran howling into the midst of the dancers.
Squire.—When the guests behold your face, their fears will turn to admiration.
Mrs. Felton.—Oh, now, really, Squire!
Squire.—I have long sympathized with you in your bereavement; I have observed your trials and sorrows with positive pain; sympathy often ends in love—
Mrs. Felton(Aside).—Is he going to propose? (Aloud) Don’t, don’t, Squire.
Squire.—I repeat, sympathy often ends in love; Dorothy loves you well.
Mrs. Felton(Aside).—Dorothy! (Aloud) She does, I am sure. Ahem!
Squire(Falls on his knee).—And so does her father.
[Enter Mercy L.; she pauses unobserved.]
Mrs. Felton(Takes his hand).—This is indeed an honor.
Squire.—A true woman is an honor beyond price. I am the honored one (Look bashfully at each other).
Mercy(Aside).—Well, if this isn’t the spooniest collection of humans I ever was thrown among, then my name’s not Mercy. (Aloud) Excuse me.
Squire.— (Start) Eh!
Mrs. Felton.— (Start) Oh, my!
Mercy.—I’ve lost my mistress and I want to find her. It’s time to go home.
Squire.—The masqueraders are coming; (Mrs. Felton and Squire mask) you will soon see your mistress. (Waltz music in distance, to continue until masqueraders enter, when change to march.) They are now dancing the last waltz.
Mrs. Felton.—How sweetly the strains of music fall upon the ear.
Squire(Extending his arms).—Do you waltz, my dear madam?
Mercy.—The idea!
Mrs. Felton(Retreating).—Oh, no, no, no.
Mercy.—Here they come!
(Squire and Mrs. Felton take position C. Mercy L. E.)
Squire.—They come, my dear Mrs. Felton.
Mrs. Felton.—Yes, they come.
Squire.—My dear madam, let them come.
[Enter Dingle and Em’ly, Leslie and Dorothy, Weatherspout and Miss Philp, 2 L. E., followed by masqueraders; all countermarch to music, and take final positions as follows: Dingle and Em’ly R. C., Leslie and Dorothy L. C., Weatherspout and Miss Philp R., masqueraders form semi-circle in rear.]
Squire(Removing mask).—As your host I bid you each and all unmask.
(All unmask.)
Miss Philp(Astonished).—Only look! (Aside) Old as sin!
Squire.—I will first present my daughter.
Dingle(Bows to Em’ly).
Squire.—Ladies and gentlemen (takes Dorothy’s hand), this is Miss Dorothy Clyde (all bow).
Dingle(Aside).—The widow’s daughter! (Aloud to Em’ly) Surely, this is a joke; are you not Miss Clyde?
Dorothy.—No, sir;myname is Dorothy Clyde, and the young lady at your side is the one who didnothear your gallant views on the subject of arrears of rent.
Dingle.—Do you mean to say—?
Em’ly.—She means to say that I am Em’ly Felton.
Squire.—And that you are by no means a stranger to Dorothy.
Miss Philp.—And Mr. Dingle, pray what has become of him?
Squire.—The ladies first. This is Miss Philp, my friends; this is Miss Felton, and last, but not least, this is my esteemed—ah—that is—my very esteemed friend, her mother. Now, Miss Philp, allow me to introduce to your kind consideration Mr. Morley Dingle, of Dingleton, Dingle Township, Pennsylvania.
Dorothy(Aside).—Dingle, dong, dingle.
Dingle.—I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss.
Miss Philp.—It is such a pleasure to place your name—
Weatherspout(Aside).—On your teaspoons, if you could.
Miss Philp.—Among those of my chosen friends.
Squire.—Perhaps it would give Mr. Dingle exquisite pleasure to escort you home.
Dingle.—I have already a lady.
Dorothy(To Dingle).—Are you going to distrain the household chattels?
Dingle.—Not with such good collateral security. I was wrong. I deeply regret my action.
Dorothy.—Then the court has reversed its decision?
Dingle.—Completely! The waiver is a fraud.
Squire.—Ladies and gentlemen, this is my old chum, Caleb Weatherspout, and this is my future son-in-law, Leslie Raymore.
Weatherspout.—Of the firm of Weatherspout & Raymore.
Miss Philp.—Mercy, get my wrap, quick.
Mercy.—Must you go home alone?
Weatherspout.—Not by any means. I shall see you both safely home.
Miss Philp(Aside).—He don’t look so aged after all. (Aloud) How kind, sir.
Squire.—Now that we have thrown off our masks, let us keep them off.
Mrs. Felton.—And let us clasp hands in the light of a perfect understanding.
(All join hands.)
Leslie.—This is mainly due to Dorothy Clyde—
Em’ly(Nods to Dorothy).—The Squire’s Daughter.
[Curtain.]
—Geo.M. Vickers.