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[_The_ DEACON _looks at them all quietly. Then he lifts his hands in sign of blessing, smiles and vanishes silently through street door. All remain stationary in their terror. Nothing happens. But at last_ NELI _fearfully, still spellbound by the_ DEACON'S _eloquence, lifts her eyes to the clock. Then cautiously she turns a little toward the fire and the place of_ DEACON ROBERTS.
NELI. Uch! [_She stands on her feet and cries out._] The Deacon is gone!
HUGH. [_Raising his eyes._] Uch, what is it? Babylon----
NELI. Babylon nothing! [_She wrings her hands._
MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Groaning._] Is he dead? Is he dead?
NELI. [_With sudden plunge toward the door._] Uch, ye old hypocrite, ye villain! Uch, my b.u.t.ter an' my eggs, my b.u.t.ter an' my eggs!
[NELI _throws open the door and slams it to after her as she pursues the_ DEACON _out into the bright midday suns.h.i.+ne_.
MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. Well, indeed, what is it? Has she been taken?
MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Getting up heavily._] Such movin' eloquence! A saintly man is Deacon Roberts!
TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Aye, a saintly man is Deacon Roberts!
HUGH. [_Picking up his book and speaking slowly._] Aye, eloquence that knoweth the place of h.e.l.l even better than it knoweth Bala whatever!
MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [_Very businesslike._] Aye, 'twas a treat--a rare treat! But where's my pins now?
MRS. JONES THE WASH. [_Very businesslike._] Yiss, yiss, 'twas a grand an' fine treat. But I'm wantin' my soap now.
TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Have ye any tobacco, Hughie lad?
CURTAIN
WHERE BUT IN AMERICA
BY
OSCAR M. WOLFF
_Where But In America_ is reprinted by special permission of the author and of the _Smart Set Magazine_, in which this play was first printed.
For permission to perform address the author at Room 1211, 105 Monroe Street, Chicago, Illinois.
OSCAR M. WOLFF
Oscar M. Wolff was born July 13, 1876. After graduation from Cornell University he completed his law course in the University of Chicago. In addition to his interest in law, which he has practised and taught, he has done considerable writing and editing. He has published a legal text-book, and his articles on legal subjects have appeared both in law journals and in magazines of general interest. During the war he was connected with the United States Food Administration at Was.h.i.+ngton. At present he lives in Chicago, Illinois.
In addition to some stories, he has written several one-act plays: _Where But in America_, _The Claim for Exemption_, and _The Money-Lenders_.
_Where But in America_ is an excellent play of situation, as well as a delicate satire on a certain aspect of American social life.
CAST
MRS. ESPENHAYNE MR. ESPENHAYNE HILDA
WHERE BUT IN AMERICA[J]
SCENE: _The Espenhayne dining-room._
_The curtain rises on the Espenhayne dining-room. It is furnished with modest taste and refinement. There is a door, centre, leading to the living-room, and a swinging door, left, leading to the kitchen._
_The table is set, and_ ROBERT _and_ MOLLIE ESPENHAYNE _are discovered at their evening meal. They are educated, well-bred young Americans._ ROBERT _is a pleasing, energetic business man of thirty_; MOLLIE _an attractive woman of twenty-five. The bouillon cups are before them as the curtain rises._
BOB. Mollie, I heard from the man who owns that house in Kenilworth. He wants to sell the house. He won't rent.
MOLLIE. I really don't care, Bob. That house was too far from the station, and it had only one sleeping-porch, and you know I want white-enamelled woodwork in the bedrooms. But, Bob, I've been terribly stupid!
BOB. How so, Mollie?
MOLLIE. You remember the Russells moved to Highland Park last spring?
BOB. Yes; Ed Russell rented a house that had just been built.
MOLLIE. A perfectly darling little house! And f.a.n.n.y Russell once told me that the man who built it will put up a house for any one who will take a five-year lease. And she says that the man is very competent and they are simply delighted with their place.
BOB. Why don't we get in touch with the man?
MOLLIE. Wasn't it stupid of me not to think about it? It just flashed into my mind this morning, and I sat down at once and sent a special-delivery letter to f.a.n.n.y Russell. I asked her to tell me his name at once, and where we can find him.
BOB. Good! You ought to have an answer by to-morrow or Thursday and we'll go up north and have a talk with him on Sat.u.r.day.
MOLLIE. [_With enthusiasm._] Wouldn't it be wonderful if he'd build just what we want! f.a.n.n.y Russell says every detail of their house is perfect.
Even the garage; they use it----
BOB. [_Interrupting._] Mollie, that's the one thing I'm afraid of about the North Sh.o.r.e plan. I've said repeatedly that I don't want to buy a car for another year or two. But here you are, talking about a garage already.
MOLLIE. But you didn't let me finish what I was saying. The Russells have fitted up their garage as a playroom for the children. If we had a garage we could do the same thing.
BOB. Well, let's keep temptation behind us and not even talk to the man about a garage. If we move up north it must be on an economy basis for a few years; just a half-way step between the apartment and the house we used to plan. You mustn't get your heart set on a car.
MOLLIE. I haven't even thought of one, dear. [BOB _and_ MOLLIE _have now both finished the bouillon course and lay down their spoons. Reaching out her hand to touch the table b.u.t.ton, and at the same time leaning across the table and speaking very impressively._] Bob, I'm about to ring for Hilda!
BOB. What of it?
