ACT III
SCENE I—Parlor of hotel, furniture removed. The X. Y. Z. Club, in costume, gives its exhibition.
If so desired, this scene may be omitted.
For suggestions, see Shoemaker’s “Advanced Elocution,” “Delsartean Pantomimes,” or “Drills and Marches,” published by the Penn Publishing Company, Philadelphia.
SCENE II—Same as above, with furniture. Arch with curtains C. in flat. Entrances R. and L. The company distributed in groups about the stage. Miss Doting and Mintra, still in costume, and Mr. Fossil, down L.
Miss Doting. And how were you pleased, Mr. Fossil?
Mr. Fossil. Charmed, madam, charmed.
Miss Doting. (turning to Mintra) Pet, dear, allow me to present Mr. Fossil. You have heard me extol his wisdom and good taste. And he has heard of you, haven’t you, Mr. Fossil?
Mr. Fossil. Indeed, yes, Miss Pet, I cannot express to you the great pleasure it gives me to meet a young lady so admirably sensible. Your aunt tells me you are an enthusiast in the matter of Physical Culture. “Strength before beauty” is my motto.
Miss Doting. O Mr. Fossil! but beauty!
Mr. Fossil. Pardon me. I should say, “Strength is beauty.” The beauty of the vine depending upon the strength of its support, though it be nothing but the solid ground; the beauty of the rose taking its strength from the parent stalk. Fill nature with weakness and disease, and there you have ugliness, repulsive distortion. Ah, my dear young lady, I wish all women could realize that it is strength of body which makes beauty. You are fond of walking?
Mintra. Oh, yes! I can walk miles.
Miss Doting. And return rosy and unwearied.
Mintra. But you know, auntie, how the English women walk; and look at our own country girls. Why, even our little children walk miles to school. Of course, if I wore little nippy heels, and went tripping along like a Chinese lady, I should soon get tired.
Mr. Fossil. Most sensibly spoken.
Mintra. Thank you, Mr. Fossil. I knew you must be an advocate of fresh air. Isn’t it delightful to take in great draughts of pure oxygen and expand your lungs till you feel so invigorated that you long to dwell on a mountain top for the rest of your life? (Aside) I’ve been rehearsing those speeches for a week.
Mr. Fossil. Admirable! Excellent! (Aside) A remarkably fine girl, Miss Doting. (Aloud) What charming costumes you are wearing, ladies. How much better those old Greeks knew how to dress than we do. But the day is dawning! Ah, Miss Pet! I wish that you were my niece! (Miss Doting looks very coyly conscious.)
Mintra. Are you sure, Mr. Fossil?
Mr. Fossil. Quite sure. If my scapegrace of a nephew would only ask me to sanction his choice of such a girl, I tell you I should not be long in giving my consent.
Mintra. Take care, Mr. Fossil; one never knows what may happen. Suppose I hold you to your word some day?
Mr. Fossil. May the day soon come, my dear young lady, is my hearty wish. (Bows, ladies walk away, music is heard and all go out C. but Mintra, who stands listening.)
(Enter Tom Bestman, R.)
Tom. O my darling! I wondered where you were. I saw you were not in the music room, so I came in here, hoping to find you. (Takes her hand) Dear, I saw you talking to my uncle, and naturally I am anxious to know what he—I mean what you thought of him.
Mintra. (innocently) Why, Tom, he is a dear, lovely old fellow, and he paid me no end of compliments. He actually said he wished I were his niece.
Tom. He did?
Mintra. Yes, he did.
Tom. Well, I vow!
Mintra. (mocking him) “Well, I vow,” you’re polite. Is it such a very astonishing thing that an old gentleman should make such a wish?
Tom. (pulling his mustache) No—but—at least, not all old gentlemen, but this old gentleman isn’t like all old gentlemen; in fact, he is a very cranky old gentleman, and I didn’t expect—
Mintra. Didn’t expect! Never mind what you expected (irritatedly), I do not know that I especially indorse his wish; indeed, as I come to think of it, I am quite sure I do not. (Turns away, pouting.)
Tom. (bewildered) Why, my dear girl, what do you mean? Do you want me to understand that you do not care for me any more? (Mintra remains silent.) My darling, don’t trifle with me. I have been terribly upset lately, and if I am stupid or dense you must overlook it.
Mintra. (turning to him, and putting out both hands) O Tom, you are dense! I thought you would be so happy; I am. Don’t make me say so. Cannot you see how easy it all is?
Tom. Why—yes—I suppose so, only when you are dealing with a cranky uncle—
Mr. Fossil. (entering suddenly, C.) What’s this I hear? Cranky uncle! Cranky uncle, is it? (Turning to Mintra) Don’t let this young man make you believe his tales, Miss Pet.
Mintra. (laughingly) Ah, Mr. Fossil, remember what you said awhile ago. You do not know to what tales I may be listening.
Mr. Fossil. I certainly indorse anything I may have said to you, Miss Pet.
Mintra. Do you? Very well (aside to Tom), present me as your fiancée. Do hurry, Tom.
Tom. (looking rather dazed) Uncle, let me present you to my promised wife, Miss Mintra Triptoe.
Mr. Fossil. (looking very much surprised) Your promised wife? Miss Mintra Triptoe? Why, I imagined this young lady to be Miss Doting—Miss Pet Doting.
Mintra. No, Mr. Fossil, auntie is Miss Doting. I am her sister’s child, and all the family call me Pet.
Mr. Fossil. Well, I am amazed. Nevertheless, my dear, I am delighted as well. You little cajoler. Ha! ha! ha! Pretty well done. Ha! ha! ha!
(Enter Miss Doting, C. Tom and Mintra go out,
R.)
Mr. Fossil. Ah, Miss Doting, it seems that there is a possibility of our being more nearly related, and that your niece may be my niece, and my nephew your nephew.
Miss Doting. O Mr. Fossil! this is so unexpected. How have I won such a prize?
Mr. Fossil. Prize? I am not sure about there being any great prize won, excepting on my side. If all is, as I hope it is, the prize will be won by my side of the house.
Miss Doting. O Mr. Fossil! what an adept you are in the language of love!
Mr. Fossil. I? Not a bit of it. Well, perhaps I may have been rather effusive to the lady; but I hope she did not think too much so.
Miss Doting. Too much so! How can you imagine it? What so delightful to a woman’s ears as the graceful appreciation of the man she admires—respects—adores—(puts out both hands.)
Mr. Fossil. (taking her hands) Well, Miss Doting, I had no idea that your niece was so impressed by my unworthy self, but she shall find me a warm friend. Yes, madam, we are to be congratulated. I will do my best for the young couple, and Tom will understand that his old uncle hasn’t such poor judgment after all.
Miss Doting. (withdrawing her hands) Your nephew! My niece! I—I—do not understand.
Mr. Fossil. Neither did I, at first; but the sly things told me they were engaged. My nephew, Tom Bestman, to your niece, Miss Pet—no, I mean Miss Mintra Do—no, I mean Triptoe.
Miss Doting. O, cruel! cruel! not to have told me at once.
Mr. Fossil. Not at all! not at all! Now, Miss Doting, pray do not take it in that way. Young folks like a little secret. I don’t blame them. Come, come, we old folks must give them our blessing and be happy with them.
Miss Doting. (aside) Old folks! O, crueller still! Ah well, “What does not come to us is not ours.” (Aloud) I suppose I must not be too harsh, Mr. Fossil; let us find them; but we should remember that Emerson says “the passion of which we speak, though it begins with the young, does not forsake the old,” and you are scarcely old yet, Mr. Fossil. (Takes his arm and they walk off, R.)
(Enter Mr. and Mrs. Alljoy, Mrs. Frisk and others, L.
Mr. and Mrs. Alljoy go down L.)
Mrs. Alljoy. Now, Joe, you see my club is perfectly harmless.
Mr. Alljoy. I congratulate you, Laura, I do, indeed. You are a trump. By George! but it was a revelation to me. I hadn’t an idea you women could be so limber. You looked stunning, too.
Mrs. Alljoy. And you’ll find it doesn’t stop here. I’ll take a five-mile walk with you to-morrow, if you say so.
Mr. Alljoy. Good! we’ll do it.
Mrs. Alljoy. And, Joe, you may rustle the paper all you choose, and if you go to the club, remember, I’m going too. Somehow I’ve given up being an invalid, so you’d better not let me be alone too much, with all this newly acquired energy.
Mr. Alljoy. I shall not want to go to the club if you will only be good company for me. To tell you the truth, the club is getting to be an awful bore, and I am about sick of clubs. That is a fact.
Mrs. Alljoy. Then we’ll begin all over again.
Mrs. Frisk. (coming down) Isn’t she a lively invalid, Mr. Alljoy? You may thank me for it.
Mr. Alljoy. I do, most heartily. She’s her old self, indeed. Ah, here comes Tom and Mintra.
(Enter Tom and Mintra, L., Mr. Fossil and Miss Doting, R. Mr. and Mrs. Alljoy go toward them. All meet centre.)
Miss Doting. O Pet! why didn’t you tell me?
Mintra. What? About Tom? I was afraid to. (looking roguishly at Mr. Fossil) I was afraid you’d tell Mr. Fossil.
Mr. Fossil. You little intriguer! Remember, I haven’t given my consent.
Tom. But, you do, give it, sir.
Mr. Alljoy. Oh, yes! Mr. Fossil!
Mrs. Alljoy. You do give it, Mr. Fossil?
Mr. Fossil. I do, indeed.
Tom. Then we must thank—
Mintra. The Heart suit, for although Clubs were trumps, Hearts have, as usual, won at last.