(Exit, R.)
Fred. Well, Lucy, our happy school-days are drawing to a close. To-night I must leave for home.
Bob. And so must I. Ah, Lucy,
Harry.
Oh, pshaw! Boys, don’t be sentimental: let’s end the term with a frolic.
Fred. I’m agreed. What shall it be?
Harry. What say you to a race on the lake? Our wherries are at the landing. We sha’n’t have another chance.
Fred. I think we owe some attention to the ladies, as this is our last day.
Lucy. If I may speak for the ladies, I think nothing would please them better than a race.
Harry. There’s a jolly little sister for you. Come, boys, I challenge you to a race across the lake and back; the prize to be—what?
Fred. What do you say, Bob?
Lucy. If Bob says what, it will be water-melons.
| Fred. | } Ha, ha! Caught again, Bob. |
| Harry. |
Bob. Now, Lucy, that was too bad.
Lucy. So it was Bob; and, to show my repentance, you shall be my champion in the race. Here, sir! you shall wear my colors. Kneel, and receive from the hands of your sovereign this white ribbon. (Pins white ribbon on his breast.) Keep it pure and unsullied, and bring it back to me as a trophy of victory.
Bob. Lucy, I’ll do my best; but you know what it will be: I shall be last. Just my luck!
Harry. Oh, pshaw! Bob. Remember the fable of the hare and the turtle.
Bob. Confound it! do you mean to call me a turtle?
Fred. Well, well, whose champion am I? (Aside.) That Bob Winders has got ahead of me already. (Enter Mrs. Loring and Dilly, R.) Ah! here’s Mrs. Loring. Madam, we are to have a race on the lake. Miss Lucy has accepted Bob here as her champion: he is already decorated with her ribbon. May I not hope that you may be induced to look with favor on your humble servant?
Mrs. L. Well, I’m sure, Master Fred, if my favor can help you to victory, here is my ribbon. (He kneels, she pins red ribbon on his coat.)
Lucy. All hail the champion of the Red!
Dilly. Going to have a race? Oh! ain’t that jolly? Whose champion are you, Harry?
Harry. They’ve left me out in the cold. No, Dilly! Whose champion? Yours, little lady, if you will accept me.
Dilly. Oh, my! Will you, though? Oh, that is real jolly; but you want a ribbon: wait a minute till I let down my hair. There, now! wear that (pins blue ribbon on him); and, if you don’t bring it as a trophy of victory, I’ll never speak to you again.
Fred. All hail the champion of the Blue!
Dilly. Red, White, and Blue,—hurrah for the race of the Red, White, and Blue!
Mrs. L. The victor should be rewarded with an ensign. Suppose, Lucy, we go and make one while the young men are preparing for the race. (Exit, L.)
Lucy. That’s a capital idea! (Exit, L.)
Dilly. Oh, let me help!
Harry. What can you do, little girl?
Dilly. Little girl?—I want you to understand, Mr. Harry, that I’m a young lady. I can cut out the stars if I can’t do any thing else. (Exit, R.)
Bob. If I’m not much mistaken, you’ll cut out a great many stars when you grow older.
Harry. Good for you, Bob. Well, lads, when shall we start?
Fred. It’s just ten o’clock. Let’s start in half an hour: ’twill give the ladies a chance to make their flag.
| Harry. | } (Agreed. Enter Butts, C.) |
| Bob. |
Butts. I’ve caught you, have I?—you rascals, you rapscallions!
Harry. Come, come, Mr. Butts, hard words!
Fred. What in the world is the matter now?
Bob. Old Hookey looks wrathy.
Butts. Old Hookey!—young man, respect the law.
Harry. What’s the matter, Mr. Butts? Whose eggs are missing now?
Bob. Whose chimney stopped up?
Fred. Whose water-melons sloped?
Butts. Eggs, chimneys, water-melons,—Oh! I shall choke.
Bob. Do: ’twill save the sheriff a job.
Harry. Come, come, speak out man. What burglary has been committed?
Fred. Whose cow stolen?
Bob. Whose cat drowned?
Butts. Stop, stop, stop! In the name of the law, I command you! I’ve been outraged, my office broken into; and I charge you three with the perpetration of this foul outrage.
Bob. Oh, ho! a hen-coop plundered?
Harry. Hold on, Mr. Butts: this is a serious charge. We acknowledge we have sometimes overstepped the strict boundaries of the law; but to break into a man’s office is something not even the mischief-loving pupils of Greenlake Seminary would be guilty of. Explain yourself!
Butts. My office was broken into between the hours of seven, P.M., last night and seven, A.M., this morning; my window thrown open; a stuffed figure placed in my arm-chair with a scurrilous label attached to it: now who did it?
Harry. Not I, Mr. Butts, I assure you!
Fred. I never thought of doing such a thing.
Bob. Nor I.
Butts. ’Tis false: all three were concerned in it.
Harry. Do you charge us with falsehood?
Fred. Mind what you’re about: I won’t be called a liar.
Bob. No, sir! If you say we lie, you’ll find yourself lying on the floor.
Butts. There’s a lie somewhere.
Harry. Oh, come! I can’t stand that. Let’s throw him into the lake!
Fred. Good! I’m with you.
Bob. Yes: let’s cool him off.
Butts. Would you offer violence? Young men, respect the law.
Harry. Here, boys, grab his legs. I’ll take his head.
Bob. No: let me have the lightest part.
Butts. Keep off,—I say, keep off!
Harry. It’s no use, Butts; in you go.
Fred. The lake is waiting to receive you.
Bob. We’ll make a water-butt of you, Butts.
Butts. Help, help, murder! (They seize him in their arms, and carry him to the door. Enter Dr. Harlem. They drop Butts, and go, R. and L. Enter Dilly, L.)
Doctor. Well, well, young gentlemen, you seem to be amusing yourselves in an unwonted manner. May I inquire the cause of this assault?
Butts. That’s it, doctor,—assault with intent to drown. It’s a diabolical conspiracy against the law.
Doctor. Harry, Master Hastings, Master Winders, I am waiting for an explanation.
Harry. Father, that man charged three of your pupils with falsehood: we couldn’t stand that. He was hot and angry.
Bob. And so we thought we’d just cool him off, that’s all.
Butts. But they’re a pack of jackanapes, violating the law, and then denying it.
Doctor. Gently, Mr. Butts. My boys, however mischievous they may be, are ready to own their faults without resorting to falsehood. What is your complaint?
Butts. They broke into my office, insulted me by placing a stuffed figure in my window, with my name upon it, and this confounded ridiculous thing on its head (pulls foolscap from his pocket, and places it on his head). Behold the insulted majesty of the law!
Doctor. Allow me to look at that cap, Mr. Butts. This is made of one of my papers; and, as it bears my name upon it, it certainly came from this place. Now, who is the culprit? Harry, I have heard of your pranks in town, though you fancied I was ignorant of them. You will answer me truly. Is this your work?
Harry. No, sir. I have not been near Mr. Butts’s office for three days.
Doctor. Master Hastings?
Fred. I assure you, doctor, I had nothing to do with it.
Doctor. Master Winders, can you throw any light on this proceeding?
Bob. What! I dress old Butts in a foolscap? No, sir. I couldn’t see any joke in that; that’s what I call twitting on facts.
Doctor. Then who is the culprit?
Dilly. If you please, doctor, it was me.
All. You, Dilly!
Dilly. Yes: it was me.
Butts. Why, you little scarecrow, do you mean to say that you did this? I don’t believe it.
Dilly. La, Mr. Butts, you’re never satisfied. You’ve been growling because nobody would confess; and now, when I’m ready to own it, you won’t believe me.
Doctor. Dilly, if this was your doings, you will please explain it.
Dilly. Well, then, I went to Mr. Butts’s office this morning to let him know his horse was in the pound.
Doctor. His horse in the pound?
Dilly. Yes: I’ll tell you about it.
Butts. There, there! no matter about that.
Dilly. Well, I thought you wouldn’t care to hear about it. Well, I went to Mr. Butts’s office, and Mr. Butts wasn’t there: the door was locked; so I tried the window. It was unfastened. I jumped in, saw Mr. Butts’s dressing-gown and boots, dressed up something to look like him, and opened the window.
Butts. What did you do it for?
Dilly. To scare the rogues, Mr. Butts. They would think it was you. It was just as good as though you were there.
Butts. You little, confounded, saucy!—I’ll dress you! I’ll make an example of you, now I’ve caught you!
Dilly. La, Mr. Butts, didn’t you never catch a rogue before?
Butts. Silence!
Doctor. Leave her to me, Mr. Butts. Dilly, I’m astonished that a young lady of your age should be guilty of such a proceeding.
Dilly. Dear me, doctor, I didn’t mean any harm: I only wanted a frolic, and it was such a good chance!
Butts. Frolic?—an insult to an officer of the law, you call a frolic? I’ve been insulted. You let me catch you in my office again, that’s all! Frolic!—shades of the chief justices, ghosts of departed judges! Oh, I shall choke! (Exit, C.)
Doctor. If I hear of such a frolic again, Dilly, I shall be very angry with you. Don’t do it again. (Exit, R.)
Dilly. There, now! the doctor’s angry. I didn’t mean any harm. It’s such fun to plague Mr. Butts!
Bob. Served him right, the old scamp!
Harry. Stop, Bob! don’t encourage her: she’s wild enough already. Dilly, come here.
Dilly. What for, Harry? You going to scold me?
Harry. Yes, Dilly. This frolic of yours has grieved me very much. You are too old now to indulge in such pranks.
Dilly. Why, Harry, you and Fred and Bob hoisted Mr. Butts’s horse up into the steeple; and I’m sure you are all older than I.
Harry. That’s a different matter altogether. We are young men, and you are a young lady.
Dilly. Well, don’t you think young men ought to behave themselves, Harry?
Harry. Yes, of course; that is—sometimes. Oh, pshaw! What I mean is, Dilly, I don’t want you to do such a thing again. It will grieve me very much.
Dilly. Then I’ll never do it again. I’m sure, Harry, if you want me to be a good girl, I shall try ever so hard; for I love you dearly, Harry: and if ever I should grieve you, I—I—I— (Weeps.)
Harry. There, there! Run off, and finish cutting out your stars: that’s much better than cutting up pranks.
Dilly. Oh, the stars! I forgot all about them.
Harry. Confound it! I must turn over a new leaf.
Bob. Yes, practice before you preach. Well, Dilly, how comes on the flag?
Dilly. Nearly ready. Will you come and hold a skein of silk for Lucy? (Exit, L.)
Bob. For Lucy? Will I? Won’t I? (Exit, L.)
Fred. It strikes me that Bob Winders is mighty attentive to Lucy.
Harry. Of course, he is. Why, Fred, you’re not jealous?
Fred. That sister of yours is an angel, Harry.
Harry. That she is, Fred.
Fred. Do you know, Harry, that the saddest of our parting is the thought that I shall meet her no more? You and I are such good friends, Harry, that you will not laugh when I tell you I love her dearly, truly.
Harry. Ah! a boy’s love, Fred. We know how that will end. New scenes and new faces will blot out all remembrance of her.
Fred. I tell you, no, Harry. If I am a boy, I have lived a man’s life for the last five years. Hers is not the first fair face which has attracted me; but all fade before hers. Harry, I tell you I shall leave this place with the firm resolve to one day return, and ask her to be my wife.
Harry. Your wife, Fred?
Fred. Yes, my wife. You would not object to that?
Harry. I should, most decidedly.
Fred. How?
Harry. Yes, Fred Hastings: I’d rather see my sister laid in her grave than marry you.
Fred. Harry, you’re crazy!
Harry. Not a bit of it. Look you, Fred. You’re a gay fellow, and with you time flies lightly and merrily. But you’re a rich man’s son. Your purse is always full. You know too much of life. Boy as you are, you can drink as deep as the oldest; you can shake a dice-box as glibly as the most expert, shuffle a pack of cards with the boldest, and bet your money with the fastest. I can very easily tell your future life,—a gay life and a merry one; and, with such a companion, a pure, loving girl like Lucy would be miserable. I know all this; for you have led me into it. So, Fred, say no more about it. Lucy is too good for you ever to dream of.
Fred. Why, Harry, what’s the matter? You have engaged with me in all these sports that you speak of. Do you turn upon me now? Harry, you are not yourself.
Harry. No, I am not. When you came to this school, I was a happy lad who had never heard of this gay life; content to stay at home with my dear sister and Dilly, with but one desire,—to please a father who was very proud of me. You came. New life, new enjoyments, were before me; and, like a thoughtless boy, I plunged into them. Well, I suppose it is one of the phases of life which tempt all; but I wish I had never, never, seen it.
Fred. But, Harry, what has caused this sudden change?
Harry. I’ll tell you, Fred. You introduced me to Capt. Pitman’s house, to look on at the game. I was content, at first, to look on; but one night you tempted me to play. I lost seventy-five dollars to Capt. Pitman, and I had not the means to pay it. The captain was very kind: he said the money was of no consequence: I should give him my I. O. U. for the amount, and, when convenient, pay it. I gave him a note.
Fred. That was all right. He doesn’t want the money.
Harry. Ah! but he does. He met me this morning; said he was very sorry, but he must have it at once. I declared my inability to pay it. He persisted, and warned me, that, if the money was not in his hands to-day, he should be compelled to call upon my father for an explanation.
Fred. He cannot collect it. You are a minor.
Harry. Collect it! Do you suppose my father would hesitate to pay, when he knows, that, on his refusal, the whole story would be made public? Fred Hastings, rather than look upon my father’s face—his honest face—when he should feel his son was a gambler, I’d throw myself into the lake.
Fred. Oh, come, Harry! he shall not know it. I got you into the scrape, and I’ll see you out. The doctor holds money belonging to me, from which I draw for my convenience. I’ll go to him, get the money: you shall pay Capt. Pitman, and nobody be the wiser.
Harry. Will you, though? That’s kind of you, Fred; and I’ll repay you with the first money I have.
Fred. I’ll go at once.
Harry. And I’ll look after the boats. But don’t think any more of Lucy, Fred; for I tell you, you can’t have her. She’s too good for you. (Exit, C.)
Fred. Too good for me! A saint at last! What a rascal I must be! Too good for me! Ah, Harry Harlem, you don’t know me yet with all your keenness. Too good for me!—we’ll see. Oh! I’ll help you out of the scrape, I’ll help you out. I can shake a dice-box, can I? I can bet my money, can I? You’ve seen all this? But there’s one little sleight-of-hand trick that you haven’t seen yet, Master Harry Harlem. I’ll help you out of this scrape with a vengeance. (Exit, R. Enter Bob.)
Bob. Just my luck! I’ve tangled all their silk, cut their cloth in the wrong place, and upset every thing in the room. Just my luck! The idea of a chap of my temperament sitting down before Lucy Harlem to hold a skein of silk, while her bright eyes were burning holes in my susceptible bosom! Oh, it’s horrible! I’m over head and ears in love with her. When she touches me, the blood rushes to my head, and I rush off. I think she likes me. I’d like to go down on my knees before her, and say, “Lucy, I am yours.” But there, I’m too fat. She might say, “There’s too much of you.” Here she comes. I’ve a great mind to say something. (Enter Lucy, R.)
Lucy. Why, Bob! what did you run away for? You tangled my silk all up, and left me to unravel it.
Bob. O Lucy! you’ve tangled me all up, and I don’t believe I shall ever be unravelled.
Lucy. Why, what’s the matter?
Bob. Lucy, I’m going away to-day.
Lucy. I’m so sorry you’re going just at this time!
Bob. You are? You don’t know how happy you make me. Why at this time?
Lucy. Because the water-melons are just ripe.
Bob. Oh, pshaw! What’s water-melons to me?
Lucy. A great deal, I should think. Don’t you like them?
Bob. Yes; but I like you just as well.
Lucy. Why, Bob!
Bob. No, no! I mean— (Aside.) I’ve a great mind to speak. (Pops down on his knees.) Lucy— (Enter Fred, R., with a portfolio in his hand.)
Lucy. Oh! there’s Fred.
Bob. Just my luck! (Jumps up.)
Fred. Why, Bob, what’s the matter? Have you hurt you?
Bob. No, I ain’t hurt me. (Exit, C. Enter Dilly, L.)
Fred. I’m glad you are here, Lucy. I leave you to-day, and, that you may not entirely forget me, may I beg your acceptance of this. (Presenting a watch.)
Lucy. Oh, what a splendid little watch! Thank you a thousand thousand times for your kindness.
Dilly. Oh, what a beauty! Dear me, Fred, ain’t you going to give me something to remember you by?
Lucy. Hush, Dilly.
Dilly. I’m sure I shall forget you if you don’t.
Fred. Oh! I haven’t forgotten you, Dilly. Here, take this. I’ve often heard you say you wanted a portfolio. You shall have this. Should I ever become a great man, you can boast that you own something which no one but I have ever used.
Dilly. Oh, thank you, Fred! That’s just what I wanted! Isn’t it nice? I’ll go show it to auntie at once. (Exit, L.)
Fred. Lucy, may I not hope that the many happy hours we have spent together here may sometimes recall me to your remembrance?
Lucy. Don’t talk so, Fred! I hope we shall meet again often. There is no one whom I shall miss more than you.
Fred. Do you mean that, Lucy? May I hope sometime to return, and— (Enter Harry, C., in boating costume, blue. Aside.) Pshaw! he back again?
Harry. Well, Lucy, are you all ready for the race?
Lucy. When you are, Harry. Look at my beautiful present. From Fred too: isn’t he kind?
Harry. Very.
Lucy. Well, I declare: is that all you can say?
Harry. I’m busy now: don’t talk. Get Aunt Loring and Dilly. We must be off.
Lucy. We’ll all be ready in a minute. (Exit, L.)
Fred. Here, Harry, here’s your father’s check for seventy-five dollars: settle with Capt. Pitman at once.
Harry. Thank you, Fred! I’ll run down and pay him.
Fred. And I’ll get ready for the race. Look out for yourself; for I shall beat you. (Exit, R.)
Harry. Don’t be too sure of that. I’ll get this debt off my mind. (Turns to door, meets Butts.)
Butts. Oh, here you are, here you are! I’ve been looking for you.
Harry. You’re always looking for somebody. What’s to pay now? Who do you want?
Butts. You, Harry Harlem: I’ve got a little business with you. The law has its eye on you.
Harry. Well, I’ve no objection, as long as it’s the eye, and not the hand.
Butts. But the hand follows the eye.
Harry. O pshaw! I’m in a hurry: if you have any business with me, speak out.
Butts. I’ve a little note against you, placed in my hands for collection by Capt. Pitman.
Harry. Capt. Pitman! In your hands?
Butts. Which, of course, you can’t pay; so my next business is with your father.
Harry. Not just yet. Where is the note?
Butts. Here it is; seventy-five dollars,—a large sum for a son of Dr. Harlem to lose by gambling.
Harry. Sh!—Don’t speak so loud.
Butts. Here it is; seventy-five dollars.
Harry. And here is a check for the amount.
Butts. A check!
Harry. My father’s check: it’s good, I believe.
Butts. Good as gold. Here’s your note. (Aside.) There’s another job slipped through my hands.
Harry. So you see, old Butts, it isn’t necessary to see my father. There’s your money. Good-day!
Butts. Will you take a little bit of advice from me?
Harry. No, sir. I won’t take any thing from you. You’d like to catch me tripping; but you haven’t got me yet, Mr. Butts.
Butts. No, not just yet; but, if your acquaintance with Capt. Pitman continues, it won’t be long. Good-day! (Exit, C.)
Harry. I’ll take good care to cut the acquaintance of Capt. Pitman. I’ve had a narrow escape; and I’ll keep out of his den. (Enter Lucy, Mrs. Loring, and Dilly, with flag, L.)
Dilly. Here’s the flag, Harry: isn’t it a beauty?
Harry. It is, indeed; and I’ll do my best to win it for you, Dilly. Where’s Fred? (Enter Fred, R., in boating costume, red.)
Fred. Here’s Fred, ready and “eager for the fray.”
Harry. Good! Run for Bob, and we’ll be off.
Dilly. Oh! he’s always last. (Enter, Bob, R., in boating costume, white.)
Bob. Of course, I am; just my luck! I tell you it’s no joke to robe myself in these uncomfortable clothes. I’ve ripped two shirts and three pairs of—
Harry. Hold on, Bob.
Bob. What’s the use in my attempting to race? Anyhow, I shall be the last in. It’s just my luck!
Harry. Don’t growl, Bob. It’s just your luck to be the best fellow in the world. What could we do without you? All the small boys swear by you. If they’re in trouble, who so quick to help as Bob Winders? If there’s an old lady within ten miles wants an armful of firewood, who so quick to bring it as Bob Winders? If I was in trouble, and wanted the help of a friend, a real friend, there’s no one I would call on sooner than Bob Winders.
Bob. Bully for you, Harry. I’d go through fire and water for you; for you’ve helped me through many tight places: but it’s no use: I shall lose the race. It’s just my luck!
Harry. Do your best, Bob. Come, lads, let’s be off.
Dilly. Yes: the race, the race,—hurrah for the race of the Red, White, and Blue!
(Exit Dilly and Harry, Lucy and Bob; Mrs. Loring and Fred about to follow. Enter Dr. Harlem, R.)
Doctor. Mrs. Loring, one moment; that is, if you have no important business.
Mrs. L. Will you excuse me, Mr. Hastings, one moment? (Fred bows and exits, C.) I was merely going to see the race on the lake. The young people desired it; and, really, I felt myself almost a girl again.
Doctor. I will detain you but a moment. I have just received an anonymous epistle, which annoys me very much. It is not the first I have received. It refers to Harry.
Mrs. L. To Harry, doctor?
Doctor. Yes. I am advised by an unknown friend to keep my eye on him, as he is in the habit of keeping bad company. Mrs. Loring, have you seen any thing wild about him for the last two months?
Mrs. L. No, nothing more than usual. Since school commenced, he has taken part in many of the frolics to which boys are accustomed. I think he will behave more soberly when they are all gone.
Doctor. I am exceedingly anxious. I have heard of his pranks in the village: I have also heard he is somewhat in debt.
Mrs. L. I think very likely.
Doctor. You take it very coolly, Mrs. Loring.
Mrs. L. Because I have full faith in Harry. Certain friendships he has formed must, of necessity, be broken to-day; and when he is once more with us, believe me doctor, he will be our own Harry again.
Doctor. I hope you are right, Mrs. Loring. Should harm come to that boy, it would kill me. I have set my heart on making a noble man of him; and, should he fail me— (Enter Dilly, C.)
Dilly. O auntie, quick! they’re just going to start. Come, doctor, come and see the race. Why, how slow you are! Come, auntie, come right along. (Pulls Mrs. Loring off, C.)
Doctor. Mrs. Loring must be right. She has had my children under her eye so long, that she is better able to judge their characters than I with my numerous duties constantly occupying my attention. Some meddling person has sent these notes to annoy me. (Enter Butts, C., hurriedly.)
Butts. O doctor, doctor! such a crime! such a high-handed outrage, a diabolical crime! Oh the villain, the villain!
Doctor. What’s the matter now, Mr. Butts?
Butts. Keep cool, doctor, keep cool! It’s a terrible blow, but keep cool: take example from me. Oh the reprobate, the villain!
Doctor. Well, well! what is it?
Butts. Are we alone? I would have no ear listen to the tale of horror; no voice but mine break the silence!
(Dilly dances in, C., flapping the flag in Butts’s face.)
Dilly. They’re off, they’re off! Such a splendid start! Come quick, you’ll lose all the fun. (Dashes out, C.)
Butts. Confound that little imp! she’s always in the way.
Doctor. Never mind her! what is this crime?
Butts. O Dr. Harlem. Dr. Harlem!
Doctor. Mr. Butts, will you be kind enough to explain yourself in as few words as possible? These ejaculations of yours may be pleasing to you, but I do not enjoy them.
Butts. Dr. Harlem, I am an officer of the law. It is my proud boast, that I am one of the supporters of the scale of justice,—that scale which—
Doctor. Stop, Mr. Butts. If you have come here to deliver an oration on justice, you’ll excuse me, as I have far more important matters to occupy my attention.
Butts. Dr. Harlem, I have a tender heart, and the sight of misery is terrible to me.
Doctor. What’s that to do with me?
Butts. Doctor, compose yourself, imitate my stoicalness. You are a father— (Dilly rushes in, C.)
Dilly. Oh, such a race! they’re half-way across the lake, and Harry’s ahead, Harry’s ahead! (Rushes out, C.)
Butts. Plague take that girl!
Doctor. Never mind her, but speak.
Butts. Dr. Harlem, I have had occasion to call upon you in regard to the conduct of your pupils many times. To-day, I called upon one of your young men to collect a note placed in my hands by Capt. Pitman. The note was paid by giving me this check.
Doctor. My check! How is this?
Butts. Is it your check?
Doctor. No, it is not: it is a forgery.
Butts. Yes, I knew it. Ha, ha, ha! You cannot blind the eyes of justice. Good, good: I’ve got him!
Doctor. Who—who did this? (Enter Dilly, C.)
Dilly. They’ve reached the other side. Harry turned first: he’s ahead, he’s ahead! (Exit, C.)
Butts. Drat that girl! she’s a nuisance.
Doctor. Mr. Butts, who was the author of this forgery?
Butts. One of your pupils.
Doctor. His name.
Butts. Well, well, don’t be in a hurry.
Doctor. His name, I say. (Enter Dilly, C.)
Dilly. They’re coming back. Bob Winders has upset, and Harry’s ahead.
Doctor. Dilly!
Dilly. Oh, come and see the race! You’ll lose the best of it.
Doctor. Dilly, you see I am very much engaged. Don’t enter this room again, or I shall be very angry.
Dilly. La! I thought you wanted to know about the race. (Exit, C.)
Doctor. Now, Mr. Butts, the name of this offender.
Butts. His name is—Harry Harlem.
Doctor. Harry Harlem! Butts, you lie!
Butts. What! this to me, an officer of the law? Dr. Harlem, recollect yourself. Respect the law.
Doctor. Pardon me, Butts. I was hasty. But you are mistaken. My son Harry—
Butts. Gave me that check in this very room.
Doctor. This is terrible! My son Harry forge the name of his father? I tell you you are mistaken.
(Outside: “Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah for Harry Harlem!”)
Butts. Here he is: ask him. (Enter Harry, Fred, Lucy, Mrs. Loring, and Dilly, C.)
Dilly. Harry’s won the race! Harry’s won the race!
Harry. ’Tis true: I’ve won the colors.
Fred. I’ve been handsomely defeated. (Enter Bob, C.)
Bob. And I’ve got gloriously ducked. Just my luck!
Harry. Congratulate me, father! I’ve beaten the best sculler in the school.
Doctor. Stop! Before you secure my congratulations look me in the face, Harry Harlem, and answer me this: Have you seen Mr. Butts before to-day?
Harry. Oh, several times.
Doctor. Have you paid him any money?
Harry. Why—I—yes, I have. (Aside.) Butts has turned traitor.
Butts. Didn’t I tell you so? Didn’t I tell you so? He gave me the check. I’ll swear it.
Doctor. Harry, you hear. What have you to say?
Harry. I did give him that check.
Doctor. So, sir, not content with making yourself the terror of the village, not content with disturbing the quiet of our once happy home with your wild courses, to crown your evil life you commit a forgery.
All. A forgery?
Doctor. Yes, a forgery. This son of mine—hear it, all of you—this son, of whom I was so proud, has forged the name of his father to pay a gambling debt.
Harry. ’Tis false!
Doctor. False, boy! Can you deny this?—this check, which you confess you gave to Butts?
Harry. I did give him the check; but it was given me by another, one who can explain every thing. You could not think me so base as to forge the name of the kindest and best of fathers? That check was given me by Fred Hastings.
All. Fred Hastings?
Fred. Let me see it. ’Tis false! That check has never been in my possession.
Harry. Fred Hastings, do you deny it?
Fred. Most certainly. Harry, I would willingly lend you my name to help you out of a scrape; but this is a crime I look upon with abhorrence. You must bear the blame yourself: I cannot help you.
Harry. Am I awake?
Doctor. A lie to cover a crime! O Harry, Harry! Is this the reward for all my love, my pride in you?
Harry. Father, what can I say? One whom I thought a friend has bitterly betrayed me. I do not know, I cannot imagine, a reason for this; but, as true as there is a heaven above, I am innocent of crime.
Doctor. Have you not frequented the gambling-house of Capt. Pitman?
Harry. I have. To my shame, I confess it.
Doctor. Then you are no longer son of mine. You have bitterly betrayed the trust reposed in you, and you cannot hold up your head in honesty. Go! The world is wide: find where you can a resting-place. My house shall no longer harbor a gambler and a forger.
Mrs. L. Doctor, doctor, calm yourself!
Lucy. O father! don’t speak so! (They lead him to chair, R.)
Doctor. The cool, heartless villain!
Harry. Dr. Harlem (I will no longer call you father, since you yourself cut me off), I have indeed deceived and disgraced you by thoughtless folly; but of this crime I am innocent. You are right. Your house is no longer a fit place for a gambler. I can claim no friends here now.
Mrs. L. Oh, don’t say that, Harry!
Doctor. Silence! Who bandies words with that villain is no longer an inmate of my home.
Dilly. Then you can set my bandbox outside the door at once. Dr. Harlem, you’re a mean old doctor, so you are! O Harry, Harry! I don’t know what it’s all about; but I know there isn’t a better Harry in this world than you. (Rushes into his arms.)
Harry. Hush, hush, Dilly! ’Twill all come right some day.
Bob. Harry, there’s my hand. The case looks hard against you, and I suppose I should be on the other side; but I believe in you, and I stand by you. If you’re a villain, as they say you are, I can’t see it. It’s just my luck!
Harry. Bob, you’re a trump!
Dilly. You won’t go, will you, Harry?
Harry. Dilly, I must. You cannot understand it. I am accused of a crime, with no power to prove myself innocent. The time will come when I can prove it. Till then, I shall go from here.
Dilly. Oh, take me with you, Harry! take me with you! You are the one I love best in the world. I should die without you!
Harry. No, Dilly: you must stay here. Be good and gentle with father, and watch, Dilly, watch; for the time will come when even a little maid like you can serve me.
Doctor. Oh the villain, the villain! to seek to plunder his old father! The villain, the villain! Has he gone?
Harry. In one moment, doctor: my presence is hateful to you. I have disobeyed you, and must bide the consequences. Farewell! Where’er I go, I shall always remember you as the kindest and best of fathers. Farewell!
Butts. Stop! You are my prisoner.
All. Prisoner?
Doctor. No, no, Butts! Let him go. I make no charge.
Butts. But the bank does. I have a warrant for his arrest.
Dilly. You mean old Butts! You’re always sticking your nose into other people’s business.
Doctor. But, Butts, listen to me. (Takes Butts, R., and they talk together earnestly.)
Harry. (L.) Oh, this is too much! Must I be arraigned as a criminal?
Dilly. Why don’t you run away? I would.
Harry. Thank you for the hint, Dilly.
Dilly. Your boat’s down at the foot of the garden.
Harry. And, if I strike across, I can reach the road. Ah, Dilly! yours is a wise little head. Bob, here. (Bob crosses R.) Can I depend upon you? Will you stick by me?
Bob. Like a poor man’s plaster. It’s just my luck!
Harry. Then meet me in half an hour at the big oak by Jones’s lot.
Bob. I’ll be there.
Harry. Now keep old Butts here, and I’ll be off. Dilly, good-by. Heaven bless you! Be a good girl, and have faith in Harry.
Dilly. That I will! (Harry kisses her, and creeps out, C.; the Doctor is with Butts, R.; Fred and Lucy, with Mrs. Loring, back R., talking together.) Oh, if he can only get away! (Follows him to door, C., and stumbles over the trap, which was placed by Bob, L. C.) Dear me! I’ve nearly broke my ankle! Why, what an ugly-looking trap! I must take care of that.
Butts. I tell you it’s no use, doctor. Law is law, and your son must go to jail.
Doctor. But, Butts, I am the only loser by this. The bank has lost nothing.
Dilly. (Coming down R. of Butts.) Mr. Butts, what will you do with Harry?
Butts. Lock him up in jail, where you ought to be.
Bob. (Coming down L. of Butts.) But look here, Mr. Butts, I’m ready to bail him, or my father is. Don’t take him away, that’s a good fellow. I’ll help you to take all the rogues there are in the village, only let him off.
Dilly. (At door, C.) He’s reached the boat, and he’s off. (Drags trap down behind Butts, and sets it.)
Butts. Look here, young man! I know my business. Harry Harlem must go to jail.
Dilly. Oh! don’t take him to jail, that’s a good Mr. Butts! I won’t dress up any more figures, and I won’t steal your horse and chaise again, if you’ll only let him go.
Bob. Now, do, old Butts! You’re a kind-hearted old fellow, I know you are!
Butts. Silence! The law must be respected. (Dilly and Bob pull him R. and L. to attract his attention during the previous lines. At this part, they have him in front of the trap.)
Fred. (Back, C.) Gracious! there’s Harry half-way across the lake! There’s innocence for you!
Doctor. Escaped? Thank heavens!
Dilly. (Dancing, and clapping her hands.) Good, good, good!
Butts. The prisoner escaped! (Bob pushes him back into the trap.) O murder, murder! What have I done?
Bob. Put your foot in it, old Butts.
Dilly. Good, good, good!
Butts. (Rushing round and dragging the trap.) Lost my prisoner! Murder, help! O Bob Winders, you’ve ruined me.
Bob. Have I? That’s just my luck!
(Quick curtain.)
ACT II.
FIVE YEARS SUPPOSED TO ELAPSE.
Scene same as Act. 1.—Table, R. C.; arm-chair, L. C.; small table, R. C.; with chair R., in which is seated Mrs. Loring, knitting.
Mrs. L. Dear me, how time does fly. It’s five years this very day since our Harry disappeared. Five long years, and no word, no sign, from him. Perhaps he’s dead. Poor boy, innocent or guilty, his loss has been a sad blow to his father. Since that day, he has never been the same man. Prostrated by a long illness, the result of that terrible excitement, feeble in body, wandering in mind, he is but the wreck of the grand old doctor of former days. The school has been given up, the house mortgaged, and what the end will be, Heaven alone can tell. But for Dilly, this would be a sad house. Dear child, she is the ruling spirit. When the blow fell, forsaking all her roguish pranks, she proved herself a woman. The doctor cannot stir without her, and we have all come to depend upon her quick and ready judgment. To-morrow the interest on the mortgage is due. I know we have no money to meet it, no friends to assist. Ah, me, I fear the house must go, and that I am convinced would kill the doctor. (Enter Lucy, R.)
Lucy. Aunt Loring, I have come to you for advice. Mr. Hastings sent me a note this morning, in which he declares his love for me, and asks me to become his wife.
Mrs. L. I have long suspected this would be the result of his stay here. Does it surprise you, Lucy?
Lucy. You know how persistently he has visited us for the last three months, and how attentive he has been to me. He is very agreeable, and—and—
Mrs. L. You love him. Is that it, Lucy?
Lucy. No, no! I do not, and I sometimes wonder at myself: I like to be with him, he is so gay and so attentive; but, when he begins to speak of love, I don’t know why—but a face comes between his and mine, the face of my dear brother Harry, and then I almost detest him.
Mrs. L. You do not believe him guilty of the charge made by Harry?
Lucy. I do not know what to believe: I only know I wish he would never speak of love to me; but still—
Mrs. L. Well, Lucy?
Lucy. We are poor, very poor: this life we now lead cannot last much longer. Some day this place must be given up; then what will become of father, you—all of us? Dilly works hard to keep the wolf from our door, and I am but a poor drone in the hive. Mr. Hastings is rich: were I his wife, this place might be secured, father made comfortable, and you and Dilly happy.
Mrs. L. And yet you do not love him?
Lucy. No, no: I cannot while this uncertainty exists about Harry.
Mrs. L. Then do not marry him. A marriage without love is a blasphemy; and a marriage with Fred Hastings could not be a happy one. Give him his answer, plainly and fairly, and leave our fate to be adjusted by a higher and wiser power. Hark! here’s Dilly: do not speak of this before her; it would make her unhappy.
Dilly. (Outside, C.) Ha! Ha! Ha! what a queer old doctor! you make me laugh so, my sides ache, you’re so funny. (Enter C., supporting Doctor. Lucy runs and places arm-chair C., in which they seat him.) There, I’ve given you a good long walk; now be a good boy, be quiet, and entertain me. (Sits on stool at L. of Doctor. Lucy kneels, R.)
Doctor. Ah, Dilly, you’re a funny girl—a little rogue—you want to keep me all to yourself.
Dilly. Of course I do: ain’t you my cavalier, my true and faithful knight, ready to break lances and fight for me?
Doctor. Yes, yes! ah, dear me, dear me!—
Lucy. What’s the matter, father?
Doctor. Ah, Lucy, my child, your father’s getting old. I can’t tramp so far as I could once. Mrs. Loring?
Mrs. L. Well, doctor.
Doctor. Isn’t it most school-time?
Dilly. (Aside.) Dear me, the school again!
Doctor. You know we must be very prompt, or we shall set a bad example.
Mrs. L. You know it’s vacation now, doctor.
Doctor. Dear me! so it is, so it is! strange I should forget it. But isn’t it a very long vacation, Mrs. Loring?
Mrs. L. About the usual time.
Doctor. The pupils will be coming back soon, won’t they? We must have every thing neat and tidy. Greenlake Seminary must keep up its reputation. I shall be glad to see the lads,—Hastings, Winders, and all the rest of them. What rogues they are: I hope they’ll behave better this term, and keep our Harry—no, Harry’s dead.
Dilly. O doctor! don’t talk about the school: let that take care of itself. Talk to me.
Doctor. Harry’s dead. What day is this, Dilly?
Dilly. The 1st of August.
Doctor. Harry’s dead. Five years ago; it was a beautiful day when we buried him. Don’t you recollect it Dilly: we placed a marble slab over him—we took it from the village bank. I don’t understand why we did that. Do you, Dilly?
Dilly. No matter, doctor. Let’s talk of something else: you know you promised me a sail on the lake this afternoon.
Doctor. (Looking at his watch.) Nine o’clock: come, boys, to your places,—to your places. Master Root, you were very imperfect in your history yesterday: be careful sir—be careful. Master Hastings, why must I speak to you so often about your grammar. Master Winders, you were in Farmer Bates’s orchard last night. Harry, Harry,—dear, dear, I forgot! Harry’s dead.
Lucy. Dear father, don’t talk any more about Harry.
Doctor. Why, Lucy, child, where have you been all day? Where have you been?
Lucy. I’ve been here, father, waiting for you.
Doctor. Waiting for me? Why, I haven’t been away. Yes, yes, I have: Harry drove me to the cars early this morning. I found something by the way,—this little girl (patting Dilly’s head): her name’s “Bread on the Waters.” That’s what Harry calls her. She’s going to live with us,—ain’t you, little girl?
Dilly. Indeed, indeed, I am, doctor.
Doctor. Harry says, “Keep her, father, keep her;” and Harry’s a good boy,—a good boy. Where is he this morning? Why don’t you speak? Somebody run and call him.
Dilly. Why, doctor, you know he’s gone a long journey.
Doctor. Dear me! so he has, so he has,—a long journey to the bank. He’s a good boy—a good boy—he’ll be back soon.
Dilly. Oh! why don’t he come? why don’t he come?
Mrs. L. Dilly, Dilly, be calm.
Doctor. Don’t be in a hurry, little girl. Don’t be in a hurry (Fred appears, C.): all in good time—all in good time.
Fred. May I come in?
Lucy. Mr. Hastings?
Dilly. He here again.
Mrs. L. Certainly, walk in.
Fred. Ah! thank you, delightful morning, ain’t it. You grow young, Mrs. Loring. Ah, Lucy! I hope I find you well, and Dilly too. How’s my old friend the doctor, this morning?
Doctor. Ah, Butts, how are you?
Lucy. You are mistaken father: it’s Mr. Hastings.
Doctor. Ah! Master Fred, I’m glad to see you. Back to school again, hey? Well, well, lad, be more careful of your grammar this time. Study, boy, study.
Fred. Of course I will. With so renowned a master, as Dr. Harlem, I mean to study hard, and then I shall be sure to succeed.
Doctor. Come, Mrs. Loring, you see the boys are coming back: let’s go and see if every thing is in order. (Mrs. Loring takes his arm.) Greenlake Seminary has a reputation to sustain. Come: good-by, Dilly.
Dilly. Good-by, doctor. Now, don’t tire yourself, for you must take me out for a sail this afternoon.
Doctor. Yes, yes, when Harry gets back: you know we can’t do any thing without Harry. (Exit Doctor and Mrs. L., R.)
Fred. The doctor appears feeble this morning, Lucy.
Lucy. Yes: poor father fails very fast. At times his reason wanders, and for whole days he is as you have seen him to-day.
Fred. Poor doctor: is there no help for him?
Lucy. None, I fear.
Dilly. You are mistaken, Lucy. There is one thing that would set him right.
Fred. And pray what is that?
Dilly. The return of Harry, with his innocence clearly established.
Fred. Ah, indeed! you know that can never be.
Dilly. You think so?
Fred. I know it. It’s no use now to mince matters. Harry forged that check to get himself out of a scrape. He will never return.
Dilly. I think he will.
Fred. You have great faith, Dilly.
Dilly. In Harry? Yes. I believe him innocent; and I am sure the day will come when he will stand beneath his father’s roof in the calm, proud consciousness of vindicated innocence.
Fred. You are a brave girl thus to stand by him,—a convicted felon.
Dilly. ’Tis false. He is no felon.
Fred. His flight—
Dilly. Was my act. Would I had never counselled him to it! Had he remained, all would have been made clear.
Fred. Ah, you suspect—
Dilly. Yes; but I do not accuse.
Fred. Dilly, you are an enigma. Do you know that doubting Harry’s guilt places me under suspicion?
Dilly. Does it?
Fred. Dilly, you surely do not suspect me?
Dilly. Mr. Hastings, we will speak no more of this.
Fred. But, Dilly—
Dilly. I repeat, I accuse no one. The time will come when all this will be made clear. We must wait.
Fred. (Aside.) That girl does suspect me. (Aloud.) You’re quite right, Dilly. It’s a disagreeable subject, and unworthy our attention this bright, beautiful morning. Come, Lucy, it’s too pleasant to be cooped up indoors. What say you to a sail?
Lucy. I shall be delighted to go. Dilly, will you go with us?
Dilly. Thank you; but I have something very particular to attend to this morning. You must entertain Mr. Hastings.
Lucy. I’ll do my best, Dilly; and I won’t be gone long.
Fred. There’s a beautiful breeze on the lake.
Lucy. I’m all ready. Good-by, Dilly.
Dilly. Lucy, one moment.
Lucy. Certainly. (To Fred.) Will you excuse me?
Fred. Oh, don’t mind me! I’ll stroll down the path and wait. (Exit, C.)
Dilly. Lucy, that man loves you.
Lucy. I know it.
Dilly. You know it? He has spoken then.
Lucy. No. He has written, and now awaits my answer.
Dilly. And you, Lucy; do you love him?
Lucy. Why do you ask, Dilly?
Dilly. Because it would break my heart to know you did. O Lucy! think of Harry, your dear brother, falsely accused. Think of his words five years ago regarding this man.
Lucy. I do think of them, Dilly, often, very often; and, remembering them, I can say to you, No, I do not love him.
Dilly. Oh! bless you for those words: they lift a weary load from my heart. While Harry is away—
Lucy. I am heart whole. I know your suspicions, Dilly; and, till they are proven true or false, Fred Hastings can have no claim upon me. Good-by! he’s waiting.
Dilly. Good-by, Lucy! (Exit Lucy, C.) The time will surely come, but when—when that old man tottering on the brink of madness shall be in his grave, when this loved home shall have passed from us, when old age and gray hairs shall be upon us. Faith,—yes, I have faith; but this watching and waiting is weary and wearing. No clew by which to work, nothing but bare suspicion; and yet I have faith. This man Hastings, after nearly five years’ absence, appears again among us. He knows I suspect him; and yet he dares to woo the sister of his betrayed friend. Oh! why don’t Harry come? If he would only write; but no, no word, no sign. Pride keeps him silent; but I know he will one day return. Heaven grant it be not too late to save his father! (Enter Butts, C.)
Butts. O Dilly, Dilly! such a crime! such an outrage, a high-handed, diabolical assault on law and justice!
Dilly. Why, Mr. Butts, what’s the matter now?
Butts. Sh—! don’t speak so loud. We must be cautious: my reputation depends upon it. I haven’t breathed a word of this to a single person; but you know since the time you managed to help Harry give me the slip, I’ve had a great respect for you, and always come to you for advice.
Dilly. What is this new outrage?
Butts. A forgery, a stupendous forgery.
Dilly. Here in our village?
Butts. No: in California.
Dilly. California! What’s that to do with us?
Butts. A great deal to do with me, Dilly; for I am the humble individual destined to bring the perpetrator to justice.
Dilly. You, Mr. Butts?
Butts. Listen, Dilly. Three months ago, the Malone Bank of Sacramento lost twelve thousand dollars by the payment of a check purporting to be signed by the firm of Dunshaw & Co., wine-merchants, presented by one John Robinson a noted gambler and stock-speculator. Three days after, the check was found to be a forgery. In the mean time, the said John Robinson had embarked in a steamer bound for New York. The firm of Dunshaw & Co. immediately offered a reward of five thousand dollars for the arrest of the said John Robinson. I have just received a note from some unknown party, giving me the intelligence of the forgery, and acquainting me with the fact that the said John Robinson is in this vicinity. Five thousand dollars! Why, Dilly, I shall be a rich man.
Dilly. When you get the forger.
Butts. Precisely. That won’t be long. I’ve got my eye on him.
Dilly. You suspect.
Butts. Do I! I tell you, Dilly, when Butts gets his eye on a culprit, there’s no escape.