Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 41

Oh, how angry I am! Don't come too near, don't come too near--er--come--no nearer.

SMIRNOV. [_Approaching her._] How angry I am with myself! Fall in love like a schoolboy, throw myself on my knees. I've got a chill!

[_Strongly._] I love you. This is fine--all I needed was to fall in love. To-morrow I have to pay my interest, the hay harvest has begun, and then you appear! [_He takes her in his arms._] I can never forgive myself.

MRS. POPOV. Go away! Take your hands off me! I hate you--you--this is--[_A long kiss._

[_Enter_ LUKA _with an axe, the gardener with a rake, the coachman with a pitchfork, and workmen with poles_.

LUKA. [_Staring at the pair._] Merciful heavens!

[_A long pause._

MRS. POPOV. [_Dropping her eyes._] Tell them in the stable that Tobby isn't to have any oats.

CURTAIN

THE LAST STRAW

BY

BOSWORTH CROCKER

_The Last Straw_ is reprinted by special permission of Bosworth Crocker.

All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address the author, care Society of American Dramatists and Composers, 148 West 45th Street, New York City.

BOSWORTH CROCKER

Bosworth Crocker was born March 2, 1882, in Surrey, England. While still a child he was brought to the United States. He lives in New York City and may be reached in care of the Society of American Dramatists and Composers, 148 West 45th Street.

In addition to _p.a.w.ns of War_ and _Stone Walls_, he has written a number of one-act plays, _The Dog_, _The First Time_, _The Cost of a Hat_, _The Hour Before_, _The Baby Carriage_, and _The Last Straw_.

_The Last Straw_, produced by the Washington Square Players in New York City, is an excellent one-act tragedy, based upon the psychological law of suggestion.

CAST

FRIEDRICH BAUER, _janitor of the Bryn Mawr_ MIENE, _his wife_ KARL, _elder son, aged ten_ FRITZI, _younger son, aged seven_ JIM LANE, _a grocer boy_

THE LAST STRAW[G]

TIME: _The present day._

SCENE: _The bas.e.m.e.nt of a large apartment-house in New York City._

SCENE: _The kitchen of the Bauer flat in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Bryn Mawr. A window at the side gives on an area and shows the walk above and the houses across the street. Opposite the windows is a door to an inner room. Through the outer door, in the centre of the back wall, a dumb-waiter and whistles to tenants can be seen. A broken milk-bottle lies in a puddle of milk on the cement floor in front of the dumb-waiter. To the right of the outer door, a telephone; gas-range on which there are flat-irons heating and vegetables cooking. To the left of the outer door is an old sideboard; over it hangs a picture of Schiller. Near the centre of the room, a little to the right, stands a kitchen table with four chairs around it. Ironing-board is placed between the kitchen table and the sink, a basket of dampened clothes under it. A large calendar on the wall. An alarm-clock on the window-sill. Time: a little before noon. The telephone rings_; MRS. BAUER _leaves her ironing and goes to answer it_.

MRS. BAUER. No, Mr. Bauer's out yet. [_She listens through the transmitter._] Thank you, Mrs. Mohler. [_Another pause._] I'll tell him just so soon he comes in--yes, ma'am.

[MRS. BAUER _goes back to her ironing. Grocer boy rushes into bas.e.m.e.nt, whistling; he puts down his basket, goes up to_ MRS.

BAUER'S _door and looks in_.

LANE. Say--where's the boss?

MRS. BAUER. He'll be home soon, I--hope--Jim. What you want?

[_He stands looking at her with growing sympathy._

LANE. Nothin'. Got a rag 'round here? Dumb-waiter's all wet.... Lot of groceries for Sawyers.

MRS. BAUER. [_Without lifting her eyes, mechanically hands him a mop which hangs beside the door._] Here.

LANE. What's the matter?

MRS. BAUER. [_Dully._] Huh?

LANE. [_Significantly._] Oh, I know.

MRS. BAUER. What you know?

LANE. About the boss. [MRS. BAUER _looks distressed_.] Heard your friends across the street talkin'.

MRS. BAUER. [_Bitterly._] Friends!

LANE. Rotten trick to play on the boss, all right, puttin' that old maid up to get him pinched.

MRS. BAUER. [_Absently._] Was she an old maid?

LANE. The cruelty-to-animals woman over there [_waves his hand_]--regular old crank. Nies[H] put her up to it all right.

MRS. BAUER. I guess it was his old woman. Nies ain't so bad. She's the one. Because my two boys dress up a little on Sunday, she don't like it.

LANE. Yes, she's sore because the boys told her the boss kicks their dog.

MRS. BAUER. He don't do nothin' of the sort--jus' drives it 'way from the garbage-pails--that's all. We coulda had that dog took up long ago--they ain't got no license. But Fritz--he's so easy--he jus' takes it out chasin' the dog and hollerin'.

LANE. That ain't no way. He ought to make the dog holler--good and hard--once; then it'd keep out of here.

MRS. BAUER. Don't you go to talkin' like that 'round my man. Look at all this trouble we're in on account of a stray cat.