Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays - novelonlinefull.com
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THIEF. I've got to be getting out of here! Can't stay a minute longer!
Charles, I wish you luck in that reform we were speaking of, but I haven't much hope [_looking at Clara_]. There is such a thing as total depravity. Oh, here! [_taking package from under his arm_]. What am I thinking of? I was running away with your package [_hands it to Clara_].
CLARA [_refusing it_]. Oh, but it's yours, Mr. Hibbard. I couldn't think of taking it. Really, you must keep it to remember us by. Put it among your art treasures at home, next to your lovely illuminated ma.n.u.scripts, and whenever you look at it remember us and this delightful evening, from which we are all taking away so much. You must keep it--that's part of the bargain, isn't it? And now are we even?
THIEF. Even? Far from it. I yield you your woman's right to the last word, and I admit it's the best [_stoops and kisses her hand_].
Good-night, Clara. [_To the reporter._] May I give you a lift back to town?
REPORTER. Thanks. As far as the Hempsteds' corner. Good-night. Thank you for this much help. [_Exeunt._]
CHARLES. Thank goodness, they've gone. What relief! That pace is too rapid for me. You had me running round in circles. But he's got the picture, and we're safe at last. But don't you think, Clara, you took some awful risks. You goaded him pretty far.
CLARA. I had to. Did you hear him call me Clara?
CHARLES [_chuckling_]. He doesn't know our name. But he wasn't a bad fellow, was he? I couldn't help liking him in spite of his impudence.
CLARA. You showed it. You took sides with him against me all the time the reporter was here. But, you know, he was right about our house. It's all wrong. The Hempsteds would see it in a minute. I believe I'll clear out this cabinet and have this room done over in mahogany.
CHARLES. Too expensive this winter.
CLARA. Birch will do just as well--n.o.body knows the difference. Listen!
is he coming back?
REPORTER [_in the doorway_]. Excuse me--listen. Mr. Hibbard says you've given him the wrong package. He says you need this to go with the picture of your grandmother. And he says, sir, that you need to get wise to your own family. He's waiting for me. Good-night! [_Exit._]
CHARLES [_angrily_]. Get wise to my own family? He may know all about art [_undoing the picture_], but I guess I know my own relatives.
[_Holds up picture so that audience can see it, but he can't._] And if that isn't a picture of my own cousin Paul, I'll eat--[_sees Clara laughing_]. What the devil! [_Looks at picture, which represents George Washington._] Clara! you did that! [_laughs uproariously_]. You little cheat!
[_Curtain._]
THE MEDICINE SHOW
A COMEDY
BY STUART WALKER
Copyright, 1917, by Stewart & Kidd Company.
All rights reserved.
THE MEDICINE SHOW was first produced by Stuart Walker's Portmanteau Theatre, with the following cast:
LUT'ER _Williard Webster_.
GIZ _Edgar Stehli_.
DR. STEV'N VANDEXTER _Lew Medbury_.
CHARACTERS
LUT'ER.
GIZ.
DR. STEV'N VANDEXTER.
_THE SCENE is on the south bank of the Ohio River. An old soap box, a log and a large stone are visible. The river is supposed to flow between the stage and the audience. In the background, at the lop of the "grade," is the village of Rock Springs._
Reprinted from "Portmanteau Plays" published by Stewart & Kidd Company, Cincinnati, Ohio, by special permission of Stewart and Kidd.
The professional and amateur stage rights are strictly reserved by Mr. Stuart Walker.
THE MEDICINE SHOW
A COMEDY BY STUART WALKER
[_PROLOGUE: This is only a quarter of a play. Its faults are many.
Come, glory in them with us._
_You are a little boy once more lying on your rounded belly on the cool, damp sands beside the beautiful river. You are still young enough to see the wonder that everywhere touches the world; and men are in the world--all sorts of men. But you can still look upon them with the shining eyes of brotherhood. You can still feel the mystery that is true understanding. Everywhere about you men and things are reaching for the infinite, each in his own way, be it big or little, be it the moon or a medicine show; and you yourself are not yet decided whether to reach for the stars or go a-fishing. Brother!_
_Lut'er enters or rather oozes in._
_He is a tall, expressionless, uncoordinated person who might be called filthy were it not for the fact that the dirt on his skin and on his clothes seems an inherent part of him. He has a wan smile that--what there is of it--is not displeasing. Strangely enough, his face is always smooth-shaven. He carries a fishing pole made from a tree twig and equipped with a thread knotted frequently and a bent pin for hook._
_Lut'er looks about and his eyes light on the stone. He attempts to move it with his bare foot to the water's edge, but it is too heavy for him. Next he looks at the log, raises his foot to move it, then abandons the attempt because his eyes rest on the lighter soap box. This he puts in position, never deigning to touch it with his hands. Then he sits calmly and drawing a fishing worm from the pocket of his shirt fastens it on the pin-hook and casts his line into the water. Thereafter he takes no apparent interest in fishing._
_After a moment Giz enters._
_Giz is somewhat dirtier than Lut'er but the dirt is less a.s.similated and consequently less to be condoned. Besides he is fuzzy with a beard of long standing. He may have been shaved some Sat.u.r.days ago--but quite ago._
_Giz doesn't speak to Lut'er and Lut'er doesn't speak to Giz, but Lut'er suggests life by continued chewing and he acknowledges the proximity of Giz by spitting and wiping his lips with his hand.
Giz having tried the log and the rock finally chooses the rock and acknowledges Lut'er's salivary greeting by spitting also; but he wipes his mouth on his sleeve._
_After a moment he reaches forward with his bare foot and touches the water._]
GIZ. 'Tis warm as fresh milk.
[_Lut'er, not to be wholly unresponsive, spits. A fresh silence falls upon them._]
GIZ. 'S Hattie Brown came in?
[_Lut'er spits and almost shakes his head negatively._]