Patty Pert, Mrs. Graylock's maid.

COSTUMES MODERN AND APPROPRIATE.

Scene.—Handsome apartment in the house of Mr. Graylock. Table, C., red cloth. A study-lamp burning. Books and papers. Lounge, R. Arm-chair, L. Chairs R. and L. of table. Patty Pert seated in arm-chair with a book.

Patty

(reading). "At the sound of that voice musically voluminous as the sighing of the October gale in the lofty branches of mountain hemlocks, Araminta Augusta Violetta sprang to her feet, and, dashing the embroidery-frame to the floor with a crash that shook the ancient edifice, gave one terrific, yet ecstatic scream of joy, and sank fainting into the arms of her own fond Felix Frederick Freelove." Oh! isn't that splendid? Oh! why wasn't I born in those barbaric days, when knights and squires, and milk-white steeds, and high-born ladies, pranced about, like the grand entry of a magnificent circus? Oh! why wasn't I a barbarian? And such love-making! (Reads.) "Beauteous damsel, with eyes of azure blue, hear, oh, hear the vow of your own true knight! I will cleave yonder mountain from summit to base with one blow of my trusty cimeter, ere one tear of grief shall find its way adown thy gently-arching nose:" oh, beautiful, beautiful! There are no barons now. Who ever hears such language as that in these plebeian times? Even old Mr. Graylock, fond as he is of his young wife, never allows his ecstasy to rise above the utterance of "My dear, you're looking well, remarkably well." And Mrs. Graylock has nothing more romantic on the end of her tongue than, "Hubby, don't be gone long. I do get so sleepy when you're away!" Oh, the world's degenerating! there's not the least doubt of it. There's John Bounce, who tries to make love to me; and precious bad business he makes of it too, forever dropping his h's, and sticking them where they don't belong. I'm determined to reform him, or he shall bounce about the world without a wife, though, as he says, his 'art his given to me halone. (Enter Bounce R.)

Bounce.

'Illo, Patty! hall by yourself, 'ay? Where's the master and missus?

Patty.

Still at table, Mr. Bounce, daintily toying with the dessert of their luxurious repast.

Bounce.

My heyes, Patty! what helegance of hexpression!

Patty.

It's a pity Mr. Bounce, your language is not better seasoned with polite pronunciation.

Bounce.

My heyes, Patty, 'ave you been drinking?

Patty.

Sir!

Bounce.

You talk just for hall the world like the fellows that master used to 'ave 'ere to dine afore 'e was 'itched to the new missus. They were dreadful free hand heasy spoken until the wine came hon, and then they couldn't find words hexpansive enough to hexpress their hideas.

Patty.

Mr. Bounce, no more of such language. It is time that you and I understood each other. I believe you wish me, at some not very distant period, to become your bride?

Bounce.

Yes: hi hexpect to make you Mrs. Bounce.

Patty.

Hexpect? Why should you?

Bounce.

Why, Patty? 'Aven't hi hoffered you my 'art hand 'and?

Patty.

And—and what?

Bounce.

My 'art hand 'and. Don't you hunderstand hit?

Patty.

Your art? Yes: your art is driving horses.

Bounce.

But I ain't talking habout 'orses. Hi said 'art; this 'art which 'eaves hin my bosom with fond haspiration.

Patty.

Nonsense! Once for all, Mr. John Bounce, I will never marry a man who aspirates in such a shocking manner as you do. No, sir. The man whose bride I shall become must be capable of declaring his love in grammatical, pronounceably correct English. He must fall gracefully upon his knees before me, and, in accents too wild to be resisted, say, "Patty, my heart"—not art, Mr. Bounce; I'll have no artful man—"is at your feet." Not hat. Hats are for heads, not feet, Mr. Bounce. When you can do that, speak: till then a gulf as wide as that which once yawned between Felix Frederick Freelove, and his Araminta Augusta Violetta, separates us.

[Exit R.

Bounce.

My heyes! Who's Haraminta Haugusta? Hi don't know 'er. Well, this his hextraordinary. Hand hi thought my language was so hintelligent! Well, Miss Patty, though hi love you with hall my 'art, hi'm not ha-going to lose no flesh on your haccount. Well, hafter hall, women hare a good deal like 'orses; hif they find you don't notice their capers, but keep cool, they're very hapt to settle down hinto a heasy trot. 'Ere's master and missus. Hi'll make myself scarce. (Exit L. Enter, R., Mr. Graylock, with a plate containing nuts and raisins balanced on each hand, followed by Mrs. Graylock.)

Mr. G.

Now, my dear, for a refreshing season of calm and tranquil delight. Here, beneath our own vine and fig-tree, metaphorically speaking, we will meditate, converse, and—and eat our nuts and raisins. (Sits in chair L. of table).

Mrs. G.

(placing ottoman beside him, L.). Yes, indeed; what could be more delightful? (Sits. He hands her a plate. They eat.) How grateful I should be—and I am—that I have a dear husband, so fond of spending his evenings with me, instead of leaving me for a stupid club, or the society of a billiard-room! It's a shame, a disgrace to married life, the manner in which some husbands conduct themselves.

Mr. G.

Ah, my dear, you were a wise young woman, when from the multitude of your admirers, young, giddy fellows, you turned to make choice of a staid, middle-aged, experienced individual to guide your youthful steps. Ah, my dear, yours was a wise choice. Do I not worship you? Do I not dote upon you? Is not every wish of your heart gratified?

Mrs. G.

Yes, indeed. No: there's one wish yet ungratified. Alice—

Mr. G.

What! you're not going to bring up that troublesome subject again?

Mrs. G.

Again and again, until you give your consent to her marriage with Mr. Cheeny.

Mr. G.

Now, my dear, how are we to enjoy a season of calm and tranquil delight if you insist upon boring me with a subject upon which we can never agree? Let's change the subject. My dear, I am seriously thinking of dyeing—

Mrs. G.

O Simon, don't talk so! Do you want to frighten me to death?

Mr. G.

Yes, of dyeing—my hair and beard.

Mrs. G.

You cannot mean it.

Mr. G.

Yes, I do. Watkins tells me he has a wonderful preparation, one application of which will instantly turn white, gray, red, or yellow hair to a beautiful black. Think of it, Susannah! In imagination behold your husband entering the room, transformed by "The Magic Dyer" into a youthful specimen of the genus homo.

Mrs. G.

I couldn't imagine it, and I won't. I am perfectly satisfied with your appearance. And you would look horrid with your hair and beard in mourning. I should never forgive you if you did such a dreadful thing. Never say dye to me again. Now let's change that subject. Alice and Mr. Cheeny—

Mr. G.

Sue! Susan! Susannah! pause. If you do not instantly pause, I shall dye—my hair and beard.

Mrs. G.

Oh, no, you won't! Why are you so determined to keep Alice single? (Enter Alice R.)

Alice.

Yes, uncle, why am I to be deprived of my natural rights?

Mr. G.

Oh, bother! You here? Now, how is a man to enjoy a season of—

Mrs. G.

Oh, don't say that again! Answer my question.

Mr. G.

Certainty, my dear. I have three reasons: the first of which is, she is too young to marry.

Mrs. G. and Alice (together). Too young to marry!

Mr. G.

(aside). Grand chorus of indignant females. (Aloud.) I repeat it: too young to marry.

Mrs. G.

Nonsense! She's as old as I am. If that is your opinion, why did you allow me to marry?

Mr. G.

(aside). Stuck my foot in it. (Aloud.) You didn't allow me to finish. Too young to marry a young man.

Alice.

Indeed! Well, I'll never marry an old one, if I live to be as old as my grandmother. I do detest old men, and middle-aged men too.

Mr. G.

(aside). Stuck my foot in it again.

Mrs. G.

So much for your first reason. What is your second?

Mr. G.

My second is, Alice can do better than to marry at all. Look at that head. How beautifully the reasoning bumps are developed! A phrenologist would go wild with ecstasy with his hands upon that head.

Alice.

Would he? He'd get them well scratched for his assurance.

Mr. G.

(Rising, placing plate on table, and speaking with bombastic enthusiasm.) Alice, 'tis the era of progress. Woman's rights will soon be fully recognized, and woman take her place among the gifted and the learned. They will be called to the bar, the pulpit. Think of that time, and prepare to take your place,—to rule, and not be ruled. Married life for you! Preposterous! 'Twould be a galling chain 'gainst which your noble intellect would chafe and worry.

Alice.

Uncle, are you crazy?

Mrs. G.

Poor Simon, has second childhood come so soon to you?

Mr. G.

My dear, let's change the subject.

Mrs. G.

Certainly; to the third and last reason. What is that?

Mr. G.

The third and last? That I refuse to make public.

Mrs. G.

What! you have another reason?

Mr. G.

I have, and it's a clincher; but I positively refuse to give it.

Mrs. G.

To your own lawful wife? to her from whom you have often said you have no secrets? Simon Graylock, I'm ashamed of you.

Mr. G.

But, my dear Susan—

Mrs. G.

Don't dear me, Mr. Graylock. You are a very ungrateful man. Do I deserve this treatment? Have I not sacrificed my young and ardent admirers for your sake? Have I not crushed out the brightness and gayety of my young life to settle down, and become the slave of a man old enough to be my father? For what? To have your confidence withheld from me—

Mr. G.

Sue—

Mrs. G.

Silence, Mr. Graylock! When I fondly hoped, in making our Alice happy, to brighten our home with the presence of gay, lively company—

Mr. G.

Susan—

Mrs. G.

Silence, sir! I must be content with your company; not even allowed to share your confidence. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I wonder your iron-gray locks do not turn white with shame. They look streaked enough. You want to dye them. You'd better. Disguise yourself somehow. Keep out of my sight, for I'm thoroughly ashamed of you. Come, Alice, I'll not waste my time with such a wretch.

Alice.

But, Aunt Susy, my marriage—

Mrs. G.

Must wait till my lord and master concludes to give his third reason. O Simon, Simon! you've broken my heart. (Weeps.) You—you—you've br-br-br-oken my heart.

[Exit, R., followed by Alice.

Mr. G.

(looks off R., then speaks slowly). Well, I never! Bless my soul! Goodness gracious! Heavens and earth! Here's a tornado, an earthquake, a hurricane! The wife of my bosom, the partner of my joys, in the enjoyment of a season of calm and tranquil delight, gets up, and—Well, well, here's blighted hearthstones, blasted happiness, and for what? For an untold reason. Make public that reason? disclose it to the partner of my joys? Never! distinctly, emphatically, and unequivocally, never! Tell her that I oppose my niece's marriage because upon that marriage I, her lawful guardian, must pay into her hands the sum of ten thousand dollars, left in my hands by my deceased brother, her father, to be so paid on the occurrence of her marriage, which marriage must have my consent? Never! She would drive me from her presence with scorn,—or any thing else that was handy. I can't part with the money now. This unlucky, happy day must be kept far, far away. But my wife, she must be appeased. How can I bring back her smiles? Ah, "The Magic Dye!" She would see manhood in its prime, raven locks, and all that sort of thing, about her home. She shall. I will disguise myself. The die is cast. She will be pleased with the change: she can't help it. The smile will return to her rosy lips, and all be bright again. Wilkins can transform me in five minutes. He shall. I shall dye happy, and live happy ever after. (Strikes bell.) I'll make a confidant of Bounce. No, I won't. I'll mystify him to—(Enter Bounce L.)

Bounce.

Did you ring, sir?

Mr. G.

Bounce, I am about to commit a desperate act.

Bounce.

Hanother? Why, you've only been married ha month!

Mr. G.

I am about to leave this home, to go—no matter where; to do—no matter what. You are a faithful servant. You will keep my secret. (Aside.) I know he won't.

Bounce.

Has the happle of my heye, when I know it.

Mr. G.

When your mistress asks for me, you will say—nothing; when they search for me, you will lead them to the—well; you will lead them somewhere, anywhere, but where I am—where I go to dye. You understand. Silence, remember. I was here, I am gone, silently, mysteriously (creeps to door, R.), like the expiring flame of a candle. Puff! I'm gone.

[Exit R.

Bounce.

My heyes! master's hout of 'is 'ead. 'E's gone off suiciding, has sure has heggs. 'Ere's ha situation for ha 'ouse'old. What's to be done? 'E must be stopped, but 'ow? Hi'll call mistress. Oh, 'ere she his! (Enter Mrs. Graylock R.)

Mrs. G.

Has your master gone out, John?

Bounce.

Ho, mistress, hi'm hall hunstrung. 'E's out of 'is 'ead, 'e his. 'E's gone somewhere, hand 'e's going to do something hawful,—put a hend to 'imself. Hit's 'orrible!

Mrs. G.

What do you mean?

Bounce.

'E said hi must lead you to the well. 'E's going to drown 'imself, honly the well is dry, hand he can't. Perhaps 'e's going to the stable to sacrifice 'imself hon the 'alter. Ho, hit's 'orrible!

Mrs. G.

Nonsense, Bounce; he's gone out for a walk.

Bounce.

Yes, han' 'e'll walk hinto 'is grave, han' then 'e'll walk nights, and scare us to death. Ho, hit's 'orrible!

Mrs. G.

John Bounce, have you been drinking?

Bounce.

Hi 'ave, hi 'ave; tea, green tea; Young 'yson. Ho, you'll never set your young heyes hon's noble form hagain. 'E's gone to die.

Mrs. G.

Gone to die? I see it all: the wretch!

Bounce.

So do hi, missus,—'is cold remains, ha long procession. Poor master! 'is hown 'osses will never carry 'im hagain!

Mrs. G.

John Bounce, you are a fool! Stop your snivelling, and listen to me. Your master has no thought of taking his life. He is bound on a very foolish errand, the purport of which I know. As he has tried to frighten us, we will endeavor to turn the tables upon him. Call Patty.

Bounce.

Yes, ma'am. You're sure 'e's not gone hinsane?

Mrs. G.

So sure of it that I shall prevent his entrance to the house for the present. You will lock all the doors, and fasten the windows, except one in the kitchen. When you have done that, go to his room, get his rifle, and return here.

Bounce.

My heyes! what his coming to this 'ouse? Ho, hit's 'orrible!

[Exit R.

Mrs. G.

So my good husband, evidently vexed at my assumed anger, is about to execute his threat of dyeing. Let me see if I cannot turn this to good account, and fix the day for Alice's marriage. That third reason seems to be the impediment; but, if I cannot find that out, I will at least gain his consent by stratagem. O my good Simon! if I cannot win your confidence, I will teach you such a lesson that you will never say dye again. (Enter Patty R.)

Mrs. G.

Patty.

Patty.

Yes, ma'am.

Mrs. G.

I believe you are very fond of romantic adventures.

Patty.

Indeed, I am, ma'am, though I never had one in my life.

Mrs. G.

I am about to throw one in your way. Mr. Graylock will soon return to the house in disguise; that is, he has gone to have his hair and beard dyed. I have given orders to have the doors and windows locked. He will gain an entrance, after some difficulty, to this room. Once here, John Bounce and you, with doors locked, must keep guard over him. Whatever he may say or do, you must not recognize him as your master, but treat him as a burglar. You understand?

Patty.

Indeed I do. Trust me to treat him as a burglar. I'll pound him with the broom, and John shall fire a few bullets into him to keep him quiet.

Mrs. G.

No, no: there must be no violence. I rely upon your discretion. You are both old servants of his, and will not fail to treat him respectfully. It's only a frolic of his young wife, at which he will laugh heartily when it is over. (Bell rings.) There's the bell. Should it be he, do not open the door.

Patty.

I will remember.

[Exit R.

Mrs. G.

Now, then, to rehearse my part in the grand tragedy. (Enter Patty R.)

Patty.

Mr. Cheeny, ma'am. (Enter Mr. Cheeny R.)

Mrs. G.

Ah, Ralph; welcome!

[Exit Patty R.

Ralph

(shaking hands). My dear Mrs. Graylock, this is jolly, to see you in such good spirits. Am I right? You have succeeded? (Mrs. G. shakes her head.) No?

Mrs. G.

No, my dear friend; the enemy is still strongly intrenched behind the bulwarks of obstinacy, from which neither smiles, tears, nor reproaches can drive him.

Ralph.

And the assailing party, discomfited, is about to retire from the contest?

Mrs. G.

Never! We have inscribed upon our banners the motto, "Never say die!"

Ralph.

Good! You're the best friend a man ever had. But where's Alice? (Enter Alice L.)

Alice.

O Ralph, it's all over! He'll never give his consent.

Ralph.

Then, my dear Alice, we will do without it. An unexpected turn in business affairs to-day has made me as independent as a nabob. I should have liked your crusty old uncle's blessing; but, as he won't give it, we'll see Parson Clark, say next Tuesday, be married, take a journey to Niagara, and, on our return, settle quietly into married life. What's to hinder?

Mrs. G.

The crusty old uncle's wife.

Ralph.

Eh, my clear Mrs. Graylock! A thousand pardons for my levity. He is crusty, you are lovely. "In contrasts lieth love's delight," you know. You will place no bar to our union.

Mrs. G.

Stop. We have begun a battle: let's fight it out. If Alice marries without her crusty old uncle's consent, where's her fortune?

Ralph.

Her fortune? I never knew she had one. "Her face is her fortune."

Mrs. G.

With ten thousand dollars with which to buy mirrors to see it in if she please.

Alice.

Why, Aunt Susy! I never heard of it.

Mrs. G.

Nor I. But it's true, for I've seen the papers. 'Twas left you by your father, to be paid when you should marry with Mr. Graylock's consent.

Ralph.

Why, this is charming!

Alice.

Do you think you like me any better, Ralph?

Ralph.

Ten thousand times! That is, you understand, I'm not mercenary; but you deserve it, you're such a dear, sweet, nice—

Mrs. G.

Attention, company! Business! I am going to gain his consent. Ralph, sit at that table, and write, if you please.

Ralph

(sits at table; Alice leans on his chair; Mrs. G. stands L. of table). Yes; proceed.

Mrs. G.

"I, Simon Graylock, being in sound mind and body"—(Bell rings.) Hark! that's he. Don't mind. Write.

Ralph.

"Sound mind and body."

Mrs. G.

"Hereby bequeath to my dearly-beloved friend, Ralph Cheeny"—(Bell rings violently.)

Ralph.

"Beloved friend, Ralph Cheeny." Go on.

Mrs. G.

"My affectionate niece, Alice Chase"—(Bell rings violently.)

Ralph.

"Alice Chase:" that's you, Ally. Go on.

Mrs. G.

"To have and to hold, as his lawful wife, from this day forth and forevermore. And to this union I give my consent, and subscribe my name." That's all. He has stopped ringing. (Dog barks.)

Mr. G.

(outside). Hero, Hero, old boy, don't you know your master? (Dog barks. Shouting.)

Mrs. G.

He's getting into the garden: he will soon be here. We must retire.

Ralph.

But what is it all about?

Mrs. G.

Ask no questions. Let me arrange that paper. I will turn the writing underneath, leaving a blank space for his signature. (Dog barks.)

Mr. G.

Clear out, you brute! There goes my coat! Murder! help!

Ralph.

Shall I run to his assistance?

Mrs. G.

Not for the world! Come this way. I will explain all. [Exeunt R. Then enter, hurriedly, L., Mr. G., his hair and beard dyed black, one coat-tail, torn off, in his hand.]

Mr. G.

Confound that dog! He has decidedly curtailed my enjoyment. (Holds up coat-tail.) Is it possible I am so transformed as to become a terror to my own terrier? Where is everybody? Doors locked, windows fastened, and nobody to let me into my own house! A pretty state of affairs, truly! No matter: I have gained an entrance, and now for a good surprise. (Takes hand-mirror from table.) What a change! The Simon Graylock of twenty-five takes the place of the Simon Graylock of fifty. Glorious! Won't I make a sensation? I can see my wife's look of astonishment and pleasure. I can hear her rapturous "O Simon, you beauty!" Eh? what's that? (Turns to L., as John Bounce enters, locks the door, and stands with his rifle at "present.") Well, what's the matter? Eh! what's that? (Turns R., as Patty enters, locks the door, and stands with a broom at "present.") What's the meaning of this?

Bounce.

Silence! Not ha sound! not ha, step! Sh—!

Patty.

Silence! Not a look! not a breath! Sh—!

Patty and John (together). If you move, if you speak, you are a dead man. Sh—!

Mr. G.

Why, John! Patty! you idiots! don't you know your master?

Patty and John (together). Master! you! Ha, ha, ha!

Mr. G.

Now stop that duet, or out of this house you go without warning. Unlock those doors, and call your mistress.

Bounce.

Call the police. Hi know you? You're ha burglar, ha thief! But we're wide hawake. You're caught.

Patty.

Yes, Mr. Jack Sheppard, your foot's in the trap. You've lost your coat-tails, but that's nothing to the loss of your liberty: ten years in prison.

Mr. G.

Am I awake? John Bounce, who's your master?

Bounce.

Simon Graylock, Hesquire, ha respectable, middle-haged gent, rather plain hin 'is hexternal happearance, but with han 'art has big has an hox.

Patty.

Yes, Mr. Burglar, as nice an old gentleman as you ever met.

Mr. G.

Am not I that gentleman?

Patty.

You! Nonsense!

Bounce.

You! Habsurd! Why, you look like what you hare,—ha regular 'ousebreaker.

Mr. G.

I'll break your head if you call me that name again. I am master of this house; and as such I order you instantly to unlock those doors, and call your mistress.

Patty.

What impudence!

Bounce.

Hand what hassurance!

Mr. G.

(approaching Patty). Young woman, out of my way!

Patty

(points broom at him). Help! murder! thieves!

Bounce

(points rifle at him). 'Ere, you, none er that! Lay ha finger hon that young woman, hand I'll fire. (Mr. G. backs up stage; they follow with their weapons pointed at him.)

Mr. G.

Confound it! this is ridiculous! Go away. (Gets up into chair.)

Bounce.

Wretched houtcast, would you lift your 'and hagainst ha woman? Would you—

Mr. G.

Put down that gun.

Bounce.

Never! You hexhasperate the British lion; you hinsult the hobject of my 'art's hadoration; you—you—you—

Mr. G.

Put down that gun. It might go off.

Bounce.

Hit might; but you can't.—Patty, hi'll put han hend to 'is miserable hexistence.

Patty.

No; leave him to the officer of justice.

Bounce.

Hi can't. 'E 'as hinsulted you, hand hi must 'ave blood, blood, blood!

Mr. G.

Put down that gun! Here, Sue! Susan! Susannah! Help! help! help! (Knock at door, L.)

Mrs. G.

(outside). Open the door, Patty. (Patty unlocks the door, R. Mrs. G., Alice, and Ralph enter, stand huddled by the door.) Have you got him?

Mr. G.

Got him! And she the wife of my bosom! Susy!

Bounce.

Silence! (Threatens with gun.)

Mr. G.

Susan!

Patty.

Silence! (Flourishes broom.)

Mr. G.

Susannah!

Mrs. G.

Why, the wretch knows my name!

Mr. G.

Of course he does. 'Tis I, your own true, loving husband, Simon Graylock.

Ralph.

Egad, the rascal has assurance!

Mrs. G.

Did you ever?

Alice.

No, I never.

Mr. G.

(coming forward). O h, come! this is all nonsense, you know. You're not going to cut me off, are you? I am your husband.

Mrs. G.

My husband! Why, he's old enough to be your father.

Mr. G.

(aside). There's a "puff" for "The Magic Dye." (Aloud.) You don't know me. Am I, then, so changed?

Mrs. G.

You look like a burglar.

Ralph.

What a thievish look there is about his mouth!

Alice.

And such cunning eyes! Oh, do, Aunt Susy, let John call the police, and have him taken away!

Mr. G.

It's only the effects of the dye, you know. I've had my hair and whiskers colored. Gives me quite a juvenile look; quite the dandy, eh?

Ralph.

Oh! come, sir, this won't do. You have entered this house in search of plunder. Your attempt has been foiled by the keenness of this lady, who, in the absence of her husband, can well protect his treasures.

Mrs. G.

John, call the police.

Mr. G.

John, if you do, I'll discharge you without a character.—Susannah, be reasonable. If you don't know me, you must know these clothes. Are they not your husband's?

Mrs. G.

My husband's? Gracious heaven! I see it all! My husband has been murdered, cruelly murdered! and you have stolen his clothing. Oh, wretched woman that I am!—John, call the police.

Mr. G.

And I say, no. Confound it! Do you want to drive me out of my senses?

Mrs. G.

Oh, take me away! My life's in danger. Oh, somebody take me away!

Ralph.

Fear not, madam. I will protect you. If your husband has gone, you shall find in me a watchful guardian and a trusty friend. Fear not: the miscreant shall not harm you.

Mr. G.

Confound his impudence! O Susy! what can I do to make you own me? I think I am your husband; in fact, I'm quite sure of it.

Mrs. G.

Can you write?

Mr. G.

Write? I signed a check for two hundred dollars, which you now have in your porte-monnaie.

Mrs. G.

Can you write your name?

Mr. G.

To be sure I can.

Mrs. G.

Then write it. I shall recognize my husband's handwriting, I think; yes, I'm quite sure of it. Write at once: there are pen, ink, and paper.

Mr. G.

I'll be hanged if I do any such thing! This is absurd, ridiculous!

Mrs. G.

John, call the police.

Bounce.

Hinstantly, missus.

Mr. G.

Stop! I'll write. (Goes to table, C.) If ever I'm caught in such a ridiculous position as this, may I be—

Mrs. G.

(goes to table). Here! write your name there.

Mr. G.

(sits, takes up pen, then looks up at Mrs. G., who stands immovable). And that's the wife of my bosom, the partner of my joys! and I've got to write my name before—No! I'll be hanged if I do! (Throws down pen.)

Mrs. G.

John, the police.

Bounce.

Hinstantly, missus. (John and Patty L., Frank and Alice R.)

Mr. G.

No, no: I'll sign! (Writes.)

Mrs. G.

(takes up paper). What do I see? 'Tis he, my husband, my Simon! (Throws her arms about his neck, and repeatedly embraces him in a frantic manner.)

Ralph.

What do I hear? 'Tis he, your uncle, my Alice! (Embraces Alice.)

Bounce.

Hit's hall hup. 'Tis 'e 'imself, Patty. (Embraces Patty.)

Patty.

Let me alone, you exasperating Englishman! (Releases herself.)

Mr. G.

Confound it! Susy, don't smother me!

Mrs. G.

O Simon! something's burning! I smell brimstone!

Mr. G.

Smell fiddlesticks! It's "The Magic Dye." It makes me sick: I wish I was well rid of it. And now be kind enough to tell me the meaning of this. I've been locked out of my house, my clothes lacerated by my dog, been threatened with death by my servant, with the police by my wife; and am threatened with a brain-fever, if I don't know what all this is for.

Mrs. G.

For the third reason, Simon.

Mr. G.

Eh? You're not going to bring up that subject again?

Mrs. G.

Oh, no! that's all settled.

Mr. G.

Settled? How?

Mrs. G.

(takes paper from table, and reads). "I, Simon Graylock, being in sound mind and body, hereby bequeath to my dearly beloved friend Ralph Cheeny, my affectionate niece Alice Chase, to have and to hold, as his lawful wife, from this day forth and forevermore; and to this union I give my consent, and subscribe my name." Signed, "Simon Graylock."

Mr. G.

Why, this is a swindle! Obtaining goods under false pretences! And you, the wife of my bosom, the partner—Do you know what this would cost me, were it known?

Mrs. G.

Yes; ten thousand dollars: Alice's portion.

Ralph.

Of which she is in no immediate want; in fact, I think I would prefer to leave it in your hands.

Mr. G.

My dearly beloved, take her, and be happy. When I die, you will find I have not forgotten you.

Mrs. G.

As did the partner of your joys, the last time you dyed; eh, Simon?

Mr. G.

My dear, let's change the subject.

Mrs. G.

If we could only change the color of your hair as easily! Why, Simon, it's purple!

Mr. G.

Is it? Then don't look at it, don't speak of it; for, if you're not pleased, I have dyed in vain.

Mrs. G.

No: for it has helped to make two people happy who were dying for each other, helped your dear wife to triumph in a good cause, and helped us all to a little amusement—

Mr. G.

At my expense. Sue, Susan, Susannah, let's change the subject. Never say die, and I never will.

John Bounce and Patty, R. Mr. and Mrs. G., C.

Ralph and Alice, L. Curtain.