Adapted from the story in Wide Awake by M.E.M. Davis.[32]

Time: Christmas Eve and Christmas morning.

Scene: LeBreton’s room in Madame Clementine’s handsome lodging-house in the Rue Bourbon, New Orleans.

Curtain rises showing a comfortable room, strewn with a bachelor's possessions. [R.] a fireplace[33] with wood fire, brass dogs, a large armchair, and footstool on the hearth-rug. [L.], curtain indicates an alcove with a bed. Near curtain, an old-fashioned low-boy with toilet articles before the mirror,—military brushes, cologne, etc., etc. Lighted candles here, and also on each side of gilt mirror above mantel. Shaded lamp on center table, littered with books, papers, a box of cigars, ash-tray, etc. LeBreton seated in the easy-chair. Laura leaning over the back.

Laura [affectionately stroking her brother's hair]. Oh, Henri, you can't guess how good it is to be at home again!

LeB. Oh, yes, I can! What do you suppose it has meant to me to have you and Louis and the children wandering over the face of the earth all these months? I've been a lost soul without you, and your home to go to.

Laura. Traveling's all very nice and interesting, but it does pall! I grew tired to death of it—I just pined to come home again, Henri. [Sits on arm of chair.]

LeB. And here you are at last, in time to save your poor old brother from utter desolation at Christmas time.

Laura. Oh, but I wish the house had been ready for us—it hardly feels like Christmas anywhere but in the dear old place. But Louis said it wouldn't do to hurry the workmen too much.

LeB. No—they'd only make a botch of it. But you are comfortable here, aren't you?

Laura. Yes, indeed—you've taken such nice rooms for us, Henri. It's just the sentiment of it, you know, and I oughtn't have spoken. And Madame Clementine does everything to make us feel at home and comfortable.

LeB. How about the service—are the maids attentive, Laura?

Laura. Ask such a question about darkies just before Christmas? Henri, you are a dear old silly! Of course they are. And so many of them—I see a new one to provide with a "C'ris'mus gif'" every day, I think. To-day I noticed another—not exactly a maid, that is, but a funny little oddity of a pickaninny who seems to live just to "fotch an' carry."

LeB. Yes, I've seen that little monkey—does she really belong here?

Laura. I'm not sure—I must ask Madame Clementine about her.... Henri, if we are to make that call, I must get my things at once.

LeB. This is so cozy—do you think you must rout me out?

Laura. Poor dear, his conscience has come home again! [Rises.] Yes, I think we really ought. I've been at home three days, you know, and the Percivals are such old friends, and Helen has been ill—— [Goes to door.] I'll only be a moment.

LeB. [going to ring bell]. Very well, Madame, I'm at your service. If you are my conscience, sis, you certainly manage to sweeten my duty.

Laura [laughing]. That's just your flattery!

[Exit. LeBreton goes to find gloves. Enter Alphonse.

Alph. Did you ring, M'sieu Henri?

LeB. Yes. Get me my coat, Alphonse. Madame Courvoisier and I are going out for a while. [Alphonse brings coat and silk hat, which he brushes, then helps LeBreton into coat.] I shan't be late. [Goes to door.] But maybe you've calls to make yourself? [Alphonse puts on a conscious smirk.] Well, you needn't wait for me—Christmas Eve, you know. [Exit, putting on gloves.]

Alph. Thanks, M'sieu Henri. [Looks about room, sees cane, which he catches up and hurries after LeBreton.] M'sieu Henri!

[Exit. Minty-Malviny appears at door.
Looks cautiously after Alphonse. Enters
and minces about.

M.-M. [sings].

[Goes to window and looks out.] Hit am plumb dark! Old Santa Claus mus' be a-hitchin' up dem plow-mules o' hisn by dis time. My lan'! de white folks is havin' er good time, I 'low! [Goes to fire and sits on a stool.] Dem dolls, an' dem doll cheers, an' dem rollin'-pins in de show-winders is mighty fine. [Sighs, and continues meditatively.] Pow'ful scrumptious dey was! Dass de kin' o' C'ris'mus gif' whar ole Santa Claus gwine ter fotch ter all de white chillen in dis yer town in de mawnin'! Santa Claus ain't got no 'quaintance wid niggers, dat I knows on—lessen it am niggers on de sugar-plantations;—he ain't never hearn tell o' town niggers. My lan', whyn't de Lawd mek me white whilse He 'uz about it! Hit mus' be jes' ez easy fer de Lawd ter mek er white chile ez er black chile! [Rests her head disconsolately on her knees for a moment. Suddenly, as a great idea dawns upon her, she lifts her head and claps her hands.] Hi! I got it! [Springs to her feet and begins to dance a double-shuffle with all her might, shouting.] Sho's you bawn, I'ze gwine ter do it! I'ze gwine ter mek m'se'f er white chile! I'ze gwine ter do it, sho'!

[In the midst of her wild dance, Alphonse
appears in doorway, and stands transfixed
with horror.

Alph. [furiously]. BÊte! Wat you do here, in M'sieu Henri LeBreton's room? Ah'm a-goin' to keel you! [He darts after, and they dash about the room at top speed, Minty-Malviny always just out of his reach.]

M.-M. I ain' 'fraid o' no French nigger lak you! [She leads him a dance, but finally rushes out at door. Alphonse recovers his dignity, and goes to attend to fire. Minty-Malviny appears before door again, walking up and down with mincing steps and singing with a meaning air.]

M.-M.

[Alphonse listens, rattles irons angrily, then
runs to door with poker in hand. Minty-Malviny
promptly takes to her heels.

Alph. "Walk jes' so!" An' if you don't walk jes' so, I'll show you how, gamine! [Goes about arranging room for the night. Lays LeBreton's dressing-gown and slippers by the fire, puts out candles on mantel, then goes to dresser, where he pauses to admire himself. Minty-Malviny slips in, a small brown paper bag in one hand and a very ragged stocking in the other. She hides behind the easy-chair, but manages to keep a sharp eye on Alphonse, with scornful mouth, for his vanity. Alphonse struts complacently before the glass, moistens his handkerchief with his master's cologne, puts out the candles, goes to table, where he helps himself to the cigars, puts out light, and exit. Minty-Malviny comes out from hiding-place, makes sure he is really gone, and relights candles.]

M.-M. [with deep scorn]. Dar! I knowed dat French nigger 'u'd steal! I gwine ter tell on him in de mawnin' de minit I get er chance. [Sits down on her heels before the fire, screwing up her mouth and chuckling with glee.] Now, now, I'ze gwine ter mek myse'f inter er white chile. [Opens bag in which she carries a dab of flour, with which she proceeds to powder her face as liberally as the bag allows. Then she produces the stocking and examines it with care.] Co'se hit's holey, but den Santa Claus kin stuff er gob er candy er sumpn in de toe-hole, an' er bannanner, er o'ange, in de heel-hole, and some reesins er a'mon's in de res' o' de holes. [She gets up to hang the stocking.] Hump! dis is sump'n lak a chimbly, dis is! Santa Claus ain' gwine ter hu't hisse'f comin' down a stovepipe. Some white folks is funny. [She catches sight of herself in the mirror above the mantel.] My lan'! Kingdom come! I is tu'ned inter er white chile, sho'! An' ole Santa Claus gwine ter be fooled, sho' as I is er nigger!... Now I gwine ter scrooch down on de rug hyar an' watch. [Settles herself comfortably.] I gwine ter hol' my eyes open [yawns aloud] ontwel I see ole Santa Claus crope down dis yer chimbly. Den I gwine ter ax him howdy, an' den I gwine ter p'int out what I bleedge ter hev fer C'ris'mus. Ca'se I ain' gwine ter be er white chile fer nuffin. [This with some energy, but she grows more and more drowsy.] I gwine ter ax fer er wax doll lak whar in der show-winder, an' er cheer, an' er cradle—— [Minty-Malviny falls asleep.]

[After a moment, enter LeBreton, quietly.
Turns on light, goes to dresser, sets down
hat, and drawing off gloves, tosses them
into it. Crosses to fire, and sees Minty-Malviny.
Stirs her gently with his foot.

LeB. [not unkindly]. Here, you little imp, get up! What are you doing here? Who are you, anyway?

M.-M. [springing to her feet, then falling on her knees on the rug]. I ax you howdy, Mister Santa Claus! I hope you's feelin' pretty peart?

LeB. [to himself]. Oh, Mister Santa Claus, am I?

M.-M. [hurriedly]. I'ze name Mint—I'ze er white chile, Mister Santa Claus, an' I'ze name Miss Ann. I'ze er white chile sho's you bawn, Mister Santa Claus!

LeB. [laughing]. Oh, are you? And your name is Miss Ann?

M.-M. [with assurance]. Yes-sir. Law, Marse Santa Claus [laughs hysterically and rocks herself back and forth on her knees], I'ze mos' sho' dat I seed you clammin' down de chimbly jes' now! An' I has been settin' up all night jes' ter ax yer howdy, an' ter ax yer ter fotch me er gre't big wax doll lak whar in der show-winder, an' er cheer, an' er cradle, an' some cups an' sassers wid blue on de aidge lak whar ole Mis' had on de sugar-plantation whar me an' Mammy come f'um. An' dat stockin' whar I is done hung up, hit am pow'ful holey, I knows. But I ain't got no Mammy ter men' it, an' ef er gob er candy wuz in de toe-hole, an' er o'ange in de heel-hole,—oh, Mister Santa Claus, Marse Santa Claus, I is er white chile! Cross my heart, I is! [Bursts into tears, as LeBreton takes hold of the stocking and looks it over, trying hard to restrain his laughter.] Oh, Marse Santa Claus! [Wails.] You is knowed all de time dat I wuz lyin'! I ain't nuffin but er good-fer-nuffin li'l' black nigger whar is name Minty-Malviny.

LeB. [almost overcome with laughter]. Now I am surprised!

M.-M. An' I ain' fitten fer ter hev no C'ris'mus gif'.

LeB. Hush! [Takes off his light coat, pushes her down on the rug, and throws the coat over her.] Lie down and go to sleep. [With mock sternness.] If you're not asleep within two minutes, I'll—— [His threat ends in a growl.]

[Minty-Malviny sobs for a moment or two,
but quickly falls asleep, breathing deeply
and quietly. LeBreton comes forward
and stands perplexed.

LeB. Well, I reckon Santa Claus will have to call for help. Laura can't have gone to bed yet.... I'll get her. [Exit, returning almost at once with Laura.] That's good! Come in a moment.

Laura [anxiously]. Oh, Henri, what is it?

LeB. [laughing]. A trifle! [Puts his hand on her shoulder.] My pack has given out, and I'm 'bleeged to have a big wax doll, like whar in de show-winder, and a cheer, and some dishes, lak ole Miss's on de plantation; and all for a 'spectable young cullud pusson named Minty-Malviny!

Laura [mystified]. Henri! I don't understand.

LeB. No, but you will in a moment. See what I found when I came in. [Leads her over to rug, lifts corner of coat, and discloses Minty-Malviny fast asleep.] Isn't this your little waif, Laura?

Laura. Yes. But what in the world has she been doing to herself?

LeB. Sh-sh! Don't waken her! [They speak in lowered voices.] Why, she was waiting for Santa Claus, and her past experience of the old gentleman's impartiality seems to be responsible for an experiment. Anyway, she popped up and assured me that she was er white chile sho's I was bawn, and her name was Miss Ann. But it stuck in her throat——

Laura [laughing]. No wonder!

LeB. And she presently broke down and wailed that she warn't fitten ter hev no Christmas gift. Now, do you suppose you can find anything for her?

Laura. Certainly I can, poor little soul. Such a lot of things have come—ever so much more than the children need. I'll look them over. [Going.]

LeB. Wait a minute—have you any fruit in your rooms?

Laura. Yes—a whole dish. I'll bring it. [Exit.]

LeB. [rummaging about on dresser]. Er gob er candy fer de toe-hole. Ah—this will do nicely. [Finds box of candy. Enter Laura with fruit.]

Laura. Here, Henri, fill her stocking with these. I'll get some toys. [Exit. LeBreton takes dish, and sits down to fill stocking.]

LeB. [working busily]. Er gob er candy—there, that's it. An' er o'ange fer the heel-hole. Good! Here are the nuts an' reesins for all the other holes—and bananas for the leg! [Enter Laura. LeBreton holds up stocking proudly for her inspection.] There! I flatter myself I'm good at the business, though you may say that that leg is hardly as fat as Minty-Malviny's own.

[Laura laughs approval, and busies herself
arranging doll in armchair, with other
toys about her. LeBreton tries to hang stocking.

LeB. Oh, hang it!

Laura. What, the stocking?

LeB. Yes—no—yes, that's exactly what I can't do! Come and help me, will you? [They struggle with it together, making some noise.]

Laura. Hush, Santa Claus, you'll wake her! [The stocking is hung, the toys arranged, they stand surveying the display, and putting last touches.]

LeB. Oh, Laura, this is gorgeous! But you mustn't be too generous.

Laura. Nonsense, the children will never miss them. [They stand looking down at the coat. Laura lifts the edge and kneels beside Minty-Malviny.] She's too funny—poor little monkey! Oh, Henri, when we are back in our own home, I should like to take this poor little neglected thing and give her a home and look after her a little. Do you suppose I could?

LeB. I don't see what's to prevent. She looks perfectly friendless. [They rise and go to door.]

Laura. You are a good heart, Henri.

LeB. The good heart is yours! I'm Marse Santa Claus—and I intend to put Minty-Malviny in your stocking! [Both laugh heartily, but quietly, and exchange good nights. Laura goes. LeBreton comes back, standing at table a moment.]

LeB. I believe I rather envy the old gentleman! [Puts out light and goes towards alcove, his dressing gown thrown over his arm.]

[Curtains are drawn for a moment, to indicate
the passing of the night. When they open,
daylight has come, the fire is dim, Minty-Malviny
is waking.

M.-M. [catching sight of toys, as she sits up and stretches]. Ow! Wow! Wow! [She fairly yells, beside herself with joy.] Ole Santa Claus done come down de chimbly sho' 'nuff, lak I seed him! An' he done fotch me er wax doll, an' er set o' dishes, same ez ef I wuz er white chile! Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy, Lawdy! [Jumps up and gets down stocking, feeling it, and peering through the holes.] Er gob er candy in de toe-hole, and er o'ange in de heel-hole. [Pauses suddenly, her arm thrust into the stocking.] Lawd, I is glad I didn' try ter stick ter dat lie about bein' er white chile whar name Miss Ann! [Continues her ecstatic rummaging.] My lan'! I jes' ez lief be er nigger ez er white chile! An' er heap liefer!

[Enter Alphonse, with an armful of firewood.
Stands horrified on the threshold,
then rushes forward.

Alph. Ah-h-h-h! 'tite diablesse! va-t-en! I'm goin' to shake the life out of you, singe!

[A boot whizzes past his ear, from the direction
of the alcove.

LeB. [imperiously]. Let her alone, you rascal! If you dare to touch her I'll thrash you within an inch of your life!

Alph. [obsequiously]. Yaa-as, M'sieu Henri.

M.-M. [maliciously, half whispering]. Walk jes' so! [Makes a face at Alphonse. Aloud.] I'ze dat gemplum's nigger whar is dar in de bade, an' I gwine he'p mek he fiah. [Alphonse goes viciously to work to make the fire, frustrating Minty-Malviny's attempts when possible, snatching the poker away from her, etc. She is exasperatingly pleasant and superior.] You ain' bresh de hearf. [He does so, and gathers up the rubbish with one last grimace.]

Alph. [at door]. Singe!

[Exit.

M.-M. [tossing her head and chuckling]. Dat French nigger don' dass say nuffin to me, no mo'!

[Enter LeBreton from alcove, tying the
cords of his dressing gown.

LeB. Good-morning, Minty-Malviny—Merry Christmas to you!

M.-M. [bobbing little courtesies to him]. Mawnin', Marse Henry—same to you, suh! [Looks at him with puzzled half-recognition, head on one side, like a bright little bird.]

LeB. [to himself, sitting near table]. She's nearly sharp enough to know me! [To her.] Minty-Malviny, what are all those things? Where did you get them?

M.-M. [diverted from her study, turns to the toys]. 'Deed, Marse Henry, I didn't took 'em f'um nobody. Ole Santa Claus done come down dis yer chimbly an' fotch 'em heself.

LeB. You don't say so! How do you know he did?

M.-M. Done saw him, Marse Henry.

LeB. You did? Did he scare you?

M.-M. Laws, no! I'ze erspectin' him, co'se, an' I jes' 'membered ma manners an' ax him howdy, an' he gib me all dese gran' C'ris'mus gif's.

LeB. All those for you, Minty-Malviny?

M.-M. [coming closer]. Yes, Marse Henry, I is some s'prised myse'f. I didn't s'pose no li'l' nigger could hab no such gran' C'ris'mus—I 'lowed 'twar on'y fer de white folks. [Squats near him, on the floor, hugging her knees.]

LeB. [aside], I 'low white folks do have the lion's share, myself. [To her.] See here, Minty-Malviny—where's your Mammy—who owns you, anyway?

M.-M. Laws, Marse Henry, ain' got no Mammy. She brung me in f'um ole Mis's plantation, an' den she jes' up an' lef me.

LeB. Who takes care of you?

M.-M. [with dignity]. Takes cyah ob myse'f—don' need nobody to min' me.

LeB. Do you mean you earn your own living?

M.-M. Co'se I does! I runs a'rons fo' Mam' Dilcey—dat's you-all's cook—an' I does chores. An' Mam' Dilcey she treats me pretty good—dat is, mos'ly. [Rubs her ear reminiscently.]

LeB. Where do you sleep?

M.-M. Oh, mos' anywheres. [Sidles nearer to him.] I lak yo' hearf-rug fust-rate, Marse Henry.

LeB. Oh, you do? [Aside.] Part of the C'ris'mus gif', I suppose. [To her.] Well, Minty-Malviny, my sister, Mrs. Courvoisier, is here now. In a few weeks she will be going to her own home—a fine great house, with a big garden—more like your ole Mis's plantation, you know. How would you like to go and live with her, and wait on her, and help mind her baby?

M.-M. Dat do soun' mighty scrumptious! But—Marse Henry—— [looking at him shyly from the corners of her eyes] ef it's all er same to you—I'd er heap druther be yo'r li'l' nigger. [Suddenly turns and kneels at his feet.]

LeB. [taken aback, turns away and walks down stage]. Well—this turn of affairs looks rather more like my sock than Laura's stocking! [Turns to her again.] But what about Alphonse?

M.-M. [with concentrated scorn]. Dat French nigger! Why—— [very rapidly] he cain't eben mek a fiah!

[There is a rush from the door. Enter the
children, followed by Laura. The children
throw themselves upon LeBreton
with enthusiastic shouts.

Children. Christmas gift, Uncle! Christmas gift!

Philip. We caught you, we caught you!

Laura. Merry Christmas, Henri!

LeB. I've no breath left to say Merry Christmas, you young bears! [Shakes them off, laughing.] Unhand me, villains! I want to tell you something. There is somebody else here. Minty-Malviny, this is my sister, Mrs. Courvoisier [Minty-Malviny courtesies to them all, with little bobs of her head], and these are my nieces, Miss Louise and Miss Annette. And here is my nephew, Master Philip Courvoisier. [Sits down, with Philip on his knee.] Children, when you go home, Minty-Malviny is going with you, to look after you, and play games, and tell stories.

Philip. Can she tell stories? Oh, goody!

Louise [aside]. Oh, Mother, how ragged she is!

Annette. Goody! I like stories, too!

Louise. Are those your Christmas presents?

Philip. Was your stocking just awful full?

Annette. Just plumb full? Ours were.

M.-M. Yes'm, hit sho'ly wuz!

Louise. What nice things—did Santa Claus leave them for you?

M.-M. Yes'm. Ole Santa Claus done brung 'em, an' I never 'lowed he'd gib 'em to no pickaninny [with lowered voice], so I powd'ed myse'f up an' let on lak I'ze er white chile!

Annette. You did! What fun!

M.-M. An' den he come down dat chimbly an' seed me.

Philip. Right down this chimney? [Slips off LeBreton's knee, and runs to look up chimney. LeBreton rises and stands by Laura.]

M.-M. Sho's you bawn, honey!

Louise. And you saw him?

M.-M. 'Deed I did, Miss Louise. [The children gather close, and Minty-Malviny tells her story with effective drops in her voice, followed by sudden and startling crescendos.] When he crope down dat chimbly, an' sot he eyes on me de fust time, he knowed I wa'n't no white chile. Ca'ze he eyes uz big ez yo' maw's chiny plates! But he didn' keer! He jes' up an' tuk dat wax doll, an' dem dishes, an' dat cheer, an' dat table, an' dat cradle out'n de ba-ag whar he had on he back, an' gun 'em ter me jes' de same ez ef I 'uz white ez you-alls. But I mos' sho' dat he wouldn' er lef 'em, ner stuff dat stockin' full er goodies, ef I'd er kep' on tellin' him dat lie about bein' er white chile whar name Miss Ann! My lan' [this with an air of great virtue and pride], I is glad ole Mis' l'arnt me to tell de troof!

Philip. What did Santa Claus look like?

Louise. He brings us things, but we never saw him.

Annette. No, he always comes when we are asleep.

M.-M. Wa-al, he 'uz sump'n lak yo' Unc' Henry, on'y not er leas' mite gooder-lookin' dan Marse Henry, caze Marse Henry he de bestes' gempm'n on dis yearth! But he 'uz sump'n lak yo' Unc' Henry. 'Cep'n he's hade touch de top er de house! [Makes a quick and startling motion with her hand and rolls her eyes.] An' he voice big an' deep, an' growly lak a gre't big b'ar. An' de foot he kicked me wif, 'uz big ez de kitchen stove. [Resumes her ordinary voice.] Ya-as, chillen, ef Marse Henry 'uz mo' bigger, an' mo' higher, he 'u'd look jes' eszactly lak ole Mister Santa Claus!

CURTAIN

NOTES ON COSTUME AND PRESENTATION

Ordinary modern costume. LeBreton should have an iron-gray beard. Laura and her children daintily and attractively dressed.

Alphonse, mulatto servant, very dandified and vain.

Minty-Malviny, a black pickaninny, in rags and tatters, nondescript and faded. Her wool braided into little pigtails tied with odd bits of ribbon and string.

LeBreton, Laura, and Alphonse, by adults. Laura's children, five to nine years. Minty-Malviny, ten years old. This part could be played by a boy.

Music. During the moment when the curtain is drawn for the passing of the night, "Holy Night," or some other well-known Christmas hymn, is very softly played off stage. LeBreton hums the same air while filling the stocking, and moving about stage before this interim.