The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trysting Place, by Booth Tarkington.

The professional stage rights of this play are reserved by the Author. The amateur stage rights are held by the Ladies Home Journal. For permission to produce the play application should be made by professional producers to Mr. Booth Tarkington, Indianapolis, Indiana, and by amateur producers to the Editor of the Ladies Home Journal.

The scene is a room just off the “lounge” of a hotel in the country. However, this is not a “country hotel;” but, on the contrary, one of those vast and elaborate houses of entertainment that affect an expensive simplicity in what is called the colonial manner, and ask to be visited—by those financially able to do so—in the general interest of health and the outdoor life. The wall at the back of the stage is broken only by symmetrically spaced pilasters of an ivory color; each of the side walls is broken in the same manner; but here the pilasters help to frame two rather broad entrances, one at the right and one at the left, and beyond these entrances, on both sides, we have glimpses of the two corridors that lead to them. There are a few old prints—or new prints from old plates—upon the walls; and there are flowering plants on stands in the corners. The furniture consists of some chintz-covered easy-chairs, a light wicker settee with a chintz cushion and a valance that reaches the floor; and there are two wicker tables with a vase of jonquils upon each of them. In the rear right-hand corner of the room, near the stand of plants, there is a tropical-looking chair, wicker, with a back of monstrous size—a Philippine Island chair—and in the opposite corner is its mate.

Dance music is heard from a distant orchestra. Just after the rise of the curtain two people come in together from the left—a young woman[8] of twenty-five, or perhaps she is even a little older, and a slim boy obviously under twenty. She is rather elaborate in her afternoon indoor dress, but none the less effectively pretty; he is of a scrubbed and sleeked youthfulness, in white trousers, a short black coat and dancing shoes; and from the moment of his first appearance he is seen to be in an extremity of love. He leans as near the young woman as he can; his eyes search her face yearningly and without intermission; he caroms into her slightly as they come in, and repeats the carom unwittingly. They have evidently just come from the dancing floor and are a little flushed; she fans herself with her handkerchief and he fans her with his. They are heard talking before they enter: “Oh, let’s do find some place to sit down!” she is saying; and he, simultaneously: “Oh, wasn’t that divine! You dance just simply divinely!” These speeches “bring them on.”

Yes, this is a lovely place, where nobody is at all. It’s the only quiet place in the hotel: you never see more than two people here at a time, because it’s kind of off, like this. That’s why I wanted to walk this way. (Sitting on a lounge and leaning toward her.) Isn’t it divine to be in a place where nobody is at all?

THE YOUNG WOMAN (laughing as she waves her hand to indicate the spacious corridors to the right and left)

Yes, but they’re all either outdoors, or dancin’, or havin’ tea, right now. It’s practically the same as being alone. It is—practically, I mean.

Yes, I’ve noticed that it was a rather secluded spot myself. (She glances about the room thoughtfully, then turns to him, smiling.) Don’t you want to run and dance with some of those pretty young girls your own age?

Well, but it would only be natural for you to like those pretty young things, so— Well, do run and dance with one of ’em. Won’t you, please?

No. They haven’t got any experience of life. What I like is a woman that’s had some experience of life, like you.

Age hasn’t got anything to do with it. The thing that brings a man and a woman together, it’s when they have about the same amount of experience of life.

You think that’s it, Mr. Briggs? (She looks about the room thoughtfully as she speaks.)

I know it is. I had that feeling the minute I was introduced to you, night before last in the lobby—right by the third column beyond the office news stand, at a quarter after nine o’clock in the evening.

It came over me, and I felt kind of— (he swallows) kind of drawn to you, Missuz—Missuz—Missuz— (He seems to hesitate somewhat emotionally.)

I haven’t. I know it’s Curtis. The trouble is, it kind of upsets me to call you Missuz Curtis. I thought it was Miss Curtis when I was introduced to you. I didn’t know your name was Missuz—Missuz—Missuz Curtis till the clerk told me, early the next morning.

Yes. I asked him if he’d noticed whether you’d gone in to breakfast yet. He said, “You mean Missuz—Missuz Curtis?” Then I knew you must be married. (He shakes his head ruefully.)

Well, anyhow, I had that—that sort of drawn feeling toward you, the way I would get toward a woman that’s had some experience of life; but a hotel like this is no place to explain feelings like that. You can’t when you’re dancing—not the way you want to—and all the rest of the time you had some o’ those old men hangin’ around, or else my mother and sister wanted me for something; because a hotel like this—why, it’s terrible the way a young man’s mother and sister want him to do somep’n for ’em all the time; so this is the first chance I’ve had.

Don’t you really think you’d better be dancing with some of those young things yonder?

Yes; I do really wish you would. Wouldn’t it[12] be a lot more fun than explaining something, as you said, to me?

No, it wouldn’t. I want to explain how I feel about you, so you’ll understand. It’s like this, Missuz (swallowing again) Missuz Curtis. I never used to think I’d ever get to feeling this way about—about somebody that was married, but it—it came over me before I knew you were married. I already was feeling this way before he said, “You mean—you mean Missuz Curtis?” It’d already—(he swallows) happened to me before I knew you were a—a married woman. (Shaking his head.) I certainly never did think I’d feel this way about a married woman.

I guess I’ve got to get used to the idea of it. First I thought you weren’t married, and then I was just gettin’ used to the idea that you were, and now—well, I s’pose it’s a good deal better, your bein’ a widow, though, except—except for—

Oh, I didn’t mean except for your husband! I didn’t mean your bein’ a widow was better for— (He checks himself and swallows.)

No. I meant more on account of the way my family treats me. My mother and sister—well, to tell the truth, they always seem to think I’m about four years old. They can’t seem to realize; and when I go and tell ’em you’re a widow—

You know how people are in a hotel like this: wondering who everybody else is, and whether some woman’s some old man’s wife or his[14] daughter or just a trained nurse, and all so on. Of course my family noticed you right away and then after I met you of course then they said a lot more about you. Golly! (He shakes his head, indicating that the comment has been unfavorable.)

They watch me like a hawk, and I know what they’ll say now! When I tell ’em you’re a widow, I mean.

I certainly never thought myself I would ever get to feeling this way about a widow either!

No. (Turning to her suddenly.) I was goin’ to ask you—well, of course, in a—a technical way, so to speak, I mean in a strickly technical way, so to speak, I’m not exactly of age yet, and I suppose I’d have to get my mother’s consent, because she’s a widow, too, and got herself appointed my guardian besides; and the truth is, she’s a pretty cold-hearted, bossy kind of a woman, and it’s goin’ to be a big difficulty gettin’ her to see this thing right.

The way I feel about you. I know it’s goin’ to be difficult, because I started to talk a little about it last night to my mother and my sister—her name’s Jessie—and they behaved—well, they behaved a good deal like two fiends.

I told ’em they didn’t know you, and they haven’t even met you, but they treated me like a—like a mere jest; and then they got so critical, the way they talked about you, it might be better if they didn’t see me with you again for a few days. I can’t stand the way they talk after they see me with you.

Well, what I was saying: I can’t touch my principal till I’m twenty-one on account of the way my father went and tied up his will; but of course my mother and sister think a good many’ll be after me on account of it; but, anyhow, I have got to feeling this way, and I know I’ll never get over it, so what I wanted to ask you—well, it’s—it’s—(he swallows) it’s just this: I know you are a widow and everything like that, but would you be willing to—(he swallows) well, of course I don’t know how long since you lost your first husband—

I mean I—I don’t know how you would feel about gettin’ married again yet, even if I didn’t have my own difficulties about it, but—but—

Well—uh—yes. (Then, looking beyond her down the corridor on the right.) Oh, goodness. They watch me like a hawk! Here comes my mother! (Dismayed, he turns to the left.)

I told you they behave like two fiends when they see me with you. (Glancing right and left nervously.) Well, excuse me. (With perfect gravity he kneels at one end of the settee, which is in the rear, a little left of “center.”) It’ll be a good deal better if they don’t see me, I expect. (He promptly crawls under the settee, and the valance conceals him entirely. From this invisibility he appeals with pathetic urgency in a hoarse whisper): They’ll prob’ly go right on. Please wait! Or—if you haf to go, come back!

(Mrs. Curtis stands dumbfounded for a moment; and then, controlling a tendency to laugh immoderately, she turns to examine a print on the left wall as Mr. Briggs’s mother enters from[17] the right. Mrs. Briggs is a handsome woman of forty-five or fifty, not now in a gracious mood. She comes in decisively, halts, and stares at Mrs. Curtis’ back. Then she looks over the room in an annoyed and puzzled manner. Mr. Briggs’s sister Jessie comes in from the left. She is a pretty girl of about twenty, but her expression is now rather cross. Her dress and equipment show that she has just come in from the golf course.)

Lancelot! (She halts, puzzled, and looks inquiringly at her mother.) Mamma, where’s Lancelot? I was sure I saw him in here just a second ago.

So was I. (After looking at each other, they turn their heads simultaneously and stare at Mrs. Curtis, who appears to be interested in the print.) It’s very odd!

(The two again look at each other, and at a little distance appear to consult telepathically, without any change of expression; then they turn once more to look at Mrs. Curtis.)

I don’t think so; he didn’t say so. (She gives them a little nod, smiling politely, and goes out at the left. They stare after her.)

I don’t see how that little goose got away. You were coming from that direction and I from just yonder. I suppose he thought we’d say something that would embarrass him before her.

I suppose she’s thirty-five. I’ve heard of such people, but I never saw one before.

Certainly. In the first place, her not having told the child frankly that she’s a widow. One of the clerks told me she was.

Oh, she did that to flatter him into believing he’s a real grown-up “man of the world” having an “affair”!

So that when he’s sufficiently entangled she can tell him she’s a widow—and by that time we don’t know what he’d do! A country justice of the peace probably!

Last night, when we were trying to teach him a little common sense about strange people in hotels, what was it he said she was? “An angel!”—oh, yes!—“One of heaven’s highest angels.”

He said he wouldn’t “listen to one of heaven’s highest angels gettin’ talked against by a lot o’ women!” I’m sure they heard him in the next suite. (She rises.) I suppose you’d better go and see where he slipped out to, Jessie. Of course, he’ll try to find her again as soon as he can.

I played three times round the course. Do you mind if I just sit here a while and rest?

I’m just too tired. I will in a minute. (With a gesture toward the left entrance.) Hadn’t you better—

Keep her in sight? Yes. That’s easier than trying to keep him in sight. You’re going up to your room right away, aren’t you?

(Jessie stares after her for a moment, glances at a wrist watch, then rises and looks down the corridor beyond the entrance at the right. She appears to derive some satisfaction from what she sees there, returns to her chair and sits in a carefully graceful attitude, her expression demure. A moment later a young man—he is about twenty-five—comes in rather nervously from the right. He pauses near the entrance.)

I was afraid maybe we couldn’t have this nook to ourselves, after all. My absurd little brother was in here, hanging about that dreadful Mrs. Curtis, and I was afraid they wouldn’t go away; but Mamma scared ’em both off providentially.

All alone, Rupert! This is the only place in the[21] hotel where you can be by yourself a while. That’s why I said to meet here.

She hasn’t the remotest idea, thank heaven! Nobody dreams you’re within hundreds of miles of here. That’s one advantage of a big hotel.

(The settee moves slightly at this, but it is behind them and they do not see it.)

Well, I suppose her feeling about you is—well, she says it’s because you’re rather poor and I’m—not.

Darling, there’s something I wouldn’t say for anything in the world to anybody but you.

I think Mamma really knows you’re not mercenary, but the real reason for her opposition to you is pretty selfish. I think it’s because she doesn’t want me to marry and go away and leave her alone in the world.

But she wouldn’t be. She’d still have the companionship of your young brother.

That’d be the same as none. Lancelot seems to have scarcely any sense, you see.

JESSIE (warning him as she sees someone approaching in the corridor to the right)

It’s old Mr. Ingoldsby. He’s some old friend of mamma’s that happened to turn up here.

No; he doesn’t know you. Sit still. (She turns toward Mr. Ingoldsby with a smile as he enters.) Good afternoon, Mr. Ingoldsby. Did you do it in eighty-five again today?

(Ingoldsby is a man of fifty-five or, possibly, sixty. He wears neat knickerbockers and is[24] otherwise sprightly in his outdoor attire. He smiles rather absently as he replies.)

Eighty-five? No, I—ah—no. I didn’t go round today. Ah—has Mrs. Briggs been here?

No; I—I— (He glances at his watch, and looks absently at Jessie.) No, I believe I-ah— (He departs.)

We’ve had such difficulties in managing our little interviews; it does seem a precious thing to be near you again.

(She sees someone approaching in the corridor on the left. He looks dolefully in that direction.)

She’s been trying to entangle Lancelot, and he’s completely lost what slight intelligence he had, the little ninny! She’s old enough to be his mother.

(Mrs. Curtis enters from the left. She looks about, with a faint embarrassment. Jessie stares at her, then speaks coldly.)

I beg your pardon. Did you leave something when you were here with my little brother?

I may have left them anywhere of course. (To Rupert) Don’t bother, please. I thought just possibly— (She stoops slightly and looks behind the settee, and her expression shows a considerable illumination.) If I had left anything here I just wanted to see if it was still—

No; there aren’t any gloves here. (She speaks in a sharp whisper to Rupert.) Sit down! (He does so. Their backs are toward Mrs. Curtis.)

(She moves toward the left entrance as she speaks. The settee follows her. She checks it with a sudden commanding push.)

I hardly think my little brother will come back here. My mother went to look for him.

(She looks from the settee to Jessie and Rupert, and back again; and her eyes widen with an intense inward struggle.)

MRS. CURTIS (after a moment, during which her inward struggle prevents her from replying)

Oh—oh, no! I’m so sorry to have disturbed you! (Her voice threatens to break and she goes out hurriedly, at the left.)

Absolutely brazen! She came back after that idiot boy! Thought he’d probably come back!

It’s your mother! (He strides hastily backward out of sight from the left entrance.)

She didn’t see me, but she will if I try to go out there. (He points to the right entrance.)

This is awful! (His despairing eye falls upon the huge Philippine chair in the left rear corner of the room; he rushes to it, turns it round, with[28] its back toward the front, and sits in it, concealed from view. He speaks in a hoarse whisper.) Darling—

Hush! (She has checked an impulse to rise and fly; and now, affecting carelessness, she brushes her left sleeve with her right hand, crosses her knees, swings her foot, whistles an operatic air and looks at the ceiling. Mrs. Briggs enters at the left, frowning. Jessie addresses her cheerfully.) Back again, Mamma? Where’s Lancelot?

He was? (She looks at her watch and then toward the corridor on the left.) You told me you were very tired and were going straight to your room.

Oh, I don’t mean like a terribly aged person; but a nap every day’s a good thing for everybody.

Oh, I’ll just sit around a while longer. I rather like to just sit around and do nothing, like this.

You said you were going, and you ought to do things when you say you’re going to do them.

I insist on your lying down for half an hour before you dress for dinner. What makes you so obstinate about it? Have you any reason for wishing not to do this simple thing? Is there[30] anything you’re trying to conceal from me, Jessie?

You haven’t any particular reason for staying here and not going to your room as you said you would?

A point of it? I? I’m not making a point of it! I don’t at all, except—except for your health.

Your health is the only thing to consider. You’ve started; why don’t you go?

Hurry? Oh, none! I just meant, as you are going, why shouldn’t you go and get it over?

Queer? You call your mother queer? It seems[31] to me you’re the one that’s behaving queerly. Jessie, is there anything you’re trying to—

(She goes out at the left. Mrs. Briggs stares after her for a moment; looks in the opposite direction; then seats herself upon the settee, and from the midst of a handkerchief which she has crumpled in her hand produces a small gold vanity box. She opens it, gazes in the tiny mirror, touches her hair, glances right and left, and uses a diminutive powder puff quickly; then she closes the box, conceals it in her handkerchief again, and hums a song to herself. Mr. Ingoldsby enters at the left. He has an air slightly embarrassed.)

Ah—I was here a while ago. It was a little earlier than our—our appointment; if I may call it so. (He laughs nervously.)

I—I thought—that is, I’ve noticed this was about the only place in the hotel where there aren’t usually a lot of people. I suggested it because—because I had something to say—ah—I mean that I thought it would be as well to say it in private—as it were. That is, if we were alone together, I—ah—that is to say, it’s[32] something I couldn’t very well say in—in public, so to speak. I mean it would be difficult with other people present.

I don’t think we should ever refer to it. When an episode is as long buried as—

It was not. I’ve held my peace in silence all these years because of my principles. I wouldn’t refer to such things with you when you had[33] become a married woman. But I can speak now. You deliberately broke off with me—

You did! (He paces the floor as he goes on.) You decided Lance Briggs was the better man, and you sent me my ring and letters without a single word explaining why you did it.

I did indeed! It was simply because you were of a fickle nature. Of course you didn’t have the courage to explain that.

But you don’t know the pressure, the awful pressure my mother brought to bear on me. She simply made me marry him, Henry. It was night and day, day and night, week in, week out—

And you never for one moment had the simple bravery, the simple loyalty to the man you’d given your word to—

I loved you—I did, Henry! I simply let my mother break my will and wreck our two lives.

What folly! You were perfectly happy with Briggs. I don’t know how many people told me you were.

I did my duty, and I tried to do it cheerfully; but the scar was always there, Henry.

Yes. What’s that to fill a man’s life? Look at the difference! You have children to be a comfort to you in your—your—as you approach middle age. I have nothing.

I tell you I have nothing—nothing in the world to make life worth living, not a thing on earth! (He glances about, then sits beside her and speaks in a very low voice.) Fannie—Fannie—

Fannie—I—I—Fannie—I— (His emotion is difficult to control and his voice fades out into a murmur of several slight incoherent sounds, whereupon the settee again moves slightly closer.)

You said your life was wrecked, though you[36] bore it dutifully and—and cheerfully. Mine—my life—it was withered!

Fannie, I never got over it. As time went on, I took up my work and tried to do my part in the world, but—but I never got over it, Fannie. I’m not over it now.

MRS. BRIGGS (recovering herself enough to smile faintly as she shakes her head)

Fannie, let’s—let’s save these years that we still have before us. Let’s try to make up for that old mistake.

Why, good gracious! I wouldn’t have my children know that anybody had said such a thing to me for all the kingdoms on earth!

Why, if I’d dreamed you were going to say anything like this to me when you asked me to meet you here this afternoon—

But I haven’t had time to think! Why, I wouldn’t have anybody know about this for—

(They are interrupted by a voice from a mysterious and invisible source. It is a male and adult voice, loudly and emphatically affecting to clear the throat of its origin in the manner of a person wishing to attract the attention of some other person.)

INGOLDSBY (staring about the room, notices the Philippine chair with its back turned to the front)

There’s somebody sitting in that chair! (He starts toward it angrily, but is checked by a suppressed scream from Mrs. Briggs.)

Don’t! I’d much rather never know who it is. (Rising.) Let’s get away! (She totters.)

Any guest of this hotel has a right to sit here in peace, and if you will go on talking about your private affairs in a public room—

Why, it’s your own fault, not mine. I was only warning you not to go any further. I’ve heard enough of other people’s private affairs for one afternoon, anyhow.

Oh, let’s go! (She swings the reluctant and angry Ingoldsby toward the left entrance.) Let’s go!

I don’t know who you are, sir; but when I’ve seen this lady to a—a place of safety—I intend to know. I’ll be back here, sir.

Oh, mercy! (She moves hastily away from Ingoldsby as Jessie suddenly comes in, from the left, confronting them.)

Not at all—not at all! I was just sitting here a moment with Mr. Ingoldsby, chatting over old times and—and then we decided to leave. We decided to leave—that’s all. I—I’m—(Suddenly she starts, and with an incoherent exclamation looks behind her. Then she faces Jessie and, with a painful effort to smile, completes her sentence.) I’m all right.

Yes, you seem so. Mr. Ingoldsby, will you[41] kindly tell me what you’ve been saying to my mother to upset her so?

Miss Briggs, I should not be likely to say anything disrespectful to my old and dear friend, your mother. (Looking around angrily.) The truth is, there’s an eavesdropping scoundrel concealed in this room, and I—

(But Ingoldsby has already reached the Philippine chair that has its back turned toward the front of the stage; he seizes Rupert by the collar and drags him forth. Rupert is horrified.)

I didn’t! I didn’t say a word! I was behind there, but I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t my voice talking to you.

If you’re anxious for more witnesses, I suggest that you look under the settee.

MRS. BRIGGS (changing her mind as she is in the act of sinking down upon the settee)

(Mrs. Briggs screams faintly, as the settee moves rapidly to the left entrance, evidently meaning to leave the room.)

(They seize the settee just as it is disappearing into the corridor. They drag it back into the room.)

(They heave, and the settee yields, disclosing Lancelot with his previously smooth hair disheveled and his clothes well rumpled.)

Well, you would get me; but I’ll make you sorry you did it, both of you! (He rises, brushing himself and adjusting his attire.)

I was abs’lootly honorable, because I couldn’t help it, and you none of you ever gave me a single chance to get away. My conduct is the only one here that hasn’t got a stain on it or anything. (He turns hotly upon Mrs. Briggs and Jessie.) I got nothing to reproach myself with, but I’d just like to know what either of you got to say for yourselves now about the way you been talkin’ about Mrs. Curtis! If you either of you ever just dare to soil your[44] lips with even her name again, why, I know more things—

Quiet? Me? (He laughs shortly with an irony he could not express in words.) In the first place, don’t call me Lancelot any more. You know how I hate that name, and I been tryin’ to break you of it long enough—and now I will! I don’t care what you call me, but don’t call me that!

Long enough to get mighty tired of hearin’ people callin’ each other “Darling”! Good gracious! You don’t think I enjoyed it, do you? Why, what I heard while I was under there—well, I got a pretty strong constitution, but—

I’ll call you anything you like; but I want to know who it was that spoke. You say it wasn’t you—

No, it wasn’t. I wouldn’t ’a’ told you to look under the settee, would I?

I don’t care who it was; what I want to point out, right here and now, before we go any further, why, I’m in a position to say that I got some plans for my future life and I don’t expect to have any intaference with ’em from my family, or from anybody that wants to join my family either. All up to now, I’ve spent my life in a dependent position, so to speak, but after what’s happened here lately, and knowin’ all the things I do know—

(His voice has risen during this oration, and Jessie, after a glance to the left entrance, attempts to moderate him.)

I don’t care who’s comin’, I’m goin’ to say my say. I expect to settle my own future in my own way, and any lady that I may decide to make another member of this family—

(The eyes of Lancelot follow hers to the left entrance and his stern manner is instantly softened.)

She never calls me Lancelot. Missuz—Missuz Curtis, I didn’t have to tell ’em; they’d already found out you were a widow. We don’t need to bother about that anyway.

I’ve found out a good many things since I saw you, and I’m goin’ to tell you the whole biznuss.

What would it matter? There’s somebody else here that knows “the whole biznuss”!

All right! (To Rupert.) I think I know now where he is, and I’m going to have him out.

I—I’ll answer for him. He’ll never mention—ah—anything. He really wouldn’t be interested. He doesn’t know any of you.

Please! If you found him, you’d only see a total stranger to you. But he wouldn’t be a[48] stranger to quite a lot of people in this hotel that I know.

He’s just here for one day and we—we didn’t want anyone to know it. I had so many engagements I could only take a short walk in the country with him this morning and—and promise to meet him here at five this afternoon.

Why doesn’t it? A lady’s got a right to keep her engagement a secret as long as she wants to, hasn’t she? There are people in this hotel that would know all about it if they saw her with me. (With some bitterness.) That’s why she said to meet her here, because it’s so quiet!

It’s more your fault than anybody else’s. I was awake all last night on a noisy train, and I was quietly asleep here—till you woke me up.

Till you did. I never knew a man that made so much noise about proposing a second marriage.

I’ll speak to you and Mr. Rupert Smith after dinner. Henry, I don’t see the propriety of continuing an argument with this interloper, whoever he may be. (She takes Ingoldsby’s arm.)

No. Let’s do get away from here! (She moves toward the left entrance with Rupert.)

(They go on the left entrance. Jessie and Rupert have passed out into the corridor.)

Did he say “a lady’s got a right to keep her—her engagement—a secret”?

(He goes dismally across to the left entrance and pauses. Ingoldsby and Mrs. Briggs have withdrawn, preceding him.)

(She goes to the Philippine chair, near the right rear corner, and, moving a smaller chair close to it, seats herself and addresses the invisible person, who is evidently sitting in the shelter of the big chair.)

(She glances about, then impulsively leans behind the huge back of the Philippine chair as the curtain descends.)

A brand new comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of “The New Co-Ed,” “Tempest and Sunshine,” and many other successful plays. 4 males, 7 females. The scenes are extremely easy to arrange; two plain interiors and one exterior, a garden, or, if necessary, the two interiors will answer. Costumes modern. Plays 2½ hours.

The story is about vocational training, a subject now widely discussed; also, the distribution of large wealth.

Back of the comedy situation and snappy dialogue there is good logic and a sound moral in this pretty play, which is worthy the attention of the experienced amateur. It is a clean, wholesome play, particularly suited to high school production.

Miss Somebody Else

A modern play in four acts by Marion Short, author of “The Touchdown,” etc. 6 males, 10 females. Two interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2¼ hours.

This delightful comedy has gripping dramatic movements, unusual character types, a striking and original plot and is essentially modern in theme and treatment. The story concerns the adventures of Constance Darcy, a multi-millionaire’s young daughter. Constance embarks on a trip to find a young man who had been in her father’s employ and had stolen a large sum of money. She almost succeeds, when suddenly all traces of the young man are lost. At this point she meets some old friends who are living in almost want and, in order to assist them through motives benevolent, she determines to sink her own aristocratic personality in that of a refined but humble little Irish waitress with the family that are in want. She not only carries her scheme to success in assisting the family, but finds romance and much tense and lively adventure during the period of her incognito, aside from capturing the young man who had defrauded her father. The story is full of bright comedy lines and dramatic situations and is highly recommended for amateur production. This is one of the best comedies we have ever offered with a large number of female characters. The dialogue is bright and the play is full of action from start to finish; not a dull moment in it. This is a great comedy for high schools and colleges, and the wholesome story will please the parents and teachers. We strongly recommend it.

Purple and Fine Linen

An exceptionally pretty comedy of Puritan New England, in three acts, by Amita B. Fairgrieve and Helena Miller. 9 male, 5 female characters.

This is the Lend A Hand Smith College prize play. It is an admirable play for amateurs, is rich in character portrayal of varied types and is not too difficult while thoroughly pleasing.

SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City
New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed
Free on Request

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New York	London
SAMUEL FRENCH	Samuel French, Ltd.
Publisher	Publisher
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trysting Place: A Farce in One Act

THE TRYSTING PLACE

THE PEOPLE AS THEY COME
INTO THE PLAY

THE TRYSTING PLACE

Dorothy’s Neighbors

Miss Somebody Else

Purple and Fine Linen

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trysting Place: A Farce in One Act

THE TRYSTING PLACE

THE PEOPLE AS THEY COME INTO THE PLAY

THE TRYSTING PLACE

Dorothy’s Neighbors

Miss Somebody Else

Purple and Fine Linen

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

THE PEOPLE AS THEY COME
INTO THE PLAY