PERCY: Will you — will you —
VIRGINIA: Oh, I feel faint! Catch me! (Fakes a faint.) (Percy springs forward.) No, on the other side — It looks better. (He helps her sink into chair.) All right. Now go on.
PERCY: Will you marry me?
VIRGINIA: (Dreaming.) She looked tenderly into his dark brown eyes —
PERCY: But my eyes are not dark brown.
VIRGINIA: Sh! — And lisped — whispered tenderly —
PERCY: But this isn’t a novel, you know.
VIRGINIA: Now you’ve spoiled the whole thing. I want to look back upon my proposal as something romantic.
PERCY: But this is my proposal. Will you —
VIRGINIA: (Jumps up.) Wait! It must be on bended knees in the flower garden, with the roses —
PERCY: And the bugs —
VIRGINIA: With the green grass —
PERCY: My poor trousers!
VIRGINIA: Come, Alphonso —
PERCY: But my name isn’t Alphonso —
VIRGINIA: Never mind that — Come let us flit to the rose garden.
(She flits, and Percy very awkwardly “flits” after her.)
(Percy and Virginia cease flitting.)
(Enter Angelina.)
ANGELINA: Unchaperoned. This is perfectly awful. Unchaperoned!
PERCY: But we’re engaged.
ANGELINA: How terrible! Blush, young lady, blush with shame. How could you admit it? I wouldn’t admit it.
PERCY: YOU can’t admit it unless you’re engaged.
ANGELINA: Let me read you from this little work a short sermon on conduct of young ladies. “Young ladies should never under any conditions be alone with young men. The best authorities such as Miss Grayson, Miss Finch, Miss Spence and Miss Spindle agree in regard to this.” (Percy and Virginia have sneaked out.) “A young lady on meeting a young man in the street should on no account — “ (Sees that the others are gone.)
ANGELINA: Poor misguided people. I will pray for them. Yes I will pray for them. (Exit.)
(Enter Lindy and two soldiers — Privates Willings and Barkis —
from opposite doors.)
LINDY: What do you want here?
PRIVATE W.: Good morning, lady.
PRIVATE B.: Greetings, fair one.
LINDY: GO out of here!
PRIVATE W.: We just came back from Appomattox, lady, and passing this spacious house, we thought perhaps you had a few trinkets to donate to the Union cause, just to cement the peace.
(Removes cartridge belt and lays it on table.)
LINDY: We have nothing, nothing in the house.
PRIVATE W.: We’ll look and see, lady, if you have no objections.
(Exit Privates Willings and Barkis.)
LINDY: Jeff! Jeff! Oh, if Charley were only here.
(Enter Jeff.)
LINDY: Jeff, run out and find someone! — Any man! — Say that there are two Yankees here who are trying to pillage the house!
Quick!
(Exit Jeff.)
(Enter Private Barkis.)
PRIVATE B.: Lady, where’s the pantry? — I’m hungry. My pal prefers the valuables; I prefer the victuals. (Lindy -points toward pantry.) I bid thee adieu. (Bows low.)
(Exit Private Barkis.)
(Enter Private Willings.)
PRIVATE W.: Lady, there ain’t a valuable in the house — Not one!
Except I see you’ve got a mighty fine necklace round your neck.
LINDY: Oh, you thief — you — !
(Enter Jim Holworthy.)
JIM: What’s this?
LINDY: Jim, this man — (Jim and Private Willings both rush to cartridge belt on table. Jim reaches it first. Willings fires twice with the two guns he is carrying but they refuse to work on account of lack of ammunition which Jim now holds.)
JIM: I reckon I’ve got your stock of ammunition, Yank. You may go.
PRIVATE W.: Your lady friend here has a chain I want.
JIM: You may go, I say. (Advances toward him.)
PRIVATE W.: Keep back! I’ve got a friend in the kitchen.
JIM: I have many in the town. This lady has but to run out and —
PRIVATE W.: Can’t we settle it peaceably? You don’t want to get hurt by me and my friend, and we don’t want to get chased by the town. But I’ve taken a fancy to that necklace. Isn’t there any way we can decide?
JIM: Yes, there is a way — one way. (Thinks.) Are we at truce for a minute.
PRIVATE W.: Yes.
JIM: Load one of these pistols.
PRIVATE W.: One?
JIM: Yes. Now the lady will take them both, mix them up behind her back, then she’ll put one in each hand, and you choose one.
I’ll take the other. Then we fire. One will refuse to work.
PRIVATE W.: My God! Only one pistol loaded? But the lady —
JIM: You may trust the lady. May he not, Lindy?
LINDY: Yes. But I didn’t mean for you to do this, Jim!
JIM: It will end it one way or the other.
PRIVATE W.: Here they are. (Hands his two pistols to Lindy who mixes them as directed.)
JIM: All right, Yank — Choose.
PRIVATE W.: I — I — oh, I’m going — I can stand a battle, but you’ve got some nerve.
(Exit Private Willings.)
JIM: (Pause.) Well, I reckon I bluffed him. Glad to have been of service to you. Goodbye.
LINDY: You’re not going, Jim?
JIM: Yes.
LINDY: And you have nothing to say?
JIM: Nothing, I reckon. What’s the use?
LINDY: I think, Jim, you have had your chance.
JIM: Then you think you really will — ?
LINDY: Jim, come here — You are a worse coward than you were four years ago.
(They embrace.)
(Quick Curtain.)
ASSORTED SPIRITS
A two act farce written for The Elizabethan Dramatic Club by Francis Scott Fitzgerald Presented at the Y.W.C.A. Auditorium and the White Bear Yacht Club on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, September 8 and 9, 1914
Under the Direction of Elizabeth Magoffin.
CONTENTS
CAST OF CHARACTERS
ACT I
ACT II
CAST OF CHARACTERS
WILLIAM CHAPMAN, gentleman spirit — Gustave Schurmeier
JOSEPH us HENDRIX, gentleman spirit — John L. Mitchell
PETER WETHERBY, who needs $10,000 — Scott Fitzgerald
DICKIE WETHERBY, a hypochondriac with hay fever — James Armstrong
MULLIGAN (Policeman) — McNeil Seymore
O’FLARITY (Policeman) — — Robert Clark
CECILE WETHERBY, in love with Will — Eleanor Alair
CLARA KING, from Missouri.... — Katherine Schulze
SECOND STORY SALLE — Dorothy Greene
MADAME ZADA, a fortune teller... — Alice Lyon
MISS SPIGOT, doting aunt of Will... — Margaret Armstrong
HULDA, a maid, from Sweden.... — Betty Mudge
Act I — The Wetherby Home — 9:30 P. M.
Act II — Same — Next morning
Furnishings — up-to-date living room, two closets in evidence.
Costumes — Modern. Two devils’ suits. Two policeman uniforms.
ACT I
(Curtain rises showing Cecile and Miss Spigot in conversation.)
MISS S.: My dear Cecile, I have had such a busy day.
CEC.: YOU have?
MISS S.: Yes, you know my nephew William is coming home tomorrow.
CEC.: How perfectly delightful; I haven’t seen him for three years.
MISS S.: He has been very successful in the railroad business.
CEC.: So?
MISS S.: His business is contracting.
CEC.: HOW interesting. Contracting and expanding, I suppose.
MISS S.: (Indignantly.) He is not a contortionist, he is a railroad contractor.
CEC.: I see.
MISS S.: I suppose all the young girls in
the vicinity will be angling for him.
CEC.: Yes, no doubt.
MISS S.: However, I have no one in mind; yet do you know I have always fancied that you and he would make a beautiful match.
CEC.: Miss Spigot!
MISS S.: My dear, my dear, you must control yourself. As an old friend of the family —
CEC.: (Interrupting.) Still, I want you to know that I am distinctly not angling for him.
(Dick looks in at door.)
MISS S.: Of course, of course. William is in town now.
CEC.: I am glad to hear it.
MISS S.: I haven’t seen him yet. He is going to a fancy dress ball tonight and he is dressing at his club. I expect him before midnight.
CEC.: (Yawns.) You must tell him to call.
MISS S.: Oh yes, he is the most —
DICK: (Outside.) Oh Hulda, you had better close all the windows, it is going to rain in a few minutes.
MISS S.: (Rising hurriedly.) Well, I must be going.
CEC.: SO sorry, come again some time.
(They both go out at left.)
(Dickie sticks his head around the corner and slowly comes into the room. Re-enter Cecile.)
DICK: IS she gone, Sis? (Feels pulse.)
CEC: (Sinks into chair.) Yes, thank Heaven.
PICK: I thought that would get her.
CEC.: What do you mean, isn’t it going to rain?
PICK: Not a cloud in the sky, but I was so nervous! And my hay fever starts tomorrow.
CEC.: I thought she would never stop, and the worst of it is she has her eyes on Dad. She was telling me about her nephew who is coming home tonight.
PICK: What, Will Chapman coming home tonight? That’s good.
CEC.: I haven’t seen him since he went away three years ago. He has been quite successful, I believe, a railroad contractor.
DICK: Well, I hope he hasn’t turned out like his aunt — the old bore. I like brilliant women.
CEC.: What is your idea of a brilliant woman?
DICK: Every widow between thirty-five and forty-five who has no children and doesn’t wear glasses.
CEC.: Miss Spigot shows unlimited nerve. She copied her house after ours and there she is at 225 Greenwood Place and we’re at 225 Greenbriar Street. It’s a wonder more people haven’t already gotten mixed up. We get her letters continually.
(Enter Mr. Wetherby.)
MR. W.: (Gruffly.) Well, I found a purchaser for the house.
DICK: Thank heavens, Father, then we can live less economically.
MR. W.: If you had gone to work we’d have done that long ago. The only thing you are fit for is signing patent medicine testimonials. You want a position where you can dress expensively, cultivate an English accent and babble about art. (Sits down in chair and picks up newspaper.)
DICK: (Enthusiastically.) Just the thing!
MR. W.: Well, I’ll set you up as an interior decorator. Why, you’ve got a suit for every day in the year.
DICK: Yes, this is it. (Pointing to suit he is wearing.) If I wasn’t so delicate. I’ve got a play now in mind. I’ll write it up next week if I feel well enough.
CEC.: Who is going to buy the house?
MR. W.: Hm, hm.
CEC.: Who is going to buy it, Dad?
MR. W.: Can’t I read the paper in peace?
CEC.: Who is going to buy it?
MR. W.: Buy what? Oh yes, why I got a letter today from Josephus Hendrix, a second cousin of mine. Haven’t seen him for years. He says he wants to buy it, but he makes a blamed queer stipulation.
CEC.: What’s the stipulation?
MR. W.: What’s what? Oh, he says the house is haunted.
CEC AND DICK: HAUNTED!
MR. W.: Yes. So Cousin Josephus and his ward, Miss Clara King, will come tomorrow morning to spend a few days. Then if the house proves all right he’ll buy it.
DICK: Miss Clara King — age, please.
MR. W.: HOW should I know?
DICK: What do you think?
MR. W.: HOW should I think?
DICK: Oh, like everyone else thinks.
MR. W.: Oh, she’s seventeen, I suppose.
DICK: Oh, a young kid. Light or dark?
MR. W.: I am sure I don’t know. Why the de —
CEC.: Tut, tut, papa, you must not use profane language.
MR. W.: I will use any language I want to.
(The telephone rings. Enter Hulda, who goes to the phone.)
HULDA: Hello — what’s that — I tank so — aw, this is me. (Sits down.) Oh, Mr. Wetherby, yes, he’s here — nothing is the matter with me, how are you? Oh, he bane fine. Yes I will get him.
MR. W.: Who are you talking to?
HULDA: There is a man wants to speak to you.
MR. W.: (Goes to the phone.) Hello — yes — yes — oh, that was that damned Swede girl. Yes, why Cousin Josephus, I didn’t expect you till tomorrow — yes — well — you will be up in fifteen minutes. Goodbye. (Rings off. To children.) Cousin Joseph has arrived unexpectedly. He and his ward are at the station now. See to their rooms — we have got to make a good impression.
CEC.: Very well, Father.
DICK: I can’t make beds with my weak back.
(Exit Dick and Cecile. Mr. W. sits down and picks up newspaper. Bell rings. Enter Hulda, running.)
MR. W.: (Testily.) What’s your name?
HULDA: Oh, I answer to “Hey” or any loud cry.
MR. W.: What are you always running through the house for?
Don’t you ever sit still?
HULDA: TO answer the bell.
MR. W.: Answer who?
HULDA: The bell —
MR. W.: What bell?
HULDA: The door bell —
MR. W.: Well answer it and don’t stand here talking.
(Exit Hulda, Mr. W. picks up paper, re-enter Hulda with card on plate.)
HULDA: Lady to see you sir.
MR. W.: A lady, what lady? Does she want me?
HULDA: Oh yes, she sayd you sant for her.
MR. W.: Oh yes, I remember.
HULDA: Who is she? I can’t read the card.
MR. W.: Never you mind who she is. Show her in. (Takes card, exit Hulda.)
MR. W.: (Reading from card.) Madame Zada, fortune teller, astrologer, mind reader — hm, humbug!
(Enter Hulda followed by Madame Zada, who advances toward Mr. W. Exit Hulda.)
MME.: Well, Brother Peter.
MR. W.: Sh — sh —
MME.: What’s the matter, are you ashamed of me?
MR. W.: Not exactly, but if my children should know that my sister and their aunt was a fortune teller —
MME.: Well, I must earn my living. Since my husband’s desertion I have tried everything. I went back to my old profession of manicuring but I have lost the knack and there is money in fortune telling.
MR. W.: Well, here is why I sent for you. I have a prospective buyer for my house but he says that he has heard it is haunted.
MME.: Well, where do I come in?
MR. W.: Hold your horses. I want to ask you first if you think there is anything in spirits.
MME.: Well, they are all very well in moderation.
MR. W.: What do you mean?
MME.: Of course I am not a drinking woman myself, but —
MR. W.: NO, no, I mean ghosts.
MME.: Ghosts?
MR. W.: DO you believe in them?
Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald UK (Illustrated) Page 371