Bird in hand

Samuel French: Publisher 28-30 West Thirty-eighth St.: New York Samuel French, Ltd. 26 Southampton Street, Strand LONDON PRICE 35 CENTS
Copyright, 1916
By LAURENCE HOUSMAN
CAUTION——Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned that “BIRD IN HAND,” being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States, is subject to royalty, and any one presenting the play without the consent of the author or his authorized agent, will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Application for the right to produce “BIRD IN HAND” must be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th St., New York City.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Scene:— You are looking into the study of a Scientist—a large room lined with books and specimen cases. At the back are two upright windows, through which one sees a green bowery garden, suggestive of quiet and seclusion. In one window stands a case of stuffed birds, in the other a microscope. Near the center of the room is a ponderous writing-table, above which hangs an adjustable light, presided over by a large green shade. Adjoining the writing-table is a smaller one, on which stands a typewriter. All about the room, on tables and systematically arranged, and suggestive of the strict order imposed by a meticulous mind. There is one door to right, another to left, the latter leading to an inner chamber. On the writing-table lie papers and a portable speaking-tube. A telephone, a waste-paper basket, and a revolving book-stand are within easy reach of the Professor’s chair, while behind it is a screen partly covering the door leading to the inner chamber. On the opposite side, between the other door and the window, stands a large chest. It is morning, and through half-lowered green blinds sunlight streams over the replete and comfortable interior, touching to brightness the polished metal of the microscope, and the plumage of the stuffed birds.
At the small table, on a chair less comfortable than the one at the writing-desk sits an old gentleman in an affluent dressing-gown of deep rich tones, dividing his attention between a bowl of “Benger’s Food” and the typewriter, at which he clicks with portentous gravity and occasional pauses in the fingering. He is evidently inexpert, perhaps through short-sightedness; but the typewriter helps him to feel, even in his study, that his words are destined for print and the laying-down of the scientific law for the generations to come after.