ACT I.
Scene: Benson’s home in the city. Room lavishly furnished. Ethel at desk writing, Mr. Benson sitting in easy chair reading, and Mrs. Benson darning socks.
Mrs. Benson
Ethel, who are you writing to?
Ethel
Oh, I was just dropping a line to brother Harry. Thought he would be glad to know how we were getting along in the city by now. You know I promised him I would write often and let him know how you and father took to city life. He said you would never like it here after the novelty of it wore off.
Mrs. Benson
Tell him I would write some, too, only I’m such a poor writer and it hasn’t been long since I did write. You know people like to get letters often, so if you write now, and then me after while, he may like it better. I want to read what you have written when you get through.
Ethel
Sorry, mother, but I can’t let you read this one—at least all of it. You know brother and I always did confide in each other. I’ve often thought how much better we understand each other than most brothers and sisters, and how much more pleasant it is. I always feel sorry for girls who have no brothers and for boys who have no sisters.
Mr. Benson
You say you’re writin’ to Harry, Ethel? By jinks, I’d like to know how he is getting along on the old homestead. S’pose he’s got his grain most cleaned by now, and just waitin’ till it thaws out so he can get into the fields. I’d sure like to see that car load of yearlin’s he says he just bought. Bet that bunch he’s finishin’ for the June market is fine by now; you know he wrote last spring that they were lookin’ mighty promisin’ and he takes such pride in them, too.
Mrs. Benson
Harry does think a lot of the stock and that dear little wife he got takes such an interest in things, too, and she’s so encouraging. Did you notice the way she pulled him out of the blues once when they were first married? He always goes to her for advice in everything he does.
Mr. Benson
Yes, and by Jinks, her advice is worth somethin’ too. Harry always says that’s just the way he looks at it, but thought he’d ask her first. You know as how I used to always be against those agricultural colleges and never had much faith in ’em. Well, that pair has completely converted me. Harry never did like stock till he went away to school. As soon as he got back he began talkin’ as how we could improve ours, and as how many we ought to have more for the size of our farm. By jinks, I’ve got to slip out there fore long and see those cattle.
Ethel rises with two letters in hand and rings for the butler.
Mrs. Benson
Looks as though you were confiding in someone else, too.
Ethel
Oh no, just a letter to Mabel.
Mr. Benson
Rising.
Ethel, if you don’t care I’ll take your letters to the box. I’ve simply got to get more fresh air. I’ve begun to feel like a house plant what’s bin sittin’ in the bay window all winter. When the hired man comes, tell him to fix up the fire.
Ethel
All right, father. Be sure you put the letters in a mail box and not in the police telephone box like you did once. (Exit Mr. Benson.) Mother, father makes me think of a bee in a drone’s hive; he’s just dying for something to do and there isn’t a thing around here to do that would satisfy him. He’s just aching to be out among the stock on the farm. I really feel sorry for him, but I guess there isn’t any way to better things; he’s not able to run the farm any longer.
Mrs. Benson
No, he isn’t and I wouldn’t think of movin’ in with Harry and Jennie, even though they wouldn’t object. It breaks up the home spirit so to have two families in one home. I’ve never let on to your pa, but I don’t like the city life half as well as I thought I would, and I really never thought of what a handicap it would be to you.
Ethel
Oh, don’t you care about me. I have a good home here as long as you live and I don’t know of a place where I’m needed as bad as I am right here looking after you and father. I consider it my calling.
Mrs. Benson
I don’t see how we would get along here without you, but it’s not fair, and you don’t owe it. I was just thinking the other day about Clarence. He must be about through college by now. There wasn’t a better fellow livin’ than Clarence and he seemed to think so much of you. How’s come you and him don’t write any more? You used to.
Ethel
Yes, we did write till three years ago, when he failed to answer my letter and I never wrote again.
Mrs. Benson
Maybe he didn’t get your letter.
Ethel
I heard through a friend that he did. I thought that if he didn’t want to write, that was his own business. I suppose he found another girl. But mother, it’s hard to forget—I didn’t know I did care so much. But—oh well, it’s too late now. I’m going to stay by you and father, so I should worry.
(Walks across room to desk.)
Mrs. Benson
Speaking to self.
I wish we had never come to the city. Poor girl.
Ethel
Mother, I’ve something amusing to tell you. What do you think, Mr. Smith, who called to see me last night, asked me to marry him.
Mrs. Benson
What!
Ethel
Wouldn’t that make you laugh?
Mrs. Benson
Why, you haven’t known him more than a month and a half, have you?
Ethel
No, and I’ve only seen him a few times at that.
Mrs. Benson
That beats anything I ever heard of. Is the fellow in his right mind?
Ethel
Oh, I guess he’s sane enough—but he’s so used to having his money get what he wants, that I suppose he thought it would buy me, too.
Mrs. Benson
How much money has he got?
Ethel
I don’t know, but from the way he talks he must have quite a bit.
Mrs. Benson
Well, he had better trade some of it for a little common sense.
Ethel
By the way, mother, is this Thursday or Friday? You know we’ve invited the Asterbilts for dinner Friday, and you know—
Mrs. Benson
Interrupting.
That’s what’s the matter, and this is Friday and it’s six-thirty now. They ought to have been here three-quarters of an hour ago—mighty good thing they’re late.
Ethel
I wonder if the maid has forgotten, too.
Mrs. Benson
My goodness, what if she has forgotten! You be straightening the room—I’ll go and see her.
Exit Mrs. Benson. Enter butler.
Walter
Sorry, I’m so long, Miss Ethel.
Ethel
You don’t look so very long to me. Fix the fire and see that everything is ready for company, the Asterbilts are coming.
Walter
The Asterbilts! You having those swell bugs here! You had better order a butler and have him delivered at once.
Exit Walter.
Ethel
This is an awful state of affairs. Here the swellest people in town are coming and we’re not ready. I didn’t much want to have them, but mother insisted. She said it was time I ought to be getting acquainted with some of the good people of the city. I’m not very ambitious, if they’re all like Mr. Smith. Some idea he’s got of what love is; and father makes so many mistakes. He simply can’t learn the city ways and this is the first time we’ve invited in any society people. Well, it’s too late now to talk about it—we’d might as—
Enter Mr. Benson.
Mr. Benson
Mailed your letters, Ethel. Why, what’s up, girl—be ye cleanin’ house so soon? Don’t think you’ll last if you go over this house at that pace.
Ethel
We invited the Asterbilts for supper and we’d forgotten all about it till it was past the time they were supposed to be here. They’re almost an hour late now. This is enough to give one nervous prostration. Maybe they’re not coming, though.
Mr. Benson
By jinks, I hope they’ll come. I was just wonderin’ the other day why we couldn’t have in some of our neighbors and get acquainted a little. Why, we don’t even know the people across the street from us. Out on the farm we knew people from six to twelve miles around.
Enter Mrs. Benson.
Mrs. Benson
The maid says everything is ready. Wonder why they don’t come or phone us. I wish they wouldn’t come, now. Why, what will they think of us in these clothes?
Enter Walter. Hands Mrs. Benson a card.
Mrs. Benson
Reading.
They’re here, show them up, Walter.
Walter
I’m afraid I’m a poor butler.
Exit.
Mr. Benson
I don’t see what there is to worry about—your clothes are clean and neat. What more can they expect? By jinks, I don’t let a little thing like that worry me.
Enter Mr. and Mrs. Asterbilt, preceded by butler.
Mrs. Benson
Shaking hands with Mrs. Asterbilt who holds hand high for fashionable hand shake.
How do you do, Mrs. Asterbilt.
Mrs. Asterbilt
Good evening.
Mrs. Benson
I hope you’ll excuse—
Mrs. Asterbilt
Interrupting.
Mrs. Benson, my husband.
Mr. Asterbilt
Mrs. Benson, it gives me very great pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Mrs. Asterbilt
And I suppose this is your daughter.
Shakes hands with her.
Mr. Benson
Yes, that’s her.
Mrs. Asterbilt
You’re a very charming young lady.
Mr. Asterbilt
Shaking hands with Ethel.
Indeed you’re very charming, Miss Benson.
Mrs. Benson
This is my husband, Mrs. Asterbilt.
Mr. Benson
Makes a couple of attempts to shake hands with Mrs. Asterbilt and at last finding her hand, which is held high, pulls it down and gives real handshake.
I’m so glad ter know you, Mrs. Asterbilt. (Shakes with Mr. Asterbilt.) How do ye do, Mr. Asterbilt. By jinks, I’m glad you folks come this evenin’. I was just tellin’ Ethel as how we didn’t know our next door neighbor here in town. Do ye know, Mr. Asterbilt, I don’t think the town folks are near as sociable as us country folks. Won’t ye take your wraps off and stay a while?
Mrs. Asterbilt
Removing wraps, hands them to Walter, who wads them all up in his arms and drops Asterbilt’s hat.
I’m so sorry we were unable to get here for dinner or to let you know. We fully intended to get here, but we went out auto riding in the country and were detained by a breakdown. When we arrived home and saw we were so late, we took our dinner at the cafe before coming. I hope our delay hasn’t put you to any great anxiety. Since we couldn’t get here for dinner, we thought we would call for a while, rather than disappoint you completely.
Exit butler with wraps.
Mrs. Benson
We’re very glad you did, won’t you be seated?
Mr. Benson
Indeed we’re glad you have come. Anyone is welcome at our house any time. Don’t you know people aren’t so sociable as they uster be. Why, when I was a boy we either called on some of our neighbors, or they called on us every night of the week during the winter months. I’ve been noticin’ as how the town folks don’t call at all unless they’re invited. By jinks, come to think about it, you folks are the first to come since we’ve been here, exceptin’ one of our neighbors from the farm.
Begins slowly to remove shoes.
Mr. Asterbilt
By the way, Mr. Benson, what is your opinion of the commission form of government this city is going to submit to the voters next election? You know some of the cities have already adopted it and it is promising to become quite popular.
Mr. Benson
Can’t say as I know much about it. If it’s anything like the commission the grain and stock buyers get, I don’t think much of it. You see lots of those fellers getting rich while many of the farmers who haul their grain in to them are just barely holdin’ their own. So they’re wantin’ to make a big thing outen the city people, too, are they?
Mr. Asterbilt
You have the wrong impression, Mr. Benson. This commission form of government consists of several committees of three men each and each committee has some special phase of city work to look after, such as streets, parks, public health, etc.
Ethel
Father, you’ll have to be reading up a little, so you’ll know which way to vote at the election.
Mr. Benson
Rubbing his feet.
Guess you’re right, Ethel.
Mrs. Asterbilt
Miss Benson, I don’t think I have seen you at any of the balls this winter—it must be that you haven’t been introduced yet, for young ladies are in quite a demand. I believe you would be a very graceful dancer.
Ethel
I’ve been to a few social gatherings given by the young ladies’ society of our church—we’ve had some real nice times.
Mrs. Asterbilt
Those will do for some people, I suppose, but you’re charming enough to get into real society. I can give you the name of a fine dancing school where you can learn to dance in a very short time. They guarantee to get their pupils into society as soon as they have completed.
Mr. Benson
Has been rubbing his feet, now places them on the back of a chair.
These pavements just tear my feet to pieces every time I go for a walk. The cities talk about their improvements, why don’t they cover their walks with rubber so as to save one’s feet? I’d lots rather have an old cow path to walk on.
Ethel
Leaving room.
Father, may I see you for a moment?
Exit.
Mr. Benson
I’ll be back in a moment, just go right on visitin’.
Exit.
Mrs. Asterbilt
Do you folks like the city life better than the country life?
Mrs. Benson
I can’t say as we do—we miss our neighbors so.
Mrs. Asterbilt
You should get into society. We have some very cultured people in this city, with high social standings. Your daughter is good looking enough to marry a rich young man. You should give a ball in her honor.
Enter Hiram Johnson. He looks around the room much awed by its splendor.
Mrs. Benson
Rises to meet him.
Why, hello, Hiram.
Hiram
How do you do, Mary? Golly, but you have a swell home! A feller told me this was where you lived so I walked right in without knocking. This is a swell room—don’t you sorter feel like a snake in a bird’s nest?
Mrs. Benson
How did you happen to come here?
Hiram
I was just takin’ a little vacation to see the sights. Many of our learned men get much of their education just traveling.
Mrs. Benson
Meet our company, Hiram. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Asterbilt.
Hiram
Shaking hands in a friendly way.
I’m glad to know any one whose friends to John and Mary. I knowed they would soon get acquainted when they came here, for they’re so neighborly.
Enter Mr. Benson with house slippers on.
Mr. Benson
By jinks, if it ain’t Hiram.
Exit Mrs. Benson.
Hiram
Crossing to Benson.
Golly, John, you look like a house plant. I see right now that you’ll have to get more sunshine, or this here city life will get the best of you. How do you like the city life, anyway? Gee! but such a room!
Mr. Benson
The house is all right, but the life is pretty doggone dull.
Hiram
Just what I told your son, Harry. The conveniences are all right, but you’re just as much out of place as a pump handle on an ice house.
Mr. Benson
I suppose it is the only life for those that is brought up that way.
Hiram
Sure, but it’s just as hard for a farmer to get used to city ways as it is for a fish to get used to living on land.
Enter Mrs. Benson.
Mrs. Asterbilt
Mrs. Benson, I think we had better be going.
Mrs. Benson
Oh, you musn’t go so soon—I have ordered a light lunch.
Mrs. Asterbilt
But we ought to be going, and then you’ll want to be visiting with your neighbor.
Hiram
Don’t let me be causing you to leave, the more the merrier. I wouldn’t advise you to leave until after the lunch Mrs. Benson has prepared. She’s the finest cook round, they always calls on her to make the biscuits for the ladies’ aid doin’s at the church and picnics in the summer time. I’d advise you to stay.
Mr. Asterbilt
Mr. Johnson, I suppose you are taking a little vacation to get away from the monotony of the farm. It must be an awful dull place to spend one’s life in.
Hiram
By golly, you couldn’t pull me away from the farm with a train of cars. Why what have you got in the city that’s pleasant? Ye haven’t got anything but crowded streets and houses. Everything ye have is artificial. Why you talk about the monotony, I’d like to know where ye get any more than in the city. Why, everything in the city is always the same. Ye never have any change unless some one starts a fire to get some insurance and burns half the town down. Out in the country everything grows up new every spring and we have the pleasure of seem’ nature at its great work. What’s more pleasant than sowin’ a little seed and watchin’ hit go through all the stages till it gets to be a big plant? Why, look at these flowers—I bet John paid no less than a dollar a head for ’em. Out on the farm they will grow right in your own door yard. Ain’t that right, John?
Mr. Asterbilt
That may be true, but what about your long winter?
Hiram
Why, what can be more beautiful than to see nature asleep and covered with a blanket of snow? Why, it makes ye have a feelin’ ye can’t explain. And, golly, the feelin’ ye have when the sun begins removin’ the blanket and all nature begins to wake up again. It makes ye feel like ye’d been asleep with it and was wakin’ up with it and fresh for work. There’s nothin’ like it. Ain’t that right, John?
A maid enters carrying a tray full of large meat sandwiches.
Maid
Har your sanvitches bane vot yu vanted.
Mrs. Benson
Taking tray and offering them to Mrs. Asterbilt.
Won’t you have one?
Mrs. Asterbilt
No, thanks. Really, Mrs. Benson, we must be going. We have had a very delightful time. Will you ring for our cloaks?
Mrs. Benson
Placing biscuits on table.
I’m sorry you people have to leave so soon.
Rings for Walter.
Mrs. Asterbilt
I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you, Mrs. Benson, by our not being here for dinner.
Mrs. Benson
Oh no, not at all. We were only going to have some sausage and sour kraut. They’re not as good as what we make on the farm, but I thought perhaps you’d like that better than anything.
Enter Walter. Hiram takes a biscuit from tray and begins eating.
Mrs. Benson
Bring their wraps, Walter.
Hiram
Mary, you sure haven’t forgot how to make those biscuits you used to make.
Mrs. Benson
But, Hiram, I didn’t make them. We have a maid to do the work here.
Mr. Benson
Yes, and by jinks, we haven’t had a good meal since.
Hiram
By golly, that’s right, there isn’t anything like home cookin’. Ye ought ter be back on the farm where ye can have eggs and bakin’ powder biscuits and honey for breakfast—a nice young fried rooster for dinner with good old white gravy, mashed potatoes, dressin’ and dumplin’s.
Mr. Asterbilt
Mr. Benson, here is my card. I’m running for commissioner of city improvement. Hope I may have your vote at the election.
Mr. Benson
If you are a Republican, you can count on it.
Mr. Asterbilt
Smiling.
Politically, I am.
Enter butler with wraps.
Mrs. Benson
Taking wraps and dismissing butler. Hands wraps to guests.
Now that you’ve made a start, I hope you will come often.
Mr. Benson
Sure, drop in often, and don’t wait for to be asked; ye’re welcome any time.
Mrs. Asterbilt
Thank you very much. (To husband) Are you ready? (Bowing to Mr. and Mrs. Benson.) Good evening.
Exeunt Mrs. Asterbilt and Mrs. Benson.
Mr. Asterbilt
Shaking hands with Mr. Benson.
Good night, Mr. Benson.
Mr. Benson
Good night.
Mr. Asterbilt
Good night, Mr. Johnson. I’m glad I met you.
Hiram
Same to you. Meetin’ a new friend gives me as much joy as findin’ a dollar bill in my pocket that I didn’t know I had there. If ye ever get out my way drop in and see me.
Exeunt Mr. Asterbilt and Mr. Benson.
Enter Ethel.
Ethel
Well, if it isn’t Hiram! What possessed you to come to the city?
Hiram
Just travelin’ round a little.
Ethel
I didn’t suppose you traveled very much.
Hiram
We didn’t use to, but now we take a trip most every year back to old Ohio. Back to the old neighborhood where we were born and married. So ye haven’t got married yet, have ye? Most birds finds a mate when they get full feathered. Looks like you’d be catchin’ some of these rich city fellers. They could line yer nest with feathers.
Ethel
Oh yes, no doubt they could. How did you leave everybody at home?
Hiram
Just like a rose in July. Saw your brother Harry the day before I left. He sent a letter down for you. Said ter be sure and give it ter you and not let the folks see it.
Ethel
Opens letter and reads to self—then to Hiram.
Oh, Hiram, listen to this.
Enter Mr. and Mrs. Benson unobserved—stop and listen as Ethel reads. Ethel reading.
I take it from your last letter, that the folks are out of place in the city and discontented. I’m not surprised—in fact I looked for you to write and tell me before, but I suppose you thought I couldn’t do anything. But listen, I can and I am. I have it all planned. Just across the road on the south quarter there is a piece of a building spot. I was talking with the carpenters yesterday and they said they would be able to start building the house next week. I have let them suffer as long as I can. Out here they won’t have anything to do but to look after themselves and enjoy life where they know how.
Mr. Benson
By jingo and jumpin’ John Rogers, I’m goin’ to-morrow.
Curtain.