Yuletide entertainments

by Ellen M. Willard

MRS. RANDY’S CHRISTMAS.

A Christmas Play in One Scene.

Eight Characters; Three Adults, Two Little Boys and Three Little Girls.

Mrs. Randy		The Mother
Mrs. Van Dusen	⎫	Visitors
Mrs. Graham	⎭
Mary	⎫	Mrs. R.’s Children
Susie	⎪
Annie	⎬
Teddy	⎪
Johnnie	⎭

Stage setting: A bare room with one pine table and two chairs. Mrs. R. is seated by the table darning stockings. Her work basket is on the table.

Mrs. Randy. Dear me! How late it’s a-gettin’. I just have got to finish this mendin’ before the children get home, ’cause they’ll distract me so I don’t know what I’m doin’.

This is the first day I’ve had at home in goodness knows when, ’ceptin’ Sundays, of course, and there’s enough needs doin’ here to keep a dozen busy.

Now let’s see. Tomorrow’s Christmas, and I ain’t got nothin’ to speak of ready for the children. I thought I’d ’a been able to save just a little by now; but that winder Teddy broke took all I’d laid by to pay for it; and the spankin’ he got didn’t pay it back neither.

So here I be, stockin’s most mended, but just about nothin’ to put in ’em. There’s those red apples Mrs. Jones gave me yesterday, and there’s that pair of white kid gloves I’ve been savin’ for most two years. I was goin’ to wait till Mary got a little bigger ’fore I gave ’em to her, but I guess she’ll have to be big enough now. She’ll be real proud to have a pair of white kid gloves, like what real ladies wear. I know these are genooine, for the lady what wore ’em gave ’em to me. Then I was plannin’ to buy a fine silk tie for Teddy, but now I can’t, so I’ll just see what I can do with that old one that used to be his father’s.

But there isn’t anything for the little ones, and now I can’t buy ’em anything. I must do something, but I surely don’t know what.

Teddy (rushing in excitedly). Ma! Just look! There’s a fine motor car stopped out in the street.

Mary (following). And Ma! See! A fine lady is gettin’ out.

Mrs. R. Well, if she ain’t a-comin’ right in here. Run out, quick, all of you. You ain’t one of you dressed fit to be seen by a lady like that. (A knock—she shoos them out.) And I ain’t fit neither. Oh, my! (She turns her apron wrong side out, hastily picks up some stockings from the floor. Another knock. She opens door.) How d’ye do? Won’t you come in? It’s a fine day, ain’t it?

Mrs. Van (steps one step inside the door). I believe you are the person who takes care of the rooms occupied by the “Ladies’ Literary Club,” are you not?

Mrs. R. Yes, ma’am. There ain’t nothin’ wrong, is there?

Mrs. V. (ignoring her question as before). I am Mrs. Van Dusen, of the charitable committee of the club. I presume you have some children?

Mrs. R. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Van Dusen. I am Mrs. Randy. Yes, I have five children.

Mrs. V. Oh, yes. (Aside.) What large families these people have. I see my surmise was correct. I presume you have nothing ready for their Christmas?

Mrs. R. Yes, I have for two of ’em, though it ain’t what I’d like. See. (Showing the gloves.) Mary’ll be real pleased to have these. They’re real ladies’ gloves, ain’t they?

Mrs. V. Don’t say “ain’t.” It’s bad grammar and it gets on my nerves. (Looks at gloves through lorgnette.) Goodness! Those dirty things? You ought at least to send them to the cleaners first, though even then they are in dreadfully bad taste. But I must go, for I have other charitable calls to make. Here is money to buy something for the children. (Hands a coin from her purse.)

Mrs. R. Thank you; but I’d rather not. We’d a-done somehow if you hadn’t called.

Mrs. V. Now, Mrs. Randy, don’t be foolish. You know it is wrong to be proud, and it is especially unbecoming to the poor. (Puts money on the table.) Now you can get presents for them and say they came from Mrs. Van Dusen. Goodby. (Exit.)

Mrs. R. Well, I s’pose she means to be kind, but I must say I don’t think she knows how very well. I didn’t want to take her money, but now I’ll have to. I wish Providence didn’t provide in such queer ways, sometimes. Well—as she says—it’s wrong to be proud, so I’ll get something with it. (Picks up the coin.) Fifty cents. Now ain’t that fine? Why, I can buy some presents and most a Christmas dinner, too. But I must get the children to bed early so I can fix things up. (Calls at the door.) Mary! Teddy! Oh, children! All of you come in now. (Children enter.)

Mary. Who was that lady, Ma?

Teddy. What did she come for, anyway?

Johnny. Gee! But wasn’t that a swell automobile, though!

Annie and Susie. Ma, who was it?

Mrs. R. Just you wait till tomorrow an’ see. It’s a secret now, and if you ask another word I won’t tell at all. Were you playin’ with the Smith youngsters?

Mary. Yes. An’ oh, Ma. They’re a-goin’ to hang up their stockin’s. Can’t we hang up ours, too?

Mrs. R. Now, I just wondered if you’d remember about tonight’s being Christmas Eve, and you did, didn’t you?

Mary. Yes, of course.

Teddy. You bet.

Mrs. R. We ain’t got no chimney, and Santa Claus can’t come that way, but you just hang ’em on the back of the chair and I’ll leave the door open so he can get in that way, and I hope he’ll not forget and pass us by. Now, Mary, here’s a stockin’ for you. The foot is too full of holes for you to wear ’em, or me to darn ’em; so I just sewed it across the heel, and it’ll have to do. Teddy, I must have lost your other stockin’; anyway I can’t find ’em now, so you can just use this old sock that used to be your father’s before he went to the Philippines. And here are your stockin’s, Johnnie, and Susie and Annie. (Helps pin them up.) Now you all get to bed quick’s you can. Mary, you look after the little ones, won’t you? You see, I’ve got so much to do to make things tidy for Santa Claus, that I can’t bother ’bout ’em. Now just scoot! All of you. And don’t you dare peek, or Santa Claus won’t leave you nothin’. (All hurry off. Mrs. R. opens the table drawer and takes out gloves and tie and places them on the chair, gets apples and puts in the stockings, also.) Now that ain’t enough for ’em all, so I’ll go buy somethin’ with that money. (Musingly.) Let me see. Oh, yes; I know. (Door opens and Teddy puts head in, saying, “Ma.” Mrs. R. slams drawer shut and hurriedly covers chair with apron, then answers, “What?”).

Teddy. Ma, where’s my nightgown?

Mrs. R. Land sakes, Teddy. I forgot. I lent it to Mrs. McRoy to cut a pattern for Joe, an’ I s’pose she forgot to bring it back.

Teddy. But Ma, what’ll I do?

Mrs. R. Wear Johnnie’s other one.

Teddy. Can’t. It’s too little.

Mrs. R. Well, then wear Mary’s other one, but for goodness sakes go to bed or Santa Claus won’t never come. (Children go out.) Now I’ll go over to the store and get some things. I’ve a fine idea. (Puts on shawl and hat, takes basket.) I’ll be back in a minute, and they won’t know I’ve been away. (Exit. After a moment the door opens and Mary puts her head in. Dodges back and then enters in nightdress. Closes door and starts to go toward the table, when the door opens again and Teddy starts in. She motions him back, tries to push him out, then pulls him in and both go to the table. The door again opens and the others come in in their nightgowns. All go toward the table on tip-toe, stop and listen and rush out. After a pause the children come cautiously in and get nearly to the table when they hear their mother coming, and rush out again. Mrs. R. enters with a loaded basket on her arm, sets it on the table.)

Mrs. R. There we are. Things for a good dinner, anyhow. I know what I’ll do for the playthings. (Takes off shawl and hat, sits down and works. Directions for this at the end.) Susie always did want a doll baby, and here’s one she can’t smash. (She works with frequent pauses, holding up her work from time to time.) I think that is real scrumptious. I’ve seen ’em in stores lots of times that didn’t look a mite better. Won’t she be tickled? And I’ve thought how to make a elephant just like the one in the store that Joe’s been begging for. Here’s just the thing. Queer how things grow sometimes. You can work hard and you can’t do no better than nature. See that now! You never know what you can do till you try. ’Tain’t quite what I wanted, but it’ll have to do. Leastwise it’s all he’ll get, so he’d better like it. There’s Annie, now. She’s allus beggin’ for something pretty, so I got her some beautiful tissue paper to cut out fancy. (Takes paper from basket.) It only cost three cents, and she’ll be just happy. (She begins to put things in stockings. Knock at door. She opens door to a lady.) How do you do, Miss? Have you lost your way? I can show you real easy.

Mrs. Graham. Thank you, but I think this is where I wanted to come. Aren’t you Mrs. Randy, the mother of little Mary and Teddy, and Susie, Annie and Johnny?

Mrs. R. Yes, ma’am, they are my little folks. I hope they haven’t broken anything, or made any trouble. Are you one of the school teachers or anything like that? How did you know them?

Mrs. G. Oh, no. I’m not a school teacher; only a friend of one of the teachers; and as I have no little children of my own I wanted to find some little folks to help have a good time this Christmas. Just think how lonely it would be not to have any children to share your Christmas with. So I am going to ask you to let me have the pleasure of giving something to yours. Won’t you? Please let me, Mrs. Randy.

Mrs. R. Well, I must say that it’s very kind and friendly of you to want to do that; and when you ask it that way, of course I’ll let you if it will give you pleasure, though I must say I would hate to take presents from some. But you don’t know how thankful I am, for the children’s sake. I just didn’t know what I was going to do for some of them.

Mrs. G. Don’t say any more about it, please, but put these little things with the others in their stockings tonight, and say they came from Santa Claus. Wouldn’t you like to wear these yourself? (Hands her the red holly berries from her own dress.) They will be becoming to you. Good-night, and a merry Christmas.

Mrs. R. Thanks, ma’am. The same to you and many of ’em. (Exit Mrs. G.) There now, just look at that. (Surveying the parcels.) I ought to be pretty kind if I am to deserve such a friend. How different she is from that Mrs. Van Dusen. Why, I declare. She didn’t even tell me her name. I guess she wasn’t thinkin’ much about herself. Well, this surely does make me happy. I wonder what’s in this bundle. (Opens it, admires things, fills stockings.) And now, so much has happened that I should be perfectly happy if I could only get word from my John in the Philippines. It’s been so long since I heard from him that I can’t help bein’ worried ’bout him. Seems as if he surely wouldn’t let Christmas go by without sendin’ me word—if he’s alive—but it’s been so long—(knock at the door. A voice asks, “Is this Flower Street?”) No, this ain’t Flower Street. You’ve got a long way off. You go down that way (pointing) nearly half a mile and you’ll cross it. Good-night. (Comes in and sits down again.) Dear me. That gave me quite a turn. I must be gettin’ silly tonight, but it does seem as if my John was a-comin’—or was near—or somethin’. (Knock at the door, which she opens to receive a telegram, which she reads, then waves it over her head, calling to the children, who run in in their nightgowns.) Oh, hurry! Merry Christmas! Oh, just think! Your father is comin’ tomorrow!

Children (dancing around the chair). Santa Claus has been here already! Hurrah! Hurrah! Merry Christmas!

CURTAIN.

DIRECTIONS.

When Mrs. Randy returns from her purchase of Christmas things, she lays aside her hat and shawl, sits down and takes a clothes-pin or a potato from the basket. If a potato is used, one of the odd-shaped ones with a small, round knob at one end, which can be made to look like the head of the doll, is best. Then out of the table drawer she takes some pieces of bright cloth and dresses the potato, or clothes-pin, for a doll, tying on a skirt with a string, folding a square of cloth for a shawl and pinning it on the shoulders, and folding another piece for a bonnet, and tying it on with a bit of string. No sewing is needed.

The elephant for Joe is made of potatoes or carrots. A large oblong one is the body; a small long one is the trunk, fastened to the body by long wire nails or brads. In the same way four small ones form the legs of the beast; two large, black-headed pins are the eyes, and two flaps of brown paper, pinned on, the ears. A square of red cloth is a blanket for the back, and is pinned to place. The tail is a bit of string with ravelled end.

These things made, as she talks, with fitting pauses, and held up to view, cause much merriment among the children in the audience.