PATSY O’WANG.
Scene—Doctor Fluke’s office. Main entrance L., private consultation room R., massage and electric room entrance D. F. R. C. Table C., with old papers and magazines. Small bookcase with books, or shelves with bottles at option, by flat L. C. Diploma on wall. Sign on door “Dr. Fluke, hours 12 to 4.” Settee, R.
Mrs. F. (Discovered as curtain arises.) Well, Dr. Fluke, I shant take the responsibility of having a Chinaman in the house.
Dr. F. My dear, don’t be absurd! There’s no responsibility in the case. Out in California, you know, people are charmed with Chinese cooks. Why, your sister couldn’t be induced to part with Weak Lung.
Mrs. F. Maria always was eccentric.
Dr. F. But you know, darling, we have tried everything but the Chinese—Irish, Swede, German, French, African, Yankee—that’s so as we haven’t had any Hindoos yet nor Cannibal Islanders.
Mrs. F. Dear me! It makes me weary to think of it. Why can’t we get along with Norah?
Dr. F. (Sarcastically.) Or transform Mike into a cook.
Mrs. F. Now you are absurd, Henry. I’ll wash my hands of the whole affair.
Dr. F. My dear, that is just what I wanted you to say.
Mrs. F. Indeed, then you needn’t have asked my opinion at all.
Dr. F. I am sure this Patsy O’Wang is a treasure.
Mrs. F. (In astonishment.) Patsy O’Wang! Patsy doesn’t sound very Chinese.
Dr. F. But he has a history.
Mrs. F. Oh indeed! That’s rather a doubtful accomplishment for a cook.
Dr. F. Quite the contrary! Harriet, I tell you that I’ve found a treasure. Let me read you what Major Barker says in his letter recommending Chin Sum.
Mrs. F. Chin Sum! I thought you said his name was—what barbarous name did you say?
Dr. F. (Laughing.) Patsy O’Wang! but that’s only a nick-name. The Chinese of it is Chin Sum. Now Chin is the son of a wild Irish officer in the tenth Artillery stationed formerly at Hong Kong. His mother was a pretty Chinese girl.
Mrs. F. (Surprised.) Well, did you ever!
Dr. F. My dear, I admit that there is a slight flaw in his pedigree. (Looking at letter.) But let me skip all that. Major Barker speaks of him in the most extravagant terms—(reading): “The best cook I ever saw,” “the most obedient servant,” “the most affectionate creature”; (triumphantly) isn’t that enough?
Mrs. F. I suppose so since apparently it is all settled.
Dr. F. There’s more.
Mrs. F. Never mind, skip it.
Dr. F. Eh, what’s this? “Never under any circumstances let him taste a drop of whiskey.”
Mrs. F. Humph, then you’ll have to keep him and Mike apart.
Dr. F. (Reads to himself.) Really that is surprising.
Mrs. F. What’s surprising?
Enter Norah, L.
Dr. F. Nothing, my dear (reads). “The remedy is”—
Norah. If you plaze, sor, the Chinee cook has come.
Dr. F. All right, Norah, show him his room and then take him to the kitchen. My dear will you install him?
Mrs. F. No indeed! You may do that, Henry, till he gets a start. Decidedly I feel nervous with a Chinaman in the kitchen. Who knows but he may poison us all.
Norah. (Re-enter with card.) If you plaze, Mrs. Fluke, Miss Simper’s at the dure.
Mrs. F. Show her in, Norah, at once. (Exit Norah, L.) Now she will be trying to convert him.
Enter Miss Simper, L.
Mrs. F. I’m delighted to see you, Miss Simper.
Miss S. Thank you! I just run in for a minute. Good morning, Dr. Fluke.
Dr. F. Good morning, Miss Simper. How charming you look. That tonic benefited you greatly. Shall I change the prescription?
Miss S. (Hastily.) No, thank you, I have come to-day in the interest of the missionary cause.
Mrs. F. Wont you step back into the parlor where we can talk at leisure?
Miss S. Oh no, I’m in a dreadful hurry. The African Argonauts meet at eleven and I preside. We start our first worker to Ashantee to-morrow. At 4 p. m. the Mongolian Mediators have a meeting and at 8 p. m. is the debate in which we shall answer the Cannibal Calumniators.
Dr. F. You are a very busy bee, Miss Simper.
Miss S. No, I’ve resigned from the Busy Bees; concentrating you see. They say you have a new Chinese cook, Mrs. Fluke.
Mrs. F. Not I. He’s the doctor’s importation. Talk to him.
Miss S. (Enthusiastically.) Oh doctor, tell me all about him. My heart bleeds for the millions of Asia who sit in outer darkness.
Dr. F. My dear Miss Simper, he is a gold nugget; he will be a capital acquisition in your mission school, so intelligent, so docile, so affectionate, so—so—
Miss S. Just so. Oh, I’m perfectly delighted. Doctor, does he—ah—has he doffed the Chinese garb yet and donned the raiment of civilization?
Dr. F. Blessed if I know. I’ll call him in and introduce him at once. (Rings.)
Miss S. Do so. I was just going to ask that very favor. I’m sure he will agreeably surprise us all.
Dr. F. He will. (Norah enters L.) Bring Chin Sum here.
Mrs. F. I hope the wretch doesn’t smoke opium.
Dr. F. Harriet, don’t expose your ignorance. That is done in joints.
Mrs. F. What kind of joints?
Dr. F. Blessed if I know, bamboo joints possibly. I hear the Chinese do most everything with bamboo except to fight Japan. They did that in their minds.
Enter Norah followed by Chin.
Dr. F. Chin Sum, I want to introduce you to my wife; by the way, I think I will call you Patsy. Wife, our new servant Patsy O’Wang. (Mrs. F. surveys him in silence.)
Patsy. (Puts left hand to heart and bows.) Velly much glad see Missee Fluke.
Dr. F. And this is Miss Simper, a mission young lady.
Patsy. Vellee nice mission gull (girl).
Miss S. (Blushing.) Mr. O’Wang, you’re so gallant. Promise me to come to Bible class next Sunday.
Patsy. Sooh thing!
Miss S. How intelligent!
Patsy. Leadee all same Biblee in Flisco?
Miss S. I don’t understand him. (Turns enquiringly to Dr.)
Dr. F. Yes, Patsy, they read the same Bible as they do in Frisco.
Patsy. Sing velly nice hymn-song all same day?
Dr. F. Yes!
Patsy. Chin Sum make be school boy next Sunday all same day.
Dr. F. (Looks at watch.) Patients will be coming soon. Patsy, I’ll show you the kitchen and tell you what to prepare for dinner to-day, after that Mrs. Fluke—
Mrs. F. Oh dear!
Miss S. How charming! So childlike!
Patsy. (Grins.) All samee lika big man-shile? No catchee what say.
Dr. F. Patsy, go to the kitchen, I’ll be there in a minute. (Dr. goes into office changes coat, putting on light jacket, hanging coat in office. Follows Patsy out L.)
Norah and Mike heard D. F.
Mrs. F. Here are the attendants getting the baths ready. Come into the house. It may be all right but I’m afraid.
Miss S. What, afraid of Chin! I shall call him Chin, poor boy. I think those Chinese names perfectly lovely. So brief, so simple, so childlike. Chin! just think! so expressive.
Mrs. F. (As they go, L.) And those horrid stories of rats and opium.
Miss S. I don’t believe a word of it. (Exeunt, L.)
Enter Mike and Norah from D. F.
Norah. What do you think, Mike, of havin’ a Chinee cook in the house?
Mike. Ah Norah, it’s an outrage, that’s the whole blissid truth. To think of a blackgyard haythen cookin’ for dacint people.
Norah. It’s a disgrace, I’ll give notice, I will—
Mike. I’ll not ate a bit o’ his dirthy cookin’, faith I’ll not.
Norah. But what’ll ye do. Them that works must eat.
Mike. (Winking.) O’im all right as long as free lunches hold out.
Norah. Free lunches ye’d better let alone, Mike.
Mike. Norah, it’s not the lunches that afficts me. It’s what goes with thim.
Norah. Last time you know, Dr. Fluke said you’d have to leave if you got drunk again.
Mike. It’s a bit o’ charity the doctor needs. Ivery mon has some wakeness.
Norah. And woman is weak too, so just carry out that box of bottles for me, I’ll have to wash them here. The doctor has some of his truck in the laboratory.
Mike. He’ll be blowin’ the whole place up yit with his dinnymite an’ farmacopy. (Brings out bottles and sets box L. up.)
Norah. Mike, ye’d better get ready for Mr. Boyler. He’ll be here pretty soon for his electricity and that Englishman will want his bawth. (Norah washing bottles.)
Mike. Faith it’s enough to try the patience of ould Job himself. Begob, Job never was docthor’s assistant. I regret I iver intered the midical profession. Ivery toime I look at ould Boyler he sez, Mike, ye’ve hurt me rheumatiz again.
Norah. Mike, you are too strong, you must be careful.
Mike. Faith I handle him just like a new born baby, or like the egg with the chick unborn. But the ould badger’s that tender I’m mortally afraid he’ll go all to pieces in the bath tub.
Norah. Mr. Boyler complains to Doctor Fluke that you are too rough.
Mike. Too rough, is it! Faith he’ll have to be packed in cotton nixt. The Docthor was after tellin’ me to stretch Boyler’s limbs gintly loike an’ I tuk hold av his arm with one hand and his shoulther with the other like this and pulled like this, sort o’ bracin’ mysilf loike with one fut forinst the tub. I’m a thafe if some jint or other didn’t snap like a pistol. I was so scared that I dropped the ould bundle in the wather hid over ears. I thought he was goin’ to exshplode right there in me hands.
Norah. (Laughing.) What did he say?
Mike. I don’t know what he intinded to say. He sthrangled.
Norah. Why, was he under the water so long as that?
Mike. No, indade it wasn’t the wather. It was the strong language. He is that way sometimes when his emotions overcome him. When the ould sinner gets to swearin’, he can’t stop till he sthrangles. After that he’s very paceable for a shpell.
Norah. But he’s awful good in spite of his rough ways. He gives you many a quarter.
Mike. That he does and I couldn’t think more of an only child if I had wan nor an only father ayther for that matter. I’m prayin’ for him night an’ day. If he survives these baths and the alectricity an’ the drugs and the plasthers, it’ll be a great triumph of the midical profession. There he comes now, I hear his cane on the walk.
Enter Boyler, L., limping and twisted with rheumatism.
Boyler. Good morning, Mike, good morning, Norah.
Mike. Mornin’, sir. Begob, ye’re spry as a kitten this marnin’. I thought it was the milkman whin I heerd yez.
Boyler. Mike, try to be careful to-day. You rubbed my right side yesterday till I think you started all my ribs.
Norah. Do be gentle, Mike.
Mike. I’ll be as tender—as tender as a shpring chicken. It’s alictricity, sor, to-day?
Boyler. So it is, I forgot.
Mike. The docthor said yez couldn’t stand another bath to-day. (Catching himself.) I mane ye’re improvin’ till yez don’t nade it. (Leads B. into D. F. to operating room.)
Norah. (Washing bottles.) Such dirty bottles. The labels ain’t half soaked off and the half of them look greasy. (Sound of machine humming.) Boyler groans: “Oh! Mike, that’s too strong.”
Norah. Poor man, I wonder if it does him any good?
Enter Patsy O’Wang, L.
Patsy. Ilish gal! Monnin’, Nolee.
Norah. (Looks up.) What’s that?
Patsy. All samee nice day.
Norah. Go back with yez to the kitchen.
Patsy. Chin Sum want see.
Enter Mike from D. F.
Mike. Yez want to see? All right ye shall see. That (Points R. door.) is the Docthor’s private consultification room. Nobody but himself and patients and mimbers of the profession like mesilf go in there. (B. calls “Mike.”) Back there is the operating room. Whin yez git hurted that’s where they saw yer leg off.
Patsy. (Starting.) What time saw leg?
Mike. Ony toime.
Patsy. Who leg?
Mike. Begob, onbody’s if they can pay for the job. (B. impatiently calls “Mike, Mike!”)
Mike. Comin’, sor.
Patsy. (Sees machine through door.) What machine? All samee lope loun wheel.
Mike. (Scratching his head.) I’m thinkin’ it would take a Frinchman or a Dago to talk to the haythen.
Patsy. Lope loun wheel. (Makes sign of turning.)
Mike. He wants to turn a bit. Begob, yez may turn awhile.
Norah. Be careful, Mike. The doctor wouldn’t like it. (They enter D. F.)
Mike. (Voice heard.) Turn aisy loike. It’s great shport. (Patsy turns machine.)
Re-enter Mike.
Norah. Doctor wouldn’t like your letting that Chinee boy meddle here.
Mike. I’ve a bit of an arrant. He may turn till I get back. (Exit L.)
Norah. Worry now! These be a bad lot of bottles. (Drops one and breaks it.) There, I’ve broken one. (B. groans “Hold, that’s too fast.” Patsy turns faster. B. yells “stop.” Chinaman does not understand. B. screams in pain, “stop, you scoundrel!”)
Norah. Oh dear, there they go. I knew there would be trouble. (Calls D. L.) “Mike, Mike, come quick. Where is the doctor? He ought to be here.” (Runs out L.)
Boyler. (Gets up, and crash of chair upsetting.) You Mongolian idiot. (Comes out D. F.) Where is that rascally Irishman? (Patsy follows out, looks puzzled.) John, you are a fool.
Patsy. (Grins.) My name not John. Name in Chinee Chin Sum. Melican name Patsy O’Wang.
B. Stop your chatter, you mummy, you saffron colored rat catcher! Where is that rascal of a Mike? When I get well it’ll be a bad day for him. I’ll murder that man yet. (Dances around.) How my nerves thrill, oh! oh! (Seizes left leg and dances around on right.) The liniment! No attendance here. I’ll sue Fluke for damages. Here, you moon-faced Mongolian monkey! What are you grinning at? Do you see that bottle of liniment? (Points with cane to bottle on shelf.)
Patsy. Heap bottle, one time, whichee?
B. That one! bring it in and rub me. I’m on fire.
Patsy. Melican man hot like old boy; all bun up.
Boyler. I’ll die in this infernal torture chamber. (Roars.) Bring the bottle! (Enters D. F. growling and holding leg.)
Patsy. (Takes brandy bottle, uncorks, smells.) Um! Hong Kong blandy! make toddy likee time in Hong Kong. Dlink heap toddy. (Takes drink, rubs stomach.) Um! velly good.
B. (Calls.) Hurry up, you! What on earth are you doing?
Patsy. (Takes bottle of liniment, enters D. F. Rubs B., who gives grunts of satisfaction. Patsy runs out, takes another drink, rubs stomach, runs back again, rubs B. Business ad lib.)
Enter Mike suddenly, followed by Norah, L. They surprise Patsy with bottle.
Mike. Put that down, ye haythen!
Patsy. Ilishman dlunk! (Runs back and turns handle furiously.)
Norah. Do ye hear that, Mike? That Chinaman’s goin’ to ruin the place! Oh, do stop him.
Mike. Let the haythen airn his wages. (Piercing shrieks from B.)
Norah. Oh Mike, do stop him. He’ll kill Mr. Boyler.
Mike. (Unconcernedly.) Faith, that’s nothin’. That’s the way the ould badger goes on ivery day if I only touch a bit av a sore spot. A good shakin’ up’ll benefit him greatly. I think he’ll be ready nixt for the bat’s liver oil.
Norah. Merciful powers! Did ye say bat’s liver oil?
Mike. Bat’s liver oil, I said. (Patsy comes out to make sneak for bottle, Mike turns and sees him.) Hould on there, Patsy! The docthor and meself have institooted a regular coorse (B. yells) “Mike, where are you?” Here, sor. (To Norah.) First comes the hot bath at noinety noine degrays Farenhot, followed by pullin’ the limbs, on the injy rubber plan. (Business of stretching patient’s arm.) Nixt is the alictricity an’ liniment; thin comes the bat’s liver oil.
Norah. An’ what will be next?
Mike. That’s a saycret like the Kaly cure.
Norah. Tell me wont you Mike?
Mike. Yis, if yez wont tell onybody. (Approaches her and puts up hand to her ear, then in very loud distinct stage whisper.) Sand paper!
Norah. Go ’long with yez. (Slaps him.)
B. (Inside.) Murder! Oh! oh! You infernal scoundrel. (Great racket of B. getting out of chair. Patsy comes out flying with B. after him. They come down C. B. strikes Patsy with cane. Patsy grabs at cane and pulls B.’s wig off. Runs with it into office, R., and closes door as B. throws cane after him.)
Mike. Thank God he’s cured! He’s throwed away the cane. (B. clutches at Mike’s throat, Mike dodges.) Aisy sor, aisy, ye’re all right now.
B. (Speaks with difficulty.) You villain! My leg is on fire. (Makes after Mike, chases him round the table.)
Mike. I belave it, sor. It’s a very lively leg, Mr. Boyler. (They stop, Mike next L. B. R. of table.)
B. (Trying to speak but can not for rage and excitement.) Oh, you—you—
Mike. Aisy sor, careful sor. Wont ye step into the office and write a bit of a tistimonial for the inshtitootion? (B. shakes his fist at him, speechless.)
Norah. Oh dear, we’re all ruined. He’ll tell the Doctor.
Mike. Whist, he’s stranglin’ now. It is the profanity. He’s often took that way. (Patsy in office utters a loud whoop.)
Norah. Where is the Doctor. Everything’s going to ruin. (Runs out L. Another whoop in office. B. frantically rubbing lame leg.)
Mike. That haythen is gettin’ gay. I’ll tache him a lesson he won’t forget soon. I’ll tache him to stay in the kitchen. (Goes toward office door.)
B. (Recovers speech.) I’ll have you arrested, you villain, for malpractice.
Mike. Malpractice! What sort o’ practice is that?
B. You are a pair of knaves. (In excitement puts down lame leg.)
Mike. What a wonderful cure. Beautiful! I’ll just kape this stick as a tistimonial.
B. None of your insolence. I’ll sue Doctor Fluke for damages, and as for you and that Chinaman, I’ll have you put in jail. (Going L.)
Mike. A beautiful cure, sor. Ye walk as straight as—as straight—as the moral law. Ye’d make an illegant drum-major.
B. (Snorts.) Drum-major! (Going.)
Mike. Wont yez take yer hat, sor? (Exit B. L. limping very little.) Now I’ll just settle with John Chinaman, bad cess to him.
Enter Patsy suddenly from office.
Patsy. Whoopee! Feel good! Allee same day feel bully! (Jumps from floor and kicks his wooden-soled shoes like an athlete.)
Mike. (Starting back.) Faith I think he’s possissed! (Patsy still clutches wig in left hand, seizes cane from table and jumps up again. Comes down with a whoop and makes a lightning shillelah pass at Mike’s head.)
Mike. The divil’s in him. I’d betther call the docthor. (Starts L. slowly at first with Patsy advancing. They keep eyes on each other and Mike gradually gets in a panic. He suddenly darts for door just as Patsy throws an empty bottle from table at his head. Bottle breaks outside with a crash.)
Patsy. (Comes down C.) It’s a bad head I have! Where am I? What am I? (Thinks a moment.) Now I have it. I’m an Irishman again. Is this Hong Kong? No, this is America. (Looks round.) A doctor’s shop! I was this way once before in Hong Kong when I got drunk in the barracks. Whiskey brings out the Irish in me. But they put me back. What did they give me? I can’t remember. My head’s all confused. (Hands to head.) Well, I wont be a Chinaman. I wont take a blessed drop of anything but poteen. I’ll get rid of this Chinese dress. I hate it. (Notices wig.) Just the thing! (Coils pig-tail up carefully on top of his head and puts on B.’s wig. Looks in hand glass that is on shelf.) Not so bad! Old coat, I’m done with you, too. (Throws of Chinese tunic. Gets doctor’s coat from nail inside office and puts it on. Looks in glass.) Not so bad a fit, though a bit too long in the tails. (Walks across stage.) Well now, aint I good enough Irish for New York or Chicago or Cork ayther? (Sees shoes.) Look at the bloody shoes. (Kicks them high in the air.) Off with ye. Cow leather’s good enough for me. (Goes in office and comes out with doctor’s shoes. Puts them on.) Now me toilet is more to me likin’. (Struts admiringly.) Let that ould bear come back an’ the doctor and his man. I’ll thrash the whole crowd if they lay hands on me.
Enter Mrs. Fluke, L.
Mrs. F. A patient? The doctor will soon be here. Have a seat, sir. (Notices oddity of Patsy’s appearance. Starts.) Oh! Who are you?
Patsy. Don’t be alarmed, madam. I’m Patsy O’Wang. I’m the new—No, indeed, I’m not that.
Mrs. F. The new cook, and crazy! Oh dear, I knew there’d be trouble. Oh, why doesn’t Dr. Fluke come!
Patsy. I beg, madam, that you do not give yourself any uneasiness about the doctor. He’ll soon be here, I assure you.
Mrs. F. He seems harmless. I declare if he hasn’t a wig! And as I live the doctor’s coat on. (Aside.) A robber in disguise.
Patsy. Madam, you are not well. (Politely.) I beg you to be seated. (Points to chair by table.)
Mrs. F. He’s very polite, at any rate. (During this dialogue Mrs. F. has been getting closer to door L. and at last darts out suddenly to surprise of Patsy.)
Patsy. There’s goes another! It’s not much confidence the new mistress has in me. They’re puttin’ a job up on me. What is it they gave me before? (Thinks.) I’d give a thousand dollars if I could only think of it.
Enter Dr. F. L. followed by Mrs. F., Norah, Mike, Miss Simper. Patsy runs into office R. and locks himself in.
Mrs. F. Doctor Fluke, I told you something would happen.
Dr. F. Pshaw, nothing has happened. Mike let him have whiskey.
Mrs. F. I told you so. The very thing he shouldn’t have had.
Dr. F. I’ll cure him quick enough, and Mike you are very careless.
Mike. I’m very sorry, sor, but I didn’t let him have the whiskey. Do yez think I’d be wastin’ good liquor on a Chinaman?
Mrs. F. But he’s got it now and what will you do, I’d like to know?
Dr. F. I’ll just give him the remedy spoken of by Major Barker.
Mrs. F. What is the remedy?
Dr. F. (Claps hand in pocket.) Where is that letter? Here’s a go! (Turns over papers on table looking for letter.)
Mrs F. Have you lost the letter?
Dr. F. It seems so. (Business of diving his hands into his pockets.) Oh, I have it!
Mrs. F. Read it then!
Dr. F. I mean, I know where it is. I changed coats.
Mrs. F. And Patsy has the coat on!
Dr. F. Well that is a situation!
Mrs. F. (Hysterically.) Now he’ll murder us all.
Dr. F. Nonsense! Major Barker says he’s the most affectionate creature.
Mrs. F. Major Barker, fiddlesticks!
Miss S. I am sure the major must be right. I do think the Chinese have such lovely dispositions.
Mrs. F. Miss Simper, you and the doctor fatigue me with such twaddle.
Dr. F. Mike, suppose you go into the office and ask him for my coat.
Mike. If you plaze, sor, I think my appearance excoites him a bit.
Miss S. Oh, let me go. (Starts.)
Mrs. F. Miss Simper, are you out of your senses? (Pulls her back.)
Dr. F. I will go in.
Mrs. F. (Pulling him back.) Henry, do you want to be murdered?
Dr. F. (Petulantly releasing himself.) Let me alone. (Goes toward door, knocks.) “Patsy! Patsy!”
Mrs. F. Oh rash man! Henry, I know we’ll all be killed in our tracks.
Miss S. Let me reason with him!
Mrs. F. Oh you silly goose. Do be quiet, wont you. What can he be doing? (All listen.) It’s as quiet as the grave. I’ll bet he’s taking poison in his desperation. Or hanging himself, may be.
Mike. There’s a noice bit o’ rope on the pulley machine.
Mrs. F. We’ll all be killed yet, I know. Miss Simper, save yourself. (Shoves Miss S. and Norah out, L.)
Dr. F. Harriet, there isn’t the slightest danger.
Mrs. F. Dr. Fluke, why do you stand there like a post? Why don’t you send for the police before that Chinaman does anything desperate? He is crazy and so are you.
Dr. F. Humph! He’s drunk!
Mrs. F. He’s crazy. Mike, run for the police.
Dr. F. Mike, stay where you are, to assist me.
Mrs. F. What are you going to do, Henry?
Dr. F. Going into that room. (Mrs. F. throws up her hands and then suddenly lays hold of Dr.’s coat tails.) Let me alone. (Breaking loose, raps on door; Mrs F. runs to door L. Dr. calls) “Patsy!” “Say! Chin Sum!” (Voice inside) “Sir.” Will you let me in? (Voice answers.) “No.” I don’t want to arrest you. (Voice indistinctly.) I give you my word of honor. What? Yes, I’ll send them all out.
Mrs. F. Indeed, I wont go out and see you killed.
Dr. F. Harriet, how could you see me killed if you went out. (Through door.) Yes, I’ll send them all. Mike go at once. Harriet, please go. He wont open the door till you all go. He is afraid we’ll take him to jail.
Mike. Sarve him good and roight, I say.
Mrs. F. Yes he ought to be jailed for acting that way. (Exit Mike to operating room, D. F.)
Dr. F. (Leads Mrs. F. out L., she, protesting, returns to office door, R.) Just hand my coat through the door, please. (Door opens and coat is pushed through.)
Dr. F. Now for the remedy! (Eagerly opens letter, reads.) “Affectionate creature.”
Mrs. F. (In door L.) Stuff!
Dr. F. Hum, “most confiding”—yes, it seems so. Oh, here it is.
Mrs. F. (Entering, eagerly.) What is it?
Dr. F. Harriet, why do you interrupt? Oh, here it is! “If he ever gets under the influence of liquor he labors under the strange delusion that he is an Irishman.”
Mrs. F. How absurd! He’s crazy, I’d call the police.
Dr. F. (Petulantly.) My dear, will you allow me? This is a very curious case. “The remedy is tea, plenty of strong tea.” How very simple. (Rings bell.) I’ll give him enough tea to settle him in short order.
Enter Norah, L.
Norah. What is it, sor? Is he still voilent?
Dr. F. Peaceful as a lamb! He wants tea.
Norah. Tay is it! Did yez iver—
Mrs. F. As well try a pinch of salt.
Dr. F. Don’t stand there talking, Norah. Bring the tea at once. Plenty of it! Strong! Just throw about half a pound into the tin pot and fill it with hot water.
Norah. The tin pot houlds a gallon, sor.
Dr. F. (Impatiently.) Will you obey orders? Go! Run! (Exit Norah grumbling, L.)
Mrs. F. Tea! The idea! (Follows Norah out L.)
Dr. F. (Pacing floor, excitedly.) This is a great case. I’ll write it up for the medical journals. A wonderful case—
Enter Boyler, L. angry.
B. All humbug, sir!
Dr. F. What’s that? Oh, it’s you, Mr. Boyler.
B. At last I’ve found you out, Dr. Fluke!
Dr. F. So it seems. Why bless me, if you aint cured. Walking without a cane!
B. Humbug! I said.
Dr. F. But it’s a fact!
B. You can’t hoodwink me, sir. You’re a charlatan!
Dr. F. Don’t be unreasonable!
B. Unreasonable! Oh, I can’t stand that. (Dr. laughs.) Gad, sir, you are actually laughing at my misfortunes. Do you call yourself a gentleman?
Dr. F. Cut all that! What do you complain of? You are cured.
B. Confound your cure. You first maltreat me, outrage my feelings and then laugh at me.
Dr. F. When has all this happened?
B. Every day for a month, Dr. Fluke. First you put a Hercules in the shape of a wild Irishman to rub me in the bath. He breaks every bone in my body by installments. Then he pummels me by degrees into a jelly.
Dr. F. Well, what did you expect, Mr. Boyler? This isn’t a kindergarten, and your rheumatism was a very obstinate case.
B. Obstinate case! Let me say, sir, you are a butcher and that Irishman is an executioner. To crown the indignity you set a crazy Chinaman to give me the electrical treatment. He runs a stream of liquid fire through my leg.
Dr. F. Which cured you completely!
B. Will you let me speak, sir? When I protest, the heathen doubles the quantity. Why gad, sir, it was something terrific. I saw the constellation of Orion in broad daylight.
Dr. F. Ah, it is a fine machine! A beauty!
B. (Laughs.) There you are wrong, for I smashed it to bits.
Dr. F. (Starting.) What’s that you say? My fine machine ruined? I’ll have damages, Mr. Boyler.
B. Damages! I shall sue you for $10,000 damages.
Dr. F. Do it, sir, do it! It’ll make my fortune. It will advertise the greatest cure of the age. Nothing like a law suit for advertising purposes. Wont you oblige me by breaking something else? Just upset those shelves, wont you? Throw my instrument case out of the window.
B. I’ll not do it. I wont gratify you. A gentleman can find other ways of avenging an insult. And then there’s my wig, too.
Dr. F. Where?
B. Where? Do you doubt my word? (Takes off hat and exposes shiny bald head.) Do you see that?
Dr. F. I see the head-piece but I don’t see any wig.
B. (Emphatically.) No, sir, you don’t see any wig. Your crazy Chinaman snatched it off my head and exposed me to the indignity of going home barehead in the public street.
Dr. F. You shouldn’t go out barehead, you may catch cold; I’ll not be responsible if you disobey orders.
B. And whose fault would it be?
Dr. F. Yours, of course.
B. Why, hang your assurance, Dr. Fluke.
Dr. F. I disapprove of your indiscretion.
B. (Excitedly.) Fluke, I don’t think I ever saw quite such monumental effrontery as yours. That wig cost me one hundred and fifty dollars, one of the very best make by the celebrated Toupee.
Dr. F. Oh, we’ll not haggle about trifles. I’ll credit it on the bill for the electric machine. That cost five hundred dollars.
B. (Gesticulating.) Credit it on the bill! That’s cool, why confound your insolence! I’ve a mind to cane you on the spot.
Dr. F. But you can’t, you see. You have no cane. You are cured.
B. (With a roar.) Oh, this man will put me crazy if I stay here much longer. You’ll hear from me again, Dr. Fluke. You are a quack. (Bolts toward door as—)
Enter Norah, L., with tray, milk jug, sugar bowl, spoons and plate of crackers. B. runs against her and sends things flying as he exits.
Norah. Well, did yez iver see such a cyclone! (Commences picking up things around the stage.)
Enter Mike, L., carrying big tin tea-pot full of hot tea.
Mike. Begorrah, it was lucky I was carryin’ the tay pot or there’d been a Noah’s flood o’ tay.
Norah. Must I get more crame, Docthor?
Mike. It’s aisy to pick that up with a spoon.
Mrs. F. and Miss S. appear timidly at door, L.
Dr. F. Bother the cream. It’s the tea I want. Put the things on the table. Now I’ll get him to come out.
Mrs. F. Henry, do you think he’ll hurt you?
Miss S. The idea! Poor abused thing!
Dr. F. Clear out, you women. Do you want to frighten him? (Exeunt Mrs. F. and Miss S.) Mike, go in the operating room to be ready for emergencies. (Mike enters D. F. and peeps out from time to time, as do the two ladies, L.) Norah, you be ready to serve the tea. I’ll drink some to make believe. Be cool, don’t lose your head.
Norah. (Arranging tea things.) Yis, sor, but I can’t guarantee to kape me head if that ould cyclone blows in again.
Dr. F. (Knocks at office door.) Patsy, come out please. It’s nearly dinner time. (Voice indistinctly inside.) What’s that? Yes, I’m all alone, that is, Norah is here, too. (Door opens cautiously. Patsy looks out, then comes out enveloped in doctor’s ulster and muffled to the ears with doctor’s neckcloth. Wig frowzed till he looks like a fright. As he appears, heads at the other door disappear suddenly.)
Dr. F. (Starting back.) Why Patsy, are you cold? I feel decidedly too warm.
Patsy. I think I took a bit o’ cold in the cars, I’m subject to sore throat.
Norah. (Aside.) Crazy as a June bug.
Dr. F. Chin Sum, do you like tea?
Patsy. My name isn’t Chin Sum; just Patrick O’Wang, if you please.
Dr. F. What is the O for, Patrick?
Patsy. The O shows that I’m a son of me father.
Dr. F. We have tea served. Sometimes we take a light refreshment an hour or so before dinner. Patsy, do you like tea?
Patsy. (Aside.) Tea! (With wink.) I’m onto their scheme. I’ll take a drop, weak if you please, one lump of sugar.
Dr. F. (Is at L. of table, seats himself facing front.) Norah, place a chair. Be seated, Patsy. You must be tired.
Patsy. Your honor I couldn’t sit in your presence. (P. is at R. of table.)
Dr. F. Very well, as you please. Norah, pour the tea. Give me a small cup. For a cold it should be drunk copiously. You had better take several cups, Patsy.
Patsy. Very well, sir, I like tea myself. (Dr. F. chuckles to himself. Norah, rear of table, hands doctor a small cup then a large one to Patsy. Latter has a large hot-water bag under his ulster with rubber tube and small funnel, all found in office. The collar of the ulster must be very high and stand well forward. The funnel is held by the left hand partially enveloped in a large silk handkerchief. Under pretense of coddling his throat Patsy keeps his left hand up under his chin to keep the funnel concealed. As he drinks he turns away to R. from the doctor, back to audience, pours tea down funnel. As he hands cup back to Norah he thrusts his left hand beneath the ulster, the top button of which is unbuttoned. Repeat with each cup.)
Dr. F. (Sipping tea and nibbling a cracker.) How do you like the tea, Patsy?
Patsy. (Smacking his lips.) It’s capital tea, doctor.
Dr. F. Norah, fill his cup. He wants several cups to break his cold. Then I’ll put you to bed, Patsy, and give you a good sweat.
Patsy. All right, sir. (Drinks as before.)
Dr. F. (Aside.) It’s working! Obedient already.
Norah. Will yez have some more tay, docthor?
Dr. F. (Impatiently.) No, fill Patsy’s cup. Don’t you see it’s empty. (Patsy drinks.) How do you feel now?
Patsy. Better already, doctor.
Dr. F. Have another! There’s nothing like tea. Why, it will cure every ill that flesh is heir to. Norah, fill his cup.
Norah. I’m pourin’ as fast as I can, sir. What a dale o’ tea he do hold.
Patsy. (Handing back cup.) Very nice tea, Norah.
Norah. I could do a dale betther with plenty o’ tay and more time.
Dr. F. Norah, why don’t you fill his cup instead of talking. (During this drinking the people at the door enter and look on with increasing astonishment.) How do you feel now, Patsy?
Patsy. Much better, sir.
Dr. F. Head clearer?
Patsy. Well, it’s not as thick as putty an’ it’s not as clear as a June mornin’.
Dr. F. Try a few more cups, keep it up. Norah, don’t you see his cup is empty. Pour him another.
Norah. The mon’ll explode purty soon a drinkin’. He’s swellin’ already. (Patsy takes cup.)
Dr. F. Hold your tongue. The charm’s working finely.
Norah. Faith it’s time, the tay pot’s impty.
Dr. F. (Jumping up surprised.) Empty! Why girl it holds a gallon!
Norah. An’ he’s drunk it all. The poor bye must have the stomach of an osterich or a dodo.
Dr. F. Patsy, do you mean to say that you have drank a gallon of tea?
Patsy. Faith, I think it’s nearer a barrel.
Dr. F. And how do you feel?
Patsy. Like an irrigation canal! (During these last speeches Mrs. F., Miss S. and Mike gather round back of table, L.)
Mrs. F. Doctor Fluke, you’ll kill that man with your experiments.
Miss S. Poor dear man!
Dr. F. Silence, ladies. This is a most extraordinary case! (Patsy stands perfectly still, facing them, left hand to throat as before. Doctor takes him by the shoulder and turns him round. P. does not resist but makes a very wry face.) A remarkable case. Why, I’ve hypnotized him.
Mike. Begob, I think he’s paralyzed!
Mrs. F. What makes the horrid creature act so? He’s got a wild look. (Patsy rolls his eyes. Women retreat toward door.)
Norah. I think he’s drownin’, I do.
Dr. F. (Severely.) Patsy, why don’t you speak, what ails you?
Patsy. A bit o’ queerness here. (Rubs stomach with right hand.)
Dr. F. How’s your head?
Patsy. Me head’s all right. It’s me stomach.
Dr. F. Do you still imagine you are an Irishman?
Patsy. I am, sir, Irish to the bone. (Leans forward as if pain in stomach. Rubs stomach with right hand and squirms. All this time he has been holding his throat with left hand and concealing the funnel.)
Mrs. F. Says he’s Irish. He’s crazy, Henry. I told you so. He’ll murder us all. (Movement of all but doctor toward doors as before.)
Norah. I give notice, Mrs. Fluke. I’ll not live in the house with a crazy mon.
Mike. Nayther will I. I give up me job. It will be hurtin’ the profession to mix with loonytics an’ Chinese.
Dr. F. (Irritated.) Hold your tongue, Mike. This is a most extraordinary case!
Mike. Indade it is! First he’s a haythen Chinee. Then he takes a drop too much an’ goes wild an’ pulls the clothes aff other people and says he’s an Irishman, bad luck to him. Another dram’ll turn him into a Dago, I belave. I quits to-day, doctor. (During this time Patsy’s uneasiness is increasing; finally he begins to prance round. Movement toward doors as before.)
Dr. F. Where is your pain, Patsy?
Patsy. (Groans.) Me stomach feels all queer like.
Dr. F. (Puts hand on P.’s stomach, starts.) And no wonder. Why, it’s hot as fire! And distended like a balloon!
Mike. (Nods to ladies, with wise look.) He’s dishtended!
Dr. F. Mike, get the stomach pump in the office. Norah, a basin, quick! (Mike runs for pump. Patsy makes for door, L. Ladies scream and disappear.)
Patsy. Faith, I’m on fire!
Dr. F. (Seizes him.) We’ll fix you in a minute.
Patsy. Aye, doctor, you’ve fixed me already.
Dr. F. (Holding to Patsy who struggles toward door L.) Quick, Mike! (Mike reappears with pump.)
Patsy. You’ll never put that thing down my throat. (Renews attempt to escape. Fluke grabs at his throat and catches rubber tube. Ulster comes open. Pulls out bag of hot water and all gaze in astonishment.)
Mike. By the powers, you’ve pulled the sthomick clane out av’ ’im. (Pause.) Is that what it looks like? I niver seed one before.
Mrs. F. (In door.) Oh horrors!
Mike. Hadn’t yez better put it back, docthor? He may nade it.
Dr. F. (Is so astonished that he holds the bag by the tube for a few seconds. Drops it in disgust.) What does this mean, you rascal?
Patsy. (Determinedly.) It means you can’t fill me up with tea and turn me back into a Chinaman. They did that trick in Hong Kong!
Dr. F. (Crossly.) What are you now? Irish or Chinese?
Patsy. Irish forever.
Miss S. (Sentimentally.) Dear me! I’m so disappointed. I did hope we had got a real Chinaman.
Dr. F. But confound you man, I hired you for a Chinaman. A bargain’s a bargain.
Patsy. That bargain is off.
Mike. (Throws down pump.) Then I’m aff, too. Two Irishman in wan house is wan too many.
Patsy. Keep your place, Mike, I can do better. (All dress stage, women L., men R.) I’m in America now, the land of opportunities. I’m goin’ into politics. Me ambition is to be an alderman and die beloved and respected by all.
Mike. Begorrah, the ambition of it!
Dr. F. Very well, Patsy. Since you are going to have influence let us part friends. (They shake hands.)
Mike. Inflooence! Faith, I’ll niver vote a shplit ticket, half Irish half Chinay.
Dr. F. Patsy, you have had a strange history.
Patsy. I’ll recount it if you please, doctor.
“Patsy O’Wang,” Song. Air “Pat Malloy.”
Me father was a Hooligan, me mother was Chinay
And I was born in Hong Kong town ten thousand miles away.
Me father was a sojer in the tenth artilleree,
He took me to the barracks there in Hong Kong by the sea.
Me christian name was Patsy and O’Wang me name Chinay;
An’ while they all took toddy I drank nothin’ but green tay.
One day I brewed the punch meself an’ then I tried the same:
Hooray! it touched a vital spot, it lit the Irish flame.
True son of ould Hibernia, I struck for higher pay,
I swung it like a gentleman, I drank no more green tay.
But all good luck must have an end, there comes adversitee,
They sent us to Ameriky ten thousand miles by sea.
We sailed and sailed the ragin’ main forever and a day,
The boundin’ ocean made us sick, they dosed us with green tay.
For twenty hours or more I lay, that poison did me rack:
I rose a haythen Chinaman, a queue hung down me back.
Me almond eyes were set askew, me queue twirled round me pate,
They called me Chin, I made the duff and boiled the Captain’s mate.
A fool for luck the proverb says, a fool O’Wang must be,
For now I’m turned true Irishman, bad cess to all Chinee.
And in this free Ameriky I’ll have a word to say
I’m goin’ into politics, I’ll drink no more green tay.
And for the moral of this tale I’m sure it’s very plain:
When tipple stirs your blood too much, you’d better just abstain.
| R. | L. |
| Mike, Dr. F., Patsy., Mrs. F., Miss S., Norah. | |
Curtain.
REJECTED
OR
THE TRIBULATIONS OF AUTHORSHIP
A FARCE
By T. S. DENISON
Author of
Odds with the Enemy, Initiating a Granger, Wanted, a Correspondent, A Family Strike, Seth Greenback, Louva, the Pauper, Hans Von Smash, Borrowing Trouble, Two Ghosts in White, The Pull-Back, Country Justice, The Assessor, The Sparkling Cup, Our Country, Irish Linen Peddler, The School Ma’am, Kansas Immigrants, An Only Daughter, Too Much of a Good Thing, Under the Laurels, Hard Cider, The Danger Signal, Wide Enough for Two, Pets of Society, Is the Editor In? The New Woman, Patsy O’Wang, Rejected, Only Cold Tea, Madam P’s Beauty Parlors, Topp’s Twins, A First-Class Hotel, It’s all in the Pay-Streak, The Cobbler, A Dude in a Cyclone, Friday Dialogues.
Also the Novels,
The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc.
CHICAGO:
T. S. DENISON, Publisher,
163 Randolph Street.