Lively plays for live people

by Thomas S. Denison

TOPP’S TWINS.

ACT I.

Scene. Home of Mr. Topp. Handsome sitting room of a wealthy man. Doors R. & L. in 1 E. (N. B.—Street door is always L., way to interior of house always R.); also door in flat C. Table and chairs R. C. Small secretary, with mirror over it by flat L. C.

Gin. (Entering L. with mail.) I never see de like of de mail; dah’s a bushel o’ letters an’ one paper. (Puts letters on table; part slide off on floor; he does not see them.) Dat paper is de Sun. Massa done read de Baltimore Sun, mos’ ever since de creation I ’low. (Reads on the wrapper “Topp & Topp, No. 3 Druid Hill Place.”) Didn’t I read dat easy. Pshaw! I kin read heaps, ’ticlarly if dah’s a picter to sort o’ steer by. My poor ole mommy couldn’t read nothin’ but de wrapper, an’ I ’spect she guessed at dat. Crackey! edication is mighty powerful sometimes. My ole mommy couldn’t read an’ she (pauses)—humph, she sold for a thousand dollahs befoh de wah. What ’ud you sell foh, Ginger Potts? You good fur nothin’ nigger, you wouldn’t fetch a blame cent. But your vote, dat’s spot cash. (Bell rings.) Foh de Lord’s sake, w’at ails dat bell. It’s done ringin’ all de time. (Exit L.)

Enter Mrs. Dubbledam R.

Mrs. D. I nefer saw tings like dot already. Seven men haf been at de side door to sell leetle togs to Meester Topp. I get dem all away so gwick as ever for Meester Topp he hates togs already fery much. He vas a mighty gweer man, an’ he gets no better, aint it; he say to me sudden like one day: “Mrs. Tuppletam, we must have some twins.” I tinks to myself, Meester Topp, was you cracy? I felt myself yoost like a puzzle, and he yoost keep silence; dot silence was embarrassed, so I said a little sharp, “Vere you get some twins if you please, Mr. Topp?” Dot man was awful curious, ven I haf temper he haf none, sometimes, and sometimes he haf too much; dot time he vas very quiet, an’ his voice like a woman’s—a woman, ven she is not mat—

Enter Ginger, L 1, with more letters.

Gin. What racket is massa into now, Mrs. Dubbledam?

Mrs. D. Twins. He says, “My gran’fater was twins, an’ my fater oont uncle was twins; my poor brudder an’ me was twins, an’ I’m goin’ to have some twins to run my pisness and pack oysters.” I yoost thought I’d fall in a heap. I guessed dot man was talkin’ out of his head alretty; I could say not one wort, but he turned round an’ walked out. Dot was de piggest puzzle about dem twins. So yesterday, at breakfast, he say sudden like, “Tuppletam, I’m goin’ to advertise for dose twins.”

Gin. Land o’ honey, Mrs. Dubbledam, look at de letters. (Puts them on the table and some fall on the floor.)

Mrs. D. Well, I nefer; where does de letters come from, Ginger? Apout tem twins? What a lot o’ peoples bin havin’ twins! Twins must be plentier dan persimmons.

Gin. De postman says dese letters belong here; dey wouldn’t take ’em at Number 5.

Mrs. D. I yoost get even on Number 5; I’ll send Number five de togs.

Gin. What dogs?

Mrs. D. Dere’s been seven, nine men here mit togs dis mornin’.

Gin. De dickens! ole massa’ll take a fit.

Mrs. D. All sorts o’ togs at dot side door. Big Newfounlant togs, rat togs, sky pups, oont all dot. Dey make me real mat sayin’ so often dot we want no togs. (Bell rings.)

Gin. Blame dat bell.

Mrs. D. Ginger, why aint you more gwick answerin’ dot bell?

Gin. (Imitating her accent.) Nefer mint, I’m gwick enough already, aint it? Say, I wonder—(bell violently)—if somebody isn’t playing a trick on ole massa? (Voice inside from door in flat.) “Potts, the bell.” Geeminy; ole massa done heerd. Say, anybody fotch any kids yet?

Mrs. D. Dere was no shildrens yet.

Gin. Dey’ll come later, dey don’t git up so airly as de dogs. (Bell violently, voice again.) “Where’s that infernal niggro.” (Exit Gin rapidly, L.)

Mrs. D. Dat niggero gets so slow, efery day more. Dear me, I’ll nefer get my work done to-day between te togs, te letters oont, Meester Topp’s whims, oont twins, oont sooch like. (Exit R.)

Re-enter Ginger with Tick L.

Gin. Massa aint done brekfusted yet.

Tick. (Seating himself by table, R. C.) I’ll wait.

Gin. Sometimes massa’s powerful slow comin’ down, hadn’t yeh bettah send in youah cahd?

Tick. No, thanks; my business can be transacted with him only.

Gin. (Aside.) Dat’s bout de twins suah. ’Scuse me, but did you fotch de kids along?

Tick. What’s that?

Gin. De chillen. Whah’s de chillen?

Tick. Children? I’m no married man.

Gin. Dat so? Well, I ’low dat does make some difference. (Bell again.) Wisht dat bell was in Jericho; dere’s too many people comin’ here I know. It’s de sign on de dooh. Massa Topp’ll jest naterally kill dat painter who fumbled up dat 3 so ye can’t tell it from de 5, nor de 5 from de 7. It’s turnin’ de whole neighborhood crazy. (Exit L.)

Tick. (Taking up paper, reads on wrapper, “Topp & Topp.”) Hello, here’s an adventure. I’ve got into the house of my employer, old Topp, of Topp & Topp, Oyster Packers. Well, it’s too late to back out now, I’ll sell him the dogs or break a trace trying. Lucky for me I’m on the road most of the time. I think he doesn’t know me. He’s as queer as all out o’ doors. If he should discover me and get out of humor about it, he’d give me a passport to the street. (Meditates.) Ah, I have it; I’m not Jim Baggs at all. The boys used to call me Tickle. Laughed too easy and got thrashed for it every day, in school; it became Tick for short. Now, I’m simply Tick, James Tick, Esq. (Voice outside. “I tell you I must see him.”) Hello! more dogs?

Enter Ginger and Spratt, L.

Gin. (To Spratt.) Hadn’t you bettah try No. 5, sah? I think dat’s de place youall’s lookin’ foh.

Spratt. I have tried No. 5 and they say No. 3 is the place.

Gin. S’pose you try No. 7.

Spratt. This is the place, I’m sure. I won’t be put off. (Takes chair, eyes Tick suspiciously.)

Gin. Cahd, sir, I’ll take in your cahd. (Spratt gives soiled card.) (Aside.) Jiminy, dat’s a dirty cahd, if I hand dat cahd to Massa Topp he’ll give me fits. (Tears card and throws it under table.) ’Scuse me (to Spratt), w’at did ye say youah name was?

Spratt. (Grumbles.) Confound the nigger. I gave you my card.

Gin. Massa is a little ’tickler; he doesn’t like cahds.

Tick. I’ve been that way myself—after staying too long in the game.

Gin. (To Spratt.) Name, sah?

Spratt. Spratt.

Gin. (Grins.) Jack Spratt?

Spratt. Impertinent!

Gin. Yis, sah; long name, sah.

Tick. By the way, what is your name?

Gin. Potts, sah! Gingeh Potts.

Tick. Ginger; that’s a lively name.

Gin. Name, sah!

Tick. Tick.

Gin. What’s dat?

Tick. I said Tick, James Tick!

Gin. Dat aint no Christian name; ye’s done foolin’ me.

Tick. (Slipping coin into Ginger’s hand.) It isn’t Tick, but Tick goes.

Gin. (Bowing profusely.) To be suah! James Tick, Esquire (stress on Esq.) an’ Jack Spratt.

Spratt. (With offended dignity.) Robert Spratt.

Gin. Yis, sah! James Tick, Esq., and Bob Spratt.

Spratt. (Aside.) The monkey!

(Exit Gin., D. F.)

Tick. (Eying Spratt. Aside.) If that guy is a dog fancier, then I’ll quit the business.

Spratt. (Aside.) He looks too young for a father in adversity. Guardian, possibly. (To Tick.) Our business is mutual, I presume.

Tick. I presume you know nothing about it.

Spratt. (Aside.) A good guess. He is uneasy. (To Tick.) I presume we can be friendly about it.

Tick. (Turning away.) Presumption is a good thing—for a book agent.

Spratt. (Aside.) A hard case to handle. I’ll draw him out. (To Tick.) If I may ask, father?

Tick. Look here, stranger, you are impertinent.

Spratt. Then, I am right. You are a father.

Tick. It’s a lie; I’m not married!

Spratt. Beg pardon; that makes some difference.

Tick. Some! What do you mean by that?

Spratt. You need not be so touchy. This is a free and fair rivalry, isn’t it?

Tick. What are you talking about? Are you an escaped lunatic?

Spratt. You are insulting. (Turns away angrily.)

Tick. (Aside.) What is he up to? There’s something here too deep for me!

Spratt. (Aside.) I’d best conciliate him. (To Tick.) Guardian, perhaps?

Tick. Guardian! What do I think of them on general principles? I don’t like them. I had one once. He spent all my money, then married my only sister and spent hers. I’ve no use for them. I recommend you to take one.

Spratt. Me! Confound your insinuation. You mistake me entirely. I—

Enter Topp, D. F., comes down C.

Topp. (Eyes them with quick keen scrutiny.) Good morning, gentlemen, which is Mr. Dick Spratt?

Spratt. (Rushing up with card.) Robert Spratt, sir.

Tick. (Rushing up with card, each trying to get ahead of the other.) Here’s my card sir, I represent—confound it (hastily pocketing card); (aside) “card of the firm”; (confused) my name is James Tick, Esquire.

Topp. (With slight emphasis.) Oh, I see, James Tick, Esquire; and Robert Spratt, Esquire, too, I presume? Your business, gentlemen.

Spratt. (Trying to get ahead of Tick.) I have just what you want sir, right here, lovely disposition, good health, good stock, pardon me if I say it myself.

Tick. (Insinuating himself before Spratt.) Pardon me my house—hang it, I don’t mean house—my goods are A 1, good health, clean skin, and the most beautiful long ears.

Spratt. (Contemptuously.) Long ears! I’d be ashamed to tell it!

Tick. Long winded, trim in the flank—

Spratt. Flanks! that’s indelicate!

Tick. Delicacy, indeed; I’d like to know what delicacy has to do in this case!

Topp. (Annoyed and puzzled.) Nothing, it seems, gentlemen; what on earth are you rowing about? If you have any business, we’ll reach it sooner one at a time.

Spratt. (Vociferating.) I was here first.

Tick. That’s false, I was here first. Wasn’t I Ginger?

Spratt. That infernal nigger sent me away three times before he’d let me in.

Topp. (Stiffly.) We will consider you first. Proceed.

Spratt. As I said, lively disposition, good health, good stock—

Tick. Can you furnish a written pedigree?

Spratt. Pedigree! I am making a note of your insulting language. (To Topp.) In short, they are just what you want.

Tick. Health is very important, but allow me—(Topp frowns at Tick who stops).

Spratt. Their names sir, are—

Topp. Bother the names! Gentlemen, I fail to comprehend the object of this interview. I deem your business absurd. If you have any proposition to submit do it in writing.

Spratt. My dear sir, the pen cannot do justice to my lovely—

Tick. By the way, are they mangy?

Spratt. I’ll stand this no longer, your language is slanderous. (Shakes his fist at Tick.) If I had you outside!

Topp. A vulgar brawl. (Enraged.) This is too much. (Pulls bell by D. F.) A row between two ruffians in my own house.

Enter Ginger, R.

Topp. Potts, show these gentlemen out.

Spratt. Potts, didn’t I come first?

Tick. (Winking at Gin.) Look here; you know I came first.

Gin. (To Topp.) I think dey come sumiltudinous. I’m ’fraid dey won’t go. Dey’s de most obstinatest chaps I ever see.

Topp. Then kick them out—call a policeman. Get rid of them.

Gin. (To Spratt.) Now you heah dat? Cleah out!

Spratt. (Backing towards door L.) This is outrageous. (To Topp.) I’ll bring an action for damages. (To Tick.) This is your work, you villain. I’ll get even—(Gin. seizes him by the collar and runs him out L.)

Tick. (Aside.) I’m going to see what this old cock does want anyway.

Re-enter Gin. L.

Gin. Now sah, dah’s de door.

Tick. (Looking.) So it is. A door’s a door even if there’s nothing in it. (Gives him a coin. Gin. bows and slips out, leaving Tick, down C. Topp opening letters R. of table.)

Topp. Annoyances go in troops, it appears. I can’t understand why I should get all these letters and have so many callers too. (Reads letter.)

“Mr. X., 3 Druid Hill Place:

“Sir: Having seen your advertisement for lady amanuensis, I hereby apply for the place. I am not exactly a brunette, but have beautiful, wavy, light-brown hair with blue eyes. Am tall, slender and graceful, and my friends say I am good looking.”

Well, really that’s a strange letter.

Tick. (Aside.) Oho! this is getting interesting.

Topp. What the deuce does the woman mean? I shall need an amanuensis if I answer all these. (Throws letter aside toward Tick and opens two or three more; Tick picks up letter.)

Topp. (Reading.) “Dear Sir:—I think I can fill the bill exactly.” What bill? That is direct. Signed, Maud Martin. (Opens another.)

Tick. (Reading.) “I dress stylish and am fond of”—(Pause to make out word).

Topp. (Reading.) “I am a light blonde with clear rosy complexion and am”—(Pause to decipher word).

Tick. (Reading.) “Fond of amusements, particularly”—

Topp. (Reading, puzzled.) What is that?—am—am—edicated—vulgar thing—no, it is not edicated, (spells) eddicted—indeed—to the theatre. Hum; I’m not surprised.

Tick. (Reading.) “Opera parties and a quiet”—

Topp. Dear me, this is all very curious. She evidently thinks complexion and the cut of her gown has something to do with stenography. (Stops to think, puzzled, opens another. Amazed to see Tick reading letter.)

Tick. —“and a quiet little oyster supper.” Oh! the old sinner. I’m onto him.

Topp. (Flushing angry.) Look here, sir, are you here yet? And reading my letters too! This is most extraordinary! This is too much, sir!

Tick. It is too much for one. You need help!

Topp. Help! What do you mean, sir? I can manage my affairs without your assistance. I thought I told Potts to show you out. (Rings bell viciously.) Where is that niggro?

Enter Gin. D. F.

Gin. Did you ring, sah?

Topp. Did I ring? I’ve been ringing all morning.

Gin. (Bowing.) Yis, sah!

Topp. Potts, show this man out.

Gin. I done showed him de door wunst.

Topp. Show it to him again. Show him the outside of it.

Gin. Yis, sah.

Topp. What about these letters? They are apparently not mine.

Gin. De postman done tote ’em heah. Dey wouldn’t have ’em at No. 5.

Topp. What has No. 5 to do with my mail? I have not advertised for any amanuensis. Take them to No. 5 and say it’s about the amanuensis.

Gin. (Bewildered.) A—man—you—and—what sort of a man did you say, sah?

Topp. Go! Say nothing! Pick up those on the floor.

Tick. (Aside.) The sly old dog. He’s hedging.

Topp. (Looking at envelope.) Potts!

Gin. Yis, sah!

Topp. How did the postman get this address mixed up with No. 5? That’s a plain enough 5.

Gin. Ye see it’s like dis, massa, he’s a new man an’ de painter done put so many querliques on de figgers when he painted new numbers las’ week dat ye can’t tell de 3 from de 5, nur de 5 from de 7. De 3 has a handle to it, an’ de 5 has whiskers, an’ de 7 looks powerful groggy, an’ sorter bow-legged.

Topp. Oh! high art on a transom. I see.

Gin. Yes, sah! High art, so high de postman couldn’t see it.

Topp. Have our number re-painted plainly at once, and see that it is a 3. Confound this so-called artistic lettering. People will take the place for a Chinese laundry. (Bell, exit Gin.) (To Tick.) Aren’t you going, sir? Can’t you take a hint?

Tick. (Bowing politely.) I am waiting to be shown out. (Moves down L.)

Topp. (Apologetically.) Oh, to be sure! I beg your pardon.

Tick. Don’t mention it.

Re-enter Gin. L. with Mrs. Twiggs-Knott, she goes up C.

Gin. (Announces.) Mrs. Twiggs-Knott.

Topp. (Advancing.) Eh? What is the name?

Mrs. T-K. Twiggs-hyphen-Knott.

Topp. Ah, to be sure! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Mrs. Twiggs-hafaknot?

Mrs. T-K. I beg your pardon! It isn’t Twiggs-hyphen-Knott! simply Twiggs-Knott. I spell it with a hyphen.

Topp. And pronounce it without a hyphen.

Mrs. T-K. Yes.

Topp. I see. I beg your pardon, madam! (Aside.) Devilish fine woman!

Mrs. T-K. Twiggs, maiden name; Twiggs-Knott, married name.

Topp. I comprehend, perfectly. (Aside.) A widow!

Tick. (Aside.) I wonder if the old Mormon will take this trick?

Topp. Mrs. Twiggs-Knott, may I enquire to what I owe this pleasure?

Mrs. T-K. Certainly! I called in answer to your advertisement!

Topp. (Starting.) There’s a mistake!

Tick. (Aside.) Sly old dog!

Mrs. T-K. I think there is no mistake. I called at No. 5, and they said it was No. 3.

Topp. I am sure it must be one of my neighbors. May the devil take that painter! I mean, begging pardon madam, try No. 7. (Aside.) An adventuress.

Mrs. T-K. I did try 7 and they said they couldn’t be pestered with other people’s callers. They were sure this is the right place.

Topp. A fig for their assurance! I wish people would mind their own business. (Aside.) Good Lord deliver me! (To Mrs. T-K.) Madam, go home and make an inventory of your attractions.

Mrs. T-K. Sir!

Topp. Schedule your charms!

Mrs. T-K. They are indeed very charming.

Topp. (Aside.) The brazen baggage! (To her.) Make out your specifications.

Tick. Marked “Exhibit A,” etc.

Mrs. T-K. Is it so very important as that?

Topp. (Aside.) I’ll scare her away! (To her.) Oh! yes, of the utmost importance. The strain is especially—

Tick. Yes, the strain is everything, mine is all O. K. in the books.

Topp. (Surprised.) Say now! Are you here yet, young man? Explain your conduct, sir. Confound you, you are listening to a private conversation.

Tick. I’m waiting to be shown out.

Topp. Oh, to be sure! Where is that infernal niggro. (Rings bell.)

Tick. The pedigree of mine is without a flaw. They are from Spots, mother Fly, sire, Robinson Crusoe. (Topp and Mrs. T-K look puzzled.) Are yours down in the books?

Mrs. T-K. In the books? I don’t understand you.

Tick. Who was their sire?

Mrs. T-K. Sir? Their sire? This is grossly insulting. (Screams.) Oh, dear me, oh, oh. Sir (To Topp), are you a man to see a woman thus insulted in your own house?

Topp. (Crosses to L., to Tick.) What the devil are you doing?

Tick. I don’t know.

Mrs. T-K. (Screams hysterically) Oh, my precious darlings! Oh, my dear little angels! Oh, I shall faint!

Topp. She’s going to faint. (Prances around excitedly.) Where’s that niggro?

Mrs. T-K. (Hysterically.) Help! (About to faint.)

Topp. Allow me madam! (About to support her. Tick adroitly slides between, catching her.)

Tick. Allow me madam!

Mrs. T-K. (Hastily standing erect.) You! Oh, you wretch! How dare you! I’ll leave this house at once, since a lady is not free from insult here.

Topp. But, madam, allow me to explain—I beg you will not be hasty, stay—there she goes—(She exits in dudgeon. L.) (To Tick.) This is disgraceful, sir!

Tick. I quite agree with you, and at your age too. Now why do you prefer a blonde? Brunettes are more to my taste.

Topp. (In towering passion.) Your taste? Blonde! Brunette! I have expressed no choice, you impertinent coxcomb. Why don’t you go? Where is that niggro? If he doesn’t kick you down stairs, I will. (Going to bell.)

Enter Gin. L. Angie following appears in door.

Gin. Massa Topp, a young lady dat wants to see you.

Topp. (Cross.) Send her away, I wont see her. (Sees Angie, who comes forward smiling; he changes.) Ah! yes, what can I do for you?

Angie. I called in answer to your advertisement.

Topp. (Calming down.) Hum! yes. (Aside.) Confound it, which does she mean? (To Angie.) Be seated. (Aside.) How shall I begin?

Angie. Thank you! (Seats herself chair L.)

Tick. (Aside.) Typewriter or dog fancier?

Topp. (Aside.) Can’t be twins. Typewriter of course. (To Angie.) May I ask, do you take readily?

Angie. (Confused.) Why, sir, I—yes—that is, my friends tell me I am very taking!

Tick. (Aside.) Oho!

Topp. (Confused. Admires her.) I quite agree with them, but you mistake my meaning. I meant—ah—are you rapid?

Angie. (Rising offended.) Sir!

Tick. (Stepping between them, L.C.) Allow me to explain! She doesn’t catch on.

Angie. (Laughs.) No, I don’t!

Topp. (Brushing Tick away. Aside.) It must be twins, then. (To Angie.) Write full particulars, give family history, etc.

Tick. And be sure to name the sire. Strain is everything in—

Topp. You are in the presence of a lady, sir. Conduct yourself accordingly, or I shall hold you responsible. (Pushes him aside.)

Tick. You don’t play that game on me! I’m not responsible.

Topp. A correct observation, on my life.

Tick. (Getting between them.) Don’t bother me. This is my customer. (Pulls Topp away C.)

Topp. What is that you say?

Angie. (Puzzled.) Goodness, me, what are they both talking about!

Topp. (Aside.) There! wrong again! It is dogs. (Angry.) Madam—miss, if there is anything I—(Stops. Aside.) I must be civil. She’s very pretty. Miss, I think you had best go home and write about them. (Aside.) I’ll buy them and drown them.

Tick. Old Bluebeard! She’s a dear little angel.

Topp. There is my card. I’ll be delighted to hear from you.

Tick. (Aside.) Who doubts it?

Angie. Thank you very much, Mr. Topp.

Topp. Don’t mention it, pray. By the way I’ll take your address. (Takes out note book. Tick does same.)

Angie. Miss Angie Twiggs, Ferndale Park, Cottage No. 12.

Topp. (Writing.) Thank you, I have it.

Tick. (Talking unconsciously.) Yes, I have it.

Topp. (Furious.) Why, you cad, are you taking that address? Your impudence is simply amazing! I’ll brain you, sir!

Tick. No you wont.

Topp. What are you going to do with that address? I wont allow this. Give it up, sir, or I’ll knock you down! (Business of sparring.)

Angie. (Screams.) Oh, gentlemen! Oh, oh, please don’t!

Topp. (Desisting.) To be sure, there is a lady present.

Tick. There is, and don’t you forget it.

Topp. Forget what, sir?

Tick. That there is a lady present, a young lady!

Topp. (Glaring at him.) I shan’t forget it. I need no lessons in manners from you, sir.

Tick. I was only going to say that fighting is rude, and—

Topp. Have the goodness to cut short your disquisition. Now, are you ever going?

Tick. I’m waiting to be shown out.

Topp. I beg pardon, so you are. Where is that Potts? (Rings bell violently.) A niggro is the most aggravating of all evils. I’ll flog that boy.

Angie. (Aside.) What a very eccentric pair. Mr. Topp, I think I shall go. I will write you soon.

Topp. I shall receive your missive with pleasure.

Tick. (Aside.) Poor innocent thing. Not if I can save her. (Theatrically.) I will save her!

Topp. Eh, what’s that you say?

Tick. Oh, nothing much!

Topp. (Bows and leads way for Angie, going L.) I am delighted, Miss Twiggs—delighted with this short call. Potts will show you out in a minute.

Enter Gin. L.

Potts, stir yourself! show this young lady out.

Gin. Yis, sah.

Topp. And show that young man out, too. You black rascal, I told you to do that before.

Gin. Yis, sah (Starts L. Angie and Tick following).

Topp. Hold on there a moment, Potts! Don’t you know better than that? Show the young lady out first! (Takes Tick by collar and pulls him back.) Don’t think you shall escape so easily. I shall hold you accountable, sir.

Tick. It’s my turn to be shown out. Haven’t I been waiting for an hour to be shown out?

Topp. You don’t go just yet, young man, I have use for you.

Tick. (Goes up R.) He recognizes me at last. My place is as good as vacant. (Turning back.) I am at your service, Mr. Topp.

Topp. Very well. Now what do you mean, sir, by coming into my house in this way, poking into my letters, listening to my private affairs and taking the addresses of lady callers? This is outrageous, sir!

Tick. (Aside.) He doesn’t know me. I’ll bluff a little. (To T.) Do me the favor to observe that I came here on business.

Topp. Business! What is your business, pray? Why havn’t you stated it an hour ago?

Tick. I never crowd a customer.

Topp. (Surprised.) Customer!

Tick. I always wait till he is not busy, then I get him into a good humor—

Topp. (Snorting.) Oh, you do; then let me say that I am not in a good humor.

Tick. No, your humor is bad.

Topp. And I will have none of your attempts at witticism.

Enter Gin. L.

Gin. Massa Topp, dem kids is crying fit to kill!

Topp. Kids! What do you mean by kids?

Gin. Wy dat gemmen left two kids in de yard.

Topp. Goats on my lawn! They’ll ruin all the shrubbery. Of all things I detest a goat. First we were beset by a legion of dogs, now we are threatened with goats. This is no menagerie. Put them out at once, at once I say, before they ruin the plants.

Gin. But massa—

Topp. Go immediately or I’ll thrash you. (Picks up paper-weight to throw. Gin. exits rapidly L.) I’ll have to part with that niggro.

Tick. Old family retainer, I suppose?

Topp. Yes, and like most heirlooms of no value whatever. He is one of the fixtures in the family along with our traditions. His grandfather was servant of my grandfather; his mother was my nurse.

Tick. It is very commendable of you, sir, to bear with his failings.

Topp. Well, I doubt it sometimes. But as I said, he is a fixture along with our tradition of twins; twin brothers have been at the head of the firm of Topp & Topp for three generations. When my poor brother died five years ago the line was broken. Now, alas, it is necessary to resort to adoption.

Tick. Very sad, sir, to see an honored old house on the verge of extinction.

Enter Gin. and Spratt L. (They listen.)

Topp. Your sentiments are very commendable, very! But, hang it, sir, you make too sure of your premise. I am on the verge, but not the verge of extinction.

Tick. What verge, then?

Topp. (With sudden gayety.) My boy, it makes me so good natured to think of it, and your inquisitiveness is so very refreshing that, by Jove, I’ll gratify it. I’m going to marry that young lady.

Tick. (Aside.) Well, he has assurance. A rival! (To Topp.) I admire your taste.

Topp. Aint I a lucky chap? Gad, I feel twenty-five. I think fifty-five is not very old, what do you say?

Tick. Not so old as seventy-five.

Topp. (Growls.) Seventy-five is not in question, sir. (To himself.) Ah! I’m in luck. That little blonde (or brunette, as the case maybe) is very pretty!

Tick. (Aside.) I’ll head him off! (To Topp.) May I suggest, sir, that your acquaintance with the young lady is rather brief.

Topp. A fig for your suggestion. She’ll come around all right. By the way, your alleged business seems to consist chiefly in poking your nose into other people’s affairs. I have suggested several times that you take your leave.

Tick. (Bowing.) At your pleasure. I’m waiting to be shown out.

Topp. O, to be sure! I beg pardon. I’ll ring for my man. (Starts to D. F. to pull bell. Sees Gin. and Spratt in door.) Potts, you there! Havn’t I told you a thousand times not to stand listening?

Gin. An ’bout ’leven hundred times never to speak while other folks was talked to.

Topp. Silence! Who is this person? (Spratt steps in.)

Gin. Dat’s de man wot fotched de kids.

Topp. (To Spratt, with temper.) Did you leave any kids on my lawn! sir? That is actionable. I’ll prosecute you. I’ll see if there’s any law for making bedlam out of a quiet neighborhood, and turning objectionable animals loose on one’s lawn. Potts, take away those kids.

Spratt. (Angrily.) Kids? How dare you allude to Grover Cleveland Spratt and Benjamin Harrison Spratt in that way?

Topp. Your nomenclature is ridiculous.

Spratt. I beg to differ. Not knowing your politics, I thought I’d please you one way or the other. You can change whichever name you don’t like.

Topp. I don’t like either. I am a Prohibitionist!

Spratt. Then change both!

Topp. Change both! I’ll have them drowned, Potts, do you hear that? Drown them!

Gin. (Starting.) Foh de Lord’s sake, Massa Topp, dat’s more dan my conscience kin stan’.

Spratt. I overlook your insult. To return to business, you advertised for them.

Topp. What, I! Never! Take them away instanter or I’ll not answer for their lives.

Spratt. You gray-headed old monster!

Topp. (Enraged.) What! Call me names in my own house.

Spratt. Yes, and I’ve a mind to chastise you.

Topp. Chastise me! Don’t you try it. (Feint of sparring. Catches crick in shoulder. Spratt laughs.) Laughing at me, you ruffian! I’m not so decrepit, sir, I’d have you understand!

Spratt. (Boastingly.) I could do you in a minute.

Topp. I am forgetting myself, you are beneath my notice. Potts, show this man out.

Tick. (Aside.) This is a good time for me to go and see Angie. (Looks in note book.) Cottage No. 3, Ferndale Park.

Gin. Beg pardon, massa, did you say show him out or throw him out?

Topp. Either! Use your pleasure. Get rid of him.

Gin. (To Spratt.) Do you see dat dooh?

Spratt. I’ll have the law on you. (Backing out L.)

Gin. Scoot! (Spratt exits just ahead of Ginger’s boot.)

Topp. Here’s a forenoon wasted by a pack of lunatics. (Pause.) What does this internal tumult mean? (Paces floor.) It isn’t the threats of that man. Bah, the braggart! I feel so light hearted. My pulse is bounding. (Feels pulse.) About 85. I feel the buoyancy and lightness of thirty years ago. (Sings snatch of old song.)

“I feel just as happy as a big sun flower,

That nods and bends in the breezes,

And my heart is as light as

The wind that blows the leaves from off the treeses.”

I haven’t been that way since I was forty. At thirty I was in love with every pretty face and figure. What a pretty name, Angie. (Enter Gin.) And those eyes! (Gin. makes extravagant gestures of satisfaction.) And that exquisite little mouth! And what a lovely chin—ah! the chin is an important feature. Yes, Cadwalader Topp, this is love. (Gin. makes gesture of embracing a lady.) Old boy you have it again, same old symptoms aggravated. I’ll dress at once and call on her this very day. At my age no time is to be lost. My age! Pshaw! Age does not consist in years. (Turns suddenly, sees Gin. D. F. in act of embracing imaginary lady. Tableau.)

Quick Curtain.

ACT II.

Scene. House of Josiah Twiggs. Cozy sitting room. Doors in 1 R. and L, window by door R and in flat. Furniture that of family in comfortable circumstances. Table near window up R., pictures, vases, etc. Discovered, Mr. and Mrs. Twiggs seated by table.

Mrs. T. Josiah, do you think there is anything in that advertisement in the Sun?

Mr. T. Which advertisement, Sophronia? There are several hundred of them.

Mrs. T. I mean the one about wealthy gentleman who wants to adopt twins. Is there anything in it?

Mr. T. A tale of disappointed aspiration, probably. A gentleman, without doubt, whose taste runs to twins and who has been reduced to the necessity of advertising for them.

Mrs. T. But what do you think of it?

Mr. T. For my part, I don’t approve of twins.

Mrs. T. Don’t you think he is a crank?

Mr. T. Very likely! A crank is an individual whose ideas differ from yours and mine and who takes no pains to conceal the fact.

Mrs. T. Do you think he’s all right? (Hands him paper.)

Mr. T. (Looking at advertisement.) He says high connections, honorable gentleman, etc. I guess he’s what he claims to be. He must be, he says so himself.

Mrs. T. The main thing is, is he rich?

Mr. T. Yes, that’s the main thing. Honor, culture, family, are minor considerations.

Mrs. T. Josiah, don’t be sarcastic. You always try to twist my meaning round. I’m going to have Mrs. Twiggs-Knott apply at once. It would be so nice for Twiggsie and Dixie.

Mr. T. Why not try to get this estimable single party of high connections to marry one of our daughters?

Mrs. T. Josiah, how you talk!

Mr. T. That is a better scheme. If he takes Amelia he gets the twins thrown in, and if he takes Angie—

Mrs. T. For shame, Josiah, one would think that we were scheming for our dear children.

Mr. T. Oh, no! perish the thought! (Knock at door, R.)

Mrs. T. Hist! Go to the door. (Twiggs opens door R.)

Enter Mr. Topp.

Topp. Ah! excuse me! Is this Mr. Twiggs?

Twiggs. Yes, come in.

Topp. (Embarrassed.) I called on a little matter of business. I—that is to say—

Twiggs. My wife, Mrs. Twiggs. (Topp bows to her.) Be seated. (Topp takes chair by table.) Your daughter gave me this address. (Mrs. T. seated, L.)

Mrs. T. (Aside.) Amelia has seen him already. (To Topp.) Go on, sir. My daughter’s friends are very welcome here.

Topp. I told her I would call.

Mrs. T. You advertised.

Topp. (Embarrassed.) Don’t mention that, pray.

Mrs. T. Oh, I beg pardon. We can guess your errand.

Topp. (Aside.) She’s a mind reader.

Mrs. T. You have exhibited excellent taste. Such loveliness is seldom found, I assure you.

Topp. Yes, I quite agree. (Aside.) A modest family truly!

Mr. T. (Nudging his wife.) Go slow at first.

Mrs. T. At your age, sir, to be a father to budding innocence is indeed a joy.

Topp. (Surprised.) A father! Yes, yes, no doubt you are right. (Aside.) Am I old Nestor himself, I wonder!

Mrs. T. To read love in its eyes each day.

Topp. (Aside.) That’s better! (To Mrs. T.) Delightful, madam, delightful!

Mrs. T. To hear innocence lisp in stammering accents is indeed—

Topp. Ecstatic, madam, I assure you. But I draw the line at stammering—does she stammer?

Mrs. T. You mean they.

Mr. T. (Nudging his wife.) He means her.

Topp. I mean she.

Mr. T. He, she, them! Who, which, what! I see!

Mrs. T. He means Amelia, the mother. How sudden!

Topp. (Astonished.) She a mother!

Enter Angie, R. Crosses to Mrs. T., who rises.

Mrs. T. (Nudging T.) A charming gentleman, I’m sure. (To Topp.) My daughter, sir.

Topp. (Bowing.) Ah, miss, that is to say, madam—I came—

Angie. (Bows bashfully; surprised.) Sir, I do not understand this sudden call.

Topp. Of course not. Explanations will follow duly.

Mrs. T. (With meaning look.) A friendly call my dear, and a little business mingled.

Mr. T. Yes, business first and pleasure after.

Topp. I dislike the word “business” but—perhaps sentiment should cut no figure in such matters. (Aside.) Mercenary wretches!

Angie. (To Topp.) Then my mission has not been in vain?

Topp. (Graciously.) No, indeed. I assure you though it may have originated in a mistake.

Angie. A mistake!

Topp. Great events have sprung from little misunderstandings. To make a long story short, Mr. Twiggs, I have come directly to you.

Mrs. T. (Puzzled.) To him?

Topp. And why not to him, madam!

Mrs. T. Very proper, sir. You have acted in a business-like manner. (To Twiggs.) A very nice party!

Topp. (Aside.) Business again! (Down R.)

Mrs. T. (To Twiggs.) Which does he want, wife or twins?

Mr. T. Both!

Mrs. T. Shocking! how very strange!

Topp. Hu’m! as I was saying—(To Mrs. Twiggs.) And you, madam, since I take it you should be consulted also, where do we find ourselves? (Pause, they all look at one another.)

Mrs. T. Proceed, sir.

Mr. T. Yes, we are all ears.

Topp. I was about to suggest that the presence of your daughter may be embarrassing.

Mrs. T. Oh, never mind her. She is used to hearing all such matters discussed.

Topp. (Starting.) Ah, indeed! Such matters—(Aside.) I don’t like this. A trap—(A pause.)

Mrs. T. Continue, my dear sir.

Topp. Madam, I do not agree with you. I had the pleasure of seeing your daughter but once, and I wish to satisfy myself a little concerning certain matters. In short, a private interview is the proper thing.

Mrs. T. Mercy me!—Oh, I begin to understand. He wants to talk to you, Josiah. How stupid you are.

Mr. T. Exactly! How stupid we are.

Mrs. T. What is the man driving at? (Suddenly to Topp.) Who are you?

Mr. T. Yes, as a mere formality it might be well to know your name.

Topp. Since your daughter has already called on me perhaps she will do me the honor of an introduction. (Aside.) She’s a little angel.

Mrs. T. My daughter has called on you? Is this so, Angie dear?

Angie. Yes, mother.

Mrs. T. In answer to an advertisement?

Angie. Yes.

Mrs. T. (Hysterically.) Oh, rash girl! This is terrible! This is the wretch who advertised for a young lady for private secretary. (Sarcastically.) Tall, blonde preferred, etc., etc. (Here describes Angie.) Oh, silly child! Oh, horrid wretch! Josiah, will you endure this insult and never say one word or lift a hand in defense of your fireside.

Mr. T. Never mind the fireside, it’s all right. What does the gentleman want?

Mrs. T. What does he want? he’s a monster!

Angie. (Remonstrating.) Oh, mother!

Topp. (Astounded.) Madam, one word—

Mrs. T. (Tragically.) Wretch! Not a word! My poor lamb! (Takes A. in her arms.) Left without a protector. And the wolf is at the door.

Enter Tick suddenly, R.

Tick. Wolf at the door! (Aside.) That’s hard on me.

Twiggs. Who the devil are you, sir, to enter my house in this unceremonious fashion?

Tick. I heard the sound of females in distress. I answered the call. Madam, your lamb shall have protection. The policy of this great free country is—

Mr. T. Bosh! I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance. Who are you?

Topp. Bless my soul, our dog-fancier again! Stick to your trade young man, and don’t meddle with political economy. You had better go, sir.

Mr. T. And who are you to order people out of my house. You had better go too.

Tick. Yes, go to—(Waves him away with comical gesture.)

Topp. (Aside.) Ordered out of my own house! (To Tick) Confound it, I’ll not go!

Mr. T. Then I shall be obliged to eject you.

Tick. That’s right, old man, throw him out. (Crosses L. to Angie and Mrs. T.) Don’t be afraid ladies.

Mr. T. Now go will you!

Topp. I wont!

Mr. T. We’ll see about that. (Business of pushing Topp toward door, R.)

Topp. Why bless me if he doesn’t mean it. Well, I didn’t graduate in a university for nothing. I know a little of the manly art. (Hits Twiggs and knocks him over table, sending books flying.) You have a little my advantage in years (or height, or weight, as case may be) but you’re welcome to it.

Twiggs. (Recovering.) Don’t come on again! My blood is up.

Topp. Your blood! (Knocks Twiggs into window and breaks it.)

Mrs. T. (Rushes between them.) Don’t hurt him, Josiah.

Mr. T. Do not alarm yourself, my dear, I’ll not.

Tick. (Getting ready to hold Topp.) Steady boys, steady.

Topp. (Flinging Tick aside.) Get out of my way.

Mr. T. You have broken my window.

Topp. My window, if you please, sir.

Mrs. T. Your window?

Topp. Yes, madam, my window.

Mrs. T. (Screams.) Mercy me, it’s Mr. Topp, our landlord.

Mr. T. What! Mr. Topp, of Topp & Topp?

Topp. (With great dignity.) Yes, sir, Cadwalader Topp, sole proprietor of Topp & Topp, oyster packers. My card, sir. (Hands card.) You have treated me with great indignity, sir. I shall not forget it. (Going.)

Mr. T. All right, make a note of it, if you choose.

Mrs. T. (Pulling at Twiggs’ coat.) Josiah, we are undone. Run and apologize.

Mr. T. Apologize, never! Now, sir, (Following Topp.) I challenge you to a round outside. (Mrs. T. screams.)

Angie. Mother, please be quiet.

Topp. I’ll have you up for assault and battery.

Mr. T. Try it if you dare.

Tick. Three cheers for the old man.

Topp. And what’s more, you shall repair that window!

Mr. T. Never!

Mrs. T. Josiah, do be quiet. You are so indiscreet.

Topp. We’ll see about it. Take my word for that. You have the form of lease which reads “All repairs at expense of tenant.” And now Mr. Twiggs, since you know who I am I leave you to your own reflections. (Going R.)

Mrs. T. Please, sir, don’t be hasty! This is all a mistake.

Topp. I quite agree in that sentiment. Madam a great mistake, but not too late to mend it. (Going R.) I withdraw my proposal for your daughter’s hand. (Exit R.)

Mrs. T. Daughter’s hand! Oh! oh! support me Josiah. If you don’t I shall faint. (He moves to support her; pushes him off angrily.) Josiah, follow him at once and apologize, or I shall—

Angie. Let the old bear go. The idea!

Tick. (Aside.) Good for the little one.

Mrs. T. Josiah, we are undone.

Mr. T. Underdone, you mean.

Mrs. T. That’s just like you, Josiah, to perpetrate small-beer witticisms over the misfortunes of your own family. Now you are actually laughing.

Mr. T. Do you want me to cry, Sophronia?

Mrs. T. No, it’s a man’s place to be brave and assert his rights.

Mr. T. I was too brave, my dear. (Looks at broken window, all laugh.)

Mrs. T. I shall not let him withdraw so easily. I shall write and say his proposition is considered favorably.

Angie. Oh, mama! How indelicate.

Mrs. T. Pooh, my child, you know nothing about such matters. Even delicacy may be overdone.

Angie. I detest him, mama.

Mrs. T. You will learn to love him. Consider it settled.

Tick. (Aside.) Then I am undone. (To Mrs. T.) Madam, your precious child has indeed escaped a wolf. He is an old mormon, or worse, I’ll bet ten dollars.

Mrs. T. He’s worth millions.

Mr. T. And yet he wont pay for that window.

Mrs. T. Josiah, it is painful to think how you let sordid considerations influence your actions. You must see him and explain.

Mr. T. I’ve nothing to explain.

Angie. Let the hateful old thing go.

Tick. (Enthusiastically.) Right you are. Let the old bear go to—

Mrs. T. Husband, you must see him at once. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.

Mr. T. I don’t care to see him.

Mrs. T. You are perfectly absurd to-day, Josiah.

Tick. (Stepping forward.) Madam, I will see him.

Mrs. T. But you are a stranger, you do not understand the case.

Tick. I understand it perfectly. I shall call him to account. I will demand an apology; if he refuses, I will—by jingo, I will challenge him!

Mrs. T. No! No! That would spoil all.

Tick. He shall not insult defenseless females while this good right arm retains its—its—ah—

Enter Spratt, suddenly, R.

Spratt. Villain, I have found you. You shall not escape!

Tick. (Shrinking away.) Why, hello, partner!

Spratt. Don’t “partner” me. I’m on your track.

Mr. T. (Looks at Tick’s feet.) Not a bad sized track either! (To Tick.) Perhaps, you won’t mind explaining why he is on your track. (Meets Tick R. C.)

Spratt. That man has ruined me. The opportunity of a lifetime dashed in a moment.

Mrs. T. (Throws up hands.) Another opportunity gone! Oh, dear! That’s just what ails us!

Mr. T. Another rumpus brewing. I’ll steer them away from the window. (Maneuvers to the other side.) Gentlemen, would you mind discussing this matter on the sofa?

Spratt. You’re an underhanded sneak.

Tick. You’re an openhanded fraud.

Mrs. T. How dreadful!

Angie. Rivals, I venture! How romantic! A real adventure!

Spratt. It is no romance, I assure you. My poor twins, Grover Cleveland Spratt and Benjamin Harrison Spratt are left fatherless—no I don’t mean that. They are—in short they are left.

Tick. Oh, he’s talking about his pups.

Spratt. (Furious.) If you say pups again there’ll be bloodshed. I won’t stand it.

Mrs. T. (Screams.) Oh, dear me! Josiah, can’t you do something?

Mr. T. If it’s a question of blood come outside. A grass plat is better to shed blood on than a carpet. We’ll paint the lawn red.

Spratt. (Going.) Come on!

Tick. Excuse me! (Looks at Angie.) I have an engagement here.

Mrs. T. Josiah, do get rid of these horrid men.

Mr. T. (Takes Tick by arm.) Come, sir, no vacillation. A brave man never hesitates.

Tick. Never! Do I vacillate? No, I refute the charge with indignation. I was only waiting to take leave of the ladies. (Bowing politely.) Ladies, au revoir.

(Exeunt men, R.)

Angie. He’s so gallant!

Mrs. T. Dear me, child, what a series of adventures. And your father is so slow to act in a crisis.

Angie. Poor Pa! I just don’t like that horrid old Topp one bit. I’ll tell him so, there now!

Mrs. T. Pet, you’ll do nothing of the sort. Mr. Topp is such a dear man.

Angie. Bald as a peeled onion!

Mrs. T. A mark of dignity. A patent of nobility in America.

Angie. A patent! Say trade mark. Why doesn’t he put it on his oysters.

Mrs. T. Your levity is in bad taste. Where is the dignity you inherited from your father and mother? You must learn to love him.

Angie. I’m not good at learning by heart. (Aside.) Isn’t Mr. Tick handsome!

Mrs. T. I’m uneasy about Josiah. He’s so careless of consequences. (Exit, R.)

Angie. (Laughs heartily) Oh, that ridiculous old man! And he never saw me but once. (Laughs.)

Enter Mrs. T-K. L.

Mrs. T-K. What are you laughing at, sister?

Angie. (Laughing.) Oh, it’s too funny, I’ve just had a proposal!

Mrs. T-K. A proposal! How romantic!

Angie. He’s worth a million!

Mrs. T-K. No! What delightful luck. Did you say yes instantly.

Angie. I did not.

Mrs. T-K. Sister, don’t be reckless. Do not tempt Providence, for a millionaire is a gift of Providence to a marriageable girl. Take him instanter.

Angie. Well, I wouldn’t take him if he was worth ten millions.

Mrs. T-K. Angie, are you crazy? or just a fool?

Angie. Just, a fool, I suppose, Amelia.

Mrs. T-K. Yes, of course, young girls usually are.

Angie. Widows embody all wisdom, I suppose.

Mrs. T-K. They at least know a good thing when they see it. I hope you didn’t say no.

Angie. (Laughs.) He didn’t give me any chance to say no. He and Pa had a misunderstanding and Pa told him to go.

Mrs. T-K. (Astonished.) And he went away, offended of course. How unfortunate.

Angie. No, he just refused to go at all.

Mrs. T-K. Refused to go! What then?

Angie. (Laughing.) He knocked Pa through the window! (Points to broken glass.)

Mrs. T-K. Horrors! Pa is so indiscreet, but then if he is a true lover, obstacles will only fan the flame.

Angie. And windows prove no obstacle!

Mrs. T-K. Windows, indeed! Who is he?

Angie. Mr. Topp, of Topp & Topp.

Mrs. T-K. (Springing up.) What! Mr. Topp? The bachelor who wants to adopt twins?

Angie. The same.

Mrs. T-K. And you called on him to say a good word for my darlings, Twiggsie and Dixie?

Angie. I did.

Mrs. T-K. And you said one word for them and a dozen for yourself.

Angie. Now, sister, how can you? I said all I could for your boys.

Mrs. T-K. Indeed! What did you say?

Angie. Oh, it was too funny! There was a young gentleman there by the name of Tick, and they talked so many things that they got me all confused so I can’t remember what I did say.

Mrs. T-K. Artless creature!

Angie. (With dignity.) Mrs. Twiggs-Knott, may I ask what you mean by that epithet?

Mrs. T-K. I mean you are greatly mistaken. It was me that Mr. Topp came to see.

Angie. You! Impossible! Didn’t I read love in his eyes.

Mrs. T-K. (With sneer.) Oh, if it has come to reading love in his eyes, we may consider it settled. That sort of reading can be done just as well with the eyes closed.

Angie. Possibly, I’ve had no experience.

Mrs. T-K. Well, you are in a fair way to get it.

Angie. Spare your comments. The teacher need not be a third party.

Mrs. T-K. He said he would be sure to write to me.

Angie. And to me, too.

Mrs. T-K. He took special interest in me and said he was very, very sorry he could not do something at once, or words to that effect.

Angie. He took my address.

Mrs. T-K. Address! That was a matter of form. He expressed great regret that he could not devote more time to my matter.

Angie. Expressed regret! (Archly.) Well he exhibited great pleasure at my call.

Mrs. T-K. Pooh, common politeness only. For me it was a deep interest. I read it in his—(Stops suddenly.)

Angie. Eyes? Ha, ha, ha, you are taking lessons, too, sister. Well, I called within two minutes after you left and if his countenance expressed any sentiment it was plainly bad humor.

Mrs. T-K. Which your smile immediately thawed.

Angie. Indeed it did.

Mrs. T-K. Angie, I think you are real mean.

Angie. Well, sister, seriously, I don’t want him, you are welcome to him.

Mrs. T-K. (Brightening.) I know he called for me and, oh, such a horrid mistake. I shall die. (Screams.)

Enter Mrs. T. R., running.

Mrs. T. What is it my dear!

Mrs. T-K. Mr. Topp called for me instead of Angie.

Mrs. T. No! You don’t say. Why do you think so?

Mrs. T-K. He told me that he was coming, or at least would write.

Mrs. T. What a dreadful misunderstanding! We are all ruined! (Screams.) Josiah! Come! Quick! Where is that man?

Enter Mr. T. hastily.

Mrs. T. Mr. Topp called for—

Mr. T. Confound Topp.

Mrs. T. We are ruined!

Mr. T. We have been ruined so often, my dear, that I rather enjoy it.

Mrs. T. Now, Josiah, don’t try to be funny. When you try to be funny the effect is painful. Husband, do you realize the calamity that has befallen us?

Mr. T. Yes, I guess you mean the window.

Mrs. T. The window—indeed! Oh, the obtuseness of men! Mr. Topp has proposed for the hand of the wrong girl.

Mr. T. No!

Mrs. T. No! Is that all you can say? You never say anything but no.

Mr. T. My dear, no is a very convenient little particle to calk chinks in a colloquy.

Mrs. T. This can never be repaired.

Mr. T. The window?

Mrs. T. Don’t talk eternally of that window. The match!

Mr. T. Exactly! the match of course! Sophronia, I suggest we try welding. The soft solder of diplomacy may result in the union called matrimony.

Mrs. T. Girls, do you hear that? Never marry a man who thinks he is funny. It is an incurable vice that breaks out at unexpected moments, to your utter confusion.

Mr. T. But, ladies, I protest I am not funny.

Mrs. T. We agree there.

Mr. T. Can you not distinguish between a well-turned sentence and—

Mrs. T. A small pun. Josiah, if you were a man of action you would do something instead of asking useless questions.

Mr. T. I don’t care to go into action twice in the same day.

Mrs. T-K. (Groans.) I think it’s a shame!

Angie. It’s funny.

Mrs. T. (Severely.) So your father appears to think. What is to be done? That is the question.

Mr. T. Let him change his bid and submit sealed proposals.

Mrs. T. There you go again. Husband, you must see him at once.

Mr. T. I’d rather not.

Mrs. T. Duty and the happiness of your child call you. (Authoritatively.) Go!

Mr. T. I prefer not to tackle him again to-day.

Mrs. T. All right, I go myself. Between two evils we must choose the best. I will go.

Mr. T. My dear, I wont allow it. We must choose the worst. I’ll beard the—that proverb is stale—I’ll just beard him. Or shall I not rather unbeard him? (Majestically. With pompous, martial air.) The die is cast and fortune—um—ah—

Mrs. T. Josiah, go. (Points.)

Quick Curtain.

ACT III.

Scene. House of Mr. Topp as in Act I.

Enter Ginger, showing in Mrs. T-K., L.

Gin. Massa Topp’ll be in soon. I’ll take your cahd.

Mrs. T-K. Just say a lady.

Gin. Yes’m. (Exit Gin. R.)

Mrs. T-K. Oh, I’m in such a state! What if Angie is right after all and Mr. Topp is in love with her? (Sighs.) Ah, well! I did think he admired me and then his asking me to write about dear Twiggsie and Dixie. But I just couldn’t write all about them, they’re so charming. To tell him in a confidential way will be much nicer. Pa is sure to bungle matters. Men always do. I must see Mr. Topp and make sure of this golden opportunity for my precious boys. If he should marry, perhaps he wouldn’t want to adopt twins. No, of course not. How absurd. Oh, dear, what a complication! What shall I do?

Enter Mrs. Dubbledam, R.

Mrs. D. Goot mornin’ lady. You waits for sompody?

Mrs. T-K. I want to see Mr. Topp.

Mrs. D. Yes, peesness?

Mrs. T-K. Very urgent business.

Mrs. D. Urchent! Dot will be of great importance, aint it? Mr. Topp comes sometimes home pretty guick, an’ sometimes he comes later. He haf his lunch at one o’clock. What was your peesness? Some togs?

Mrs. T-K. Dogs! No, indeed! I have business of great importance.

Mrs. D. Togs was of much importance by some peoples. One woman brought a leetle tog under each arm. When I told her Mr. Topp would kill tem she got mat like fury an’ says she, I yoost like to see him try dot.

Mrs. T-K. I don’t like dogs.

Mrs. D. Den you yoost agree mit Mr. Topp. He can’t pear mit togs an’ goats an’ such animals like dot.

Mrs. T-K. I admire his taste! Oh, I think he is such a fine gentleman.

Mrs. D. Lady, he is fine like golt. He has one heart so big as dot. (Holds hands enclosing space to show great size.) He treats me yoost like his mother.

Mrs. T-K. Oh, go on, I love to hear you talk of him!

Mrs. D. So? Well, he was gweer sometimes. He got a notion of twins?

Mrs. T-K. (With interest.) Yes?

Mrs. D. One day he say right out sudden like, “Mrs. Tuppletam, we must haf some twins.” For tree days I tink about dot an’ by myself I make nodings out. Dot was a Chinese puzzle. Mr. Topp he say one day he was goin’ to adopt dem twins. Den it was all glear an’ I say what a kindness in dot heart.

Mrs. T-K. I could listen to you all day.

Mrs. D. Ach, so? Shall you listen all day? Come in my room an’ we can talk more quiet.

Mrs. T-K. Thank you, I will. (Exeunt R.)

Enter Topp, L.

Topp. (Solus.) I said I’d never be a fool again, but I am. Ah! what a face! What a figure! And that smile! Yes, Topp, old boy, you’re in love again for the first time in twenty years. The sensation isn’t bad either. In fact, it is delightful. I feel young again. Didn’t I knock that old chap out easily. Stay! that was her father, that was an indiscretion. I must apologize handsomely. But “the course of true love never did run smooth.” I think I’m no bad match. (Dubbledam and Mrs. T-K. appear in door, R.) My figure isn’t so bad! Nor my hair! Nor my complexion, thanks to abstemious living! (Adonis, business before glass. Mrs. D. knocks two or three times, R., finally enters. Mrs. T-K in door.) Ah, you there, Dubbledam? (Confused.) What do you want?

Mrs. D. Eeef you please, Mr. Topp, I knock two three times already.

Topp. Very well. What is it?

Mrs. D. A lady who haf peesness important. (Dub. retreats R.)

Topp. (Adjusting articles on secretary, without looking at her.) Some charity, I suppose. Madam I have already given all I can afford for the present.

Mrs. T-K. (Smiling.) Pardon me, you told me to call again or write.

Topp. (Looks up, recognizes her, comes down C.) Oh, so I did! (With decision.) But I said write. I have no time for interviews.

Mrs. T-K. Writing is impossible. Twiggsie and Dixie are so charming. I’m sure if you only saw them!

Topp. (Aside.) Dogs again! (Curtly.) Madam I don’t want them.

Mrs. T-K. But you haven’t seen them.

Topp. I tell you I won’t look at them.

Mrs. T-K. But you told me to call or write!

Topp. (Annoyed.) The same old story. You’ve called and lost valuable time and car fare. You shan’t lose anything by me! (Produces wallet.) There’s twenty dollars! (She starts. He thrusts money in her hand.) I’ll take them! (Calls.) “Dubbledam.” (Dub. appears R.) Tell Potts to drown them in the fish pond.

Mrs. T-K. (Screams.) Drown them! Oh, sir! My precious darlings! Oh, oh!—the brute! (About to swoon. Topp catches her. He is greatly embarrassed.)

Topp. Help! Dubbledam! Here’s a pretty row. And all about some puppies.

Mrs. T-K. (Suddenly recovering.) Puppies, sir! Do you insult me? Who said dogs?

Topp. You did, madam.

Mrs. T-K. Never! I was talking about my dear, darling twin boys, Twiggsie and Dixie.

Topp. Whew! Another affair truly! (Aside.) A fine woman, too! (Begins to laugh; Mrs. T-K. and Dubbledam join.) Madam, this is a most ludicrous situation. I beg your pardon.

Mrs. T-K. Oh, pray don’t mention it.

Topp. I beg a thousand pardons. How ludicrous, to be sure! Madam, I am very sorry, but I may add that I do not think now of adopting twins!

Mrs. D. Vot! No twins alretty!

Topp. No, Dubbledam. I’ve changed my mind. In short, I might as well tell you now to put the house in order. I’m going to marry!

Mrs. D. Marry! Mine cracious!

Mrs. T-K. (Starts.) Marry! Then I suppose I may at least—(Embarrassed, stops.)

Topp. Congratulate me? Yes. The prettiest little blonde (or brunette, as case may be; here describe Angie.) imaginable.

Mrs. T-K. (Aside.) Angie! she was right. (To T.) I congratulate you. I—yes, I hope you’ll be happy.

Topp. Thank you. Dubbledam, show the lady out. I wish you a very good day, madam. (Exeunt Mrs. D. and Mrs. T-K. L.) What a ridiculous misunderstanding. Pshaw, who cares! Love rises superior to misunderstandings. (Hums snatch of song.) I’m too happy to be annoyed at anything, and, hold on—am I too happy for it to last? In the bright dictionary of youth—

Enter Gin. L. Showing in Mr. Twiggs.

Gin. (Announces.) Mr. Twiggs.

Twiggs. I beg pardon for the interruption. You were speaking of the lexicon. Lexicon, permit me, sir, is the better word. Nothing like it to polish up orthography.

Topp. (Coming forward.) Mr. Twiggs, I owe you an apology. That little affair at your house was highly censurable, I assure you. Do you forgive me?

Twiggs. Of course! It was a little brusque, but nobody was hurt. You took me by surprise, but I’ll put on the gloves with you any time that suits your convenience.

Topp. (Grasping his hand.) Don’t think of such a thing, sir. At your age—

Twiggs. At my age—do you think I’m as ancient as the pyramids?

Topp. I beg pardon! (Confused, aside.) I must be more guarded.

Twiggs. All right, Topp! (Aside.) I’ll have to play old man if he is to be my son-in-law.

Topp. It is all forgotten. The hatchet is buried.

Twiggs. (Grasping Topp by hand.) My dear boy, the hatchet is in the bottom of the bay. (They shake.)

Topp. Then, to proceed to the point directly. I’m a man of few words. I want to pay my addresses to your daughter.

Twiggs. Exactly!

Topp. It is understood?

Twiggs. It is.

Topp. And there is no obstacle?

Twiggs. None that I know of.

Topp. Thank you. Excuse my apparent haste. You were a young man yourself once.

Twiggs. Unquestionably.

Topp. And you can appreciate a young man’s feelings.

Twiggs. To a dot.

Topp. Thank you. Thank you. (Clasps his hand.) We can arrange details at our leisure.

Twiggs. Yes, plenty of time for that. The details will take care of themselves.

Topp. The preliminaries were soon settled.

Twiggs. Yes, though I happen to think of one preliminary that might be a little clearer. Which one of my daughters do you mean?

Topp. (Astonished.) What! Which one (Pause)—have you several?

Twiggs. Only two, sir. Will you be kind enough to specify the lady by name?

Topp. (Puzzled.) Let me see! (Looks for note book in pocket.) Really I can’t recall her name. (Cannot find book.)

Twiggs. Ah, I see—memory not so good as formerly. (Aside.) Another break, hang it!

Topp. You are mistaken, sir, it is the confusion of love. You said you could appreciate a lover’s feelings. (Can’t find note book.)

Twiggs. Of course, beg pardon. (Aside.) If I succeed I’ll be the first on record.

Topp. Stay, I have an idea.

Twiggs. (Aside.) Returning reason. (To T.) Let’s have it.

Topp. She knows.

Twiggs. Of course, why didn’t we think of that sooner.

Topp. (Laughs.) Certainly! She knew it before I did, the sly puss.

Twiggs. But hold on! What if she won’t tell? Don’t you think it would be rather embarrassing for the lady to speak her mind first?

Topp. Quite right you are. Now I have it, I’ll describe her.

Twiggs. That is a practical idea.

Topp. She is tall.

Twiggs. They are both tall.

Topp. And good looking!

Twiggs. (With slight bow.) Our family is noted, sir, for the comeliness of it’s female members.

Topp. Her smile is simply enthralling!

Twiggs. Exactly! But allow me to remark that you are a single man and do not know the power of the female smile as a social lever, especially when a new bonnet or a new gown is its focal point. You must try again, sir.

Topp. (Hesitates.) Her eye is like the gazelle’s.

Twiggs. Gad, sir, yours is a bad case. Allow me to suggest that you name the color of the aforesaid optic, or better still the color of her hair? By the way have you a lock of her hair?

Topp. A lock of her hair on one day’s acquaintance! (Remonstrates.) Oh, sir, you wrong your child.

Twiggs. Excuse me, no offense, but a plain old father like me can’t be supposed to keep tally on all the innings of an affair like this.

Topp. No, of course not.

Twiggs. Do you happen to remember the color of said hair?

Topp. Yes, golden.

Twiggs. Oh, yes, some call it red! I’ll speak to Angie.

Topp. (Eagerly.) Angie, that’s her name.

Twiggs. And, as lovers are usually impatient, I’ll attend to the matter immediately.

Topp. I’ll be very grateful. (They go, L.) I’ll show you out myself, sir. Good day. (They shake hands. Exit Twiggs, Topp goes up R.) Well, that matter is in pretty good shape. A bad beginning makes a good ending.

Enter Ginger, showing in Tick, L.

Gin. Mr. Tick! (Exit Ginger, L.)

Tick. (Aside.) It’s risky, but I’ll try it. (To Topp.) Mr. Topp! (Topp doesn’t hear.) Mr. Topp!

Topp. (Turning.) Sir?

Tick. I called in relation to a matter of mutual interest.

Topp. You are the individual who called before and spent an hour, on pretense of business, in listening to my private affairs and reading my letters. Your interest in my affairs is altogether too great.

Tick. (Brusquely.) Allow me if you please, this is business. I come with a message from her. (Crosses to C.)

Topp. From whom, pray?

Tick. You know well enough who. She declines the honor.

Topp. Do not speak in riddles. To whom do you refer?

Tick. To Miss Twiggs, of course.

Topp. (Furious.) Why you monkey, who are you? Her father has just been here. (Getting angrier.) You are insulting. I’ll have Potts kick you down stairs. (Rings bell.) Where is that lazy niggro?

Enter Spratt hastily followed by Ginger, L.

Topp. (Facing Tick.) Who are you anyway?

Spratt. I can tell you! An imposter. Your rival who traduces you.

Topp. (Sneeringly.) My rival! That man! Fiddlesticks!

Spratt. He has traduced you, sir. He called you names. I’ll leave it to Mr. Ginger.

Gin. (Grinning.) Yis, sah.

Topp. What did he say, Potts? (Tick tries to catch Ginger’s eye. Pantomime of giving coin. Topp severely.) Now look here, Ginger! What ails you? What did he say?

Gin. I’m tryin’ to think of the word. It’s powerful long. A deceptive octagon, sah, that’s it.

Topp. Eh! What’s that?

Gin. A—de—um—that’s what I said.

Spratt. A decrepit octogenarian, that was the epithet.

Gin. Dat’s it! A decreptive octogon—narium.

Topp. (To Tick.) Why, sir, this is infamous! This is actionable. The law sir—bother the law’s delays. I’ll call you out, sir.

Tick. To take a drink?

Topp. (Thunders.) To take a drink? No, sir. To the field of honor, sir, at thirty paces.

Tick. (Starts.) That’s a pretty small field.

Topp. Say forty paces then, I’m not particular. I demand satisfaction.

Tick. I always try to give my customers satisfaction.

Topp. Confound your customers. (Tick laughs heartily.) What are you laughing at, sir? (Tick laughs again. Shaking his fist at Tick.) Don’t provoke me! I cannot answer for the consequences. Commercial affairs have no place in an affair of honor.

Tick. My customers tell me that frequently. (Laughs.)

Topp. May the devil take your customers from first to last. (Tick laughs immoderately. Topp furious.) If you don’t stop your laughing, I’ll knock every tooth out of your head.

Spratt. His conduct is very ungentlemanly.

Topp. In the extreme! In the extreme! I can’t fight him. He is no gentleman.

Tick. (Aside.) Indeed! I’ll try a bluff. (To Topp.) I insist on fighting.

Topp. You insist! I’ll accommodate you, sir, if the code will possibly allow it. To begin, sir, you are in trade. Old honorable house, may I ask? (Tick laughs.) You are laughing again, young man. To judge by your conduct the house is scarcely respectable. (Tick laughs immoderately. Topp jerks off coat.) Now, sir, take your choice. Stop laughing or be knocked down without ceremony.

Tick. I beg pardon! My laugh goes off very easy. It’s a hair-trigger laugh.

Topp. Don’t let it go off again. I warn you. Head of house or member of firm?

Tick. Neither! Traveling salesman.

Topp. Traveling salesman! That would never do. (To Spratt.) Would it?

Spratt. Never!

Tick. But I insist!

Topp. (To Spratt.) He insists. Is there no way of accommodating him?

Spratt. I suggest you make him give up all pretentions to the young lady and then boot him out of your house.

Tick. Boot me out of the house. Well, that’s cheek enough for an office seeker, you puppy!

Spratt. Puppy! Dare you call me puppy? I’ll— (Makes toward Tick. Topp prevents him.)

Topp. Stay, restrain your impetuosity. Your only remedy is to call him out after I have done with him. As for booting him out of the house, no gentleman could so deport himself toward another gentleman. Do you think I could stain my honor by kicking him?

Spratt. No, it would not do. Let the nigger kick him.

Tick. Gentlemen, this waiting is a bore. (Theatrically.) To fight or not to fight, that’s the question.

Topp. Permit me one more question. Are you wholesale or retail?

Tick. Wholesale only.

Topp. Ah, that is better! And your house I have no doubt is of high standing. Doubtless A1 in the books? (Tick laughs immoderately. Topp advances furiously shaking his fist at Tick.) Mr. Spratt, restrain me, or I will knock him down, in spite of the code. I see nothing to laugh at. An affair of honor is a serious affair, I’d have you understand. Perhaps this is your first.

Tick. It is.

Topp. Then you shall have a new experience. You may consider it settled.

Tick. (Frightened.) Do you insist?

Topp. Certainly, sir! Consider it settled.

Tick. But, my dear sir, all these objections—

Topp. Are waived, sir. Choose your second. Mr. Spratt, will you favor me by arranging details on my part?

Spratt. With pleasure!

Tick. (Aside.) Good Lord! I’m in for it.

Topp. (To Tick.) Call a friend!

Tick. Say the undertaker. I object.

Topp. It is too late to object, sir. Choose your second. The undertaker will make a good third.

Tick. Are you trying to scare me! I can’t be bluffed!

Topp. Oh, certainly not.

Tick. I’d as soon fight as eat, but—ah—I’ll be magnanimous. I’ll spare you.

Spratt. That’s cool.

Topp. Sir, this is additional provocation. I insist on fighting.

Tick. But think of the loss to your business if you should fall.

Topp. (Getting angry.) Mr. Spratt hasten the details, I am anxious to teach this young man a lesson. I suggest Blackberry Hill. There is no other such spot near Baltimore. (To Tick.) It is a beautiful spot.

Tick. I don’t doubt it.

Topp. There I had the pleasure of acting as second for the Hon. Kidwell Kroup in his great duel with Major Brocklestein. The major winged my man first fire, but it was a beautiful affair gentlemen, beautiful. A few years later, I had the pleasure—excuse me for being personal—of meeting there myself, Col. Hicksby Snodgrass, C. S. A. And the Colonel wears only one arm since that hour.

Tick. (Groans.) Very cheerful, indeed!

Topp. Delightful, I assure you. So choose your second and we’ll have the whole affair over before the authorities get wind of it.

Tick. I shall be delighted to hasten matters. (Whispers aside to Ginger.)

Topp. (To Spratt.) Now, my dear sir, I leave all to you. Use expedition. (To Gin.) Show the gentlemen out. (Exeunt Spratt and Tick, L.) Ah, well this may be serious after all. But it is only an incident and the true gentleman lives in an atmosphere of incidents. I’ll write her. Bless her little heart, honor demands that I do and dare for her like a knight of old. (Sits at table to write.) “My dear Miss Twiggs”—No, that is too formal—“My dear Angie”—how does that sound?—that’s a little familiar possibly for one day’s acquaintance. (Tears up sheet of paper with each change.) How about the my—well I guess I’m sure enough of the my. But “My dear Angie” is too long. I’ll try “Dear Angie.” That’s better, but why not make it stronger? Women feed on compliment and are taken by audacity in love. As old Horace advised I’ll plunge “in medias res.” So here goes: “Sweet Angie”—that’s better. But that is not enough. How very inadequate language is to portray all the delightful sensations of new born love. (Thinks.) “Sweet Angie—My Pet”—that’s the thing—“This will inform you that I cannot see you again to-day. A little affair” (Pause.) affair—I wonder if that will alarm her? No, women admire courage—“An affair of honor requires immediate attention. Shall see you soon. May I close with a kiss?”—that’s a little bold—“a sweet, sweet kiss?” There you are, that’ll please her. “Au revoir and a final sweety—sweety kiss.” You can’t put too much of the sweet business into an affair with a young lady. You must love them distractedly, or you’ll never please them. (Sighs.) How shall I sign it? Cadwalader Topp is too formal. I’ll risk it. It sounds more affectionate. “Caddie,” that used to be my pet name. While I’m about it I’ll just say “Your Caddie.” There you are! (Seals and addresses. Rings bell.)

Enter Gin. R.

Gin. Ring, sah?

Topp. Deliver this at once. Now for the preparations. (Strikes attitude, right hand gestures.) Wait not when honor calls but hasten to the field, lest tardiness should prove an added stain. (Gin. stands astonished, then vanishes just as T. turns.)

Quick Curtain.

ACT IV.

Scene:—A grass plat with trees in background.

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Twiggs, R. 1.

Mrs. T. We must find them; blood will be shed and, oh dear! Mr. Topp may be killed!

Mr. T. Sophronia, duels are not for the purpose of shedding blood. They are for the vindication of wounded honor.

Mrs. T. Josiah, human life is trembling in the balance, and I believe you actually enjoy it.

Mr. T. My dear, I can’t say that I enjoy it so far. Our walk in search of it has been rather hurried. They should have hired a hall and sold tickets.

Mrs. T. Josiah, you’ll drive me to the grave. But if you do not respect the feelings of the wife of your bosom think of your child.

Mr. T. Our child is all right. She is not going to fight.

Mrs. T. But think of her future?

Mr. T. Which future, my dear? There appears to be two of him.

Mrs. T. Josiah, you stand here talking while every moment is a question of life or death.

Mr. T. (Coolly.) I’m waiting for developments, dear.

Mrs. T. Developments, indeed! Do you think they will come to you? They may be in the dells.

Mr. T. No, this is the right spot. All our high-class affairs occur here. Capt. Throckmugger died at the foot of that tree just over there.

Mrs. T. Mercy! Josiah, how can you speak of blood! You want to kill me?

Mr. T. Sophronia, dear, I disclaim—

Mrs. T. (Pulling him away.) Come along, we must find them! To the dells! Quick! (Exeunt, L.)

Enter excitedly Angie and Mrs. T-K. R. 1.

Mrs. T-K. I’m sure I heard voices!

Angie. But there is nobody in sight. Sister, do you think our coming here is exactly proper?

Mrs. T-K. True love dares all for duty.

Angie. Yes, but isn’t our affection rather recent to be put to such a test.

Mrs. T-K. Recent! Love knows nothing of time or place when its object is in danger.

Angie. It is so romantic. Is there really any danger?

Mrs. T-K. Duels are sometimes in earnest, and Mr. Topp is a dead shot they say.

Angie. Horrid old thing! Poor Mr. Tick!

Mrs. T-K. Dear Mr. Topp!

Angie. Mr. Topp is a blood-thirsty old monster. I don’t like him one bit, there now!

Mrs. T-K. Brave man, he is fighting for you, and thus you repay his gallantry.

Angie. (Petulantly.) I don’t want him to fight for me. Oh, if Mr. Tick should be hurt.

Mrs. T-K. Mr. Tick is a villain.

Angie. Mr. Topp is a fool; a little blood-letting would do him good.

Mrs. T-K. Sister, don’t mention blood, I shall expire. I know I shall. Dear me, what a snarl things are in. We must stop this duel. Dear Mr. Topp!

Angie. Adorable Mr. Tick!

Mrs. T-K. They may have gone to the dells. Let’s go there (Exit, running L.)

Angie. Wait, sister! (Exit, following, L.)

Enter Tick and Ginger, R.

(Ginger carries large pair of corn knives or, as known to farmers, “corncutters,” in a gunny sack.)

Tick. Ginger, I don’t like the looks of those corncutters. How do you use them?

Gin. You jes cut an’ slash, that’s all. (Business with knife.)

Tick. But suppose old Topp gets his slash in first. Where am I?

Gin. Say, looky hyah, Mistah Tick, do you like dat gal well enough to fight fur ’er?

Tick. (Swaggering.) I’d die for her. I’d wade through—

Gin. Never mind de wadin’! Keep youah shoes on an’ listen to Ginger Potts. Ye want to play a big bluff, don’t ye?

Tick. Yes.

Gin. An’ I get ten dollars if de bluff goes?

Tick. That’s right.

Gin. Then you do jes as Ginger Potts tells you. If massa ever find dis job out he’ll jes naterally skin me. I wouldn’t have him know it fur de purtiest twenty-five dollar bill you ever see. Nosiree! Ye see, Mistah Tick, when Cadwalader Topp sees dem corncutters he’ll be too mad to fight. He’ll be madder’n a wet hen. He’ll say dem weepons is unnateral an’ outrageous an’ sich as no gentleman kin use. You got de right to choose de weepins. He raises a bushel of objections an’ you insists. Den you see dah’s no jewel because de gemmen can’t agree on weepins. Ye’s both saved yer honah an’ youah hides.

Tick. That’s a great scheme, Ginger. But suppose he agrees to the weapons. I don’t like the looks of his eye.

Gin. (Puzzled.) Dat’s an extreme case, but if it comes to extreemities, an’ not till den min’ ye, call fur me an’ say you have to insult me.

Tick. Why should I insult you?

Gin. Doesn’t every gentleman insult his second?

Tick. Oh, I see, consult.

Gin. Exactly! Dat’s what I said! When ole massa sees me he’ll be consulted. ’Cause ye see I’m a nigger an’ a nigger aint no gentleman. He’ll jes have more dignity than a pew full o’ deacons and walk off consulted.

Tick. Wont that get you into trouble?

Gin. Well, ole massa’ll storm ’round an’ threaten to lam me, but he wont even tech me ’case massa’s a gentleman an’ I’ve been in de family three generations!

Tick. Oh you prevaricator!

Gin. A what! Say dat again. I didn’t quite git dat.

Tick. You’re not over twenty-five years old.

Gin. Twenty-five las fall come a year. But ye see my gran’mammy she was in de family, dat’s one generation; and my mammy she was Mr. Topp’s nurse, dat’s two generations, ain’t it? An’ I was one generation, aint I?

Tick. There’s no doubt of it.

Gin. All right, I ain’t no great scholar, but I know three times one is three times.

Tick. All right! I hear voices. Skip into the bushes and I’ll say my second is looking for a surgeon. (Exit Gin. hastily, L.)

Enter Mr. Topp, Spratt and very dignified Surgeon, R. Latter carries case of instruments, which he leisurely unpacks, showing a very formidable saw, etc.

Topp. (To Tick.) Ah, prompt, I see. Where is your second?

Tick. He is delayed a little looking for a surgeon. I expect him momentarily.

Topp. That is unfortunate. Quick work here is the order. We are liable to interruption from the police. We have brought a surgeon, Dr. Short.

Tick. Let your man Spratt and Doctor Short arrange details, I’m indifferent.

Topp. (Haughtily.) This is no place for a display of generosity, sir. This is very irregular and time is pressing.

Spratt. I see no objection to stepping the ground, for example if Dr. Short will stand for Mr. Tick.

Topp. Very irregular, very. What do you say, Dr. Short?

Dr. S. (Very formal and dignified.) I coincide, sir. It is highly irregular, I might add, perhaps, unprecedented. Had I the pleasure of the acquaintance of your opponent—

Topp. (Bowing low.) I beg your pardon! I forget you were not acquainted! Mr. Tick, I have the pleasure of introducing Dr. Short. Dr. Short, Mr. Tick. Mr. Tick, Dr. Short. (They bow.)

Dr. Short. (Judicially and with great dignity.) I think I may lay it down as an axiom of the code that one gentleman may—I say may—stand at all times for any other gentleman. Now, the fact that the gentleman’s second is absent looking for a surgeon must be considered a valid reason for delay and consequently may—I say advisedly may—allow slight alterations of previous plans. My decision, then, is that your humble servant might with absolute propriety—I say might advisedly—stand temporarily for the absent second of Mr. Tick. (Bows to Tick.) I am at your service, sir. I consent, to satisfy honor.

Spratt. Very well, then let’s step thirty paces! (Business of measuring.)

Tick. (Chuckles aside.) That’s a safe distance.

Spratt. Now for choice of position. Heads or tails? (Produces coin.)

Dr. Short. (Solemnly.) Heads.

Spratt. (Tossing.) Heads it is!

Short. (Tosses.) Tails!

Spratt. (Tossing.) Heads it is! Your man gets the advantage of the light. (To Tick.) Let us examine your weapons. Are they loaded?

Tick. (Producing knives from sack.) They are! (All start at sight of knives.)

Topp. (Surprised.) What in time are those implements?

Tick. The weapons.

Topp. Why, confound you, sir, I wont fight with a butcher’s cleaver.

Spratt. Corncutters, I beg your pardon.

Topp. A vulgar agricultural implement. I won’t fight with them.

Tick. I insist. I have the right to choose the weapons.

Topp. But only gentlemen’s weapons. I’ll have you understand, sir, that I do not choose to be hacked to pieces with a sausage machine. Dr. Short, I appeal to you.

Dr. Short. (With great deliberation.) Your objection is reasonable, and I may add, most weighty. This uncouth weapon is unusual, and—and, vulgar, I use the word vulgar advisedly in the sense of common, without casting any reflection on this humble but useful agricultural tool.

Tick. Gentlemen, my second pronounces the weapons all right.

Topp. A most remarkable second, sir! I’d like to see him. Why doesn’t he appear.

Tick. I think I see him coming now. (Hellos off R.) Hello! Hey! Hurry up there.

Enter Gin. R.

Topp. (Astonished, falls back.) A niggro!

Spratt. (Repeats.) A nigger.

Dr. Short. (With disgust.) A niggro. This is no place for a gentleman. (Begins to pack his kit.)

Tick. Isn’t he a man and brother?

Topp. (Furious.) This is insufferable! This is a gross insult to be atoned at once. (Seizes one of corn knives.) I accept the weapons! Take your place. At the word three, advance and defend yourself. I’ll make shoe strings out of you, sir. (Vehemently.) I will, on my life I will!

Spratt. One, two, three!

Topp. Come on. (Makes pass at Tick who easily eludes him. Business of Topp chasing Tick around the stage, his movements those of a heavy, stiff man. Tick easily eludes him, and makes no effort at defense. Business, ad lib.)

Enter Twiggs suddenly, R.

Twiggs. Hello! What’s this? I expected a duel and here’s a sprinting match. (Laughs heartily. Looks at Topp.) Why, Topp, what is that you hold in your hand? An oyster opener? (Topp and Twiggs R. Short and Spratt up C. Tick L., Gin. behind him.)

Topp. Do you dare poke fun at me, sir. Don’t do it again. You laugh again at your peril.

Twiggs. Excuse me. I didn’t mean to talk shop, my cachinatory muscles are subject to spasmodic movements. But what are you doing?

Topp. (Throws it away in disgust.) That man had the impudence to bring a sausage knife on these hallowed precincts.

Tick. Pardon me! A corncutter!

Spratt. No gentleman would propose a corncutter as a decent weapon.

Twiggs. Quite right! We’ll have none of them. They are perfectly absurd! Fit only for niggros. Nothing like hair triggers. (Steps toward C.) Has any gentleman a brace of pistols? I think I can arrange all to the satisfaction of the company.

Spratt. (Comes down C.) I brought a pair for alternatives. (Produces them from case.)

Twiggs. Ah, beauties!

Tick. I object to hair triggers!

Twiggs. On what grounds, sir?

Tick. They might go off.

Twiggs. A frivolous objection, sir! You owe Mr. Topp satisfaction. Your position is absurd, and let me say, sir, subjects you to suspicion; yes sir, to suspicion of cowardice!

Tick. (Comes toward them, C., blusters.) I’m no coward, mind that! (Aside.) This is serious. (Aside to Twiggs.) I don’t want to fight.

Twiggs. (In a friendly manner.) Don’t want to fight? What are your reasons?

Tick. I might get hurt!

Twiggs. That’s no reason!

Tick. Come aside and I’ll tell you all.

Twiggs. Publicity is the only recourse at this stage of the proceedings.

Tick. If you must then, I—I don’t wish to deprive an honored house of its head.

Topp. None of your sentiment, sir!

Twiggs. A very commendable sentiment, but invalid.

Dr. Short. Yes, insufficient.

Twiggs. At this stage of the quarrel, without having satisfied wounded honor, no gentleman would ever speak to either of you again. I advise one shot anyway.

Topp. I insist on one shot.

Tick. I object to Mr. Topp’s second. He is here through motives of revenge. I’ll leave it to Dr. Short if motives of revenge are allowable in an affair of honor.

Dr. Short. (Emphatically.) Never! (To Spratt, sternly.) Is this true, sir? (Spratt silent.)

Gin. It is. He’s mad at Mistah Tick ’cause he made fun of his twins, Grover Cleveland Spratt and Benjamin Harrison Spratt.

Topp. I recall some words now, when I come to think of it.

Twiggs. Resign, sir, at once! Do you resign?

Spratt. I do! (Aside.) They are onto my scheme.

Gin. (To Spratt, aside.) Bettah git now.

Spratt. I’ll get even with you, you black rascal. (Exit, while Gin. goes through pantomime of kicking him out.)

Twiggs. (Muses.) Hang it all, I’ll act as second for both parties. How’s that?

Dr. Short. (Gravely.) Unusual, without precedent but honorable.

Twiggs. (Brusquely.) Gentlemen, consider it settled! Take your places! (They move to places. Topp R., Tick L. Tick mechanically, as if half dazed.) The word is one, two, three, fire. (Thrusts pistol in hand of each and goes up C. to give signal. Tick holds his weapon very awkwardly, pointing down.) Young man, are you going to shoot a hole in the earth? (Adjusts pistol on level for him.)

Topp. (Dodging.) I don’t like that. That’s partiality.

Twiggs. Ah, possibly. (Reflects a moment.) Stay, I have an idea. (Produces pistol from pocket.) Dr. Short, favor me with your weapon. (Takes Short’s pistol and goes up C.) Ready, gentlemen. Dr. Short, I’ll trouble you to give the signal. The principals will kindly aim at each other and, to show strict impartiality, I’ll shoot at both. (Levels a pistol at each of the principals.)

Topp. (Dodging.) Hold on there!

Tick. (Dodging, immediately recovering himself.) No sir—ee! that wont do!

Dr. Short. Extraordinary!

Enter Mrs. Twiggs, R., runs to Twiggs.

Mrs. T. Oh, Josiah, have you found them? (Twiggs hastily thrusts one pistol in his pocket and tries to hide the other under his coat.) Oh, Josiah, why don’t you speak. Is anybody killed? Has blood been shed?

Twiggs. (Disgusted.) Not a blamed drop! (Aside.) Fun all spoiled.

Enter Angie and Mrs. T-K., running R.

Mrs. T-K. (Running to Topp, R.) Oh, Mr. Topp, I implore you spare him!

Angie. (Running to Tick, L.) Spare him, Mr. Tick! Spare him!

Tick. Certainly! I can spare him! (Puts arm round her waist.)

Topp. (Furious.) Bless my eyes! Look at his audacity! I will commit murder. (Tries to get at Tick, flourishing corncutter. Mrs. T-K. clings to him.)

Mrs. T-K. You shall not! (Tableau.) Be merciful!

Topp. Rash woman, let me go! My honor is at stake.

Mr. T. Mr. Topp, there’s a slight mistake somewhere. (Everybody pauses for explanations, T. crosses to Topp.) I’ll try to clear it up. You advertised for twins?

Tick. Twins! (Makes face of surprise.) Dogs!

Mrs. T. Generous man!

Topp. (Annoyed.) Madam, this is no place for a disquisition on generosity.

Mrs. T. So modest! Don’t deny it.

Mr. T. Your advertisement brought my daughters to your house. You admired one of them, but I fear you made advances to the wrong one by mistake.

Topp. (Pointing to Angie.) That is the young lady I meant.

Mrs. T-K. But unfortunately she objects. (Confidentially.) I fear her affections are elsewhere. (Angie cuddles up to Tick.)

Topp. (Regarding Angie and Tick.) Humph! Well, I shouldn’t be surprised if they were. Here’s a pretty state of affairs. I’ve made a fool of myself. Well, “There’s no fool like an old fool.”

Mr. T. My dear Mr. Topp, a young man should not be so pessimistic. Let me match your maxim with another. “There’s just as good fish in the sea as ever were caught.” (Nudges Mrs. T. aside.) How’s that for a pointer?

Mrs. T. Mr. Topp, let me introduce my daughter, Mrs. Twiggs-Knott. (Topp bows. Mrs. T., confidentially.) She is the mother of lovely twins.

Topp. Ah! indeed, madam? (To Mrs. T-K.) Boys?

Mrs. T-K. Fine fellows.

Topp. Age?

Mrs. T-K. Seven.

Topp. Both the same age?

Mrs. T-K. (Confused.) Why, to be sure.

Topp. (Confused.) Yes, of course, I beg pardon!

Mrs. T-K. (Nudging Josiah.) Confused! That’s a good sign.

Mr. T. Rattled!

Topp. Healthy?

Mrs. T-K. Tough as pine knots.

Mr. T. (Laughing.) Pine knots, Twiggs-Knotts too. (Laughs at his witticism.)

Mrs. T. (Aside.) Josiah, your puns are atrocious. (Twiggs goes L. C. to Tick and speaks inaudibly to him.)

Topp. Madam, I’ll take the goods, if they’re up to grade.

Mrs. T-K. The goods?

Tick. Now, the old man is talking shop himself.

Topp. I mean, I’ll take the boys.

Mrs. T-K. Oh, thank you! Oh, how good of him!

Topp. Mr. Twiggs, you seem to know that young man of monumental assurance. Who is this Tick?

Twiggs. Tick? Why, his name is not Tick. That is a nick-name the boys gave him. He is the son of my oldest friend, John Baggs. He is in the employ of Topp & Topp.

Topp. (To Tick.) Are you my man, Jim Baggs?

Tick. (Bowing.) I have that honor.

Topp. Playing tricks on the “old man,” eh? I’ve a mind to discharge you on the spot. Well, I wont, come to think of it. The manager says you could sell oysters to a tobacco sign.

Tick. (Bowing.) Thank you!

Topp. But I can’t forgive such freaks, sir.

Tick. I’m very sorry—

Twiggs. Yes, he’s sorry. Young blood you know and none spilled either—(All laugh.)

Mrs. T. (Severely.) Josiah!

Mr. T. Yes, my dear!

Mrs. T-K. We had better go home!

Topp. Certainly, madam. Potts! Where’s that niggro?

Gin. (Coming forward.) Yis, sah.

Topp. Go to the cab stand at the Park and send carriages to meet us at the fountain.

Gin. Yis, sah. (Exit L.)

Mrs. T-K. (To Topp.) I do so dislike to part with my dear little boys. Only poverty—

Topp. They shall have all the advantages of wealth.

Mrs. T-K. There may be conditions attached to their going?

Topp. Indeed? I thought that was all settled?

Mrs. T-K. (Sentimentally, with languishing glance.) I should be very lonely.

Topp. Ah, I think I understand the conditions. (Looks at her significantly.) The mother goes with the twins?

Mrs. T-K. She might be induced—that is—oh, dear, how sudden! how embarrassing!

Topp. To relieve that embarrassment, I accept the conditions.

Twiggs. Take her, my boy! Take her, and God bless you, my children. (Slaps Topp on back.)

Mrs. T. Josiah, you shock me. You anticipate. This is no place for such demonstrations. Will you go home?

Mr. T. I will. Come along. (Seizes her arm.)

Topp. (Taking arm of Mrs. T-K.) Come, dear. The house of Topp & Topp shall still keep in the line of its traditions. Twin brothers, same age. (Tick takes Angie’s arm. Dress stage.)

Tableau:

R.	L.
Short, Mr. Topp, Mrs. T-K., Twiggs, Mrs. T., Angie, Tick.

Curtain.