Harper's Round Table, February 11, 1896

by Various

A Play for St. Valentine's Day.

BY CAROLINE A. CREEVEY.

Characters:

Amanda Stuart.

Mary Ann Murphy, of Irish descent, who often affects the brogue.

Gertrude Campbell.

Laura Thurston.

Alicia Perry.

Ada McClure.

Georgiana Thompson, a little girl who lisps.

(All members of Mrs. Eaton's boarding-school.)

Miss Steele, a harsh, unpopular teacher.

Mrs. St. Valentine, aunt to Cupid.

Cupid.

Scene.—A drawing-room in the school. The girls are seated around a table, studying. Time.—February 13th.

Gertrude. This is a horridly uninteresting lesson. Listen, now: "Domestic affairs under Jefferson were at first marked by wonderful prosperity. American commerce increased enormously, for as nearly all Europe was at war, it was not safe to send goods in European vessels." I should like to know what all Europe was at war about? Miss Goodrich will be sure to ask. Can't you tell me, Alicia? You are so good in history.

Alicia. What are your dates? When was Jefferson's administration?

Gertrude. I'm sure I don't know. It must have been seventeen hundred or eighteen hundred and something.

Ada. Well, I call that great! Studying about Jefferson, and don't know when he lived!

Gertrude. Let's see if you know.

Ada. Course I don't! But then I ain't studying history. Just now I'll be satisfied if I can find out what an adjective clause is.

Mary Ann. Aint is a regular verb—I aint, thou aintest, he aintet, we aint, you aint—

Laura. Hush, Mollie; don't tease.

Mary Ann. Is it t'asin' I am? I'm helpin' you, me darlint. Active voice, third person.

Ada. Mollie, you stick to algebra.

Mary Ann. Wid pleasure, me choild. It's x equals the number of laborers, and y the hours they worked, and z the sthroike they wint upon.

Amanda. Oh, are you doing that example about the laborers? Just let me see your statement; I can't get it.

Mary Ann. I'm afther tellin' ye the statement. It's me x equals—

Gertrude. There, I have found Jefferson's reign—administration, I mean—1801 to 1809.

[Repeats it several times.]

Alicia. Well, about that time Napoleon lived—didn't he?

Mary Ann.

Napoleon was a warrior bould,
From Corsica he came,
And so at least we've all been tould
He set the world aflame.

Amanda. Girls, do you know what day to-morrow will be?

All (shout). St. Valentine's day.

Ada. I hope to goodness I'll have six.

Gertrude. There's nothing mean about her.

Georgiana. There'th one coming for me, I'm thure. My brother alwayth thendth me one.

Amanda. Oh, brothers' valentines don't count! Haven't you any other friends? Don't you know any boys?

Laura. I am shocked.

Mary Ann. Whist thin! Mintion no dangerous characters in a young ladies' institootion. Would ye raally, thin, me poor, deluded child, be recavin' thim valentines, which is pizined with Cupid's arrers, from school-boys?

Laura. Girls, it's study hour, and we ought not to talk, except about our lessons.

Georgiana. Thomebody'th coming.

[All bend earnestly over their books.]

Enter Miss Steele. She stands looking suspiciously at the girls.

Miss Steele. I thought I heard voices. Young ladies, were you communicating?

Mary Ann. Yis, mum. I was a-communicatin' av me ixample to paper. It's x equals—

Miss Steele. Miss Murphy, you will be kind enough to drop that outlandish way of speaking when you are addressing me. Were you communicating with each other?

Gertrude. I asked what all Europe was at war about? It said so in my history lesson.

Ada. I asked what an adjective clause was? It came in my grammar.

Miss Steele. Young ladies, I fear you are not absolutely truthful. Remember, the truthful person is never afraid to incriminate himself. He fears deceit above everything else. Try above all things to tell the truth. In the present instance I certainly heard a word that did not belong to either your history or grammar.

Alicia (behind her hands). Eavesdropping, I do believe.

Miss Steele. Miss Perry, did you speak?

Alicia. I was restraining a sneeze, ma'am.

Miss Steele. The word that I happened to overhear was "valentines." I want you to understand that I wholly disapprove of those things. They are silly and stupid. It is a reprehensible custom, that of sending them. Keep your thoughts on higher, better things. I shall remain with you during the rest of this study hour, and see that you pursue your work faithfully till the bell rings. (Seats herself, adjusts glasses, and proceeds to darn a pair of stockings.) It is quite cool here. Georgiana my dear, go to my room, and in the left-hand corner of the drawer you will find a white shawl. Bring it to me.

Georgiana. Yeth, ma'am. [Exit.]

Miss Steele. Strange how that child lisps. I must speak to the elocution-master about it. He might suggest a remedy for the defect.

Mary Ann. May I ask what this word spells?

Miss Steele. Certainly.

Mary Ann. Repr-ehe-nsi-ble.

Miss Steele. You did not divide the syllables correctly. Try again.

Mary Ann. Yes'm. Re-preh-ens-ib-le.

Miss Steele. I cannot make it out yet.

Mary Ann. It's what you said the custom of sending valentines was.

Miss Steele. Oh! reprehensible. And so it is. That means blameworthy, pernicious. A very pernicious custom—most reprehensible.

Mary Ann. Thanks awfully. (Murmurs.) So glad to know.

Enter Georgiana with a red shawl.

Georgiana. Ith thith what you wanted, Mith Thteele?

Miss Steele. No, dear. I said a white shawl. You don't call that white—do you? As usual, you were inattentive. Now listen. Take this back and lay it on my bed, and in the upper drawer, left-hand corner, there is my white shawl wrapped in a towel. Bring it to me. Now mind, the white shawl.

[Exit Georgiana.]

Amanda (whispers). She didn't say whether bureau or wash-stand. It isn't Georgie alone who is stupid.

Miss Steele. Miss Stuart, you are whispering. Tell me what you said.

Amanda. I said that child is too stupid for anything.

Miss Steele. She ought not to be stupid. She is very careless, owing, I suppose, to her bringing up. She has always been waited on too much.

Alicia. Does that make people careless?

Miss Steele. It's apt to do so.

Gertrude. Miss Steele, why do folks call it Saint Valentine's day?

Miss Steele. Do not say folks, Gertrude. It is inelegant. There was a saint named Valentine once, I suppose.

Ada. Did you ever get a valentine, Miss Steele?

Miss Steele. I? Oh no—that is, not lately. I suppose when I was young and foolish I did such things.

Mary Ann (with mock reverence and admiration). I'm sure, ma'am, now, you were never young and foolish.

Enter Georgiana with a blue shawl.

Miss Steele (wrathfully). Did I ever see such idiotic behavior, such extraordinary conduct? Did I say one thing about a blue shawl? Wasn't it a white shawl I sent you for? Explain, miss.

Georgiana. Thith ith what wath in the left-hand corner of the upper drawer of the wath-thand.

Miss Steele. Wash-stand? I said bureau.

Georgiana. I didn't hear you thay bureau.

Miss Steele. Don't add lying to your stupidity. Of course I said bureau! The thought of wash-stand didn't enter my mind.

Georgiana (beginning to cry). I don't think you thaid bureau.

Laura. Please let me get the shawl for you, Miss Steele. I don't believe Georgie can find it now, she is so flustered.

Miss Steele. When I want any of your interference, Miss Thurston, I will ask for it. Georgiana Thompson, go back to my room, and don't bring me a pink, or gray, or black shawl, but a white one which is in the left-hand corner of the upper drawer in my bureau. And if you don't want to spend to-morrow in your room, with bread and tea for your dinner, you would better bring me the right thing this time. Do you hear? (Exit Georgiana.) She must enjoy running up two flights of stairs. I declare it's most annoying.

Alicia. Perhaps, Miss Steele, Georgiana is color-blind.

Miss Steele. Possibly. I had not thought of that.

Amanda. Really, Miss Steele, you didn't tell Georgie that the shawl was in the bureau drawer. Aren't you afraid she'll paw over your things?

Gertrude. And make a mess generally? You really ought to let one of us go with Georgie.

Mary Ann (jumping up). Oh, do let me go!

Miss Steele. Well, go. (Exit Mary Ann.) I feel warmer than I did. I dare say by the time the shawl comes I will not need it. What a vexatious fuss about nothing!

Amanda. Mental excitement makes anybody warm. Shall I go and tell the girls not to bring the shawl?

Miss Steele. Sit still where you are.

[A short, silent pause.]

Enter Mary Ann and Georgie, triumphantly displaying a white shawl.

Mary Ann. There, ma'am. We had to turn over everything in your drawers.

Miss Steele. How very thoughtless of you! I must go and see whether you have done any harm.

[She rises in dismay, drops stockings and balls of yarn, and leaves the room. Mary Ann screams with laughter, and drops on the floor.]

Mary Ann. Oh, me darlints! me childer! It makes me that wake. But the fun! We tossed her drawers all to pieces. There isn't one handkercher lift upon anither. And the gloves and fans and letthers is scathered about.

Laura. Oh, girls, what a pity! How could you do that?

Georgiana. Why, the thawl wathn't in the upper drawer at all. It wath in the lower; and Mollie jutht puthed her handth under everything, and thcattered them tho.

Mary Ann. I did, I did. Och, could I but see her now! the ragin' and tearin' av her, she's as mad as a ducked sitting hin. It's better than medicine, me darlints. (She sits in Miss Steele's chair, picks up the stockings and yarn, puts the white shawl over her shoulders, and tries to look solemn and prim. The other girls gather around, Mary Ann mimicking Miss Steele's voice.) Georgiana, it is quite chilly here. Go, my dear, up two flights of stairs three times to my room, and bring me not a gray, nor a pink, but a white shawl, which is not at all where I tell you it is. And, dear, don't be color-blind just because you're a Southerner, nor careless because your ancestors kept slaves.

Alicia. Sent Georgie on a fool's errand three times, did she? I hate her. Horrid old thing!

Gertrude. Can't we get even with her?

Laura. I think Mollie did get even with her.

Ada. Do let's have our revenge.

Amanda.

It would make us very happy to be revenged upon her;
She's a cross and hateful teacher, and this is why we feel
That without the very tiniest and littlest dishonor
We would like to bother somehow Miss Araminta Steele.

Gertrude. Let's send her a comic valentine.

All (clapping hands). Just the thing!

Laura. I'm afraid that would not be respectful.

Mollie. Whist, darlint, honey! It's the roight thing to do.

Alicia. All in favor of sending a comic valentine to Miss Steele say aye.

All, except Laura. Aye!

Gertrude. Come on, Laura. Don't be too pious. There's no harm done, only fun.

Laura (reluctantly). Well, if you insist, girls, I won't stand out.

Enter Mrs. St. Valentine, a little old lady in a gray gown, mob-cap, and kerchief.

Mrs. St. V. Good-day, young ladies.

All. Good-day, madam.

Mrs. St. V. (seats herself). Would you like to buy any valentines to-day? I have choice ones to sell, at low prices.

[All gather around her and take up the valentines.]

Ada. Yes, these are lovely. Have you any comic valentines?

Mrs. St. V. Yes, a few. But I never show them to young ladies. They are not suitable.

Ada. But we want one; real horrid and funny.

Mrs. St. V. How singular! Will one of these do? But I do not like to sell you such a thing.

Amanda. Here's a good one, girls. (Reads.)

Once you may have been a beauty, but your charms are faded now,
There are puckers round your eyes, dear, and wrinkles on your brow;
Once you may have been seraphic, you are not angelic now.

Mary Ann. Oh, that's too good by far! Now how is this? (Reads.)

You ugly, horrid, spiteful creature,
How distressing every feature!
Vinegar is sweet beside you,
And we cannot but deride you,

Gertrude. The picture is consistent—old woman, big nose, goggle eyes, hair fuzzy, cross as two sticks.

Alicia. That will do very well.

Laura. It's not very refined.

Mrs. St. V. That's what I am thinking.

Mary Ann. We're not hunting for refinement. What's the price of that, ma'am?

Mrs. St. V. It's cheap enough—ten cents. But look at some of these pretty ones.

Mary Ann. Another time, if it's all the same to you. Girls, here's the money. I will pay it, and you all owe me one and three-sevenths cents. How's that for algebra?

Mrs. St. V. What are you going to do with this?

Amanda. Send it to one of our teachers, whom we just hate for being a spiteful old thing.

Laura. I would rather not do it.

Gertrude. Oh yes, you're in it. Now, girls, sign your names, while I address the envelope. Disguise your hand-writing, and make up the names. Here's mine—Patsy Tuckerty.

Georgiana. Mine ith Tiny Tanthy. [Writes.]

Amanda. Mine, Formosa Fiddlesticks.

Ada. Mine, Virginny Canary.

Mary Ann. And me own is Bridget Mahoney.

Georgiana. Oh, Mollie, the'll thuthpect!

Mary Ann. She can't prove anything.

Alicia. My name is Patessa Maressa. Now, Laura, you may have a pretty name.

Laura. Well, here's mine—Lily Myette.

Mary Ann. There, I call that a triumph. I hope it will knock her down flat. (Reads the verse again.) Elegant!

Mrs. St. V. Young ladies, I hope you won't get into trouble. But surely it is not kind treatment of a teacher to send her this ugly thing. Now here are such lovely—(Bell rings. Girls scamper to the door and exeunt. Mary Ann courtesies and kisses her hand to Mrs. St. Valentine.) Well, I do declare! What a set of wild girls! I don't think they mean harm, but— Why, they have left their comic valentine here. Forgotten it, I suppose. Now let me see. I might confiscate it; but I will call my nephew. His wits are bright. Perhaps he can get these naughty children out of their scrape.

Come hither, Cupid darling,
As fast as you can fly;
Bring all your sharpest arrows,
And your merry magic try.

Enter Cupid, bowing low and kissing Mrs. St. Valentine's hand.

Cupid.

What will my gracious aunt?
Command me as you please;
I'll serve you on my fleetest wings
Or on my bended knees.

Mrs. St. V. Cupid, here is a curious case. I came to the school with a bag full of my choicest valentines, hoping to start up a brisk trade with these young ladies. You know times are hard, and I really need the money. Very well. They would not look at these gems, these flowers and Cupids, but must pick out the ugliest one I have, and sign false names, and address it to one of their teachers.

Cupid. Which one? Oh, Miss Steele! Yes, she's pretty dreadful. Heart like flint. My arrows make no impression.

Mrs. St. V. But they ought not to send her this.

Cupid. I'm not so sure. The objection, from our point of view, is that these comic valentines are made by a rival firm, and we should find it for our interest to discourage their sale.

Mrs. St. V. True; and I would not keep them in stock, but that boys will have them and nothing else.

Cupid. You have to keep a few in stock, of course.

Mrs. St. V. Come, my child. Suggest some way out of this difficulty. The girls must not be permitted to compromise themselves.

Cupid. I have it. Pick out seven of your pretty ones, a valentine for each girl, and I will substitute them for this hideous thing.

Mrs. St. V. Oh, Cupid, you are so bright! Here's one.

Cupid.

When birds come back to bower and tree,
Pray, ladye fair, take thought of me;
No bird has note so sweet and true,
As all my loving thoughts of you.

That will do for Gertrude Campbell. [Signs her name.]

Mrs. St. V. And this. (Reads.)

I would tell you how much I love you,
But I don't know where to begin,
So open your door, sweet maiden,
And let your true love in.

Cupid. Let that be Amanda Stuart. [Writes.]

Mrs. St. V.

I love my love with an A, because she's so attractive;
I love my love with an S, because she is so strong.
I send her a host of good wishes;
They are all in my little song.

Cupid. That shall he Alicia Perry's. (Writes.) It doesn't rhyme, though.

Mrs. St. V. Read this, my boy.

Cupid (reads).

Oh! will you be my valentine? I'll fly at your behest;
And everything I'll proffer you, of first and very best.

Delightful. Laura Thurston. [Writes.]

Mrs. St. V. Here's one with flowers. Take that for the little one.

Cupid (reads).

Roses for you, gentle friend,
Lilies, too, and mignonette,
Daisies, and forget-me-nots
From your loving little pet.

Good, Georgiana Thompson. [Writes.]

Mrs. St. V. Here's a pretty one.

Cupid (reads).

I wish you joy, I wish you grace,
I wish you many a happy time;
May smiles light up your cheery face
Soon as you read my merry rhyme.

Ada McClure. [Writes.]

Mrs. St. V. And one, the sweetest of all, for that mischief-loving girl with the Irish name.

Cupid (reads).

Thrue for yez, lady, here I be;
Belike ye'd hardly know 'tis me;
But I'll be good, and plaze attind
The valentine of this young frind.

Good! Mary Ann Murphy. (Writes.) Now, auntie, fold my wings down and make a mail-carrier of me. I will deliver these missives myself. And this comic thing we will tear up and utterly destroy. Keep up your courage, auntie. I hear that times are better, and there's to be a big sale of valentines this year. [Exeunt Mrs. St. V. and Cupid, L.]

Enter, R., Laura.

Laura. I am going to destroy that hideous valentine, and not let Miss Steele see it. We might be expelled, and, anyway, such things do no good. Why, where is it? Gone! Oh dear! Can any of the teachers have seen it? What if Miss Steele— [Rushes frightened from the room, L.]

Enter, R., Miss Steele.

Miss Steele (face red, hair dishevelled). I have been all this time putting my room to rights. That wicked girl had literally emptied my drawers and scattered everything around the room. She is impertinent and saucy to the last degree. I can't seem to do anything with her and her set, and yet they are popular with the other teachers. But they treat me shamefully. Mollie seems to be the ring-leader, and she must on this occasion be severely punished. To-morrow is a half-holiday. I shall request Mrs. Eaton to keep her in her room. In fact, I think all of them ought to receive punishment.

Enter Cupid, as mail-carrier.

Cupid. Good-day, ma'am.

Miss Steele. This seems to be a new mail-carrier. Aren't you rather young for this business?

Cupid. I always deliver the valentines. Here are a lot for you.

Miss Steele. For me? You are mistaken. Who would send me a valentine?

Cupid. And why should not you receive a valentine? They are messages of love.

Miss Steele. They are silly, stupid things.

Cupid. They are messages of love, I say. Is love stupid and silly?

Miss Steele. What a funny boy this is! What do you know about love?

Cupid. A great deal. It has been my business for centuries to make people love. Here are seven fine valentines for Miss Steele. That's your name?

Miss Steele. Yes, but it is twenty-five years since I had a valentine. (Muses.) Robert, my friend, sent me one. I have it somewhere. But that seems ages ago. I never acknowledged it, and he misunderstood my silence. He went away, and my heart has been closed to love since. Boy, let me see these valentines. Why, they are from my seven naughty girls—Alicia, Ada, Georgie, and even Mollie! What exquisite designs! These things grow more beautiful every year. And the sentiments are lovely.

Cupid. These valentines were selected on account of their sentiments. The girls were talking about revenge.

Miss Steele. They have indeed taken a most loving revenge. How kind of them! I have misunderstood them.

Enter the seven girls.

Laura. And it was not on the table. I looked, but it was quite gone.

Mollie. Like as not she has got it, and we're in for it. Oh, here she is! Come on, girls. Face the music. Live or die! Survive or perish!

Georgiana. I'm tho thcared!

Miss Steele. My darling girls! Thank you for your sweet thoughts of me. Your pretty love-missives—

Gertrude. Gracious, but she can be sarcastic!

Miss Steele. —have won my heart. It is so long since I have had a real valentine I am very much touched. Laura, Gerty, thanks. Georgie, poor little dear, I was hard on you to-day. Alicia, Ada, Amanda, and you mischievous Mollie, let us all be friends.

[Cupid, on one side, is aiming arrows at Miss Steele.]

Mollie (aside). Girls, I shall faint. Is it a cat playing with a mouse?

Laura. We hope, Miss Steele, you won't mind our little joke. We did not mean to offend you.

Miss Steele. How could I be offended? (Reads one of the valentines.) Isn't that beautiful? And these pictures show such good taste. They are really gems of art.

Ada. Are we dreaming?

[Cupid, from the rear, makes frantic gestures to the girls, with finger on his mouth and shakes of his head.]

Alicia. But, Miss Steele—

Miss Steele. Girls, will you take tea with me to-morrow in my little parlor? I will give a valentine tea, with ices in heart-shapes, and everything that girls like. Perhaps I will tell you a story out of my life that may make you think kindly of a lonely old maid. Will you all come?

All. Yes, Miss Steele, thank you.

Cupid. I can bring you some valentines for your tea, if you like.

Miss Steele. Well, do. Select pretty ones, regardless of cost, and bring them to me. [Exit.]

Cupid. You see, that's just in my line.

Mollie. Somebody fan me! Salts, camphor, quick! Invited to tea by Miss Steele!

Cupid. Don't you think my plan worked famously.

Laura. How did you do it?

Cupid. Well, my aunt—she's the lady that was selling valentines—was awfully worried because you girls were going to send a hideous old comic to your teacher, and I suggested that we substitute our kind—the love valentines. So we just tore up yours, and I addressed one of my prettiest from each of you to Miss Steele. Guess you aren't sorry? Besides, I've filled her heart, now that it has softened, with my arrows, and if you do the right thing by her she'll behave well the rest of the year. You see.

Laura. You blessed boy! I would like to hug and kiss you.

Cupid. I'll shoot you if you do.

Amanda. I'm so relieved.

Georgiana. Tho am I.

Mollie. That funny boy has been shooting at us too. My own heart feels as if it had been hit, and I guess—don't you, girls?—that we'll never send any more comic valentines. We'll stick to Cupid's own, the missives of love.