Copyright, 1891, by Rachel E. Baker.
AFTER TAPS.
[ACT I.
SHOT IN THE BACK.]
Scene.—Handsome apartment in the house of Colonel Graham in Baltimore. Door opening into hall, centre. Wide window, R.C. Mantel with fireplace L. in flat. Glass over mantel. Door R. in flat. Table L.C. Lamp on table, books. Chair beside table L. Arm-chair near mantel. Door L. in flat. Curtain raised to tune of “Yankee Doodle,” by drum and fife at head of a company of Union troops, seen passing window. Polly Primrose, discovered with duster in hand, alternately peeping out of window and dancing about stage, singing.
Polly (sings).
“Father and I went down to camp,
Along with Captain Gooding;
And there we saw the girls and boys,
As thick as hasty pudding.
Yankee Doodle keep it up,
Yankee Doodle Dandy,
Mind the music and the steps,
And with the girls be handy.”
(Speaks.)
Another thousand of Maine's boys marching down into Dixie. Bless their dear hearts! If this keeps on much longer, there will be none left for the hopeful Down-East girls and full-blown spinsters, whose natural expectations are warm corners in the hearts of these brave heroes. What a queer lot of men. Some have left their sweethearts behind them, I suppose. Heigho! There's no one to leave me behind. When I think of the good times Down East, it just makes my mouth water. I'd give a week's wages to catch a glimpse of some familiar face. (Coming down.) I wish I were a man. Nothing I'd like better than to join those ranks and march with them; but here I must stay and dust chairs (dusts spitefully) and tables. I know the military tic-tacs—no, that isn't right. I mean tactics. (Executes manual with duster.) Present—arms—no—feathers. Order—feathers. Indeed, I'd like to, for my next winter's bonnet, if there were only some one to pay the bill. Right shoulder, feathers. (Carries duster to left, in place of right.) Ha, ha, if any one could see me now, they would take me for a condensed, awkward squad. (Music outside. Polly marches up and down with duster at right shoulder.) I can feel the military thrill down to the tips of my toes. Think of the excitement when the bugle calls, and you hear the cry, “Charge feathers—charge!” (Charges with duster at door C., into the face of Bijah Bright, who appears with flag; he is bespattered with mud.)