Lively
Plays
for
Live
People

BY
THOMAS STEWART DENISON
AUTHOR OF
Thirty-six plays; also, “An Iron Crown,” “The Man Behind,”
“Outlines of World’s History,” etc.

CHICAGO:
T. S. DENISON, Publisher,
163 Randolph Street.

LIVELY PLAYS.

CONTENTS.

Copyright, 1895, by T. S. Denison.

ABOUT THE PLAY.

The first requisite in a play is action, after that should be found as much novelty of incident and freshness of dialogue, combined with originality in character study, as the author can contrive to get together in these days when apparently nothing is wholly new. These plays are intended primarily for representation.

These explanations are made because the purpose of a previous volume of my plays, issued without preface, appeared to have been misunderstood in a few instances.

Public approval, whether it be an infallible guide or not, in matters pertaining to print, is at least encouraging, and this leads me to say that of my earlier plays there have been sold in paper covers three hundred and twenty thousand copies, besides an edition in cloth.

The Author.

Chicago, July 11, 1895.

TOPP’S TWINS

A FARCE-COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS

By T. S. DENISON

Author of
Odds with the Enemy, Initiating a Granger, Wanted, a Correspondent, A Family Strike, Seth Greenback, Louva, the Pauper, Hans Von Smash, Borrowing Trouble, Two Ghosts in White, The Pull-Back, Country Justice, The Assessor, The Sparkling Cup, Our Country, Irish Linen Peddler, The School Ma’am, Kansas Immigrants, An Only Daughter, Too Much of a Good Thing, Under the Laurels, Hard Cider, The Danger Signal, Wide Enough for Two, Pets of Society, Is the Editor In? The New Woman, Patsy O’Wang, Rejected, Only Cold Tea, Madam P’s Beauty Parlors, Topp’s Twins, A First-Class Hotel, It’s all in the Pay-Streak, The Cobbler, A Dude in a Cyclone, Friday Dialogues.

Also the Novels,
The Man Behind, An Iron Crown, etc.

CHICAGO:
T. S. DENISON, Publisher,
163 Randolph Street.

TOPP’S TWINS.

COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY T. S. DENISON.

CHARACTERS.

• Cadwalader Topp, of Topp & Topp, twin brothers, oyster dealers; old bachelor, irascible, vain, great stickler for “honah;” wants to adopt twins; family tradition; stout man.
• Tick. (Alias Jim Baggs.) Traveling man of Topp & Topp; typical drummer, rather cheeky, quick, appears braver than he is; ready for any adventure or practical joke.
• Josiah Twiggs, old friend of Tick’s father; parent of Angie and Mrs. Twiggs-Knott, who calls herself “Twiggs hyphen Knott.”
• Mrs. Twiggs, a mother and grandmother of “Twiggsie and Dixie,” the twins.
• Mrs. Twiggs-Knott, mother of the twins, and a widow who knows how to get what she wants.
• Angie Twiggs, a bright young lady.
• Bob Spratt, seedy adventurer; he tries to work off his twins on Topp; in revenge precipitates the duel; villain of the play.
• Mrs. Dubbledam, housekeeper from Holland; good-natured, slow, loquacious.
• Ginger Potts, an African; body servant of Mr. Topp; a good deal of the monkey; comic by nature and good in theory, which theory is sometimes not fully supported by facts.
• Dr. Short, the surgeon, an animated wooden man.
• Personages not appearing on the stage, the real twins, “Twiggsie and Dixie;” also Bob Spratt’s twins, the victims of circumstances, and called for the occasion, Benjamin Harrison Spratt and Grover Cleveland Spratt.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

R. means right of the stage; C., center; R. C., right center; L., left; 1 E., first entrance; U. E., upper entrance, etc; D. F., door in flat or back of the stage. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience.

Time of playing, two hours.

BILL OF THE PLAY.

Act I. Topp’s family tradition demands twins.

Act II. “She’s a little angel, I’ll see her father.”

Act III. “Yes, Topp old boy, you are in love for the first time in twenty years.” But the odious rival appears just at the wrong time and precipitates disaster.

Act IV. The duel. The finding of the Twins.

☞ Though this play has full stage directions, it may be presented in any hall, or large parlor even. Two doors for exit and entrance is the main requirement. Owing to the style of type the play is not so long as it seems.

PROPERTIES.

Numerous dummy letters, newspaper in wrappers, writing materials, gunny sack, pair of corncutters, surgeon’s kit, brace of pistols in case for Spratt, also two other pistols, pocket tape-line, cards for Spratt and Tick, note books, coins, crash bag of broken glass.

TOPP’S TWINS.

Note. If no scenery is at hand suitable for Act IV, it may be played simply on bare stage stripped of all furniture and accessories.

☞ For hints on play, see [page 72].

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!