Scene.—Lawn in front of a hotel in the White Mountains. Wild mountain scenery. Enter Wyvern, Clothilde, and Smith among a Chorus of Tourists, who sing:

[Enter Brown convincingly costumed as Jacques-Pierre, a French-Canadian showman, accompanied by Bill convincingly costumed as a dancing bear. The crowd separates, ladies showing signs of alarm, etc.]

Jac. [doffing his hat and bowing awkwardly] Bonjour, mesdames, mesdemoiselles, et messieurs! I mak’ my bow! I ’ave ze ’ope you are well! I ’ave ze ’onair to antroduce ze gr-r-r-eat, ze waunderful dance bear, “Jules Capot”! Jules will also mak’ ze bow! [The bear bows] Be’old! Ah! ze brav’ bear! ze gallant bear! He ees—wat you call—ze parfect gentilhomme! He will bow low, ver’ low, to ze ladies! Regardez! [The bear bows very low and rolls over with a grunt] You do see, you? Ah! zat Jules Capot! He lofe ze ladies! Oui! he haf ze angstanct! He can bow, he can dance, he can climb ze pole, he can everyt’ing—but helas! he cannot sing! Mais n’importe—I can sing! May I ’ave ze ’onair to sing ze song and dance ze dance wiz Jules? Wiz your parmission— [Sings and dances uncouthly with the bear]

Jac. He can also shak’ ze hand. See! [Shakes hands with bear] Ah! he is ze gentilhomme! Shall he shak’ ze hand wiz you?—and you?—and you? [Passing from one to another, some shaking hands and some refusing, including Wyvern, who leans against a rock, cane in hand, smoking a cigar. When Clothilde is reached, she tosses her head and contemptuously turns away. Jacques leads the bear after her.] You will not shak’ ze hand? He will not a-hurt you! He lofe ze ladies! He haf offended you? I will a-keel him! [Beats the bear with his hands; the bear whines.] Ah! ze bad bear! But see, he weeps! he weeps ze gr’at tear! [Bear puts his paws appealingly on Jacques’ shoulders.] He is ver’ grief! he begs ze pardong! Ah, ze pauvre bear! He will a-kees ze Jacques and mak’ up! He will a-kees ze lady wiz ze sunlight in her hair!

[The bear approaches Clothilde, who turns quickly away. The bear follows. Clothilde shrieks, and, aiming to fall in Wyvern’s arms, faints—but is caught instead by Lucius, who enters from C.]

Wyv. Unhand that lady, you impertinent young monkey! [Turning to Jacques] See what you’ve done, you infernal ruffian! How dare you persecute the lady with your dirty bear!

Luc. What’s the matter with the old gobbler?

Wyv. Gobbler—! [Very much enraged] Gobbler! I’ll teach you, sir, to—!

Clo. [reviving, speaking faintly] Oh! my preserver! My heroic defender! How can I thank you for rescuing me from that horrid monster?

Wyv. [magniloquently] Don’t mention it, I beg of you, madam; it was nothing. I would dare any danger for a lovely woman! As for this beast with a bear, I’ll—

Luc. You’d better let that contract out, old fellow!

Clo. Oh! my dear, good, brave sir! do not, I beg of you, again peril your life for me! Restrain your impetuosity and allow this horrid fellow to get away with his life—

Jac. [mockingly] Oui! Eef you please, sir, do not a-keel me!

Clo. Oh! think of your wife, sir!

Wyv. But I have no wife.

Clo. Then you love—think of her—

Smith Certainly, if he has no wife, he must love. Otherwise—

Jac. Oui! zat is so! [Mockingly] But you will not a-keel me? Oh, sair!

Luc. [tapping Wyvern familiarly on the shoulder; he has tablets and pencil] Excuse me, sir, but “business is business.” I’m a journalist, you know, and this thing’s worth a paragraph. Nearly a catastrophe, you know. Trouble you for your name, sir?

Wyv. Get out, you impudent—

Luc. And the lady’s name is—?

Wyv. Really, this is too much! If you don’t go away, I’ll thrash you, even in the presence of the ladies. [Bowing apologetically to them]

Luc. [coolly] Don’t—don’t. I wouldn’t. [Turning to Jacques] And your name is—?

Jac. Jacques-Pierre; and ze bear is Jules Capot. He haf not eat a lady for more zan a week, and he ees hungry!

Smith Poor fellow, he must be nearly starved. Doubtless has as strong a thirst for blood as my respected friend in the brown wig.

[The crowd go off slowly, in twos and threes, by the various exits. Wyvern comforts Clothilde; Lucius industriously makes notes as he walks off; Smith talks with Lottie; while Jacques and the bear continue to dance and sing their song until all are off.]

[Enter Kate down the mountain, singing.]

[While she is singing the last few words, Wyvern and Clothilde come on at back. Clothilde sits and Wyvern kneels before her, gesticulating passionately. Kate looks off L.]

Kate I wonder who that handsome fellow is over there, writing in a book? I wish he’d look at me! Maybe he would—for, you know, [earnestly] love is born in a moment. I believe that all true love comes at first sight. Maybe he’s a poet—he looks like it—and I dote on poets; or maybe he’s a reporter—and I just adore reporters. Ahem! Ahem!

[As Kate moves about, attempting to attract the attention of Lucius (who remains off stage), she perceives Clothilde and Wyvern, who have not observed her.]

Kate Why, paw!

[Wyvern scrambles hastily to his feet, as does Clothilde. Both look very much confused and embarrassed.]

Wyv. Oh! ah! hum! Why, you see—

Kate Why, paw, who’s your friend?

Wyv. Why, you see— Never mind, Katie dear! Run along and play. You can’t understand—

Kate No, I don’t believe I can!

Wyv. Why, you see, Katie, I rescued this young lady—

Clo. Yes indeed! Your noble father— but tell me, is it true that this young gentleman [Wyvern pulls up his collar, etc.] is really your father?

Kate Yes indeedy!

Clo. Oh, most fortunate daughter, to have so brave and noble a papa!

Kate You mean me?

Clo. Yes. Oh,—

Kate What’s he been doing now? [With some asperity] Where did you meet my paw? Who introduced you?

Wyv. You see, daughter, I—

Clo. [fondly] Oh! my hero—my prince—my—

Kate Who’s a hero?

Clo. Your father, blessed girl.

Kate My paw? [Impatiently] Tell me what you mean.

[During the preceding the Chorus and all principals have returned; Jacques, appearing with bear at rear, grins at the proceedings and soon disappears.]

Clo. Do you see that great horrid bear? [Excitedly]

Kate [enthusiastically] Oh! the dear lovely thing!

[Exit all but Lucius.]

[While he is singing, enter Kate at back. She listens sympathetically.]

Kate [aside] The poor fellow! How he seems to feel it! I’m sure I’m awfully sorry for him.

Luc. [aside] By George! There’s that pretty girl—old Gobbler’s daughter! I must get acquainted with her. “Faint heart never won fair lady.” Here goes. [Aloud] Beg pardon, but I’ve lost something. I’ve lost— Maybe you’ve found it. Have you?

Kate Indeed, sir—!

Luc. [briskly] Beg pardon, you know—but I’m a newspaper man, you know, and—

Kate Oh! Tell me, are you a poet, or a reporter?

Luc. [loftily] Well, to tell the truth, I do a little of both. Flatter myself I can turn out a little poetry quite equal to the best of them. I’m a newspaper man, you know, and then—and then—I’m from Ohio!

Kate Oh! Isn’t that nice!

Luc. I’m the local editor of the Arcadia Argus. Maybe you’ve heard of it?

Kate [doubtfully] No-o-o, I don’t think— You see, I live in New York, and—

Luc. Oh, yes, I see! Hasn’t much of a circulation there. Yes, I toil with my brain, you know—a brain-toiler! That song I just sung I wrote myself. It was published in the Argus. Ten cents a line, you know. Old Spivins, the editor, who “has no music in his soul,” and is consequently “fit for treason, strategems, and spoils,” said he wouldn’t print it for less. But I paid it, and I’m confident my genius, like all true genius, will be recognized some day. [Aside] Now I’ll make love to her. [Aloud] Lovely being—

Kate [aside] Oh my—I really believe he’s going to—!

Luc. Fairest one! I can no longer restrain the feelings pent up within my—my—what-dy’e-call-it. I feel—

Kate Oh, sir! You are so—

Luc. Yes, I know I am; but I was always so. I must ease my o’ercharged bosom of the perilous stuff. [Aside] That’s Shakespeare; but I ain’t sure that it is in quite the right place. Still I must impress her at all hazards; maybe she won’t notice it; women are not usually up in that sort of thing, you know. [Aloud] But you see—you see—

Kate Oh, sir! Go on, sir! Don’t you feel well?

Luc. Then let me now, fairest one, most peerless of thy sex— [Aside] Bad grammar, but that ought to fetch her. [Aloud] In short, to see thee was to love thee!

Kate Oh, has it come at last?

Luc. Indeed I don’t know. Has what come at last?

Kate Oh, do you know, I’ve so long pined for “some one to love—”

Luc. “—Some one to caress”? Then take me! Here I am, “free-born and of full age,” twenty-one years old, a young man from Ohio; a member of the grand aristocracy of intellect, a brain-toiler, warranted not to cut in the eye, nor run down at the heel—that is—I don’t mean—I mean—

Kate I see! You don’t exactly find words—

Luc. No, I don’t! But accept it, “heavenly maid,” as one of Love’s delicious incoherencies that mean more than volumes, for “when first I saw thy sweet face—”

Kate Oh, isn’t it nice?

Luc. What? Your face? Well, I should say—

Kate No, I mean to love, and be loved!

Luc. Then you do—oh, repeat the fond word—you do love me?

Kate I do!

Luc. [dramatically] Kind heaven, I thank thee! Now do I understand why I live! Now do I comprehend the great mystery of existence! Now do I see why it was that I was “sent into this breathing world,” you know, “scarce half made up, and that so lamely”—no, I mean—I don’t mean that—but—

Kate Oh, George, go on.

Luc. But my name’s not George. Permit me— [Hands her his card]

Kate [reads] Lucius Quintus Curtius Jones, Local Editor of the Argus, Arcadia, Ohio.

Luc. Two dollars per annum, strictly in advance—good cord-wood taken on subscription, and advertising terms quite reasonable—

Kate What a lovely name! So high-toned, so romantic, so— so—

Luc. Exactly so!

Kate But you were saying that at last you understand the great mystery—?

Luc. It was to love thee, sweetest one! to love thee, my own sweet! By the way, what is your name?

Kate Oh, call me Katie—my name’s Katie! I-E, please, not K-A-T-Y; and my name’s not Katherine, either. Ugh! Isn’t that a horrid ugly name?

Luc. Oh, Katie, my darling—!

Kate That sounds so nice. Say it again.

Luc. Then, Katie, my darling, are you sure you love me? How long have you loved me, precious one?

Kate Oh, Lucius Quintus Curtius Jones, I have—

Luc. Ahem! “Lucius” will do, on account of space, and to save composition.

Kate Then I’ll tell you. I have yearned for someone to love for oh, ever so long—

Luc. Poor thing!

Kate Yes, every girl in school except me had a sweetheart—some of them two or three at once—and—

Luc. The mean things!

Kate Weren’t they? And then I saw you; and the moment I laid eyes on you, dearest Lucius Quint— I mean, Lucius— I experienced an undefinable— a—

Luc. Exactly! I’ve had it myself; had it bad, I may say. I know exactly what you mean. Go on.

Kate And then I knew that I loved you, and would always love you, for ever and ever and ever, and would never part from you, and would never love anybody else! But you’ll always call me Katie, won’t you?

Luc. Indeed I will.

Kate For Paw, you know, says I was christened Katherine, when I wasn’t; for I guess I know, for wasn’t I there?

Luc. Must have been. But never fear, I’ll always call thee Katie, for though by any other name you’d smell as— no, I mean— I never will cease to love thee!

Kate When we calmly look back at it, isn’t it strange?

Luc. What strange?

Kate How we love each other so deeply, truly, and fondly—and to think I was wanting a sweetheart so badly, and all at once I saw you, and then— Oh my, isn’t it nice?

Luc. Such ecstasy!

Kate Oh, there comes my cousin Lottie! [Dramatically] Fly, or we will be betrayed!—or, if you remain, you must dissemble.

Luc. And must I part from thee, my loved one? Must I tear myself away? Must I—

Kate Oh, this agony!

Luc. Adieu! Good night! only it isn’t night, you know. “A thousand times good-night!” “Good night! Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good-night till it be morrow.” “Good-night, a thous—”

[Lucius retires hastily as Lottie enters.]

Lot. Well, Katherine! So you have a sweetheart at last!

Kate Why, what do you mean?

Lot. Oh, I see it all. Haven’t I eyes? You’ve been crazy for a year to have a sweetheart. You’ve lived on slate-pencils and pickles, and Tennyson, and the moon, and all that—and at last you’ve got a sweetheart.

Kate Well, Lottie, since you have divined my secret—

Lot. Divined your fiddle-stick! Talk sensibly, Kate!

Kate Well, I might as well confess. Oh, Lottie, it’s awfully nice! He loves me, and he’s just too sweet, and I love him, and will forever and ever.

Lot. Yes, I know; I see; spare me the rest! “She is his’n and he is her’n—”

Kate Don’t make fun of me, Lottie! But oh! what will Paw say?

Lot. He will put his foot down on your love affair in a jiffy. Don’t you know he fairly despises that young gentleman—threatened to break his bones? You’ll have a fine time.

Kate [sobbing] Oh, Lottie, what will I do? I’ll die if Paw don’t let me love him, and I know he will drive him away. What will I do? The course of true love never did run smooth.

Lot. What nonsense! Your true love won’t last a week.

Kate How can you be so cruel? [Weeping violently] It was so awfully nice, and now Paw will spoil it all.

Lot. I wouldn’t allow him to.

Kate Allow him to? Why, Lottie, how can I help it?

Lot. I would help it if I were in your place. I’d like to see my father separate me from the man I love.

Kate But he is so awful when he’s angry—and he’ll send me back to school. What can I do? How can I get his consent to love my Lucius?

Lot. I have an idea, Kate. I’ll tell you how to do it. You know he is dead in love with that Madame Le Brun, that widow.

Kate My paw, with that horrid painted thing?

Lot. Yes indeed. You’ve been very blind if you haven’t seen it. Why, it’s the talk of the whole house.

Kate But how will that help me?

Lot. Why, if you make a fuss and worry him about his love affair, he will be glad to do something to placate you; and then you can make your consent conditional upon his.

Kate Oh, Lottie, do you think—?

Lot. If he won’t let you love your sweetheart, don’t let him love his! That will bring him to terms. But you’ll have to have a scene, and you must be very firm and unyielding. It’s a game two can play at.

Kate Oh, Lottie! [Embracing her] What a dear good girl you are. I will try it. But suppose I fail? Suppose he don’t love that horrid thing enough to be willing?

Lot. Never fear about that! He’s completely addled. When a man is in love he’s a fool, and an old fool is the worst of all fools.

Kate Well, I’ll try it, Lottie. I’ve been trying to get in love for so long, and now that I am, I won’t give up without a struggle. And to think of that painted old woman—!

Lot. You will win if only you are firm. —And here they all come, your father with them. Now is your chance. Strike while the iron’s hot.

Kate Oh Lottie!

[Enter Wyvern. Kate timidly draws her father to one side.]

Wyv. Katherine, I am informed that you have been seen talking with that young man from Ohio—that impudent young Jones. Now I wish never to hear of this happening again. I—

Kate But, Paw—

Wyv. Not a word! He is an impertinent puppy, and if you allow him to speak to you again—

Kate But, Paw, I love him, and I wanted to—

Wyv. [screaming] Love him! You— you—

Kate Yes, I love him, and I mean to love him just as much as I please.

Wyv. Listen to that, listen to that, listen to that! She braves me to my very face. A girl not out of short dresses talking of being in love! Was there ever—! Let me hear no more of this. [He turns about and joins Clothilde] Ah, madam, I see that you too, are a lover of nature. What grandeur is this about us!

Kate [calling, imperiously] Paw!

Wyv. Presently, Katie. I’m busy just now. As I was saying, madam: to gaze upon this grand handiwork of nature, to come in contact with her sublime moods, fills me with—

Kate [loudly and emphatically] Paw, come here!

[Wyvern turns away, troubled.]

[Wyvern turns again to Clothilde.]

Wyv. At this moment I feel that influence ennobling—

Kate Paw, who is that person?

Wyv. [with great dignity] Katie, my darling, you forget yourself. You must not use such a tone as that to me.

Kate [dramatically] Again I ask: who is that per-r-r-son?

Wyv. [angrily] This lady, Miss Pert, is a friend—

Kate [with hauteur] But not of mine, sir!

Wyv. What do you mean?

Kate I mean that I wish never to see you in her company again!

Wyv. [gasping] Why, Katie, what do you mean? What is the matter?

Kate The matter is that you are falling a victim to the arts and wiles—

Wyv. [sternly] Katherine—!

Kate —of a designing woman, and I won’t have it!

Wyv. Are you crazy? Do you know who you are talking to?

Kate I’m not crazy; and I’m talking to a poor old man who is the victim of a designing woman, who—

Clo. Oh, Mr. Wyvern, I’m afraid—

Kate Silence! If I ever see you again in company with that— thing—

Wyv. [sarcastically] Well, what will you do?

Kate If I can’t love, you shan’t! If I ever see you with her again, I’ll—

Wyv. [furiously] What? What? What will you do?

Kate [dramatically] I will— I swear it here, I’ll—

Wyv. Speak, girl! Will what?

Kate [with great intensity of expression] I’ll disown you!

[Wyvern staggers back, astonished.]

Scene.—At the seashore. Starlight. Exterior of a seaside cottage or hotel with three practicable windows.

[Enter Wyvern with guitar.]

Wyv. [recitative] Lovely creature! List, ah, list to the humble tribute of your admirer! [Goes carefully about to see that no one is near] The coast is clear.

[Enter Smith, likewise.]

Smith [recit.] All alone.

Wyv. [aside] Another comes!

Smith Oh, for a voice to reach her heart!

[Enter Lucius, likewise.]

[Three windows open in the cottage, revealing the three women. Clothilde is in the window facing Lucius; Kate facing Smith; and Lottie facing Wyvern.]

Clo. Is it you, precious?

Luc. On the contrary—it is I, Jones! [He runs off in search of Kate’s window]

Smith [to Kate] I—I beg pardon. I don’t seem—

Kate [laughing] No, you don’t! [Smith runs off in search of Lottie’s window]

Lot. Mr. Wyvern! Masquerading around “my lady’s chamber,” at your time of life!

Wyv. Thunder and Mars! I’ve been singing at the wrong window! Where—? [He runs off in search of Clothilde’s window]

Luc. [at Kate’s window] Oh, bliss!

Wyv. [at Clothilde’s window] Oh, joy!

Smith [at Lottie’s window] Oh, ah-h-h!

[Scene changes to ball-room.]

[A Chorus of Tourists is being led in song and dance by the Master of Ceremonies.]

[During the waltz enter Kate, Wyvern, Clothilde, Lottie, Smith, and Lucius.]

[The Master of Ceremonies stops the dance.]

M. C. Ladies and gentlemen! I have the honor to announce to you the arrival in our midst of the great three-button mandarin Yung-ti Wung-to, Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary, from his Imperial Highness, the Brother of the Sun, and Father of the Moon, and Guardian of the Stars, who reigns over the Celestial Kingdom, who never sleeps, whose days have no end and who sheds beneficent light upon an otherwise darkened world! Room for His Highness!

[Enter Brown costumed as Yung-ti Wung-to, with his suite (which includes a disguised Bill). They process solemnly down to the front.]

[The embassy are escorted about and introduced in pantomime. Meanwhile, Kate comes forward and sings.]

[Smith and Clothilde, promenading, stop in center of footlights.]

Smith And so, madame, you think I have a secret?

Clo. Oh, you naughty man! Can I not see? Your American women are very dull; they cannot see. We French women, ah! we have eyes!

Smith And you are, then, a French woman?

Clo. Yes! Dear, dear France!

Smith How you must love your native land! In what part were you born?

Clo. [uneasily] In—in Paris. But [recovering her bantering tone] you cannot conceal your secret from me, sir! You sly, sly man—you—

Smith What, then, is, perhaps, this secret?

Clo. You love—yes—the beautiful Lottie!

Smith And have you no secret, madame?

Clo. [uneasily] I? Oh, no! [recovering again] And yet, yes! But I fancy the world knows my secret: my love for that noble, heroic man who saved my life! But what would you? Ought I not to love him who saved my life?

Smith [looking fixedly at her] Is that your only secret?

Clo. [betraying great nervousness] Why, sir, what can you mean?

Smith Come! If I acknowledge my secret, will you confess yours?

Clo. [attempting to be lively, but visibly distressed] What can you mean? Have I not confessed?

Smith But madame, that is but a small part of your secret!

Clo. [turning away hurriedly, and looking for Wyvern] I do not understand you. You embarrass me. You— you—

[Enter Wyvern and Lucius from the supper table, much worse for wine. Clothilde goes to Wyvern, who smiles and chuckles tipsily, and tries to embrace her, in which Lucius endeavors to assist him. She breaks away from him and regards him with dismay, as Kate does Lucius, who, in a maudlin way, attempts to address her. Wyvern and Lucius come down to the footlights and sing.]

Luc. [reeling up to Lottie] Oh, my prophetic soul! Your uncle—

Lot. Yes, my uncle! Oh, shame!

Clo. Can I believe my eyes?

Kate They’ve gone off and got tipsy!

Clo. My affianced husband, to show himself in such—!

Kate And my noble Lucius, to disgrace me so!

[The Chorus repeat “The god of pleasure, etc.” and waltz.

[During the waltz, Wyvern and Lucius go tipsily about, endeavoring to participate. Finding, however, that no one cares to dance with them, they become offended, seat themselves, and look on with solemn dignity. As the music dies away they drop to sleep and are left alone. The lights are turned down.]

[Enter Brown, still costumed as Yung-ti Wung-to, but no longer in character. He looks cautiously about, and then—]

Brown [calls off huskily] Bill!

Bill [from without] All right, pard!

[Enter Bill, as one of the Chinese suite, with a large bag in his hand.]

Bill I say, here’s a go! I’ve been through all the dressing rooms, and bless me if I’ve found the value of a brass pin. No, not even a “wipe”!

Brown Hard times, you know, Bill. These people ain’t very solid anyhow, I reckon. I haven’t seen a decent spark to-night!

Bill Not a one, on my soul. Lucky if we manage to keep the bag, pard—like the preacher who thanked his stingy congregation for getting his hat back, without even a button in it.

Brown Hard times, William. We must raise something.

Bill [looking about] There isn’t a thing here that you could get a nickel on, unless we’d bag a chandelier—and that we couldn’t get without turning the gas out.

Brown We must look about.

[Wyvern snores.]

Brown S-s-s-st! What’s that?

[They prowl about and discover Wyvern and Lucius.]

Bill Well, here’s something! He’s sound asleep. Here goes for the old man’s ticker. [Proceeds to take Wyvern’s watch.]

Brown Hold on, Bill. I’ve got an idea.

Bill If you’ll let me alone, I’ll have a watch—and mine uncle will give more for my ticker than he will for your idea.

Brown Not a bit of it! Steady’s the word. Call the gang.

Bill What for? It’ll be only that many more to divide with.

Brown But I say I’ve got an idea. We’ll put the old man in the bag!

Bill Bag the old man? What on earth—?

Brown Don’t you see? He’s rich. We’ll make him pay! [Aside] Jove! I’ll burn this candle at both ends. Make him come down handsome to secure his liberty first, and then bleed him for having alienated the affections of me own Clothilde! It takes big money to heal a husband’s lacerated heart! [Aloud] Do you twig?

Bill It’s a big job.

Brown We can do it. Call the gang.

[Bill goes to the window and whistles softly. The rest of the embassy — that is, the Chorus of Thieves — come slyly in at various doors and windows.]

Bill Attention! We’ve got a big haul!

[They gather around Wyvern.]

Brown Don’t touch the boy; and if he wakes [significantly, handing a dagger to one of the men] see that he don’t squeal!

[The bag is slipped over Wyvern’s head while the following chorus is sung, and he is lifted to the shoulders of the men, who carry him slowly, stepping softly, to the door.]

[They go off stepping slowly and softly, and singing. Just as they clear the door, Lucius stirs uneasily and begins to waken.

[Curtain.]

Scene.—A dive in New York, inhabited by Brown and his confederates. Not a filthy den, but a low place, evidently a place of refuge from the police—well guarded, capable of resistance and defense, and having means of escape. Brown, Bill, and his Chorus of Thieves are discovered smoking pipes and drinking. Wyvern lying on a cot, still asleep. One of the company on guard watching Wyvern and the door.

Brown The old fellow sleeps well. He ought to rouse soon. You are sure you didn’t drug him too heavily, Bill?

Bill No, I think not. I gave him only enough as I supposed, to keep him in the stupid condition that the drink left him in, till we got him here. He’ll wake soon. Meanwhile, let’s sing a song or two. All’s quiet, and the cops haven’t tumbled to our racket yet. Fill up, boys, and we’ll have “Kit the Kidder.”

[During the song Wyvern begins to toss about uneasily. Finally, while they sing the last verse and chorus, he sits bolt upright, gazing at them and his surroundings in utter astonishment, his wig awry, his clothing disordered and his eyes popping out of his head.]

Brown [addressing Wyvern] Well, precious one, darlin’ tootsey-wootsey, has it had a nice nap? Would it like to see its darling Clothilde?

Wyv. Where am I, sir? What does this mean?

Bill [assuming a confidential tone and air] You see, the fact is, pard, you got a little full last night and had to be assisted, as you may say. You, not to put too fine a point on it, were so disgracefully tight that we couldn’t think of leaving you home—

Wyv. [impatiently and imperiously] How came I here, sir? What does this mean?

Bill [soothingly] That’s just what I was a-comin’ to, sir, when you interrupted me. Try to be calm and I’ll make it all plain to you. As I was a-sayin’, you were in such a lamentably disgraceful condition of intoxication as would have broke your own Clothilde’s heart to see you.

Wyv. How dare you speak so familiarly of—

Bill Go easy, pard! Don’t get excited; you might say something that you didn’t mean to say, you know. Least said, soonest mended. As I was sayin’, we brought you here to keep you till you got all sobered up comfortable and nice.

Wyv. Will you tell me—

Bill In course I will. Seein’s we didn’t want you to disgrace yourself, bein’ friends of your’n—

Wyv. Friends of mine—! I never saw you before in my life!

Bill Oh, come now; yes, you have. Think a little. Can’t you remember me, for instance? or my friend the Reverend Mr. Brown, as sits over there smokin’ and smilin’ and overlookin’ your disgraceful conduct just as friendly-like as—

Brown The fact, is, governor, I reckon you don’t remember much about last night’s performances, do you?

Wyv. [very much bewildered] I remember nothing but the ball; and after supper I— I don’t, somehow—

Brown No, I thought you didn’t. Fact is, you were in a very bad shape; so we played the good Samaritan on you, you see—for fear harm might come to you.

Bill Precisely. Just as the Reverend Mr. Brown says. Why, think of it. If it hadn’t been for us old friends a-lookin’ after you, you might have fallen into the hands of wicked, bad, designing men, who might have robbed you, you see.

Wyv. Where am I?

Bill A very proper question for you to ask, and it does me proud to assure you that you are in the hands of truly good men who run a branch of the Young Men’s Christian Association.

Brown Yes, and likewise the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Idiots.

Wyv. Enough! If you have cared for me so kindly, I will be glad to remunerate you and take my leave.

Bill Now, that’s what I call handsome. Didn’t I tell you, brother Brown, says I, “Here’s a man that will appreciate our thoughtful care and act accordin’.”

Brown All right; but where do you propose to go to?

Wyv. After my conduct of last night, which you very properly characterize as disgraceful, I think I’d better get right back to New York, and—

Bill —And you’ll be delighted to know that that’s just where you are now!

Wyv. What, in New York? How—?

Bill Precisely so! A gentleman always knows how to feel for another gentleman, and so—

Brown We saw how your feelings would worry you, and so we just brought you over on the early milk train; and here you are—

Bill “Right side up, with care,” sound ’s a dollar, and all comfortable.

Wyv. [rising to go, and handing Brown a bank-note] Very well, my good fellow. This, I trust, will reimburse and remunerate you; and with many thanks for your kindness, I will go.

Brown [looking at the money] Ye-e-es. Don’t you think, governor, that you are squandering too much money on the cause? Ten dollars is a good deal in these times to a poor man, and maybe you can’t really afford to be so lavish.

Wyv. Oh, never mind that, sir! That’s all right. I don’t think it’s too much, for you really seem to be a worthy set of fellows.

Bill Poor, but respectable and honest and deservin’. You’ve hit it about right, governor; but, as the Reverend Mr. Brown says, ten dollars seems to be quite princely.

Wyv. Don’t say any more; and—ah!—good day, gentlemen.

[Wyvern goes to the door, where he is confronted by Bill.]

Bill But really, governor, we couldn’t think o’ lettin’ you go and deprive us of your delightful society in that way.

Wyv. [nervously] What do you mean?

Brown And don’t you think it’s rather hard on us, to go and tear yourself away from loving friends and comrades, as a fellow might say?

Wyv. But really, my friend, I must go.

Brown And not even leave us a lock of your hair—

Bill Or a check on the bank for a few thousand—

Brown —to remember you by?

Wyv. It strikes me that this is nonsense. I have had enough of it. Be kind enough to let me go.

Bill Couldn’t think of it just yet, governor. We’re too fond of you.

Brown Fact is, my distinguished friend, we couldn’t think of parting with you for less than—well, say ten thousand dollars.

Wyv. Am I to understand that you will not release me unless I pay you money?

Bill You struck it that time, pard. A fellow can easy see that you’ve been a business man all your life! Just think how he gets right at the marrow of the thing, quick as a flash.

Wyv. How dare you attempt such a thing as this? I’ll not stand it. I’ll alarm the neighborhood—call the police—

Brown I wouldn’t do that, if I was in your place. You see that there are several of us here; and we want money, and want it bad; and when we undertook this little speculation we counted the cost.

Bill Don’t injure your health, governor, strainin’ your lungs hollerin’ for the cops. I knowed a fellow to drop off very sudden onc’t not long ago, just in that way. Right in this room, too, come to think of it. He wanted to get out, away from his friends and admirers, just as you do; and he hollered for the police, and— and— Well, as I was sayin’, he dropped off mighty sudden-like.

Wyv. Gracious heavens! You don’t mean that the man was killed?

Bill Now, I didn’t say anythink of the sort. I was careful to explain that he strained his lungs hollerin’ for the cops. I thought I’d tell you—just as a sort of a warnin’ like, you know.

Wyv. [badly frightened] But I have no money with me.

Brown Never mind; we’ll take your check, and you can stay here, you know, till one of your friends here runs around to the bank and gets the money.

Bill What a head for business my reverend friend has got, now, hasn’t he? Why, I could tell you thousands of just such things that I have seen him do.

Wyv. Very well. I suppose as I’m at your mercy, I may as well do as you say.

Bill Now, that is business! And then you can hie thee to thine own sweet Clothilde! Think of that! Think of the rapture of that meeting! Think of enfolding her onc’t more in one long embrace! [During this speech Wyvern writes and signs a check, which is at once seized by one of the gang, who goes out to get it cashed.] While we’re waiting, couldn’t you give us a good comic song, governor? That one you sung last night, for instance. Ah, you were in fine voice then, and sung it lovely—something about champagne?

Wyv. [faintly] No; I can’t sing. Oh! this dreadful place!

Brown Never mind; we’ll give you a song to cheer you up. Come, boys!

[The messenger returns and hands money to Brown.]

Bill And now, my venerable friend, farewell! ’Tis hard to part with thee; but I’ll trouble you for your handkerchief. We are exclusive, you see, and don’t care to have the locality of these delightful apartments become known. Whenever you want to call on us, just drop a postal to brother Brown, and he’ll arrange it.

[Bill blindfolds Wyvern with the handkerchief. While he is doing so, the scene changes: exeunt omnes.

Scene—Wyvern’s parlor. Handsome bouquet on stand at side. The stage is empty.]

[Enter Lottie.]

[Enter Smith.]

Smith [impetuously] Pardon my abruptness—I can forbear no longer. The verdict is—? I read it in your eyes! Dare I believe it?

[They embrace.]

[As they sing the last few lines, enter Chorus of Tourists, Lucius, Clothilde, and Kate, all in full dress as for an evening party. Also among the crowd is Brown, now convincingly costumed as Signor Strongi-Lungi, an Italian opera singer.]

Clo. [pale and anxious, to Smith] Oh, sir, have you no trace of poor Mr. Wyvern? Have you no message for me? Little do you know how anxiously I wait!

Smith Have you no idea, madame, where he is?

Clo. How can you ask me—? Oh, this agony!

Smith Is it all for him? Do you fear for him?

Clo. Mr. Smith, I do not understand you. You act so strangely!

Smith Is it so? But be reassured, madame. Mr. Wyvern is safe, and indeed—here he comes!

[Enter Wyvern, his attire re-arranged, but with a frightened look in his eyes. They all flock about him.]

Wyv. Bless my soul—such an adventure!

Luc. “Come to me arms, me long-lost child.” [Tries to embrace Wyvern; Wyvern repulses him] Aha! Ungrateful, unloving one! Thou spurnst me, and turnst from thy chum, thy companion—for did we not erewhile chant a bacchanalian roundelay together? “Go to!” “Marry, come up!“

Wyv. You will oblige me by not coming near me again. If it hadn’t been for you and your confounded bacchanalian roundelay, I wouldn’t have got into this miserable affair.

Omnes Tell us about it!

Wyv. I will, my friends. No man ever dared the dangers that I have passed and come out unscathed. And yet—I am not proud.

Luc. [speaking] Oh, bah! [Aside] Now mark how plain a tale anon shall put you down!

Clo. But oh, my hero, you are alive and well!

Wyv. I am, thanks to a cool head and a strong arm.

Brown Eet ees a wonderful-a story indeedy. Eet should be a, what you call, poem? Song? I would a-sing eet.

[All applaud Strongi-Lungi’s song. Wyvern bows profusely to Strongi-Lungi and the company.]

Smith [to Lucius] I say, Jonesy, where were you when our modest friend was kidnapped?

Luc. About four feet from him, I should say.

Wyv. About w-w-where?

Luc. About four feet from you.

Wyv. And didn’t help me? Allowed me to be carried off without raising a finger?

Luc. In the midst of all that terrific hand-to-hand conflict with that mob of dastards, I lay very quietly, being persuaded thereto by a dagger which one of those heathen Chinee held at my throat.

Omnes [in great astonishment] Heathen Chinee?

Luc. Precisely! Our venerable, accurate, and highly courageous friend was kidnapped by the Chinese Embassy to the tune of “Put old gobbler’s head in the bag.” He made a desperate resistance!

[Great uneasiness displayed by Wyvern, Clothilde, and Brown.]

Smith [stepping to the door] And now I think our friend Signor Strongi-Lungi, of Her Majesty’s Italian Opera, can give us the rest of the story. [Brown tries to reach the door] Don’t tear yourself away. You are so versatile and so entertaining that we couldn’t think of sparing you just yet.

Brown What-a do you mean-a?

Smith Drop it, Brown. If you had Bill with you now, you could entertain us vastly with your dancing bear—“mon brav’ bear.” Then you might favor us with your “Diggee, washee, and cookee”—that’s a good song, and you really sing it well.

Brown I will not-a be treated in-a this manner. What-a know I of a dancing bear, “Diggee, washee, and cookee”?

Smith Possibly your wife there [indicating Clothilde] could help you refresh your memory. I know that Mrs. Brown, with that beautiful fidelity which characterizes the sex, would not desert you in your hour of darkness. [Bows elaborately to Clothilde, who trembles]

Kate What on earth does all this mean?

Luc. It’s plain as a pikestaff. Your respected parent has been duped by the wife and robbed by the husband!

Wyv. [fiercely, to Clothilde] Are you this man’s wife?

Brown She ’ave ze honair to be ze wife of Jacques-Pierre!

Wyv. And who are you?

Brown I seem to be Brown just now. These two young fellows have been too much for me, I must confess.

Wyv. Merciful heavens, what an egregious ass they have made of me!

Luc. And yet, you are not proud.

Wyv. Young man, beware! You may go a step too far. Don’t rouse the sleeping lion in my—

Luc. All right, old gentleman. As long as my own Katie still loves me, [approaching Kate and trying to take her hand] I can bear up under “the proud man’s contumely.”

Kate But really, Mister— Mister Jones—

Luc. [in great astonishment] Mister Jones?

Kate Yes; we’ve had our pleasant little flirtation, and now it might as well end. I start back to school to-morrow, anyhow.

Luc. But you loved me so! And you deliberately announced your purpose to love me forever and ever and ever—for an indefinite period, in point of fact!

Kate Yes, I know; but that was when Paw said I shouldn’t love you at all. Now that I am at entire liberty, I don’t seem to care to do so. Singular, isn’t it, Lu?— that is, I mean, Mr. Jones?

Luc. Yes, very! So I’m mittened, sacked, sold out, and all that! Well, shall I fly to poetry for relief? “Maid of Athens—leastways of New York—ere we part, give, oh, give me back my heart.”