The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poison,by George M. Baker

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Title: Poison A Farce

Author: George M. Baker

Release Date: July 18, 2015 [EBook#49480]

Language: English

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EBOOK POISON ***

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GEO. M.BAKERS

PAST REDEMPTION. 4 Acts.Price 25 cts.COMRADES. 3 Acts. Price 25cts.

NEWPLAYS.

TITANIA. A Fairy Play forChildren. 2 Acts. Price 25 cts.OUR FOLKS. 3 Acts. Price 15cts.

SANTA CLAUS THE FIRST. A Christmasplay for children. By F. E. Chase. 25 c.REBECCAS TRIUMPH. For femalecharacters only. Price 25 cts.

THE GLOBE DRAMA. ALL THEWORLDS A STAGE POISON.

BOSTON: GEORGE M. BAKER &CO., No. 47 Franklin Street.

Copyright, 1876, by GEORGE M. BAKER.

SpencersUniversal Stage.

A Collection of COMEDIES,DRAMAS, and FARCES, adapted

to either Public or PrivatePerformance. Containing a fulldescription of all the necessary

Stage Business.PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH. No

Plays Exchanged. 1. LOST IN LONDON. A Drama in 3Acts. 6 male, 4 female characters.

2. NICHOLAS FLAM. A Comedy in2 Acts. By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 3female char.

3. THE WELSH GIRL. A Comedy in1 Act. By Mrs. Planche. 3 male, 2female char.

4. JOHN WOPPS. A Farce in 1 Act.By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 2 female char.

5. THE TURKISH BATH. A Farce in

1 Act. By Montague Williams and F.C. Burnand. 6 male, 1 female char.

6. THE TWO PUDDIFOOTS. AFarce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3male, 3 female char.

7. OLD HONESTY. A Comic Dramain 2 Acts. By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2female char.

8. TWO GENTLEMEN IN A FIX. AFarce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 malechar.

9. SMASHINGTON GOIT. A Farce in1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 3female char.

10. TWO HEADS BETTER THANONE. A Farce in 1 Act. By LenoxHorne. 4 male, 1 female char.

11. JOHN DOBBS. A Farce in 1 Act.By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 femalechar.

12. THE DAUGHTER of the

REGIMENT. A Drama in 2 Acts. ByEdward Fitzball, 6 male, 2 femalechar.

13. AUNT CHARLOTTES MAID. AFarce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3male, 3 female char.

14. BROTHER BILL AND ME. AFarce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 4male, 3 female char.

15. DONE ON BOTH SIDES. A Farcein 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2female char.

16. DUNDUCKETTYS PICNIC. AFarce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 6male, 3 female char.

17. IVE WRITTEN TO BROWNE. AFarce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4male, 3 female char.

19. MY PRECIOUS BETSY. A Farcein 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 4female char.

20. MY TURN NEXT. A Farce in 1Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3female char.

22. THE PHANTOM BREAKFAST. AFarce in 1 Act. By Chas. Selby. 3male, 2 female char.

23. DANDELIONS DODGES. AFarce in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4male, 2 female char.

24. A SLICE OF LUCK. A Farce in 1Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 2female char.

25. ALWAYS INTENDED. A Comedyin 1 Act. By Horace Wigan. 3 male, 3female char.

26. A BULL IN A CHINA SHOP. AComedy in 2 Acts. By CharlesMatthews. 6 male, 4 female char.

27. ANOTHER GLASS. A Drama in 1Act. By Thomas Morton. 6 male, 3female char.

28. BOWLED OUT. A Farce in 1 Act.By H. T. Craven. 4 male, 3 femalechar.

29. COUSIN TOM. A Commedietta in1 Act. By Geo. Roberts. 3 male, 2female char.

30. SARAHS YOUNG MAN. A Farcein 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male, 3female char.

31. HIT HIM, HE HAS NO FRIENDS.A Farce in 1 Act. By E. Yates and N.H. Harrington. 7 male, 3 female char.

32. THE CHRISTENING. A Farce in 1Act. By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 6female char.

33. A RACE FOR A WIDOW. A Farcein 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 4female char.

34. YOUR LIFES IN DANGER. AFarce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3male, 3 female char.

35. TRUE UNTO DEATH. A Drama in2 Acts. By J. Sheridan Knowles. 6male, 2 female char.

36. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. AnInterlude in 1 Act. By W. H. Murray.10 male, 1 female char.

37. LOOK AFTER BROWN. A Farcein 1 Act. By George A. Stuart, M. D.6 male, 1 female char.

38. MONSEIGNEUR. A Drama in 3Acts. By Thomas Archer. 15 male, 3female char.

39. A VERY PLEASANT EVENING. AFarce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 malechar.

40. BROTHER BEN. A Farce in 1 Act.By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 femalechar.

41. ONLY A CLOD. A Comic Dramain 1 Act. By J. P. Simpson. 4 male, 1female char.

42. GASPARDO THE GONDOLIER.A Drama in 3 Acts. By George Almar.10 male, 2 female char.

43. SUNSHINE THROUGH THECLOUDS. A Drama in 1 Act. BySlingsby Lawrence. 3 male, 3 femalechar.

44. DONT JUDGE BYAPPEARANCES. A Farce in 1 Act.By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 femalechar.

45. NURSEY CHICKWEED. A Farcein 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2female char.

46. MARY MOO; or, Which shall IMarry? A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E.Suter. 2 male, 1 female char.

47. EAST LYNNE. A Drama in 5 Acts.8 male, 7 female char.

48. THE HIDDEN HAND. A Drama in5 Acts. By Robert Jones. 16 male, 7

female char.49. SILVERSTONES WAGER. ACommedietta in 1 Act. By R. R.Andrews. 4 male, 3 female char.

50. DORA. A Pastoral Drama in 3Acts. By Chas. Reade. 5 male, 2female char.

55. THE WIFES SECRET. A Play in 5Acts. By Geo. W. Lovell. 10 male, 2female char.

56. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. AComedy in 3 Acts. By Tom Taylor. 10male, 3 female char.

57. PUTKINS; Heir to Castles in theAir. A Comic Drama in 1 Act. By W.R. Emerson. 2 male, 2 female char.

58. AN UGLY CUSTOMER. A Farcein 1 Act. By Thomas J. Williams. 3male, 2 female char.

59. BLUE AND CHERRY. A Comedyin 1 Act. 3 male, 2 female char.

60. A DOUBTFUL VICTORY. AComedy in 1 Act. 3 male, 2 femalechar.

61. THE SCARLET LETTER. A Dramain 3 Acts. 8 male, 7 female char.

62. WHICH WILL HAVE HIM? AVaudeville. 1 male, 2 female char.

63. MADAM IS ABED. A Vaudevillein 1 Act. 2 male, 2 female char.

64. THE ANONYMOUS KISS. AVaudeville. 2 male, 2 female char.

65. THE CLEFT STICK. A Comedy in3 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char.

66. A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, ATINKER, AND A TAILOR. A Farce in1 Act. 4 male, 2 female char.

67. GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. AFarce. 2 male, 2 female char.

68. DAMON AND PYTHIAS. A Farce.6 male, 4 female char.

69. A HUSBAND TO ORDER. A

Serio-comic Drama in 2 Acts. 5male, 3 female char.

70. PAYABLE ON DEMAND. ADomestic Drama in 2 Acts. 7 male, 1female char.Descriptive Catalogue mailed

free on application toGeo. M. Baker & Co., 47

Franklin St., Boston.

POISON.A Farce.

AS PERFORMED

BY THE HASTY PUDDING CLUB

OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

BOSTON:GEORGE M. BAKER AND

COMPANY.1882.

Copyright, 1882,BY GEORGE M. BAKER.

All Rights Reserved.

POISON.

A FARCE.AS ACTED AT THE HASTYPUDDING CLUB, HARVARDCOLLEGE, DEC. 20TH, 1881.

CHARACTERS:MR. THEOPHILUS TWITTERS, aretired sugar merchant

E. J.WENDELL.

GOTTLIEB HUNKER, honorarysecretary of the society for theprevention of capital

J. E. WEBB.

DR. CHARLES SQUILLCOX, anapothecary in love with Clara

F. C.WOODBURY.

CLARA TWITTERS H. C.FRENCH.THE MOTHER OF THE LATE MRS.TWITTERS

A.MATTHEWS.

MARY JANE R. T.BABSON.

OFFICER OF THE LAW H. M.HUBBARD.

SCENE.Breakfast-room of the suburbanvilla of Mr. Twitters. The mother of the late

Mrs. Twitters and Mary Jane arediscovered.MARY JANE. But I tell you this is Mr.

Twitters breakfast, mum. Theres notelling what hell do if he dont catch thetrain this morning. Hes ordered thehorse ready since seven oclock.

MOTHER (breaking an egg). In the midstof life we are in death. I have left myhumble lodgings this morning to attendthe interment of the remains of our latepastor, the Rev. Dr. Elijah Paddyahot muffin, Mary Jane!

MARY JANE. What will master say,mum? There wont be no breakfast left.He has the alarm-clock set in his hat-bath to wake him at seven, and it madesuch a noise, mum, that he flung it out the

window and went to sleep again. Andhes been rampaging round and orderingbreakfast on the table for the last hour.

MOTHER. The carriage will serve me inmy sad errand. I have a floral tribute inthis box to place upon the grave of thedear departed,a little more hottoast, Mary Jane,an anchor,expressive of hope and Christianresignation. It will be but a trifle amongthe many offerings. The Rev. Mr. Paddynever knew how many friends he haduntil he was dead (breaking anotheregg).

MARY JANE. Youre eating the last egg,mum.

MOTHER. I grieve that there is no otheregg, but this will suffice to support me

through the trying ceremony. He was aneminent Christian,he had three wives.(Bell rings.)

TWITTERS (without, calling). Has thatthundering shoemaker sent my newboots?

MARY JANE (calling at door). Justcome, sir.

MOTHER. Cease this unseemly noise, girl(rising), summon the equipage.

MARY JANE. The equipage, mum? Ididnt see you come in no carriage.

MOTHER. My limited earthly resourcesdo not permit me to provide myself withsuch luxuries. I shall use one of yourmasters. My poor, dear, departeddaughter, did not survive to enjoy his

prosperity. I do.MARY JANE. But he wants the carriage to

go to the train, mum.MOTHER. Trains go hourly. (Takes up a

box. Exit.)MARY JANE (standing at window). Well,

if the late Mrs. Twitters was like thismother of hers, it aint no wonder thatmasters kind of fidgety like. There,shes got hold of John, now, and shesstepping into the carriage that was goingto take master to the train. And shesdruv off! Oh, deary me. What viciousthings elderly women can be. (EnterTwitters hastily.)

TWITTERS (Looking at watch). I shallhave a close shave for the 9-20 train, butI think I can manage it. Breakfasts ready

of course, of course?MARY JANE. It was ready sir.TWITTERS (approaching table). Why,

what on earth does this mean?MARY JANE. The mother of the late Mrs.

TwittersTWITTERS. The devil!MARY JANE. No, sir, the mother ofTWITTERS. Is she here? (With feeling.)MARY JANE. No, sir, shes gone.TWITTERS. Something ghoulish is going

on somewhere, then, or she would havestayed. That women is a perfect vulture.If anything horrible happens to anybody,she comes pouncing down to gloat overit. Im becoming a fiend, myself; Irejoice in the news of any misfortune,

for it means temporary deliverance forme from herhas she eaten everything?

MARY JANE. All there was, sir.TWITTERS. How soon can you get some

more?MARY JANE. Itll be ten minutes, sir.TWITTERS. I shall have to breakfast in

town, then. I must be off. Johns here, ofcourse?

MARY JANE. No, sir, hes took.TWITTERS. Good heavens! A fit?MARY JANE. No, sir; the mother of the

late Mrs. Twitters.TWITTERS. Where has she taken him?MARY JANE. To the funeral obelisk of an

Irish gentleman, sir.

TWITTERS. To Parson Paddys funeral?MARY JANE. Thats just it, sir.TWITTERS. I hated that man, but his death

caused me deep sorrow. Her cap was setat him. I must run for the train. Whereare my boots? Ah, here! (Opening a boxand producing a funeral wreath) whatin the name of nature is this?

MARY JANE. Its hers, sir; shes beenand gone and took the boots to theburying, and shes left nothing behind butChristian resignation.

TWITTERS. Damn Christian resignation.(Pitches box across stage; a letter fallsout; he picks it up and opens it duringspeech.) Call Miss Clara and tell her Illbreakfast with her. I cant get to town tilleleven, now. And get something

uncommonly good to eat, mind you. Abad temper needs good food.

MARY JANE. Yes, sir; I noticed, sir, howthe old lady had a fine appetite.

TWITTERS (severely). Speak civilly ofmembers of my family, if you expect tokeep your place. (Glancing at paper,which he has taken from envelope.)Why, the damned old harridan.

MARY JANE. Yes, sir. (Exit.)TWITTERS (reading). Theophilus

Twitters, Esq., to Grimsby & Weeper,florists. Funeral orders attended withdespatch in the latest and tastiest styles.To one Christian resignation, roses,immortelles, etc., $15. A promptpayment is requested. Then in pencil:For the sake of our departed Sarah you

will please meet this little account.This is the last straw. Im a strong camelbut my back breaks at this. Ill giveorders that she shant be let into thehouse. And as for this bill, here goes(goes to table and writes): Grimsby &Weeper; sirs: I wont pay this rascally,swindling bill, or any other. T. Twitters.(Rings bell, then sealing letter.) Thatwill settle Christian resignation, Ireckon. (Enter CHARLES.)

CHARLES (standing in door withhandful of letters, timidly). Mr. T-Twitters

TWITTERS (not looking up). Come here.CHARLES (approaching timidly). Yes,

Mr. T-Twitters.TWITTERS. Take this to the post and look

sharp.CHARLES. But Ive just come from the

post, sir.TWITTERS. Whats that to me? (Looking

up.) Dear me, Charles, I thought youwere my man. Seen the paper?

CHARLES. Ive brought it in, sir.TWITTERS (seizing it). Hows Harshaw

this morning?CHARLES. Why, I never thought of

looking, sir. If it had occurred to me thatyoud have liked to know

TWITTERS. 38 7-8! Three per cent. rise!Im six thousand in pocket! (With asigh.) Youre a lucky dog, Charles; youdont tremble whenever you look at astock-list.

CHARLES. No, sir; I dont seem to look atone, often. (Nervous.) Youre surprisedto see me at this hour, I suppose?

TWITTERS. Hadnt beenbut now youmention it, I am.

CHARLES. You see, I happened in at thepost-office, and I saw your mail, and Ithought that you might like to have meleave it at your house on my way home.

TWITTERS (laughing). Youre a sly dog,Charles. What time do I go to town?

CHARLES. Why, 9-20 I spose, sir.TWITTERS (pointing to watch). At this

moment its 9-25, you young rascal, andyou have the impudence to say that youcame to see me. (Enter MARY JANE.)

MARY JANE. Did you ring, sir?

TWITTERS. Yes. Take this letter to thepost, and look sharp (handing letterwhich he has written); and, I say, tellMiss Clara that theres a gentleman herethat wants to see her. (Exit MARY JANE.)

CHARLES. Here are your letters, Mr.Twitters. I assure you

TWITTERS. I like your little game,Charles, I like it. Perhaps Clarall likeit, too, you young Machiavelli. Nowdont pretend you didnt come to see her.Six thousand in, by Jove. I must sell outHarshaw as soon as I get to town.Bottoms sure to fall out of it. (EnterCLARA with watering pot.)

CLARA. Good morning, papa dear,(kisses him.) Why, Dr. Squillcox, areyou here?

TWITTERS. As if you didnt expect him.CLARA. How can you say such things,

papa?CHARLES. Yes, Mr. Twitters, its most

unjustCLARA. If I had expected anybody,

should I have brought in this great, heavywatering-pot?

CHARLES. Cant I hold it Miss Clara?(takes it.)

CLARA. I was going to water myflowers in the garden.

TWITTERS. Go along, my dear: and goalong with her, you rascal. (Laughs.Exeunt CHARLES and CLARA laughing.)

TWITTERS (rubbing his hands). Therethey go. It does my heart good to think

that my little Clara has such a goodfellow to look after her; and that I canact as the ways and means committee.Ill take care that their love shant fly outof the window. (Opens letter.) Heresthe plumbers bill. Old Faucet will berolling in his carriage soon. If Charlesgets tired of medicine Ill set him up as aplumber. (Opens another letter.) Clarasmilliners bill. Egad! how Charles eyeswould open, if they tried love in acottage on his professional outcome.Hollo! Whats this? Shabby lookingletter addressed in a shabby hand.Another bill, I suppose. No. Whats this?(Reads.) Theophilus Twitters, BloatedBond-holder. I am a foe to capital andthe Grand-master of a secret society

organized to cripple said capital, tomuzzle monopolists, and to elevate thehorny-handed son of toil. You have agood-sized contract, my friend. Whenthe copartnership of Tollgate & Twittersengaged in their corner in sugar, androbbed the poor of the luxuries of a freebreakfast-table, our society determinedto foil you. As their agent, I secretlyentered the warehouse in which yourhoard of sugar was stored, and secretedin various spots amidst the innocentcondiment no less than twelve pounds ofarsenic. After having done this, I notifiedyour partner, the aforesaid diabolicalTollgate, of my action, and apprised himthat all the sugar must be destroyed,else poison would be thrown broadcast

upon the world. You, as his partner, areaffected with notice of this. (As a foe tocapital, I have incidentally been trainedas a lawyer.) The aforesaid diabolicalTollgate, with your connivance,Damnlaw words. I hate emWith yourconnivance sold the sugar. Throughsecret channels the deadly grains ofarsenic are distilled into the veins ofsociety. The blushing damsel, receivingtaffy from her lover, curls up and dies.The fond mother, pouring out herchildrens cambric tea, gives them theblack wine of death. Candy-shops arecharnel-houses! Society gatherings arevolcanos! Ice-cream leads to the grave!And all through you, most miserable ofmortals, who lie soft and count your ill-

gotten wealth. (Enter MARY JANE withcoffee. He starts to drink.) But evenyou are not exempt from the insidiousenemy. The very cup of coffee that youmay now be raising to your lips may callyou to judgment. (Drops coffee cup.)What sinful nonsense. I shouldnt give ita thought if it didnt charge my poordead partner with such villany. AndTollgate was a Sunday-schoolsuperintendent. (Enter MARY JANE withbreakfast.)

MARY JANE. The letters mailed, sir.TWITTERS. Letter? What do you know

about the letter?MARY JANE. Sure, you gave it to me, sir.TWITTERS. No such thing. Ah, to be sure!

How absurd to be so discomposed. So

breakfasts ready?MARY JANE (arranging table). Yes, sir.TWITTERS (after a short pause, during

which he has fidgeted). By the way,Mary Jane, you havent happened to hearmuch illness about of late. Have you?

MARY JANE. Why, sir, there has beenfolks go off sudden.

TWITTERS. You dont say so? Who?MARY JANE. Well, sir; there was poor

Mr. Tollgate.TWITTERS. Apoplexyapoplexy, beyond

all doubt. Caused by the success of ourcorner.

MARY JANE. Then, sir, there was mygrandmother, only last week, sir.

TWITTERS. Yes, I remember. But Ive

remarked that that melancholy event hashappened twenty-seven times in thecourse of the year. I infer that yourgrandfather was a Mormon.

MARY JANE. Which I consider thatremark most unfeeling, sir. And whatwith waiting on the mother of the lateMrs. Twitters, sir, and getting twobreakfasts for you, and having my owngrandfather abused, sir, I cannot submitto it, sir.

TWITTERS. Leave the room, girl.MARY JANE. Which I shall take pleasure

in leaving, sir, this day week, sir. (Exit.)TWITTERS (playing with breakfast

things). All right. Its absurd to think ofthis matter. In ninety-nine cases out of ahundred an anonymous letter is a lie, but

if this should turn out to be the hundredthI should be a Borgia. Heavens. What asituation. Why, even my poor daughterwould be blighted. I could never permither to marry and to perpetuate a crime-stained race. I wonder what the effect ofarsenic is. Happy thought. Ill look it upin my encyclopdia. Glad to put thething to some use. (Takes down thevolume.) A-r-ta-r-s-e-n-i-c. Thats it.(Reads.) Arsenic is one of the mostviolent of the acrid poisons. Its use inmedicine and toxicological propertiesare treated under medicaljurisprudence. Damn it. Just my luck.(Looks at bookcase again.) My set stopsat Lam. Pooh! Pooh! Why, even if thewhole thing were true, twelve pounds.

(Looks at letter.) Yes, he says twelvepoundsin a whole warehouse full ofsugar wouldnt do more than improvethe complexion of the public. I should bea benefactor. (Enter Charles andClara.)

CLARA. Is breakfast all ready, papa,dear? Im dreadfully hungry.

TWITTERS. Quite ready, dear.CHARLES. Where shall I put this? Its

very heavy.TWITTERS. Heavy?CHARLES. Yes, you see it is quite full of

water. Im afraid of wetting the carpet,you see.

CLARA. Why! Sure enough! We forgot towater the flowers!

TWITTERS. Forgot it, eh? Young peoplehave queer memories, nowadays. Putthat confounded thing in the hall,Charles. You are a medical man. Howdo you account for the curiousprevalence of sudden death?

CHARLES (returning from hall door).Why, I havent thought much about it.

TWITTERS. The newspapers talk aboutarsenic in wall papers. Nonsense, dontyou think so?

CHARLES (soaring to professionalfluency). Not a bit of it. Arsenic is themost deadly of drugs.

TWITTERS. Oh, you dont say so?CLARA. What a disagreeable subject!

Come to breakfast, papa dear. (At table.)

TWITTERS. Stop, Clara, we are not readyfor food; I am interested in this matter.How deadly is arsenichow muchwould kill?

CHARLES. Well, in wall-papers its onething; in the stomach, it is another.

TWITTERS. Take stomachs. Iminterested.

CHARLES. Its only common prudence tohave your wall-paper tested (looking atpaper); I dont like that green.

TWITTERS. Confound it, sir; Im talkingabout stomachs.

CLARA. Papa dear, arent you ready?TWITTERS. Dont interrupt us. Charles

how much arsenic will kill?CHARLES. A deadly dose for an adult is

five grains.TWITTERS. How do you weigh it? How

many grains to the pound?CHARLES. Twenty grains make a scruple

there are three scruples in a dramthats sixty grainsin an ounce there areeight dramsthat makes four hundredand eightyand in a pound there aretwelve ouncestwelve times fourhundred and eighty are five thousandseven hundred and sixty.

TWITTERS. Then a pound will kill?CHARLES. Five into five onceinto

seven, once and two overinto twenty-six, five times and one overand intoten twice. A pound would kill abouteleven hundred and fifty-two able-bodied men.

TWITTERS (to himself). Twelve timeseleven hundred andgood heavens.(Sinks into chair.)

CLARA. Charles is going to breakfastwith us, papa dear.

TWITTERS. Charles! What do you meanby speaking of Dr. Squillcox by hisChristian name?

CLARA. Whyyou do, papa dear.TWITTERS. Yes; but Im not a

marriageable young woman.CLARA (to Charles). You had better

speak, dear.CHARLES. Mr. Twittersthe fact isCLARA. Yes, papa; the fact isTWITTERS. The fact is, young man, that

you have come here before cock-crow,

pretending to bring the mail to megauzy pretext

CHARLES. I assure you, Mr. Twitters, Idid nothing of the sort.

CLARA. By no means, papa dear. Hecame to see me; and he is going to askyou

TWITTERS. I see what hes at. I consideryour behavior surreptitious, sir. Whathave you to recommend you?

CLARA. He has my love, papa dear.Thats all you have but a little money.Now be a dear, good, sweet papa.

TWITTERS. Sweet! Oh42,000 grainsI have your love, then?

CLARA. Why, yes, papa.TWITTERS. Very good. I dont choose to

share it. Your conduct is little better thanrobbery, sir. You ought to blush redderthan the bottles that conceal the povertyof your stock in trade.

CHARLES. My calling is respectable, sir.TWITTERS. Then follow its example in

your conduct, sir.CHARLES. I shall, sir. (Going.)CLARA. Charles, are you going away?CHARLES. Naturally.TWITTERS. And naturally, sir, you wont

expect to return?CHARLES. Naturally not, sir. (Exit.)TWITTERS (aside). There he goes;

worthy young fellow. But while thisarsenic is hanging over my head theremust be no thought of love or marriage in

this fated home. Clara, dear, dont letthis trouble you.

CLARA. O, papa, I dont know which ofyou troubles me most. You are so harshand Charles was soso

TWITTERS. Pusillanimous, Clara. Asingle rebuff was enough for him.

CLARA (crying). O, dear! O, dear!TWITTERS (patting her shoulder).

There, dear, there! Remember, as long asI live you have some one to love you.

CLARA. But it isnt the same thing.TWITTERS. No, the honest love of a

father is lastingcome to breakfast.CLARA (going to table sobbing). T-two

lumps in your coffee, papa?TWITTERS (with emphasis). Great

Heavens! No! (Recovering himself.)That has been my usual dose.

CLARA. Dose! (Sobbing again.) O dear!Poor Charles!

TWITTERS (aside). A deadly dose for anadult is five grainstwelve timeseleven hundred and fifty-twoenough tokill twenty-five thousand women andchildren. The board of watercommissioners are a choir of white-robed angels beside my partner if this istrue. Why will you put so much sugar inyour coffee, dear? You make it a perfectliqueur!

CLARA. I always had a sweet tooth.TWITTERS. A sweet tooth leads through a

heap of dentists bills to a set of falseones. I cant have you eating these horrid

sweet things, candies, sweet-meats, ices,and jams. Your dentists bills ruin(hehas pulled her coffee cup towards him,and put salt into it).

CLARA. What are you doing with mycoffee, papa?

TWITTERS. Putting salt in it; its notcoffee that hurts you, its the mixture ofcoffee and sugar. I read somewhere thatcoffee and sugar together make leather.

CLARA. No, papa; tea and milk.TWITTERS. Coffee and sugar! (Aside.) Of

course the letters a hoax. It doesntdisconcert me. But to think of my partnerhaving a monument detailing hisChristian virtues! He always passed thecontribution box, and, now I think of it,he used to have a great deal of loose

change of a Monday. Read me the paper,dear.

CLARA. I dont like reading aloud. Thenewspapers are so full of politics andmurders and business and accidents.

TWITTERS. I regard the daily paper as anecessary part of every young girlseducation. Here it is.

CLARA (reading). Double hanging inAtlanta! Pernicious poisoning. Adiabolical crime.

TWITTERS (starting). Eh!CLARA (reading). A man poisoned by

lemonade administered by his wife. Thepost-mortem reveals distinct traces ofarsenic in the stomach.

TWITTERS. Clara! Where was it?

CLARA. O, in Kalamazoo, or some suchhorrid western place.

TWITTERS. Kalamazoo! Great heavens!CLARA. How can a horrid man in

Kalamazoo concern us?TWITTERS. In no way my dear. (Aside.) I

must dissemblego on.CLARA (reading). The unfortunate

couple were well known in the highestsocial circles. The married life of thetwain had been unmarred by a cloud. Itseems most strange that a train ofcircumstantial evidence is wound aroundthe unhappy wife, which points(stops). Papa, dear, how can a chainpoint.

TWITTERS. Continue your reading,

flippant girl.CLARA (reading). Which points at her

as the murderess. It seems that, with anoteworthy economy, she alone of thehousehold had access to the sugarbarrel. (Turns and refolds paper.)

TWITTERS (aside). The sugar barrel! Infar-off Kalamazoo! That letter bears thestamp of truth.

CLARA (having folded paper, reads).The lemonade was prepared with herown hands. Traces of arsenic werefound in the glass from which the victimdrank his last drink; and in the barrel ofsugar, which had but just arrived fromthe highly respectable store of Spicer &Co., not less than half an ounce hasalready been discovered What stupid

stuff! Why, papa! What is the matter?TWITTERS (with his head on his hands,

in agony). Nothing, my dear nothing. Itis so terrible to think of all that suffering(Enter Hunker).

HUNKER. Mr. Twitters, I believe.TWITTERS. Yes, what do you want?

(Seizing and pocketing paper.)HUNKER. Your servant was not disposed

to introduce me, so I take the liberty ofintroducing myself.

TWITTERS. Im not well this morning, sir.HUNKER (sitting down.) Naturally

enough. The morning news doesnt agreewith you, I presume.

TWITTERS (nervous). I dont understandyou.

HUNKER. I have a little business withyourather private nature. You mightprefer to have our young friend hereleave the room.

CLARA (rising with dignity). I amgoing, papa.

HUNKER. Good dayMiss Twitters, Ireckonpleased to have met you. Hopeto see more of you. (Exit CLARA.)

TWITTERS. And now, sir, who are you?HUNKER. A foe to capital, and the grand

master of a society organized to cripplesaid capital, muzzle monopolists andelevate the horny-handed son of toilat your service, sir.

TWITTERS. Ah, you wrote me a letter thismorning?

HUNKER. I did.TWITTERS. The writers of anonymous

letters are dealt with according to thelaw.

HUNKER. So are venders of poisonedfood.

TWITTERS. I dont believe a word ofyour story.

HUNKER (calmly and deliberatelyproducing papers, which he turnsover). I have proofs that arsenic was inthe sugar, that the sugar was sold by thecopartnership of Tollgate & Twitters,that one if not both of said firm knew ofthis rather unpleasant adulteration.(Twitters grabs at papers.) Dont loseyour self-control, Twitters, I never do.There are copies.

TWITTERS. Granting your proofs, then,supposing the whole thing true, you, thepoisoner, will suffer more than I, thevictim.

HUNKER (calmly). I shall turn Statesevidence.

TWITTERS (sinking back in chair).Good heavens!

HUNKER. See here, Twitters. Im a fairminded man. In practically maintainingsound economic principles, Iveconcocted a scrape. Were both in it. Wemust back each other up.

TWITTERS. What do you want me to do?HUNKER. Well, I aint comfortable.TWITTERS. Neither am I.HUNKER. Naturally; you dont like the

prospect of hanging, and I dont like theprospect of continuing to breakfast fromearly morning milk-cans, and to bonenewspapers to keep me in tobacco.Now, you make me comfortable and Illguarantee you shant swing.

TWITTERS. Well, well, how much do youwant?

HUNKER. I aint mean in money matters.Lets seeBy Jove, Twitters, I like thelooks of this box of yours. Ill make youa visit.

TWITTERS. Im not joking, sir.HUNKER. No more am I,I have proofs;

first, that arsenic was in the sugar;second

TWITTERS. I must yield.

HUNKER. All right, Twitters. Youremore intelligent than you look.

TWITTERS. I have a good back room.HUNKER. I prefer a front one.TWITTERS. The front one is mine.HUNKER. Sorry to inconvenience you,

Im sure, but I cant put up with a backone.

TWITTERS (aside). Crimes do comehome to roost with a vengeance!(Aloud.) Where is your trunk?

HUNKER. Would you believe it, Twitters,Ive shoved up every thundering rag thataint on my back. Ill borrow of you.

TWITTERS. This passes patience.HUNKER. Its hard to bear; but your

clothes are good, if they aint handsome. I

aint proud. But proud or not, I want abath. If youll believe it, Twitters, Ivenot bathed sincebut we wont beunpleasant and vulgar, will we?

TWITTERS. The servant will show you tothe bath-room.

HUNKER. Youd better do it yourself,Twitters; I dont like to lose sight of younot that youre so awful handsome tolook at, butyou twig? Thanks, Illsample your strong waters (pouringbrandy from decanter to goblet anddrinking). Wheres the bath-room?

TWITTERS. This way.HUNKER. All right. Now you treat me

fair, and Ill treat you fair. (Smackinghis lips.) Im square. Thats primetipple. (Exeunt.)

CHARLES (appearing at window).Nobodys here. I must see Clara! (Dooropens.) I wouldnt be seen. Twitters iscapable of setting dogs on me. (Dodgesdown. Enter CLARA.)

CLARA. Papa! Is that horrid man gone?Papa?

CHARLES (appearing again). Hush!CLARA (starting and turning). Oh!

Its you, and crawling through thewindow. Dr. Squillcox.

CHARLES. Dr. Squillcox. O, Claracome here.

CLARA (approaching window). I hateyou. If you had really loved me youwould have shown more courage withpapa.

CHARLES. It was insane of me to ask aman for his daughters hand before hehad eaten his breakfast. (Takes herhand.) But its all serene, little girl. Illmake it well. (Kisses her.)

CLARA. It doesnt make it well at all.CHARLES. I have such an immense plan.

You must be taken very ill, thisafternoon. Your father will forget hisdyspepsia in worrying over you. Allremedies they give you must fail. OldDr. Parkinson is away, and

CLARA (clapping her hands). And papawill have to send for you. At your firstpowderyou mustnt give me pillsIcant take themIll get wellimmediately.

CHARLES. And your papa, delighted at

my skill, will give your hand to yourpreserver.

CLARA. How clever you are, Charles!(Noise without.) Go away. Somebodyscoming. (Charles disappears.)

(Enter TWITTERS.)TWITTERS (advancing thoughtfully,

aside). I wonder if the brand of Cain isperceptible upon my brow. To think thatI should be the cause of all thissuffering! That no day may pass withouta death which proper investigation mightlay at my door! That all my life must bepassed with this terrible man. I cannotendure it! (Sits down.)

CLARA (approaching him). Why, papa,you look ill.

TWITTERS. Ill! Yes, this is a wickedworld, Clara. I meant to strew your pathwith roses, to hide from you the villainy

HUNKER (without, shouting). Towels,Twitters.

CLARA. O, dear! What is that?TWITTERS (rising). It is the voice of

fate. (Calling.) Coming, sir.CLARA. What do you mean?HUNKER (without). Found em! No

matter!TWITTERS. A gentleman is come to stay

with me, dear; and while he is here, weshall have so much business together thatI have been thinking that it might be wellfor you to visit your kind grandmother.

CLARA. But I dont want to. Grandmahas horrid things to eat. Who is thisgentleman?

TWITTERS. You saw him here, thismorning.

CLARA. That horrid, dirty man!TWITTERS. An old friend of my boyhood,

Claraa worthy man, whom the worldhas dogs-eared by hard usage. I amsuperior to prejudice, but I cannot expectyou to be.

CLARA. I should hope not.TWITTERS. So you had better go at once,

dear. Ill send your things. He is rough, Iknow, but he has a gentle, kind heart

HUNKER (without). I say, Twitters!Where are you? Damn you!

TWITTERS (calling). Here, sir. (ToClara.) Go away, dear, quickly.

(Clara goes toward door. As shereaches it, Hunker appears and meetsher, face to face. He is showily dressedin clothes of Twitters, somewhat toosmall.)

HUNKER (bowing). Much obliged, miss;you were coming to show me the way, Ispose. Ive found it, you see. I heardyour lovely voice.

TWITTERS. My daughter was going out,Mr. Hunker.

HUNKER. I guess shed better not. It ainta nice day out.

CLARA. I beg your pardon, sir.HUNKER. Twitters, this young woman

mustnt go out. Do you twig?CLARA. Good-bye, papa.TWITTERS. You had better stay, dear.

(Clara stops, amazed.)HUNKER. So I think. (Drawing long

breath.) I feel like a new man, and Imgoing to give the new man a drink.(Pouring out brandy again.) Whats hername, Twitters?

TWITTERS. My daughter is named Clara,sir.

HUNKER. Lovely name. Heres to Clara(drinking). Sit down; well soon bepals.

TWITTERS. Sit down, dear. (Clara sitsamazed.)

HUNKER. Two young people like us cant

be thrown together in a house withoutliking each other pretty well?

CLARA (to Twitters). I cannot submit tothis, papa.

TWITTERS (to Clara). We should nevertake offence when none is meant, dear.

HUNKER. Im an adventurous cuss, MissClarajust on from Arizona to float agold mine on the eastern market. Goingto let Twitters in at bed-rock priceseh,Twitters?

TWITTERS. Yes, yes, of course.HUNKER. We had hard old sledding on

the plains, at times, Miss Clara.CLARA. Indeed, sir!HUNKER. Chased by Indians twenty

miles, riding with Custeryou know

Custer? Seventeen of them miles I had abullet in my leg (starting to pull up histrouser leg)want to see the scar?

CLARA (with terror). No! No!HUNKER (pleased with himself). O,

were kindred spirits; well soon befriends. I like your New Englandcountry. As Lady Franklin said to me,when we was taking supper together onthe Oregon steamer. She was goin tohunt up Johns bones in Sitka, where Ikept a hotelBeans is a benevolentinstitution, Mr. Hunker, says she.Youre right, Lady F., says I. Nowspeak up, if youre talked to death, MissClara.

CLARA. I have nothing to say.HUNKER. All right. I can talk right along,

keep it up forever. By George, itwould be funny if you and I shouldconclude to keep it up forevereh,Clara?

CLARA. I dont understand this man,papa.

TWITTERS. He is a rough diamond, dear.CLARA. Then he ought to be cut.HUNKER. Why, make a match of it.CLARA (aside). O dear. I shall be ill,

really. I must send for Charles. (Aloud.)Papa, I dont feel well.

TWITTERS (starting). Eh, my dear!Whats the matter?

CLARA. I have a head-ache.HUNKER. Have you been eating sugar?TWITTERS (agonized). I fear so.

HUNKER. Does your throat burn?CLARA (faintly). Yes, yes, I want to lie

down (they lead her to sofa).HUNKER. My God! Its the symptoms

see what youve done!TWITTERS. I, you miserable man! Behold

your work!HUNKER. No time for fooling, Twitters. I

know the antidote. Ill run to the nearestapothecaryits too bad, I vow! Here,give me sixty cents. (Exit.)

TWITTERS. There you are, my poor child!(Gets towel, which he wets withcologne and puts to her head.) Doesthat help you?

CLARA. O papa. It doesnt make me anybetter! Send for the doctor!

TWITTERS. Yes, yes. (Aside.) If thedoctor should discover poisoning! If itshould be traced to me!

CLARA (faintly). Dr. Squillcoxtheother ones away.

MOTHER (without). Where is Twitters? Iwill see him. (Enter Mother.)

MOTHER. You are hereI entered thehushed chamber where all that wasmortal of the sainted Elijah Paddy waslying

TWITTERS. Dont talk of death.MOTHER. Overcome by emotion, I

averted my head, and blindly removingthe brown paper wrapping, I placedupon the heart of the departed what Ithought to be a floral tributea lovely

anchor, expressive of hope and christianresignation

TWITTERS. Cant you see that poor Clarais ill? Be still, woman.

MOTHER. Who insults me by calling mewoman? I stood with averted face. A stirof excitement thrilled the hushed andweeping assembly as my offering wasseen. Touched by this appreciation of mytribute, I turned to take a last view of allthat was earthly of the departedthere,amid a heap of roses and camellias laythose odious boots. (Pulling them fromunder her cloak, holding them at armslength and throwing them down.)Without a word I fled. I am undoneforever.

TWITTERS. Say no more of boots. Look

at my suffering child and hold yourpeace.

MOTHER. I need no word from you tosuccor my departed Sarahs child(walking towards the couch. Shesnatches at TWITTERS hand). Yourallopathic doses are killing her(producing phial). These pellets willcure her (starts to give CLARA pills).

TWITTERS. No sugar pills! For heavenssake, no sugar!

MOTHER (severely). These are renderedefficacious by an infinitesimal reductionof arsenic.

TWITTERS (in agony). Give them to me.(Struggling with her.)

MOTHER. Prejudiced monster. Like cures

like. (They struggle for the phial.Twitters wrenches it away and flings itinto the fire-place. Mother standspanting with rage.)

(Enter an Officer of the Law.)OFFICER. Theophilus Twitters?TWITTERS (excited). Yes, what is it?OFFICER. I arrest you, in the name of the

Commonwealth of Massachusetts.TWITTERS (agonized). The blow is

fallen!MOTHER (between horror and joy). O

that I should have lived to see this day!(Crossing to CLARA.) My poor child,your mothers mother will care for you,while your sinful parent expiates hiscrimes!

CLARA (aside). Why doesnt Charlescome?

TWITTERS (imploring). Officer, a fewmoments with my suffering child.

OFFICER. Couldnt think of it. Get yourhat.

(Enter HUNKER, hastily, followed byCHARLES).

HUNKER (recognizing OFFICER, aside).Thunder. Theres a copp. (Aloud, withtremor.) Whats wanted?

OFFICER (sententiously). Twitters.CHARLES (coming forward). And this

man, tooHUNKER (imploring). Shut up! Ill fix

things!CHARLES. A few weeks ago he came to

me and offered me a large sum fortwelve pounds of arsenicto kill rats,he said, but

CLARA (who has risen in herexcitement). But, what?

TWITTERS (trembling with excitement).But what, Charles?

CHARLES. But that he might not goelsewherefor I saw that his end wascrimeI sold him powdered sugar!

TWITTERS. Powdered sugar! A mountainhas rolled off my breast! Youre anangel, Charles!

HUNKER (enraged). Youre a damnedmean apothecary!

TWITTERS. Officer, you dont want menow?

OFFICER. I dont see how all this makesany difference in the suit of Grimsby etal. v. Twitters,criminal libel.

TWITTERS. Grimsby & Weeper!OFFICER. Thems the people. You called

them rascally swindlers.MOTHER. The makers of my tribute.TWITTERS. They didnt like my letter?OFFICER. Thats so. But youre a stampy

old duffer. This gentleman (pointing toCHARLES) will go surety on your bond?

HUNKER. Good day, gents and ladies(starts to go. To CLARA). Now our matchis off, youve got well putty quick. Goodday.

OFFICER. See here (touching hisshoulder).

HUNKER. I aint libelled nobody.OFFICER. Dry up! Come along with me. I

want your phiz in the rogues gallery.HUNKER (putting hat on one side). I

guess I can screw it up so as you wontknow it again. I say, Twitters, Ive madea suit of clothes out of this, anyhow.(Exeunt.)

TWITTERS (to CLARA). Ah, you sly puss!Charles was the medicine you needed!Here, Charles, shes yours and half myfortune with her. Thank heaven, Im not ablear-eyed Borgia, chumming with aprison-bird.

CLARA. I dont understand you, papa.TWITTERS. No reason you should, my

dear. Everything is bright and happy,

excepting that I shall lose my little girland be left all alone.

MOTHER (embracing him). I will takeher place, Theophilus. The past shall beforgotten. I will never desert the lonelyhusband of my departed Sarah.

TWITTERS (shaking her off. To himself).I shall have to send for Hunker.

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