ACT II.

Scene. House of Josiah Twiggs. Cozy sitting room. Doors in 1 R. and L, window by door R and in flat. Furniture that of family in comfortable circumstances. Table near window up R., pictures, vases, etc. Discovered, Mr. and Mrs. Twiggs seated by table.

Mrs. T. Josiah, do you think there is anything in that advertisement in the Sun?

Mr. T. Which advertisement, Sophronia? There are several hundred of them.

Mrs. T. I mean the one about wealthy gentleman who wants to adopt twins. Is there anything in it?

Mr. T. A tale of disappointed aspiration, probably. A gentleman, without doubt, whose taste runs to twins and who has been reduced to the necessity of advertising for them.

Mrs. T. But what do you think of it?

Mr. T. For my part, I don’t approve of twins.

Mrs. T. Don’t you think he is a crank?

Mr. T. Very likely! A crank is an individual whose ideas differ from yours and mine and who takes no pains to conceal the fact.

Mrs. T. Do you think he’s all right? (Hands him paper.)

Mr. T. (Looking at advertisement.) He says high connections, honorable gentleman, etc. I guess he’s what he claims to be. He must be, he says so himself.

Mrs. T. The main thing is, is he rich?

Mr. T. Yes, that’s the main thing. Honor, culture, family, are minor considerations.

Mrs. T. Josiah, don’t be sarcastic. You always try to twist my meaning round. I’m going to have Mrs. Twiggs-Knott apply at once. It would be so nice for Twiggsie and Dixie.

Mr. T. Why not try to get this estimable single party of high connections to marry one of our daughters?

Mrs. T. Josiah, how you talk!

Mr. T. That is a better scheme. If he takes Amelia he gets the twins thrown in, and if he takes Angie—

Mrs. T. For shame, Josiah, one would think that we were scheming for our dear children.

Mr. T. Oh, no! perish the thought! (Knock at door, R.)

Mrs. T. Hist! Go to the door. (Twiggs opens door R.)

Enter Mr. Topp.

Topp. Ah! excuse me! Is this Mr. Twiggs?

Twiggs. Yes, come in.

Topp. (Embarrassed.) I called on a little matter of business. I—that is to say—

Twiggs. My wife, Mrs. Twiggs. (Topp bows to her.) Be seated. (Topp takes chair by table.) Your daughter gave me this address. (Mrs. T. seated, L.)

Mrs. T. (Aside.) Amelia has seen him already. (To Topp.) Go on, sir. My daughter’s friends are very welcome here.

Topp. I told her I would call.

Mrs. T. You advertised.

Topp. (Embarrassed.) Don’t mention that, pray.

Mrs. T. Oh, I beg pardon. We can guess your errand.

Topp. (Aside.) She’s a mind reader.

Mrs. T. You have exhibited excellent taste. Such loveliness is seldom found, I assure you.

Topp. Yes, I quite agree. (Aside.) A modest family truly!

Mr. T. (Nudging his wife.) Go slow at first.

Mrs. T. At your age, sir, to be a father to budding innocence is indeed a joy.

Topp. (Surprised.) A father! Yes, yes, no doubt you are right. (Aside.) Am I old Nestor himself, I wonder!

Mrs. T. To read love in its eyes each day.

Topp. (Aside.) That’s better! (To Mrs. T.) Delightful, madam, delightful!

Mrs. T. To hear innocence lisp in stammering accents is indeed—

Topp. Ecstatic, madam, I assure you. But I draw the line at stammering—does she stammer?

Mrs. T. You mean they.

Mr. T. (Nudging his wife.) He means her.

Topp. I mean she.

Mr. T. He, she, them! Who, which, what! I see!

Mrs. T. He means Amelia, the mother. How sudden!

Topp. (Astonished.) She a mother!

Enter Angie, R. Crosses to Mrs. T., who rises.

Mrs. T. (Nudging T.) A charming gentleman, I’m sure. (To Topp.) My daughter, sir.

Topp. (Bowing.) Ah, miss, that is to say, madam—I came—

Angie. (Bows bashfully; surprised.) Sir, I do not understand this sudden call.

Topp. Of course not. Explanations will follow duly.

Mrs. T. (With meaning look.) A friendly call my dear, and a little business mingled.

Mr. T. Yes, business first and pleasure after.

Topp. I dislike the word “business” but—perhaps sentiment should cut no figure in such matters. (Aside.) Mercenary wretches!

Angie. (To Topp.) Then my mission has not been in vain?

Topp. (Graciously.) No, indeed. I assure you though it may have originated in a mistake.

Angie. A mistake!

Topp. Great events have sprung from little misunderstandings. To make a long story short, Mr. Twiggs, I have come directly to you.

Mrs. T. (Puzzled.) To him?

Topp. And why not to him, madam!

Mrs. T. Very proper, sir. You have acted in a business-like manner. (To Twiggs.) A very nice party!

Topp. (Aside.) Business again! (Down R.)

Mrs. T. (To Twiggs.) Which does he want, wife or twins?

Mr. T. Both!

Mrs. T. Shocking! how very strange!

Topp. Hu’m! as I was saying—(To Mrs. Twiggs.) And you, madam, since I take it you should be consulted also, where do we find ourselves? (Pause, they all look at one another.)

Mrs. T. Proceed, sir.

Mr. T. Yes, we are all ears.

Topp. I was about to suggest that the presence of your daughter may be embarrassing.

Mrs. T. Oh, never mind her. She is used to hearing all such matters discussed.

Topp. (Starting.) Ah, indeed! Such matters—(Aside.) I don’t like this. A trap—(A pause.)

Mrs. T. Continue, my dear sir.

Topp. Madam, I do not agree with you. I had the pleasure of seeing your daughter but once, and I wish to satisfy myself a little concerning certain matters. In short, a private interview is the proper thing.

Mrs. T. Mercy me!—Oh, I begin to understand. He wants to talk to you, Josiah. How stupid you are.

Mr. T. Exactly! How stupid we are.

Mrs. T. What is the man driving at? (Suddenly to Topp.) Who are you?

Mr. T. Yes, as a mere formality it might be well to know your name.

Topp. Since your daughter has already called on me perhaps she will do me the honor of an introduction. (Aside.) She’s a little angel.

Mrs. T. My daughter has called on you? Is this so, Angie dear?

Angie. Yes, mother.

Mrs. T. In answer to an advertisement?

Angie. Yes.

Mrs. T. (Hysterically.) Oh, rash girl! This is terrible! This is the wretch who advertised for a young lady for private secretary. (Sarcastically.) Tall, blonde preferred, etc., etc. (Here describes Angie.) Oh, silly child! Oh, horrid wretch! Josiah, will you endure this insult and never say one word or lift a hand in defense of your fireside.

Mr. T. Never mind the fireside, it’s all right. What does the gentleman want?

Mrs. T. What does he want? he’s a monster!

Angie. (Remonstrating.) Oh, mother!

Topp. (Astounded.) Madam, one word—

Mrs. T. (Tragically.) Wretch! Not a word! My poor lamb! (Takes A. in her arms.) Left without a protector. And the wolf is at the door.

Enter Tick suddenly, R.

Tick. Wolf at the door! (Aside.) That’s hard on me.

Twiggs. Who the devil are you, sir, to enter my house in this unceremonious fashion?

Tick. I heard the sound of females in distress. I answered the call. Madam, your lamb shall have protection. The policy of this great free country is—

Mr. T. Bosh! I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance. Who are you?

Topp. Bless my soul, our dog-fancier again! Stick to your trade young man, and don’t meddle with political economy. You had better go, sir.

Mr. T. And who are you to order people out of my house. You had better go too.

Tick. Yes, go to—(Waves him away with comical gesture.)

Topp. (Aside.) Ordered out of my own house! (To Tick) Confound it, I’ll not go!

Mr. T. Then I shall be obliged to eject you.

Tick. That’s right, old man, throw him out. (Crosses L. to Angie and Mrs. T.) Don’t be afraid ladies.

Mr. T. Now go will you!

Topp. I wont!

Mr. T. We’ll see about that. (Business of pushing Topp toward door, R.)

Topp. Why bless me if he doesn’t mean it. Well, I didn’t graduate in a university for nothing. I know a little of the manly art. (Hits Twiggs and knocks him over table, sending books flying.) You have a little my advantage in years (or height, or weight, as case may be) but you’re welcome to it.

Twiggs. (Recovering.) Don’t come on again! My blood is up.

Topp. Your blood! (Knocks Twiggs into window and breaks it.)

Mrs. T. (Rushes between them.) Don’t hurt him, Josiah.

Mr. T. Do not alarm yourself, my dear, I’ll not.

Tick. (Getting ready to hold Topp.) Steady boys, steady.

Topp. (Flinging Tick aside.) Get out of my way.

Mr. T. You have broken my window.

Topp. My window, if you please, sir.

Mrs. T. Your window?

Topp. Yes, madam, my window.

Mrs. T. (Screams.) Mercy me, it’s Mr. Topp, our landlord.

Mr. T. What! Mr. Topp, of Topp & Topp?

Topp. (With great dignity.) Yes, sir, Cadwalader Topp, sole proprietor of Topp & Topp, oyster packers. My card, sir. (Hands card.) You have treated me with great indignity, sir. I shall not forget it. (Going.)

Mr. T. All right, make a note of it, if you choose.

Mrs. T. (Pulling at Twiggs’ coat.) Josiah, we are undone. Run and apologize.

Mr. T. Apologize, never! Now, sir, (Following Topp.) I challenge you to a round outside. (Mrs. T. screams.)

Angie. Mother, please be quiet.

Topp. I’ll have you up for assault and battery.

Mr. T. Try it if you dare.

Tick. Three cheers for the old man.

Topp. And what’s more, you shall repair that window!

Mr. T. Never!

Mrs. T. Josiah, do be quiet. You are so indiscreet.

Topp. We’ll see about it. Take my word for that. You have the form of lease which reads “All repairs at expense of tenant.” And now Mr. Twiggs, since you know who I am I leave you to your own reflections. (Going R.)

Mrs. T. Please, sir, don’t be hasty! This is all a mistake.

Topp. I quite agree in that sentiment. Madam a great mistake, but not too late to mend it. (Going R.) I withdraw my proposal for your daughter’s hand. (Exit R.)

Mrs. T. Daughter’s hand! Oh! oh! support me Josiah. If you don’t I shall faint. (He moves to support her; pushes him off angrily.) Josiah, follow him at once and apologize, or I shall—

Angie. Let the old bear go. The idea!

Tick. (Aside.) Good for the little one.

Mrs. T. Josiah, we are undone.

Mr. T. Underdone, you mean.

Mrs. T. That’s just like you, Josiah, to perpetrate small-beer witticisms over the misfortunes of your own family. Now you are actually laughing.

Mr. T. Do you want me to cry, Sophronia?

Mrs. T. No, it’s a man’s place to be brave and assert his rights.

Mr. T. I was too brave, my dear. (Looks at broken window, all laugh.)

Mrs. T. I shall not let him withdraw so easily. I shall write and say his proposition is considered favorably.

Angie. Oh, mama! How indelicate.

Mrs. T. Pooh, my child, you know nothing about such matters. Even delicacy may be overdone.

Angie. I detest him, mama.

Mrs. T. You will learn to love him. Consider it settled.

Tick. (Aside.) Then I am undone. (To Mrs. T.) Madam, your precious child has indeed escaped a wolf. He is an old mormon, or worse, I’ll bet ten dollars.

Mrs. T. He’s worth millions.

Mr. T. And yet he wont pay for that window.

Mrs. T. Josiah, it is painful to think how you let sordid considerations influence your actions. You must see him and explain.

Mr. T. I’ve nothing to explain.

Angie. Let the hateful old thing go.

Tick. (Enthusiastically.) Right you are. Let the old bear go to—

Mrs. T. Husband, you must see him at once. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.

Mr. T. I don’t care to see him.

Mrs. T. You are perfectly absurd to-day, Josiah.

Tick. (Stepping forward.) Madam, I will see him.

Mrs. T. But you are a stranger, you do not understand the case.

Tick. I understand it perfectly. I shall call him to account. I will demand an apology; if he refuses, I will—by jingo, I will challenge him!

Mrs. T. No! No! That would spoil all.

Tick. He shall not insult defenseless females while this good right arm retains its—its—ah—

Enter Spratt, suddenly, R.

Spratt. Villain, I have found you. You shall not escape!

Tick. (Shrinking away.) Why, hello, partner!

Spratt. Don’t “partner” me. I’m on your track.

Mr. T. (Looks at Tick’s feet.) Not a bad sized track either! (To Tick.) Perhaps, you won’t mind explaining why he is on your track. (Meets Tick R. C.)

Spratt. That man has ruined me. The opportunity of a lifetime dashed in a moment.

Mrs. T. (Throws up hands.) Another opportunity gone! Oh, dear! That’s just what ails us!

Mr. T. Another rumpus brewing. I’ll steer them away from the window. (Maneuvers to the other side.) Gentlemen, would you mind discussing this matter on the sofa?

Spratt. You’re an underhanded sneak.

Tick. You’re an openhanded fraud.

Mrs. T. How dreadful!

Angie. Rivals, I venture! How romantic! A real adventure!

Spratt. It is no romance, I assure you. My poor twins, Grover Cleveland Spratt and Benjamin Harrison Spratt are left fatherless—no I don’t mean that. They are—in short they are left.

Tick. Oh, he’s talking about his pups.

Spratt. (Furious.) If you say pups again there’ll be bloodshed. I won’t stand it.

Mrs. T. (Screams.) Oh, dear me! Josiah, can’t you do something?

Mr. T. If it’s a question of blood come outside. A grass plat is better to shed blood on than a carpet. We’ll paint the lawn red.

Spratt. (Going.) Come on!

Tick. Excuse me! (Looks at Angie.) I have an engagement here.

Mrs. T. Josiah, do get rid of these horrid men.

Mr. T. (Takes Tick by arm.) Come, sir, no vacillation. A brave man never hesitates.

Tick. Never! Do I vacillate? No, I refute the charge with indignation. I was only waiting to take leave of the ladies. (Bowing politely.) Ladies, au revoir.

(Exeunt men, R.)

Angie. He’s so gallant!

Mrs. T. Dear me, child, what a series of adventures. And your father is so slow to act in a crisis.

Angie. Poor Pa! I just don’t like that horrid old Topp one bit. I’ll tell him so, there now!

Mrs. T. Pet, you’ll do nothing of the sort. Mr. Topp is such a dear man.

Angie. Bald as a peeled onion!

Mrs. T. A mark of dignity. A patent of nobility in America.

Angie. A patent! Say trade mark. Why doesn’t he put it on his oysters.

Mrs. T. Your levity is in bad taste. Where is the dignity you inherited from your father and mother? You must learn to love him.

Angie. I’m not good at learning by heart. (Aside.) Isn’t Mr. Tick handsome!

Mrs. T. I’m uneasy about Josiah. He’s so careless of consequences. (Exit, R.)

Angie. (Laughs heartily) Oh, that ridiculous old man! And he never saw me but once. (Laughs.)

Enter Mrs. T-K. L.

Mrs. T-K. What are you laughing at, sister?

Angie. (Laughing.) Oh, it’s too funny, I’ve just had a proposal!

Mrs. T-K. A proposal! How romantic!

Angie. He’s worth a million!

Mrs. T-K. No! What delightful luck. Did you say yes instantly.

Angie. I did not.

Mrs. T-K. Sister, don’t be reckless. Do not tempt Providence, for a millionaire is a gift of Providence to a marriageable girl. Take him instanter.

Angie. Well, I wouldn’t take him if he was worth ten millions.

Mrs. T-K. Angie, are you crazy? or just a fool?

Angie. Just, a fool, I suppose, Amelia.

Mrs. T-K. Yes, of course, young girls usually are.

Angie. Widows embody all wisdom, I suppose.

Mrs. T-K. They at least know a good thing when they see it. I hope you didn’t say no.

Angie. (Laughs.) He didn’t give me any chance to say no. He and Pa had a misunderstanding and Pa told him to go.

Mrs. T-K. (Astonished.) And he went away, offended of course. How unfortunate.

Angie. No, he just refused to go at all.

Mrs. T-K. Refused to go! What then?

Angie. (Laughing.) He knocked Pa through the window! (Points to broken glass.)

Mrs. T-K. Horrors! Pa is so indiscreet, but then if he is a true lover, obstacles will only fan the flame.

Angie. And windows prove no obstacle!

Mrs. T-K. Windows, indeed! Who is he?

Angie. Mr. Topp, of Topp & Topp.

Mrs. T-K. (Springing up.) What! Mr. Topp? The bachelor who wants to adopt twins?

Angie. The same.

Mrs. T-K. And you called on him to say a good word for my darlings, Twiggsie and Dixie?

Angie. I did.

Mrs. T-K. And you said one word for them and a dozen for yourself.

Angie. Now, sister, how can you? I said all I could for your boys.

Mrs. T-K. Indeed! What did you say?

Angie. Oh, it was too funny! There was a young gentleman there by the name of Tick, and they talked so many things that they got me all confused so I can’t remember what I did say.

Mrs. T-K. Artless creature!

Angie. (With dignity.) Mrs. Twiggs-Knott, may I ask what you mean by that epithet?

Mrs. T-K. I mean you are greatly mistaken. It was me that Mr. Topp came to see.

Angie. You! Impossible! Didn’t I read love in his eyes.

Mrs. T-K. (With sneer.) Oh, if it has come to reading love in his eyes, we may consider it settled. That sort of reading can be done just as well with the eyes closed.

Angie. Possibly, I’ve had no experience.

Mrs. T-K. Well, you are in a fair way to get it.

Angie. Spare your comments. The teacher need not be a third party.

Mrs. T-K. He said he would be sure to write to me.

Angie. And to me, too.

Mrs. T-K. He took special interest in me and said he was very, very sorry he could not do something at once, or words to that effect.

Angie. He took my address.

Mrs. T-K. Address! That was a matter of form. He expressed great regret that he could not devote more time to my matter.

Angie. Expressed regret! (Archly.) Well he exhibited great pleasure at my call.

Mrs. T-K. Pooh, common politeness only. For me it was a deep interest. I read it in his—(Stops suddenly.)

Angie. Eyes? Ha, ha, ha, you are taking lessons, too, sister. Well, I called within two minutes after you left and if his countenance expressed any sentiment it was plainly bad humor.

Mrs. T-K. Which your smile immediately thawed.

Angie. Indeed it did.

Mrs. T-K. Angie, I think you are real mean.

Angie. Well, sister, seriously, I don’t want him, you are welcome to him.

Mrs. T-K. (Brightening.) I know he called for me and, oh, such a horrid mistake. I shall die. (Screams.)

Enter Mrs. T. R., running.

Mrs. T. What is it my dear!

Mrs. T-K. Mr. Topp called for me instead of Angie.

Mrs. T. No! You don’t say. Why do you think so?

Mrs. T-K. He told me that he was coming, or at least would write.

Mrs. T. What a dreadful misunderstanding! We are all ruined! (Screams.) Josiah! Come! Quick! Where is that man?

Enter Mr. T. hastily.

Mrs. T. Mr. Topp called for—

Mr. T. Confound Topp.

Mrs. T. We are ruined!

Mr. T. We have been ruined so often, my dear, that I rather enjoy it.

Mrs. T. Now, Josiah, don’t try to be funny. When you try to be funny the effect is painful. Husband, do you realize the calamity that has befallen us?

Mr. T. Yes, I guess you mean the window.

Mrs. T. The window—indeed! Oh, the obtuseness of men! Mr. Topp has proposed for the hand of the wrong girl.

Mr. T. No!

Mrs. T. No! Is that all you can say? You never say anything but no.

Mr. T. My dear, no is a very convenient little particle to calk chinks in a colloquy.

Mrs. T. This can never be repaired.

Mr. T. The window?

Mrs. T. Don’t talk eternally of that window. The match!

Mr. T. Exactly! the match of course! Sophronia, I suggest we try welding. The soft solder of diplomacy may result in the union called matrimony.

Mrs. T. Girls, do you hear that? Never marry a man who thinks he is funny. It is an incurable vice that breaks out at unexpected moments, to your utter confusion.

Mr. T. But, ladies, I protest I am not funny.

Mrs. T. We agree there.

Mr. T. Can you not distinguish between a well-turned sentence and—

Mrs. T. A small pun. Josiah, if you were a man of action you would do something instead of asking useless questions.

Mr. T. I don’t care to go into action twice in the same day.

Mrs. T-K. (Groans.) I think it’s a shame!

Angie. It’s funny.

Mrs. T. (Severely.) So your father appears to think. What is to be done? That is the question.

Mr. T. Let him change his bid and submit sealed proposals.

Mrs. T. There you go again. Husband, you must see him at once.

Mr. T. I’d rather not.

Mrs. T. Duty and the happiness of your child call you. (Authoritatively.) Go!

Mr. T. I prefer not to tackle him again to-day.

Mrs. T. All right, I go myself. Between two evils we must choose the best. I will go.

Mr. T. My dear, I wont allow it. We must choose the worst. I’ll beard the—that proverb is stale—I’ll just beard him. Or shall I not rather unbeard him? (Majestically. With pompous, martial air.) The die is cast and fortune—um—ah—

Mrs. T. Josiah, go. (Points.)

Quick Curtain.