Comrades

Bess. Indeed (offering her hand). Mr. Stone, you are very welcome here.

Simon (takes hand). Ah – yes; thank you. Thank you – very kind (goes L.). Chums. Chums, – before her, too. There’s nothing shabby about that.

Mar. We’ll leave you, Simon, to your friend; but don’t go until I’ve seen you again.

Bess. Oh, no. You must stop to dinner.

(Bess and Marcus exeunt, C., arm in arm.)

Simon. Yes, thank you, much obliged. Well, now, that’s hearty; pretty as a picture, and he, there’s nothing shabby about him. Now, for Nancy. Won’t her eyes glisten when she sees me in this stunning get-up. I never did care for dress, but when I made up my mind to look after Nancy again, I said to myself, “Simon, don’t be shabby; do the thing in style;” and here I am, bran’ new from top to toe, from shampoo to shining leather, but with the same old heart inside of me, advancing double-shuffle to the tune of “Nancy is my darling.”

(Enter Nancy, R. I. E.)

Nancy. Now, I’d like to know who – Good gracious! it’s Simon Stone.

Simon. Nancy, it is. Simon, your Simon. How dye do (offers hand).

Nancy. Well, I declare! rigged out like a dancing-jack. You extravagant dog!

Simon (turning round). Gay, ain’t it. Cut to order by an artist, (turns round); look at the “elegance of expression” in the back of that coat, and the tout ensemble of these pantaloons. That’s what he called ’em, and I know they’re there, for I paid for ’em. Nothing shabby about me.

Nancy. Well, and what brings you here?

Simon. Love, Nancy. Devotion, Nancy. Affection, Nancy —

Nancy. Rubbish! Are you a fool? Don’t you know better than to bring such things here on a washing-day?

Simon. Washing-day! Confound it, Nancy! I’m fated to call when you are in the suds.

Nancy. Because you always manage to come on a Monday, when I am up to my ears in a tub.

Simon. Monday – washing-day. That’s why somebody says cleanliness comes next to godliness.

Nancy. Simon Stone, what is your present occupation?

Simon. Nancy, at present I am a humble but earnest worker in the confectionery business. (Takes box from left coat pocket.) Have a gum-drop? (Offers paper.)

Nancy. No. Confectionery, indeed!

Simon (puts back paper). Nancy, the first time I ever approached you in humble admiration of your grace and beauty – try a peppermint. (Takes paper from his pocket and offers it.)

Nancy (folding her arms and turning her head). No.

Simon (puts back paper). I was a butcher, – an honest but bloody butcher. You turned up your nose at the scent of blood.

Nancy. Because I knew you wouldn’t stick to it.

Simon. I turned my back upon the slaughtered beeves, and in that higher sphere, the milky way, sought to win your love. You politely but firmly assured me I couldn’t comet in that line.

Nancy. I detest the whole race! Milk and water men! I’d like to scald them.

Simon. Cremation would suit them better. My next venture was in the slippery walks of butter and cheese.

Nancy. Anything but a butter man.

Simon. So I found out, when I attempted to slide into your affections in that role. You told me to cheese it. I understood you, and I sought a higher sphere. I embarked in the electric line, and went out into the highways and by-ways to introduce lightning-rods.

Nancy. Well, I found no fault with that.

Simon. No; but I did.

Nancy. Why didn’t you stick to it?

Simon. Well, Nancy, (takes box from breast pocket). Have a little taffee?

Nancy. No.

Simon (puts paper back). The fact is, lightning-rods don’t agree with me. I started out in high hopes, one bright morning, espied an unprotected dwelling, rushed boldly up, rung the bell, notwithstanding a gigantic mastiff lay at my feet, evidently occupied in catching flies. Gent came to the door. In glowing speech I introduced my business. He rubbed his chin, said, “I don’t know,” and looked at the dog. I found he did know, when he further remarked, with emphasis, “Rover, here’s another rod man.” The dog gave a growl and rose. An electric shock was communicated to my being, and I calculated in one brief minute how many rods I should have to clear before reaching my rods outside. Then I left, closely attended by the dog. I didn’t own these clothes then; if I had my loss would have been greater, especially in that part of my wardrobe which the artist designated as tout ensemble. I gave up that business in disgust.

Nancy. Well, what next?

Simon. Then I sought the confectioner’s emporium. Said I, here’s a sweet occupation, and a candid young man can win more lasses’ favor in this line than in any other. Nancy, you would adore me could you see me in a white apron, pulling molasses candy over a hook (with gestures), with a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull altogether!

Nancy. Simon Stone, you are a fool!

Simon. Nancy, I know it, or I should not be running after you, when I’ve been snubbed time and time again. Nancy, dear Nancy, look upon me with favor this time. (Takes box from pocket behind.) Accept this slight but sweet offering of affection. (Presents it.) Real French candy – made it myself.

Nancy (taking box). Do you mean to stick to this business, Simon?

Simon. To be sure I do, and it’s an awful sticky business I tell you – specially setting down into a pan of hot, cooling candy when you aren’t particularly tired.

Nancy. Well, Simon, if I thought I could trust you.

Simon. You can, Nancy, you can. O Nancy, quit this scrubbing existence and work for me alone!

Nancy. I’ll think about it when you find the soap.

Simon. I have found it in the confectionery line.

Nancy. Well, Simon, I must confess I rather like that.

Simon. Do you Nancy. Eurekey, I’ve found it at last! (Takes paper from pants pocket.) Try a chocolate drop, Nancy. (She takes it.) You make me so happy. It’s just the nicest business you ever looked upon. Rows and rows of shelves filled with all that’s sweet to the tooth – and profitable to the dentist. And then the girls, Nancy, you should see the girls.

Nancy. The what?

Simon. Girls. Pretty girls that tend behind the counters, dealing out sugar plums, and – and lozengers, and – and kisses, with eyes full of fun and mouths full of candy. Oh, it’s just glorious! Ha! ha! ha!

Nancy (sternly). Simon!

Simon (sobered). Well, Nancy?

Nancy. Do you ever look at the girls?

Simon. To be sure I do. I’ve often received a kiss from them.

Nancy. Simon!

Simon. Sugar ones, Nancy.

Nancy. Very well, Simon, very well. I’m perfectly satisfied.

Simon. Oh, Nancy! then you —

Nancy (furiously). I’ll have nothing more to say to a man who so debases himself as to associate with lozengers and lollypops, sugar plums and pretty girls, with eyes full of candy and mouths full of kisses. Good morning, Mr. Stone.

Simon. Where are you going, Nancy?

Nancy. Back to my washing. The business won’t suit, Simon.

Simon. What! are you going to snub me again? (Angry.) Hang it, Nancy Nipper! I’m not going to be treated in this shabby manner! Take me now, or you lose me forever. It’s the last time of asking.

Nancy. I’m glad of that. ’Twill save much trouble.

Simon. Then give me back my French mixture. There is nothing shabby about me; but if I can’t have your affection, you shan’t have my confectionery.

Nancy (throws box at him). There!

Simon (picks up box). Good day, Miss Nipper. You’ve nipped my prospects of having your sweet self; but I’ve got a sweet thing left in the sugar and molasses line, and I don’t mean to give it up.

Nancy. Go back to your sweet things, your pretty waiter girls. Go, sir!

Simon. I will, you cruel, heartless, scrubby thing! and if ever I face you again with an offer of my heart —

Nancy. Be sure to come on Monday; for then I always have plenty of hot water.

Simon. Bah! I hope you’ll live and die an old maid, Miss Nipper. Them’s my compliments to you, and there’s nothing shabby about me.

(Exit C.)

Nancy. Good riddance, Simon. Wonder in what new freak of business he’ll appear next.

(Enter May C.)

May. Ah, Nancy, you’ve had a visitor! Nice-looking, clever young man, I should say. (Seats herself at her sewing L. of table).

Nancy. Clever! he’s too clever. Thinks he knows a great deal; and I think he knows more by this time. They’re all clever enough to come offering their affection; but, till he can offer something more substantial, he’ll find I’m clever enough to keep single. (Matt staggers in from L. to door C. and leans against side of door L.). Good gracious! here’s a tramp. (Goes R.)

May (rising alarmed). A tramp!

Matt. ’Scuse me (hic). Somesin’ to eat – four days since I tasted noth —hic– in. Somesin’ for a brave sol —hic– dier, who flought and fed for his country. (Hic.) Tha’s me.

Nancy. Go away; clear out. ’Sh! nothing for you, you beast!

Matt. ’Scuse me (hic). Here’s gratitude! Where’s your pat —hic– rism? Us brave fel —hic– lers, – that’s me. I’m one on ’em. Fit and fled (hic), and won the gl —hic– ory. Look at your waving (hic) cornfields. We shaved ’em. Your princely pal —hic– aces. We protected ’em. And now you (hic) ’sh! and would give us noble de —hic– fenders of the soil noffin’ (hic) to keep the door from the (hic) wolf. (Staggering down to chair R. of table, hand on back of it.) ’Sgraceful; ’scuse me; ’sgraceful. (Hic.) No offence; but it’s ’sgraceful. (Sinks into chair.)

Nancy. You ugly bear! Leave this house quick, or I’ll scald you!

Matt. ’Scuse me (hic), young woman. I’m ’dressing my con —hic– ’sation to your superior of —hic– ficer —

May. Silence, sir! You are intruding here. If you want something to eat, follow Nancy and she will provide for you.

Nancy. If I do, I hope ’twill choke him.

Matt. Oh, that’s Nan —hic– cy, is it? Nan —hic– cy, my regards. I salute you, Nan —hic– cy! I’m a poor old soldier, deserted by his (hic) country; but I’ve an eye for beauty (hic). Sorry you haven’t any, Nan —hic– cy.

May. Nancy, speak to your master.

Nancy (starts for door). That I will, quick!

Matt (rising and stopping her). Don’t trouble yourself, Nancy. I’m unfor —hic– ’nate, but I’m (hic) polite. Stay where you are. (Sinks into chair.) This company’s good ’nuff (hic) for me.

May. Oh, where can Roy be? This fellow terrifies me!

Matt. ’Scuse me. I’m a patriot. (Hic.) This is what a man gets for servin’ his country. (Hic.) When the battle’s over, turn him adrift. (Hic.) Why didn’t they make me Pres —hic– ident as well as that other fellow? I fit and fed (hic), and he fit and run (hic) for President. ’Sgraceful shame! (Hic.) ’Scuse me.

(Enter Marcus followed by Bess.)

Nancy. Ah, here’s somebody’ll make you run.

May. O Mr. Marcus! Mr. Graves!

Mar. Halloa! what’s this? The tramp! (Comes down.) Here, fellow, you start!

Matt (turns and looks at him). ’Scuse me (hic), are you anybody in par —hic– ticular?

Mar. Leave this room at once. Do you hear?

Matt. ’Scuse me. I’m com —hic– fortable; make yourself at home.

Mar (striking him with whip). Scoundrel, begone, I say.

(Royal enters C.)

Matt (rising). Ha! it strikes me that you struck (hic) me. (Hic.) I don’t keep no accounts. So let that settle (hic) it. (Strikes at Marcus. Royal comes down, seizes him by nape of neck, and throws him on floor L. halfway up.)

Roy. Lie there, you scamp!

Matt (staggering to his feet). Ha, surrounded! then I’ll die game (hic), I will. (Rushes at Roy; they grapple, and stand looking into each other’s faces. Chord.)

Roy. Matt Winsor.

Matt. Here. (Hic.) Hold on a minute. Yes, it’s Roy (hic), Roy Manning, as I’m a shinner!

Roy (grasping his hand). My old comrade, Matt. Heaven bless you! It is, it is.

Matt (shaking his hand). Yes it’s him, glory (hic), old boy; we’ve marched together, slept together, fought together, now let’s take (hic) a drink together.

Roy. Not now, Matt; you seem to have taken a little too much already. May, this is my old comrade, of the war.

May (turning away). His comrade?

Bess (comes down L.). May, he’s drunk.

Matt (comes down). ’Scuse me, ma’am, we were sweethearts in the camp (hic), you’re his sweet —hic– heart now; but you can’t love Roy any better than I did in those (hic) gay old days (hic), and now an ungrateful (hic) republic turns her noble ’fenders out to starve.

Roy. Not quite as bad as that, Matt. I’ve enough and to spare. Come with me.

Matt. Hold on a (hic) minute, Roy. Who’s the chap with the whip?

Roy (C.). Mr. Marcus Graves.

Matt. ’Scuse me (hic), what did you say his name was? Oh! Mr. Tombs. We’ve met before.

Mar (R.). Yes, once before to-day, when I tossed you a quarter. Sorry you made such bad use of it.

Matt. So am I (fiercely). I wish I had turned and flung it in your face.

Mar. Sir.

Roy. Matt.

Matt. He struck me, Roy – me, an old soldier of the (hic) republic. ’Sgraceful. I’m going to pay off that score. We met once – before this day.

Mar. I never saw your face before.

Matt. Indeed. (Hic.) My face is one to be remembered.

Nancy (enters R.). That’s so. It has no beauty to speak of. (Aside). Paid off that score.

Matt. Once before, in the prisoner’s dock. I as a vagrant (hic), you as a defaulter.

Roy. A defaulter! Matt.

May. Gracious heavens!

Bess. No! no! ’tis false.

Roy. Matt, you are crazy.

Matt. Am I? What says Mr. Graves?

Roy. That it is false.

Graves. Unfortunately it is true.

May. True?

Bess (flinging herself into May’s arms). O May!

Roy. And you dare to enter my house, you, – a felon?

Matt (staggering down and sitting in chair R. of table). ’Scgraceful! (hic) ’mong respectable people (hic) like me.

Mar. Hold, Mr. Manning! hear, before you condemn. I am innocent of crime. Five years ago I was employed in a house in Chicago as book-keeper. A large sum of money was found missing, and I alone had access to it. I was arrested, and placed in the prisoner’s dock. No proofs could be found to convict me, so I was discharged. I was innocent. The cunning rogue had so covered his tracks that the real culprit could not be detected. I was requested to resign my situation, which I did.

Roy. And you took no steps to make your innocence clear?

Mar. Unfortunately, no. I knew I was innocent, and, anxious to keep the matter from my father, Hon. Lucius Graves, of Wisconsin, I came East, hoping that in time my innocence would be admitted, and I should be recalled.

Roy. And your father?

Mar. Believes I am still in Chicago.

Roy. And without a word of explanation, with this stigma upon your character, you have won the affections of an inmate of my household? Mr. Graves, I am a just man; when you can clearly prove your innocence, you will be welcome. Until then, my doors are no longer open to you.

May. O Roy!

Bess. He is innocent; I know he is innocent!

Roy. Let him be proved so, and no one will give him warmer greeting. But when a man’s character is attacked, to turn his back upon the enemy and fly without striking one blow for his reputation is a mark of cowardice which no soldier can pardon.

Mar. I understand you, sir; and, bitter as are your words, I thank you for them. You have shown me my duty. Bess, darling, be of good heart. I will return to claim you. You know I am innocent; but I will not appear until the world shall know the truth. Farewell!

(Exit C.)

Bess. (Throws herself into May’s arms.) O May May! this is cruel!

May. Cheer up, cheer up, my darling; all will yet be well.

Matt. (Hic). Bless my soul. I’ve done it. (Rises.) Good-by, Roy, (offers hand) ole fellow! Glad you are prospering, though an ungrateful country did turn me adrift.

Roy. No, Matt, you wander no more. Do you remember our compact at Antietam? Whatever fortune the world had in store for us should be shared together.

Matt. Yes; I’ll stick to it, Roy. I’ll share with you mine, the spoils of the tramp, crusts, (hic) kicks, and all.

Roy. I’ll share something better with you, a comfortable home, friendship, – a far better life for you, old wanderer!

May. His home here!

Nancy. Then I’ll give notice.

Matt. Roy, old comrade, you are jesting. I shall disgrace you.

Roy. Then out of my disgrace shall a man be born again. As we fought together for the old flag, we’ll fight again. I see a victory to be won, a loyal heart to be reclaimed from the clutches of the enemy. I will lead, old comrade; will you follow?

Matt. To victory or death, Roy, hand in hand. (Roy clasps hand in C.)

May. Royal, are you mad? – this wretch in our happy home! Why, why is this?

Roy. Your counsel, May. Comrades in adversity should be comrades in prosperity.

Tableau

Roy and Matt hands clasped, C. May with her arm about Bessie’s waist L. Nancy R. hands on her hips.

Curtain

ACT II

Scene —same as in act I. Table as before. Arm-chair R. Sewing-chair L. Arm-chair a little back of mantel. Flat as before. Entrance same. Flower-stand ditto. Nancy discovered dusting table with a long-handled feather duster.

Nancy. It’s most time to hear from Mr. Manning. Two days since we’ve had a letter. Queer freak that was of his’n, turning Mr. Marcus Graves out of doors, and all at once starting off west to bring him back. (Dusts at back.) Couldn’t have been because Miss Bess was pining away, because she isn’t. Her appetite is good; and, when love doesn’t affect that, there’s no use in worrying. (Dusts piano.) She’s just as happy all day riding about with Matt Winsor as she was with the other. And what a change in him. Came here, six months ago, a drunken tramp; and now he’s as spruce and clean and shiney as our copper boiler, – and so jolly and pleasant, too. And so eager to help, one can’t help liking him. I’m sure Miss Bess does. (Dusts at mantel.) Look out, Mr. Graves; I wouldn’t give much for your chance three months from now, if you leave the field to the tramp.

(Enter C., May, in apron and gloves, a trowel in her hand; followed by Simon, who carries a flower-pot containing a geranium. He keeps his back to Nancy.)

May. You may place that geranium on the flower-stand. (Simon goes to stand and busies himself there.) That’s all I shall need at present. Thank you. Anybody been here, Nancy?

Nancy. No marm. Mr. Manning hasn’t come yet.

May. You are mistaken, Nancy; had I meant him, I should not have said anybody, for he is everybody to me. Ha! ha!

Nancy. Well, then, there hasn’t been nobody here.

May. That’s better, Nancy. I’ll run and get rid of my apron and gloves, for fear somebody might happen in.

(Exit door L.)

Nancy. Poor thing! She’s just as anxious to hear from her husband as she can be. I know the symptoms. There’s that good-for-nothing Simon Stone. I’ve not seen him since he took to the candy business; but I’d just give all my old shoes to hear the sound of his voice once more.

Simon (sneezing very loud). Ah-chah!

Nancy (R. starting.) Good gracious! It’s that new gardener come to-day. If he sneezes like that among his flowers, he’ll have everything up by the roots. Look here, sir, that won’t do!

Simon (turning round). Why not, Nancy, is it washing-day?

Nancy. Mercy! It’s Simon Stone!

Simon. It is, Nancy. Your Simon. Come to my arms. (Advances with arms outstretched.)

Nancy (thrusts the duster straight out before her. Simon puts his face among the feathers). Hands off!

Simon (spits and sputters). Phew! Pooh! Nancy, do you want to strangle me?

Nancy. I don’t mean you shall strangle me. What are you doing here?

Simon. Humbly, but earnestly, I trust, about my business.

Nancy. The candy business?

Simon. No, Nancy; the saccharine and treacle elements have been eliminated from my existence.

Nancy. What’s the meaning of that outlandish stuff? Can’t you speak English?

Simon. Yes; I’ve cut the sugar and molasses. In that line I burned to distinguish myself, but I burnt too much candy in trying to do it. So my employer requested me to cut stick.

Nancy. Sticks of candy?

Simon. No, no, myself – leave, varmouse.