The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bird's nest, a fantasy in one act This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: Bird's nest, a fantasy in one act Author: Tracy D. Mygatt Release date: April 11, 2023 [eBook #70524] Language: English Original publication: United States: Walter H. Baker Company Credits: Charlene Taylor, Krista Zaleski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRD'S NEST, A FANTASY IN ONE ACT *** WIGS AND OTHER HAIR GOODS WHISKERS AND MUSTACHES _State Color Wanted on Hair Goods._ Full Beard on Wire $1.50 Full Beard on Gauze 2.25 Chin Beard on Gauze, 6 in. long 1.35 Chin Beard on Gauze, 4 in. long 1.00 Chin Beard on Wire .75 Tramp Beard on Cambric (black and brown only) 1.25 Side Whiskers on Gauze 1.00 Side Whiskers on Wire .75 Throat Whiskers on Gauze 1.10 Throat Whiskers on Wire .75 Santa Claus Beard on Wire 2.50 Mustache on Gauze .30 Goatee on Gauze .30 MEN’S WIGS _State Color Wanted on Hair Goods._ Dress, with parting, all colors $6.00 “Uncle Josh” 6.00 Dutch 6.50 Irish, chamois top 6.00 Jew Character 5.00 Crop, Red and Blond 4.50 Other colors 4.25 Court or Colonial 5.50 Indian 6.00 Modern Japanese 5.00 Chinese with Queue, chamois fop 5.00 Clown, plain 1.25 With 3 knobs 2.00 Negro, black, for Minstrels, etc. 1.25 Negro, Old Man, White or Gray 2.25 Negro, Bald, White or Gray 3.25 LADIES’ WIGS _State Color Wanted on Hair Goods._ Soubrette, all colors $6.50 Old Maid, all colors 9.00 Irish Biddy 9.00 Sis Hopkins 6.50 Court or Colonial 8.50 Indian Girl 6.00 Negro Mammy 3.00 Topsy 2.25 Crepe Hair, Different colors, for making mustaches, etc. Per yard, .45; half yard .25 In ordering Wigs give Size of Hat. State Color Wanted on Hair Goods. Wigs not rented but made to order. Usually goods can be sent by return mail, but it is best to allow a margin of two or three days. C. O. D. orders must be accompanied by twenty-five per cent of price. Do not send orders by telegraph on a few hours’ notice. All hair and make-up goods sent by mail or express prepaid, unless otherwise stated. Prices on hair goods subject to change without notice. _Always send your orders to_ WALTER H. BAKER CO., Boston, Mass. BIRD’S NEST A Fantasy in One Act By TRACY D. MYGATT _Author of “Children of Israel,” “The Noose,” “Good Friday,” “A Passion Play of Now,” and other plays_ NOTE The acting rights in this play are strictly reserved. Performances may be given by amateurs on payment of a royalty of five dollars ($5.00). Correspondence on this subject should be addressed to WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY, Hamilton Place, Boston, Mass. The professional stage rights are also strictly reserved, and performances by professional actors, given in advertised places of amusement and for profit, are forbidden. Persons who may wish to produce this play publicly and professionally should apply to the author, in care of the publishers. [Illustration] BOSTON WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY 1922 BIRD’S NEST CHARACTERS GEORGE SANFORD _a bridegroom_ MARTIN DOAN _his man_ LYDIA } RICHARD } _newly-married lovers_ SCENE.--The garden outside a cottage. TIME.--A night in May. [Illustration] COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY TRACY D. MYGATT _As author and proprietor._ _All rights reserved._ Bird’s Nest Program of the first performance. The Village Studio Guild of Ogunquit, Maine, July 28, 1921. Produced under the direction of Mr. Leigh Lovel with the following cast: GEORGE SANFORD, _a bridegroom_ _Ray P. Hansom_ MARTIN DOAN, _his man_ _Mr. Leigh Lovel_ LYDIA } } _Gladys G. Ascherman_ RICHARD } _newly-married lovers_ } _Richard Coolidge_ The music for the Minuet was composed for the performance by Mr. Stanley Muschamp. * * * * * It was next produced by The Little Theatre of Denver, Colorado, December 8th and 9th, 1921, under the direction of Park French, and with the following cast: GEORGE SANFORD, _a bridegroom_ _William G. Schweigert_ MARTIN DOAN, _his man_ _R. F. Willis_ LYDIA } { _Rose Moro_ RICHARD } _newly-married lovers_ { _Norman Ives_ The dance was directed by Miss Lillian Cushing. Through the courtesy of Mr. Stanley Muschamp the very lovely music composed by him for the original performance of “Bird’s Nest” is printed. It can be bought of Walter H. Baker Company for 50 cents per copy. _To FRANCES WITHERSPOON_ _who knew the little house for Bird’s Nest, and whose fancy plaited straws with mine in a May moonlight_ PLEASE NOTICE The professional stage-rights in this play are strictly reserved by the author. Applications for its use should be addressed to TRACY MYGATT, in care of WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY, Hamilton Place, Boston, Mass. * * * * * Attention is called to the penalties provided by the Copyright Law of the United States of America in force July 1, 1909, for any infringement of the author’s rights, as follows =Sec. 28.= That any person who wilfully and for profit shall infringe any Copyright secured by this Act, or who shall knowingly and wilfully aid or abet such infringement, shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction thereof shall be punished by imprisonment for not exceeding one year or by a fine of not less than one hundred dollars, or both, at the discretion of the court. =Sec. 29.= That any person who, with fraudulent intent, shall insert or impress any notice of Copyright required by this Act, or words of the same purport, in or upon any uncopyrighted article, or with fraudulent intent shall remove or alter the copyright notice upon any article duly copyrighted shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, punishable by a fine of not less than one hundred dollars and not more than one thousand dollars. Bird’s Nest SCENE.--_A little low white cottage, approached by a gravel-path which winds up from gray, moss-grown steps at_ L., _flanked by lilac-bushes. A sunken step leads across the tiny pillared porch, twined deep with honeysuckle which, together with the tall, recently-acquired French windows, stands open into the living-room, dark now except for its moonlit shadows._ _At the rise of the curtain there is a moment in which the dark and stillness permeate one; then there is a slight noise overhead, an electric light flashes in the upper hall, and a tallish, youthfully old figure that is_ MARTIN DOAN, _wearing valet’s livery, can be made out, descending the little flight of stairs just inside. As he reaches the bottom, the heavy strokes of the clock in the church tower, faintly visible in the middle-distance, begin to boom out midnight._ MARTIN _pauses, listening. As the strokes proceed, he steps into the open doorway, and peers into the garden._ MARTIN. [_In soft unison with the bells._] Nine--ten--eleven--twelve----! [_Then, snapping the profound quiet which succeeds the ending of the chimes, there is an abrupt movement above stairs, and_ GEORGE SANFORD’S _voice, thick but vibrant with unwonted excitement, calls_. SANFORD. That you, Martin? MARTIN. [_Turning toward the cottage._] Yes, sir. SANFORD. [_Jovially descending the stairs._] Well, well, Martin, what have you got to keep _you_ awake? MARTIN. [_Measuring a conscious distance in his voice._] I hardly know, sir! It was such a night, sir! I was going to bring up the ear-trumpet---- SANFORD. [_Joining_ MARTIN _on the doorstep, his too-well-fitting clothes making an open secret of his stoutness_.] Well, well, did you think you’d find it here, listening to those everlasting chimes? But I’m glad you reminded me, Martin! I shouldn’t have slept a wink if I hadn’t known it was all right, every way! MARTIN. [_Again turning to go in._] Yes, sir, I put it on the table with the other packages---- SANFORD. Thanks. [_Laying a protesting hand on_ MARTIN’S _arm_.] But don’t go in yet, Martin! I--I want to talk. MARTIN. Yes, sir. SANFORD. [_Sentimentally looking up at the moon._] Just look at her! Isn’t she splendid? Doesn’t she---- [_He breaks into a fat chuckle._] Now just listen to that, will you? Don’t that show the state I’m in--callin’ the moon “her” and “she”! Why, that’s what they say in the magazines. I was readin’ one last night--[_With fatuous explicitness._] one of those _love_-stories! Why, Martin, I haven’t said “her” and “she” for forty years! MARTIN. [_Dutifully._] Yes, sir. SANFORD. [_Testily._] Well, don’t that show----? MARTIN. [_Dreamy eyes on the cedar over the cottage._] The moon’s beautiful, sir! SANFORD. [_With a pitying snort._] Beautiful! Why, Martin, beautiful’s no word for it! She--she’s elegant! Magnificent--er--“magnifique,” I think the French would call it! Such a romantic language, French! Mrs. McCormorant’s kept a French maid for years! But of course you couldn’t be expected to know, or--[_A sentimental hand on his heart._] or feel----! MARTIN. [_Suddenly attentive._] Not a pain, sir, in your heart? SANFORD. [_Starting irritably._] Pain?--in my heart? What are you talking about? MARTIN. Beg pardon, sir, but I understood the doctor said---- SANFORD. Damn the doctor! Don’t you know I only went to satisfy Evelina--Mrs. McCormorant? Why, I never was fitter in my life! But she does love me so--[_Sighing._] and I her! I her! Ah, Martin, again that is something _you_ cannot understand--when two hearts beat as one! [_Scornfully, as_ MARTIN _says nothing_.] I suppose you’d think it was a disease! MARTIN. Sir----? SANFORD. [_Holding him as both look into the garden._] Ah, no matter! Just think, Martin, this time to-morrow night we shall be here--she and I--here in the Bird’s Nest---- [_Chuckling._] Ha-ha--not bad, that, considering the nest-egg! I whispering sweet nothings into her little sea-shell ear! MARTIN. [_Edging away._] Beg pardon, sir, but shall I fetch the ear-trumpet up to your room? SANFORD. [_Seizing him suspiciously._] Eh? Now what did you mean by that, I’d like to know? MARTIN. [_Impeccably._] Why, I thought you wanted it, sir! SANFORD. Yes, yes, I wanted it, but you see--I’d just been saying--er--I’d just been alluding--[_As_ MARTIN _regards him_.] oh, damn it, no matter! No matter! MARTIN. Shall I fetch it, sir? SANFORD. [_Reluctantly turning indoors with him._] I suppose so! But mind, if ever I find you insinuating things about Mrs. McCormorant’s deafness--oh, well, you may take your month’s pay and clear out! Why, it might gum the whole game! MARTIN. Yes, sir. In fact, sir, as you mentioned it, and a similar thought being in my own mind---- SANFORD. [_Hastily._] I’m not mentioning anything, Martin--and neither are you!--Assuredly not the night before my wedding!--when you know perfectly well, or would, if you had the least touch of romance--that I’m all of a flutter inside! [_As they step, fumbling a little, into the living-room._] Now where’s that confounded button? This jumpy moonlight makes everything disappear! [MARTIN _switches on the light, which illumines the old spinnet_, L., _and the portrait of an elderly woman in crude, modern evening dress, which hangs upon the wall_. MARTIN. Here, sir----! [_Going to the table_, C., _on which are several ear-trumpets_.] Now you’ll be able to see which ear-trumpet’s the best, sir! SANFORD. [_With a grunt, surveying the instruments before him._] Oh, you unwrapped them! MARTIN. Why, yes, seeing how important it was for to-morrow! I was very careful, sir---- SANFORD. Yes, yes, it would never do to let her go to church with her trumpet broken. Dear, dear, such an unfortunate accident--and the day before the wedding! Here, let’s bring it all into the garden---- [_As_ MARTIN _obeys him, and as they carry the little table just outside_.] Not to hear the vows---- [_Sentimentally._] “Till death do us part!” [_Then, practically, to_ MARTIN.] Look here--before I go upstairs, let’s try them out---- [_Giving_ MARTIN _the rope end of one of the trumpets_.] You go over there--[_With a gesture, right foreground._] and say something! MARTIN. [_Dubiously preparing to obey._] But _you’re_ not deaf, sir! SANFORD. [_Slightly dashed._] No, I’m not deaf--but it might give us an idea---- [_He backs away from_ MARTIN.] There! Now try it! MARTIN. [_On a low note._] You’d best go to bed, sir! SANFORD. [_With an irritability that shows he has heard._] I can’t hear a word! MARTIN. [_As before._] You wouldn’t want rheumatism on your wedding day! You know what the doctor---- [SANFORD _puts down the trumpet crossly, jerks the other end from_ MARTIN, _lays the instrument on the table, and hastily selects another_. SANFORD. Here--let’s try this one--and change places with me--and you hold the thing-um-a-bob to your ear! [MARTIN, _with a faint shrug, complies, so that he stands where_ SANFORD _has been standing, therefore facing the garden. As the arrangement is completed_, SANFORD _begins, speaking sentimentally into the tube_.] Do you know, they say the Bird’s Nest was built for lovers! Can you hear? MARTIN. [_His eyes on the garden._] So I have heard, sir! SANFORD. [_Practically._] That’s good! [_Suppressing a yawn._] Then I guess I’ll give her this one--it’s too late to try ’em all! MARTIN. [_Suggestively._] Best try if I can hear the story, sir! SANFORD. The story? Oh, yes! [_At first he speaks into the tube, but as he continues, he seems to forget his original purpose, becoming engrossed in his subject._] Well, I had it from the man I bought Bird’s Nest of, a year ago, before I put in the improvements. Queer! I don’t believe I’ve thought of it since that day! And I asked him why he didn’t put it in order himself, and he--he said that years ago his father was planning to bring his bride here when---- MARTIN. [_As_ SANFORD _breaks off_.] Yes, sir? SANFORD. [_Beginning to laugh softly, as at a delicate joke he does not himself understand._] Why, he could! He simply couldn’t! You see--Bird’s Nest was built for lovers----! [_As_ MARTIN _says nothing_.] Lovers, Martin! Why don’t you laugh? Don’t you see the joke? MARTIN. [_Gravely._] No, sir. Is the story a joke, sir? SANFORD. The story? Dear, no! A ghost-story, Martin--think of that! Brrr-rrr! [_With a mock shiver, lowering his voice in coarse joviality._] Spooks--haunted! Nobody but me’s had the nerve to think of living here for fifty years and more! Afraid the visitors mightn’t approve. Visitors--ha-ha! Bear in mind, Martin--Bird’s Nest was built for lovers. [_As_ SANFORD _begins to laugh again_, MARTIN _regards him with a curious look. He is still laughing when the grandfather clock in the parlor begins to strike midnight_. SANFORD, _himself again, starts violently, takes a step toward_ MARTIN, _then, as if rooted to the spot, stands listening. The face of_ MARTIN, _too, has changed. Pallor, first, then, as the clock strikes on, light, reflected as from some deep centre within, covers his face. He casts one anxious glance at his master; then, as if surrendering himself to his profound absorption, he softly crosses to the porch and peers out._ SANFORD, _as the strokes go on_.] Whatever made you wind up that damned old clock, Martin? MARTIN. [_At the door._] I didn’t wind it! SANFORD. You must have! It hasn’t struck since I took the cottage! MARTIN. [_Turning and regarding him significantly._] But it is striking, sir, isn’t it? Striking midnight? SANFORD. [_Abruptly._] So you have heard the story? [_Without looking at him_, MARTIN _steps further into the garden where white moonlight now floods gravel-path and steps. Then, a note of repressed triumph in his voice._ MARTIN. Yes, sir----! Ten--eleven--twelve----! [_Then to himself, on a low note of joy._] Ah----! SANFORD. Built for lovers----! Well, why not? Why not? Ain’t love the strongest thing in the world?--Stronger than death? [_As_ MARTIN, _incapable of answer, stares into the garden_, SANFORD, _with a grunt, turns inside, and laboriously begins the ascent of the little staircase. Once he pauses and throws back a condescending glance. Perceiving it lost on his abstracted servant, he resumes his journey, and presently passes out of sight into the rooms above. There is a moment of pregnant silence. Then, with a smothered cry_, MARTIN _steps swiftly forward, and, arms extended in a poignant, yearning gesture, seems to greet the two persons who, unaware of him, are rounding the path to the garden. As, very close to one another, they come onward to the cottage, his arms drop, and as they mount the little steps, he withdraws into the shadows of the hedge. At this, the small feminine figure in the colonial flowered lavender and quilted poke-bonnet, slips her little black-mitted hand even more closely into the arm of her grave young escort. He wears a coat of deep bright blue and snuff-colored trousers; a high white stock is about his throat; on his head, a square hat._ LYDIA. [_With clear approval, as_ MARTIN _vanishes_.] That was very polite of him, dear Richard! Quite as if he understood the circumstances. RICHARD. [_Ardently._] Yes, yes, but pray do not let us think of that now, my darling! We are home--at last! LYDIA. [_Caressing the lace ruffle on his sleeve._] Yes, of course, dear Richard! But [_With vague unrest._] we must be particular about the people--I fear he is not the only one about! RICHARD. Must we think of them at once? Couldn’t we just settle down? LYDIA. [_Rapping him playfully with her little prayer-book._] Settle down? Without knowing who’s about? The idea! Do you think my mamma brought me up to be that kind of a housekeeper? RICHARD. [_With a courtly bend._] I’m sure you’re the best housekeeper a man ever had! LYDIA. [_Sweeping him a courtesy._] Thank you, thank you, dear Richard! [_Then, suddenly picking up her long flowered skirts so that the lavender clocks twinkle above the little slippered feet._] And I’ll prove it to you! [_Puzzled, half to herself._] Though I don’t know why I said that about the people a minute ago. Things puzzle me so sometimes. I’ll race you to the kitchen--though it’s unladylike, I suppose, to run--but I do want to make you a pasty. Mamma always made them for my papa, and my marriage being so near, she taught me last week. I made them perfectly yesterday! [LYDIA _breaks into a run_; RICHARD _catches her wrist, and together they are running into the cottage, when the ear-trumpets on the table meet their astonished eyes_. RICHARD. [_Pausing and examining them._] Lydia! What are they? What on earth can they all be? LYDIA. [_Laying down her prayer-book and just touching them._] I haven’t the--the ghost of an idea! What do you think they are, Richard? You’ve studied so much,--wouldn’t the Rev. Mr. Heathcote have prepared you for them? RICHARD. [_Fingering them cautiously._] He might have, I suppose, but I don’t believe I ever got that far advanced! LYDIA. [_Penitently._] That’s because I interfered with the pursuit of your studies, dear Richard! If you hadn’t stopped to marry me---- RICHARD. Ah, Lydia, that’s the best thing my poor old tutor ever did,--marrying us to-day! LYDIA. [_Suddenly drawing very close and laying her little hands on his breast in a sort of piteous daring._] To-day? Oh, Richard,--there’s the queer feeling again--it comes and goes! But if it was to-day,--[_Very poignantly._] Oh, Richard, why were we so long getting home? RICHARD. [_Caressing her gently._] It was that little spill we had, my darling! That’s why you’re still a little shaken. I feel much the same way myself! Ajax was trotting along nicely and, after all, it was hardly strange how frightened he became at that steam-car! LYDIA. [_Ruefully._] Poor little pony! I should think they might have waited for their old experiment till after our wedding! One thing, I am sure that when Papa informs Mr. Van Beuren about the accident, he will put a stop to any such ridiculous practises! [_Tossing her curls._] Steam-cars, indeed! RICHARD. [_Thoughtfully._] I suppose so. And yet, of course it isn’t as if it had been a serious accident! Ajax stopped as soon as we upset! [_He bends over her with sudden anxiety._] You--you’re quite sure it didn’t hurt you, my darling? LYDIA. [_With a little laugh._] Why, Richard, you’ve asked me that a hundred times! Of course it didn’t hurt! I was just a bit frightened--more for poor little Jaxy than myself. How he did run! That steam-car made such a queer noise--and moving that way without a thing to make it go. Positively creepy, I call it! [_Rousing herself._] But my frock’s all right! There’s only this---- [_She pushes back her bonnet and clustering curls to show his concerned eyes a tiny mark over her left temple._ RICHARD. [_Bending and kissing it._] Kiss it and make it well! [_He plays a moment with her curls; then, gravely._] Dearest Lydia, how thankful I am it was nothing serious! LYDIA. [_Nestling close._] And how thankful _I_ am for _you_! Just what you showed me? No more? RICHARD. [_Pointing to an imperceptible stain on his plum-colored waistcoat._] A mere scratch! LYDIA. [_Softly._] Dear Richard--will you not think me foolish if---- RICHARD. [_Taking her face between his hands._] If what, Pet? Is it being my wife makes you so afraid of me? Indeed I’ve never noticed such behavior before! LYDIA. Don’t laugh, dear Richard! I know I was never very religious! It is so good to be alive! [_With a little shiver._] Alive----! Alive----! Religion is just for poor sick dead people, but---- RICHARD. What, Lydia? LYDIA. Well, on Sunday, would you send a messenger to the Rev. Mr. Heathcote and have him offer that--that thanksgiving in the prayer-book about a safe return? [_With a desperate little sob._] Oh, Richard, I--I couldn’t bear to have been hurt in the runaway--Not to be here, alive and happy, in Bird’s Nest---- [_She stops, panting, and he gathers her into safe, protecting arms._ RICHARD. But we are in Bird’s Nest, my dearest! We are! We are! LYDIA. [_Looking up from his breast in frightened appeal._] Of course we are! But I’m glad to have you tell me so! You see, Richard, long before I was a married woman--one afternoon last spring it was--an old gipsy woman came to our house one day, and she read my palm--Mamma was out--or she never would have permitted it!--And she told me---- RICHARD. What did she tell you? LYDIA. She said--“It will end where it began!” RICHARD. [_With a laugh, though his eyes are troubled._] Was she referring to my Greek? That ended where it began! LYDIA. [_Seriously, as they pass through the open door into the little parlor._] Mamma thought it meant my marriage! She consulted the Vicar, but he was too highly educated to believe in such “nonsense,” he called it! And I was always so happy--in spite of sister Eliza’s being so much prettier than me--don’t you think so, Richard? RICHARD. [_Indignantly._] Eliza! Flibbertigibbets! Why, you’re the prettiest girl in the world! [_Turning her to the tall mirror at the side of the room._] There! See for yourself----! LYDIA. [_Smiling._] How on earth can you think so? [_Then she goes close and examines the cut for herself._] Lucky my hair curls, isn’t it? This horrid little mark will never show. Now poor sister Eliza--of course she is much prettier than me, Richard--but her hair’s straight as a poker, and do you know, whenever she tries to have curls, she invariably burns it! [RICHARD, _taking a turn about the room, during the last speech, has now brought up before the full-length portrait of_ MRS. MCCORMORANT _that hangs upon the wall. Her pink satin and the diamond pendant about her substantial neck shine bright in the electric lamp beneath the portrait._ RICHARD. Well, speaking of beauty---- [_Confronted by the sight of the lamp, he touches the bulb gingerly._] Good gracious! Glass all round the lamp! How on earth would the smoke get out? And a string--oh, heavens----! [_As he puts out the light._] What have I done? LYDIA. [_Helplessly, at his side._] Oh, Richard----! RICHARD. [_Accidentally pulling the light on again._] How very strange! LYDIA. [_Breaking into a peal of delicious laughter, as the picture flashes again into view._] Richard! My heavens! Did you ever see such clothes? She must have got them out of the Ark! [RICHARD _surveys the portrait with frank disgust, and then lets his eyes rest on his little bride with patent satisfaction_. RICHARD. Poor thing! I shall never complain again about women changing the fashions! What else was there for her grandchildren to do? LYDIA. [_Scornfully._] Grandchildren! Why, Richard, I’m sure Grandmamma never wore such a frock! [_Pointing to the portrait._] She must have been a great-great, at least! RICHARD. [_With decision._] And not on my side! Possibly yours, Lydia? LYDIA. Not at all! [_Puzzled._] But if she isn’t on yours, Richard----? [_A fear which she vainly tries to repress suddenly thrilling her voice._] But she must be on yours! Else why is she here? RICHARD. I tell you she _isn’t_, Lydia! [_Then, as_ MARTIN _softly emerges from the shadows where he has been watching them_.] Look! There he is again! Who can it be? LYDIA. [_Tugging at his arm, fascinated by the portrait._] Oh, Richard, dear Richard, I--I don’t like to look at her! It frightens me! MARTIN. [_Approaching the door, and looking within._] I beg pardon, sir, but did you call? RICHARD. [_Looking from_ MARTIN _to_ LYDIA.] Call? No! MARTIN. [_Regarding_ LYDIA _fixedly_.] Nor you, Madam? LYDIA. [_Beckoning_ MARTIN _to her with sudden decision_.] Yes! Do you know who that lady was? MARTIN. Why, that, Madam, that is Mrs. McCormorant! RICHARD. “Is”! And what a name! “Mc” what? We never had such a name in our family! LYDIA. [_Impatiently._] You’ve already said she wasn’t in your family! And she certainly wasn’t in mine! [_She turns peremptorily to_ MARTIN.] Will you please tell us who she was? And why her portrait is here? MARTIN. [_Watching_ LYDIA.] Why, Madam, Mr. Sanford had it put here to surprise her, her becoming his bride in the little church here to-morrow! LYDIA. [_With a great effort._] His bride--to-morrow? RICHARD. [_Gravely._] Then she’s alive? MARTIN. [_Looking from one to the other._] Why, yes, sir, to be sure she’s alive! RICHARD. [_Puzzled._] But her frock? My wife was quite certain, and so was I, that her frock was--er--well, I don’t like to say anything against the lady, but, well, you know, rather old-fashioned, to say the least! [_With an admiring glance at_ LYDIA’S _panniers_.] You can see--there’s rather a difference----! MARTIN. [_With the ghost of a smile._] There is, indeed, sir! [_Resuming, practically._] But I have often heard Mr. Sanford say, sir, that all Mrs. McCormorant’s gowns are in the height of fashion! LYDIA. [_Prettily nettled._] I trust you don’t mean to imply---- MARTIN. [_Courteously._] I imply nothing to your disfavor, Madam----! LYDIA. [_Restlessly._] Of course her frock is of no consequence--nor her being married--but--why should her portrait be here--[_A sudden break in her voice._] here in Bird’s Nest? RICHARD. [_With a note of authority._] Yes, that’s what we don’t care for! Why should her portrait be here, in our parlor? MARTIN. [_Simply._] Why, so they can both admire it, I suppose, sir, after she comes to live here to-morrow! LYDIA. [_Falling with a cry into_ RICHARD’S _arms_.] Oh, Richard! I--I feel faint! RICHARD. [_Tenderly carrying her to the garden bench_, MARTIN _following them_.] There, there, my darling! [_On his knees, to her._] Shall I fetch your salts? LYDIA. [_As she clings to him_, MARTIN, _regarding both, a faint, quizzical sadness in his eyes_.] No, no, it’s not my salts I need! Oh, what did he say, Richard? What did he say? RICHARD. [_Caressing her gently._] It was nothing, my darling! We--[_Vainly trying to repress a quiver in his voice._] we must have misunderstood him! LYDIA. [_Softly repulsing him, sitting bolt upright._] No, I don’t think so! I---- [_Suddenly she hides her face in her hands, in an agony of remembrance._] Oh, Richard, don’t you know? We’ve been mistaken before about--about Bird’s Nest? RICHARD. [_Helplessly, as he rises._] My dearest Lydia----! LYDIA. [_Jumping up and confronting_ MARTIN _with the piteous dignity of her little clasped hands_.] You said just now that--that [_With a gesture toward the portrait._] lady was alive--and going to be married, and that she--that they--plan to live here, in Bird’s Nest? MARTIN. [_Very low._] Yes, Madam! LYDIA. [_Drawing herself up._] But doesn’t she know that Richard and I are to live in Bird’s Nest? MARTIN. [_Very gently._] Are you sure, Madam? LYDIA. [_She looks long into his troubled, wistful eyes; then pitifully._] We were to live here! [_Impetuously._] Oh, don’t you know? We were to live here--and then--then Ajax was frightened by the steam-car, coming home from church this afternoon, and ever since---- MARTIN. [_Softly, as_ LYDIA _stops, unable to proceed_.] The folks about here always say Bird’s Nest was built for lovers! LYDIA. [_In a low voice._] The folks? Since when have they said that? I never heard it! MARTIN. [_With a long look._] No, Madam,--it was not--in your day! [_Then, softly to himself, looking from_ LYDIA _to_ RICHARD.] Built for lovers----! LYDIA. [_As before._] And are they--lovers? MARTIN. Mrs. McCormorant is very rich. RICHARD. [_Shocked._] You keep saying, “Mrs.”! She has been married before? MARTIN. Just so! An attractive woman some think, sir, in spite of her deafness. RICHARD. But why should she be deaf? LYDIA. [_With sudden petulance._] What does it matter whether she’s deaf or not when---- MARTIN. [_Imperturbably to_ RICHARD.] It’s merely her age, sir----! Sixty-three she is, but---- RICHARD. Good God! It’s impossible! It’s unnatural! MARTIN. [_Watching_ LYDIA _narrowly_.] She took a great fancy to Bird’s Nest the day Mr. Sanford brought her over! It makes them both feel quite young again, so they say! LYDIA. [_Under her breath._] Young! Sixty-three----! I’m not eighteen----! MARTIN. [_Watching her as before._] Haven’t old people a right to happiness, Madam? LYDIA. [_Irrelevantly, a passionate ring in her voice._] The folks about here say Bird’s Nest was built for lovers! MARTIN. [_Gravely._] Quite so, Madam! [_With an old-fashioned bow._] I am glad to have seen you, Madam--I had heard--so much. But I must go now. I have to make sure Mr. Sanford has taken his medicine before retiring--his heart’s not just right. RICHARD. [_In a level voice._] Mr. Sanford, I presume, is the bridegroom? MARTIN. [_Withdrawing with grave courtesy._] Er--yes, sir! And somewhat excited over to-morrow. [MARTIN _steps into the cottage, putting out the electric lights and goes upstairs_. LYDIA. [_Regarding his retreating figure._] A nice-appearing old man, Richard! [_She comes quite close to him; then, softly._] I’m glad he’s not being married to-morrow! RICHARD. [_Starting._] What do you mean? LYDIA. [_Practically._] Well, I prefer their being horrid--like that man and that dreadful woman in the house! [_Reminiscently._] I couldn’t help being sorry for the gentle lady that was here,--oh, you know, quite a while ago! RICHARD. You mean the one they called “Virginia”? That was visiting Bird’s Nest before he brought her here to live? LYDIA. Yes, Virginia! But he didn’t really love her! We couldn’t have had _them_ about! What a cold she took that night! [_Placidly._] I guess it settled on her lungs right away! [_With a little smile._] They weren’t here when we came back. RICHARD. [_A trifle uncomfortably._] I know----! LYDIA. And another year--that dark beauty. He was speaking a foreign tongue to her when we came. “Celeste,” I think her name was. I think it is a French name. With what I had picked up at the Academy for Young Ladies, I could easily see they were planning to settle right here in a few weeks. She didn’t love him at all! [_With a mischievous laugh._] Do you remember how frightened she was, Richard? [_Smoothing her little panniers._] Big women are always such cowards! RICHARD. [_As before._] Yes, of course,--but---- LYDIA. [_With a touch of asperity._] What is it, Richard? RICHARD. You--we’ve upset the plans of a good many people, haven’t we? Need we bother any more about them? [_Gently._] We have each other--to-night----! LYDIA. [_With infinite wistfulness._] Ah, Richard! Richard! You are only a man----! [_Very low._] No one must live here! Don’t you understand? RICHARD. [_Started._] You mean--else we couldn’t come back? LYDIA. We couldn’t come back! Just think, Richard--[_Caressing him gently._] we couldn’t come back----! We’d wait all the long, long year, and then--when to-night came--we couldn’t come back----! RICHARD. [_Drawing her passionately into his arms._] Oh, my darling! But we _must_ come back! It is what we _live_ for! It---- LYDIA. [_Gravely._] Just so, Richard! I know you always agree when you--remember----! RICHARD. [_Regarding her with sudden anxiety._] Do you think you can manage it? The lady isn’t here--this time. LYDIA. But he’s here! And do you know, Richard, in spite of what Mamma has always taught me, I hardly think men are a bit braver than women! RICHARD. Oh, Lydia, you really think not! LYDIA. [_Teasing him._] Really, really, dear Richard! But, oh, look at that moon! Isn’t it a shame to worry about anything with that over our heads? Oh, Richard, I want to dance. If there were only music! RICHARD. [_Falling into her mood._] Why not make it yourself? The spinnet is there--[_Pointing within._] your papa’s wedding present--he thought you would like it the first night! Look, Lydia, how clear it stands in the moonlight! LYDIA. [_Running into the house._] I could play the minuet! [_Seating herself at the spinnet, she plays a few bars of a minuet with delicate, old-fashioned precision_, RICHARD, _who has followed her, leaning over her. Presently, she stops, and wheels abruptly about._] But, oh, that isn’t enough! [_Jumping up, she drags him after her to the garden._] Come, Richard! Back to the garden! I want to dance! RICHARD. [_As they pass outdoors._] But the music, dearest Lydia! I can never do the steps without the music! Don’t you remember how you laughed at me that time last week? [_Without answering_, LYDIA _places both herself and him in position for the minuet. Then, with low conviction._ LYDIA. There will be music, dear Richard! Don’t you remember--it used to go---- [_Humming the minuet under her breath._] this way----? [_And presently, as if encouraged by her voice, the garden becomes full of throbbing fiddles and horns, as, with stately courtesy, she and_ RICHARD _dance in and out among the flower-beds. A few moments pass; then, at a sound within the cottage, they stop dancing, and as_ GEORGE SANFORD, _this time in dressing-gown and slippers, slowly descends the staircase, the music quivers away, though still heard now and again, as at greater distance._ LYDIA _softly draws_ RICHARD _aside_.] Sh--this must be he! RICHARD. [_In a slightly nervous whisper._] After all, Lydia, this is my house! Had I not better call him out and have done with it? LYDIA. [_Watching Sanford._] Sh----! [_For a moment_ SANFORD _pauses at the table, outside, bright in the moonlight; picks up the ear-trumpet; with it, he heavily proceeds into the garden; then looking at the moon_. SANFORD. [_With his fat chuckle._] Ah, romance! All very well for young folks. But [_Tapping the ear-trumpet._] she’ll hear my vows all right with this! And romance comes easy at $100,000! RICHARD. [_Indignantly._] Lydia! It’s desecration. Let me challenge him and end it! LYDIA. [_A restraining hand on his arm._] Hush! Leave it to me---- And that---- [_Pointing to the ear-trumpet._] He said that was to hear his vows with. How very strange! SANFORD. [_Plumping down on the bench near him._] ’Might as well stay here. ’Can’t sleep a wink. RICHARD. [_Tears in his voice, as he feels the hour going._] Lydia! It’s our one night! Make him go away! LYDIA. [_Softly._] Ah, if he’d go away! [_Louder._] If he’d burn that picture, and pack right up, and go away from Bird’s Nest, and never come back! SANFORD. Damned pretty little house for Evelina and me! Damned lucky to get it, and so cheap, too! [_With another chuckle._] Some clever Johnny must’ve made up that yarn about the ghosts to pull the prices down! Ghosts! Ha-ha-ha! When I sell, I’ll sell high! I can swear I’ve never seen ’em! LYDIA. [_Distinctly, as she emerges from the shadows, and sweeping him a mocking courtesy._] I suppose you don’t see _me_, sir? RICHARD. [_In a frightened whisper._] Dearest Lydia, pray be careful! [LYDIA _steals behind_ SANFORD, _jerks up the trumpet, and, holding it to his ear_. LYDIA. [_Mischievously._] There, sir! Is it only your bride who can’t hear? [_With a sleepy gesture_, SANFORD _brushes away the trumpet, which falls to the ground_. SANFORD. [_With a yawn._] Ah, never mind. Too much work--pick it up. LYDIA. [_Slipping around in front of him._] Come, Richard! RICHARD. [_Joining her somewhat hesitantly and taking her outstretched hands._] Is it quite safe, do you think? LYDIA. [_To_ SANFORD, _dosing on the bench_.] We don’t want to hurt you, sir. Say it with me, Richard---- LYDIA _and_ RICHARD. [_Repeating together._] But Bird’s Nest is our very own! Will you go away? You don’t love your bride! And you know---- [_With low intensity._] _Bird’s Nest was built for lovers!_ SANFORD. [_Sleepily._] $100,000, by George! That’s enough to make up for a whole lot! And Bird’s Nest---- [_His head drops forward with a jerk. For an instant_, LYDIA _bends and peers close into his face. Then, with a quick sigh of relief._ LYDIA. Come, Richard! Let us finish our dance. [_Again, invisible violins take up the tune for the minuetting lovers, and it is perhaps guided by this that_ MARTIN, _a moment later, wistfully reënters the garden. But once there, he goes swiftly to_ SANFORD _and bends over him_. MARTIN. [_After a quick glance._] Dead! Oh, my God! [_For a moment, with incredulous eyes, he watches the delicate, rhythmic bending and swaying of the young forms; then, with a smothered cry, he rushes forward and raises indignant hands to stop them. And as, in their grave and gay abandon they dance on_, MARTIN, _seeming to derive fresh support from the backward glance he flings the body, tries to catch_ LYDIA _by her curls_. MARTIN _indignantly_.] How dare you, you little--little---- [_But, untouched_, LYDIA _glides past him, her light laughter mingling with the wind. Then, as_ MARTIN _slinks back, beaten, his eyes full of wonder, an impalpable tremor passes over the garden. The violins fade; the moonlight shivers blue and chill, and_ LYDIA _runs with a cry to_ RICHARD. LYDIA. Oh, my dearest--not yet! Not yet! RICHARD. [_Tremulously, holding her fast._] We had just begun! We had waited a whole year! LYDIA. [_In a panic of longing._] Oh, Richard! Richard! The church clock has struck! In a moment---- [_Pointing a trembling finger within._] our clock! RICHARD. [_As the whirring noise begins that precedes the stroke._] My darling--next year---- LYDIA. [_As before._] Oh, stop it! Stop it! [_Her head against his breast._] Oh, Richard, I--I haven’t seen the nursery yet! [_Then, as the clock strikes ONE, her features change. She gathers up her little prayer-book, slips a decorous, mitted hand within the arm he gravely offers her, and together, passing_ SANFORD’S _body without a glance, they turn away down the little path_. MARTIN. [_Stepping forward and leaning over the body._] Too bad! [_Then, his eyes young and wistful as they follow the retreating figures._] But Bird’s Nest was built for lovers! CURTAIN AMATEURS’ SUPPLIES PREPARED BURNT CORK--Will not dry out. Always in condition for immediate use. Easily removed. Enough for four people. Per box (about 2 oz.) $ .30 One-half lb., $1.00; per lb. 1.85 SPIRIT GUM--For sticking on whiskers, etc. Easily removed with Cocoa Butter or Cold Cream. Per bottle. .35 COLD CREAM--For removing grease paints, spirit gum, etc. In tubes. .30 COCOA BUTTER--For same purpose as Cold Cream. .30 CLOWN WHITE--For Pantomimes, Clowns, Statuary, etc. Per box. .30 CARMINE LINER--Per stick. .30 BLUE--For the eyes. Per stick. .30 EYE BROW PENCILS--Black, Brown. In nickel-plated metal tubes. Each. .25 GRENADINE OR LIP ROUGE. .35 THEATRICAL BLENDING POWDER--Thoroughly hides oily appearance of grease paints. Not to be confused with street powder. No. 1, White; No. 2, Flesh; No. 3, Brunette; No. 4, Rose Tint for juvenile heroes; No. 7, Healthy Sunburn; No. 10, Sallow for both young and old age; No. 11, all ruddy exposed characters; No. 17, American Indian, East Indian, Othello. .40 ROUGE DE THEATRE--No. 18, Medium shade for juvenile and fair complexion; No. 36, Brunette for decided brunette types; No. 24, Deep Rose for darker hues. Per box. .35 HAIR POWDER--White only. To gray or whiten the hair or beard. .35 POWDER PUFFS--For applying blending powder. .30 HARE’S FEET--For blending make-up. .30 STOMPS--Leather, for lining face for wrinkles, etc. .30 NOSE PUTTY--For building up nose or chin. .35 EMAIL NOIR OR BLACK WAX--Black, for stopping out teeth. .35 WATER COSMETIQUE or MASCARO--White, Black, Dark Brown, Light Brown, Blonde, Red, for coloring the beard, eyebrows or hair at temples to match wig. Removed with soap and water. Each. .35 MAKE-UP PENCILS--Light Flesh, Dark Flesh, Brown, Black, White, Gray, Carmine, Pink and Crimson. Set in a box. 1.35 LINING PENCILS--Black, Brown, Crimson, Gray and White. Each. .20 LADIES’ BEAUTY BOX--For stage or toilet use. Contains Flesh Color Face Powder, Theatrical Cold Cream, Theatre Rouge, Eyebrow Pencil, Powder Puff, Hare’s Foot, Flesh Color Exora Cream and Lip Rouge. 1.35 MAKE-UP BOX--For either Gentleman or Lady, a handsome japanned tin case, with lock and key, and containing the following articles: A set of Grease Paints (nine colors), Blending Powder (two colors), Rouge de Theatre, Eyebrow Pencil, Grenadine or Lip Rouge, Blue for the Eyes, Nose Putty, Email Noir or Black Wax, Mascaro or Water Cosmetique and Brush, Spirit Gum and Brush, Powder Puff, Cocoa Butter, Burnt Cork, Two Artist’s Stomps, Hare’s Foot, Mirror, Scissors and Five Colors of Crepe Hair. All these articles are of the best quality. The actual listed value of the articles enumerated, all of which are included with our complete Make-Up Box, would be over $7.00; so that the handsome carrying case is included at no additional cost when you buy this outfit. By express, shipping charges not paid. 7.00 GREASE PAINTS No. 1. Very Pale Flesh Color. 2. Light Flesh, Deeper Tint. 3. Natural Flesh Color for Juvenile Heroes. 4. Rose Tint Color for Juvenile Heroes. 5. Deeper Shade Color for Juvenile Heroes. 6. Healthy Sunburnt for Juvenile Heroes. 7. Healthy Sunburnt, Deeper Shade. 8. Sallow, for Young Men. 9. Healthy Color, for Middle Age. 10. Sallow, for Old Age. 11. Ruddy, for Old Age. 12. Olive, Healthy. 13. Olive, Lighter Shade. 14. Gypsy Flesh Color. 15. Othello. 16. Chinese. 17. Indian. 18. East Indian. 19. Japanese. 20. Light Negro. 21. Black. 22. White. (Done up in sticks of 4 inches in length at 30c each.) MISCELLANEOUS SUPPLIES FOR YOUR MINSTREL SHOW Minstrel Chorus Wigs (special price by the dozen), each $1.25 End Men’s Fancy Wig 2.25 Fright Wig (Mechanical) 3.00 “Uncle Tom” Wig 2.25 “Topsy” Wig 2.25 Sonnetts or Clappers (per pair) .25 Paper Collars (end men) .15 Dress Shirt Fronts .35 Stage Jewelry: Shirt Stud .50 Large Diamond Ring .75 Stage Money: 20 sheets .10 100 sheets .40 _Always send your orders to_ WALTER H. BAKER CO., Boston, Mass. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRD'S NEST, A FANTASY IN ONE ACT *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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