PS
3302
04
1917
CORNELL
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
GIFT OF
Donald Stetson
Cornell University
Library
The original of tliis book is in
tine Cornell University Library.
There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.
http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924010553315
SOUTHUMBERLAND'S YULE-TIDE^ . fascinatinK and
practical community Ctiristmai masque, Ifj C. Arthur Coan. This
delightful festival IS written in the siririt of the traditional Yule
celebrations of olden days, and is so conceived as to permit the
whole school or cpmn^unity, old, young,- rii^, or poor, to take an
active part. The costumes are'fuOy deacijib|4^ and the . ingtructions
are in detail: Suitable for community or school use. Price, 50
cents. -^
MOTHER GOOSE'S CHRISTMAS VISIT. An entirely new
and original entertainment for children by Edith Thoinipson Laagl^.
This very, pleasing entertainment embraces most of the Motbier
Goose charaOters, and any number of children, boys and girla,
young and - old, can take part. Songs and specialties can be
introduced and the actioii prolonged to any length of time desired.
It introduces Santa Claiis and the Christmas tree and all the favorite
characters of the little ones. It is an admirable entertainment for
the Christmas holidays, and is printed complete with music, -sug-
gestions for staging, costuming, etc. Flays about an hour. This
entertaihment has always been a great success wherever produced.
Price, 30 cents.
THE GIFT. A symbolic play in one act by Maris A. Foley. The
action passes in a simple room of a little house near Jiidea during
the lifetime of Our Lord^ The characters are two men, one woman
and three children. The costumes — tunic draperies — make' it easily
possible to be played by an all fei^ale cast. Joel, a little lame boy,
firmly believes the Galilean can cure him of his lameness if he will
go and ask Him. In preparation the boy makes a wreath of white
roses as a gift for the Galilean. Huld^h, with whom Jpel lives, a
woman with neither heiirt nor imaginatiqu, ridicules the boy's faith,
throws the wreath into the fire and firustrates the boy's going by
leaving him in sole charge of her father, an aged and infirm man,
A stranger, blind^ also seeking the Galilean, to regain his sight,
stops at the door for food aiid rest. The boy takes him in.' Acci-
dentally the stranger comes in contact with the charred wreath
which Joel has dragged from the fire. The stranger hears about the
.wreath's purpose and offers to carry it io the Galilean. Joel elisplans
its sorry plight., "The Galilean will understand," answers the
Stranger. "But it is black and ugly," exclaims the boy— "But hot
the; heart that fashioned it," he is answered. The stranger then
learns of the boy's desire to be cured and ofiEers himsdf to remain
there with the aged man while the boy goes to get his heart's desire.
The boy accepts the stranger's great sacrifice (much to the disappoint-
ment of the old invalid) and leaves the house. However, in a few
minutes the boy is. back again crying out that he cannot go. "It
is much worse being blind than being lathe," The stranger is- put
upon the road by the boy to seek the Galilean. The boy watching
him through, the window sees the stranger meet with a Traveller,
sees the giving ofibis burnt wreath to the Traveller, its trans-
formation..ihto beautiful crimson, roses as it touches the Traveller's
hands, then the .return of the stranger no longer blind to the house.
In his joy the boy leaps across the room to the door to find that his
crutches have dropped to the floor and he has leaped across the
room unaided— cured. The play ends with much joy for all three
in the room while outside is heard the. voice of the unbeliever,
"Sirange we missed Him j He must have passed this way." The
stranger answers, "Yes, He passed this way." Price, 35 cents.
aAMUEL FRENCH, .PubUsher, 25 West Forty-fifth St
New York City
The Old Peabody Pew:
Dramatized by Kate
Douglas Wiggin : From
her book of the same
Title
Copyright, 19 17, by Kate Douglas Wiggin;
PRICE, 35 CENTS
New Yobk
SAMUEL FRENCH
Incorporated 1899
25 West 45th Street
London V
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd/
26 Southampton Street '
STRAND, W.C2
Los ANGEL)SS, CA£tF.
SAMUEJii, FRENCH
lNCOR/(}bATED 1899
611 Wbst 7th Street
THE OLD PEABODY PEW
All Rights Reserved
This is an elaborately revised and extended ver-
sion of "The Old Peabody Pew," and is fully pro-
tected by copyright.
♦ iiiiiiiiiiiiitaiiiiiiiiiii|niiiiiiiiiiiit3iiiiiitiiiii[BiiiiiuiiiiiitBiiiiiiiiiiiii[BiiriiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiriiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiii[iiii[ »
ROYALTY NOTICE
WE ABE THE OFFICIAL AGENTS FOK
SAMUEL FKENCH - NEW YORK
The royalty for the amateur
use of this play should be
paid direct to the office of
WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY
178 Tremont Street
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
■■•iiiniiuiiiigipniiiciiiiiiiiiiiiiniiimuiiiicaiiiiiiiiiiiiicainiiiuiiincBiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiniiiauiiiiiiiiiiMiiniiiiiiiiciii
advertising tor tne piay:
This play is a dramatization by Kate Douglas
Wiggin of her own story entitled, "The Old Pea-
body Pew," and it is produced by special arrange-
ment with Samuel French.
THE OLD PEABODY PEW
■(Written principally for use in old-fashioned
churches.)
Wing pews right and left and a pulpit platform
connecting them furnish the stage. The wing
pews must be kept vacant for the use of the
players. The pulpit may be removed or set back
close to the wall. The three pulpit chairs, with
other plain wooden ones of old-fcishioned style,
furnish seats for the Carpet Committee. The
audience must be put in the right spirit and
given a general knowledge of the story by hear-
ing the following extracts from the book. The
sexton rings the church bell three times, and
then three times again to preface the appearance
of the reader. This is very important as the play
needs no curtain and can even dispense with foot-
lights. The ringing of the church bell fixes the
attention of the audience and sets the key for the
performance.
THE READER
" Among the other hills of Edgewood, Tory Hill
holds its own for peaceful beauty, and on its broad
summit sits the white-painted meeting house.
The old church has had a dignified past, dating
from that day in 1761 when young Paul Coffin re-
ceived his call to preach at a stipend of fifty pounds
sterling a year. But that was over a hundred and
fifty years ago and much has happened since. The
chastening hand of time has lain somewhat heavily
5
6 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
on the town as well as on the parish. When the
sexton rings the bell nowadays, on a Sunday morn-
ing, it seems to have lost some of its old-time
strength, something of its courage ; but it still rings,
and although the Davids and Solomons, the Mat-
thews and Marks, of former congregations have left
few male descendants to perpetuate their labor-s, it
will go on ringing as long as there is a Tabitha, a
Dorcas, a Lois, or a Eunice left in the community.
This sentiment had been maintained for a quarter
of a century, but it was now especially strong in
Edgewood, as the old Tory Hill Meeting House
had been undergoing for several years more or less
extensive repairs.
Mrs. Jeremiah Burbank was the president of the
local Dorcas Society, And under her progressive rule
there had been a new chimney, a new furnace and
a cabinet organ. The greatest struggle of all had
been for the women to earn enough money to shingle
the roof, which had persisted in leaking for nearly
half a century in spite of all expert advice and
suggestion from the male members of the parish.
The leaks were finally stopped and the Dorcas
sisters leaned back in their rocking-chairs, draw-
ing deep breaths of satisfaction. This temporary
suspension of responsibility continued until a visitor
from a neighboring city was heard to remark that
the Tory Hill Meeting House would be one of the
most attractive churches in the state if only it were
suitably carpeted.
At the next meeting the Dorcases wearily took
out their lead pencils, and when they had multiplied
the surface of the floor by the price of carpet per
yard, each Dorcas attaining a result entirely different
from all the others, there was a shriek of dismay,
for the product would have dismayed a Croesus!
Time sped and efforts increased, but the Dorcases
were at length obliged to content themselves with
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 7
carpeting the pulpit platform and steps, their own
pews, the choir and the two aisles, leaving the floor
in the remaining pews, and the cushions for them,
until some future year, unless certain prosperous or
energetic parishioners, yielding to the force of ex-
ample, should carpet and cushion their own pews.
How the women cut and contrived and matched
that hardly bought ingrain carpet, in the short
December afternoons that ensued after the pur-
chase; so that, having failed to be ready for
Thanksgiving, it could be finished for th« Christmas
festivities !
Many of you have belonged to such a band of
faithful workers and when, in a moment, you see
and hear them talking as they cut and stitch and sew
it will seem like a little page of life opened before
your eyes!
The love story too, that is hinted at in the first
act as having begun in the church long ago, will be
finished in your presence. Is there anything strange
or out of place in that?
Is it not possible that many and many a modest
romance has begun and grown under the shadow of
this old steeple ; one quite unlike that of this author
perhaps, but still a romance ? That of Kate Douglas
Wiggin is an imaginary one of the meeting and the
parting of two undeclared lovers; the secret wait-
ing of the woman, the hopeless struggle of the man,
and the glad reunion of the two in the house of the
Lord, where their friendship had blossomed into
love.
Here the Reader leaves the printed text and speaks
the following lines.
So run the opening chapters of the book.
Now at the background will you take a look?
8 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
There is the Peabody Pew— the right wing. Number
Two
(It's all pure fiction, any pew would do !) ;
And this the very church, or so we'll make believe;
And now for you the romance we will weave
Of brightly colored threads with those of gray.
Ending, like all true love tales, in the nicest way.
The Dorcas members are the real thing, though;
When Duty calls they never answer " No."
Listen ! they'll all be here in just a minute !
You'll see the play and likewise you''ll be in it !
You are the congregation ; do your share ;
We'll act as if you really were not there!
Attention, please! The second bell you'll hear,
And straightway then the players will appear.
\The sexton rings the church bell three timeSt
THE OLD PEABODY PEW
ACT I
CHARACTERS
The Carpet Committee of the Edgewood Dorcas
Society :
Mrs. Baxter, the minister's wife.
Mrs. BtJRBANK, president of the Dorcas Society.
Mrs. Miller, wife of Deacon Miller, the sexton.
Mrs. Sargent, a village historian.
The Widow Buzzell, willing to take a second
risk.
i^ Miss ^ L obelia B ^ r e wster ^ who is no lover of men.
l^isTl^l ARIA Sharp", quick of speech, sound of
heart.
Miss Nancy Wentworth, who has waited for
her romance ten years
and
Justin Peabody, sole living claimant to the old
Peabody pew.
\One of the entrance doors of the church {both of
course being behind the audience) opens audibly,
and Mrs. Jere Burbank comes bustling in, with
Lobelia Brewster well in the rear. The voices
are loud, as in an empty church.
Mrs. Burbank {halfway up the aisle, calls back) :
Shut the door after you, Lobelia ! Deacon Miller's
9
lo THE OLD PEABODY PEW
made us a good fire; the church feels real com-
fortable, and we want to keep it so if we can, with
the committee comin' in every ten minutes.
•»« Lobelia Brewster (coming in, and up the aisle) :
We're the first, as usual! Maria Sharp's got the
f key, and promised to be here at two o'clock. I don't
know what we'd do if we couldn't unlock the church
door with a hairpin, now that the minister has these
new-fangled notions against keepin' the key under
a brick by the steps.
Mrs. Burbank (ascending platform, where there
are chairs and several heaps of carpeting on which
work has evidently been done the previous day) :
I don't know as it pays to be first, anywheres,
Lobelia.
■— Lobelia (following her) : I guess it does, Mrs.
Burbank. Perhaps that's the reason you're the
Dorcas president.
Mrs. Burbank: I never could make out the
reason, so perhaps that is it! I've got to take off
my hat; I can't ever seem to do good sewing with
it on. Can you?
(Smooths her hair)
<"«• Lobelia (taking her hat off) : Yes ; I don't mind.
I could sew as well as some of the Dorcas members
if I took my head off !
Mrs. Burbank (laughing) : You might say that
of quilting ; but I guess the most of us are equal to
carpet sewing. Lobelia. (They take off wraps and
put on aprons. Mrs. Burbank looks toward door)
Here comes Mrs. Miller. (Calling down the aisle) :
Close the door quick, Sarah Ellen! There's an
awful draught!
[Mrs. Miller bustles up the other aisle.
Mrs. Miller : Why, I thought I'd be first. YoU
been here long, girls ?
THE OLD PEABODY PEW n
Lobelia {getting ready for work): Oh, no!
Not more'n a couple of hours.
Mrs. Miller (taking off wraps and putting on
apron) : A couple of hours! That's good! You
will have your joke, Lobelia ! Mis' Sargent is right
behind me, just coming over the brow of the hill, and
the minister's wife'll be here soon.
Lobelia : Well I declare, she's too good to last.
Mis' Baxter is! I don't know what the Lord was
thinkin' about when He sent us a minister that could
preach, and a wife that would work !
Mrs. Miller (taking a position where her speech
can he heard) : And a perfect lady besides ! Yes ;
I consider we're fixed for time and eternity, if only
the Baxters'U stay. I'm so afraid he'll get a better
call that I always want to cover him up with a
tablecloth whenever a stranger comes into meeting.
[Constant business, to be worked out at rehearsal:
taking off wraps and hats and hanging them over
peivs; putting on aprons; taking out workbags;
and settling down to work, but not so soon as to
make a long, monotonous scene of sewing.
Mrs. Burbank (Who is now sewing) : I feel
just the same as you do about the Baxters. Of
course, my being away from the village for a few
years, I lost track of some of the ministers.
»» Lobelia (sewing) : Well, you didn't miss much.
Some of 'em was good ministers, and some of 'en>
was good men, but hardly one of 'em was both.
And that last one never even got 'round to being a
human creeter! He was a tip-top preacher and
<vhen he came to sociables and picnics, always lookin'
kind o' like the potato blight, I used to think how
complete he'd be if only he had a f oldin' pulpit under
his coat-tails. They make foldin' beds nowadays,
12 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
an' I s'pose they could make foldin' pulpits if there
was a market for 'em.
[Enter Mrs. Sargent.
Mrs. Sargent (bustling up aisle quickly) : Fold-
in' pulpits ! (Slight pause while the interest of her
entrance holds the audience) Land sakes, I hope
there won't be ! I'm no friend to foldin' beds ; but
if they should invent a foldin' pulpit, the world
would be duller than 'tis now !
[Enter Maria Sharp by the aisle on the other side.
Maria: What's that about foldin' pulpits? I
hope the Dorcas Society ain't goin' into that busi-
ness!
Mrs. Burbank : No danger ! Did you shut the
outside door, Maria?
Maria: 'Course I did. I met Mr. Baxter just
comin* from the Post-office. He had a letter in his
hand for Nancy Wentworth. If she stops to read it
she won't get her share o' carpet done.
Mrs. Miller : She'll stay later, then ; she always
does. (With meaning, to the others) : Say! The
minister took her a letter yesterday, so that makes
two, now, this week. Mis' Buzzell's brother in
Berwick says she had considerable attention when
she visited there last winter. I hope we ain't goin'
to lose her.
Mrs. Sargent : No danger ! We shan't ! When
a girl's so young she hasn't got any mind it's easy
enough for her to make it up. When she gets to
the thinkin' age it's a dif 'rent pair o' shoes !
Maria : That's so ! As I can testify.
Lobelia : Yes ; if you once get to comparin' men
jrou might as well give up all idea of gettin' married,
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 13
sbbe there's a little difference in men-folks but I
ess there ain't any, in husbands!
Mrs. Miller : I never thought Nancy had given
hope. She wears red an' I always think that's a
;n.
Mrs. Burbank (with a smile) I think Nancy's
i cape just suits her. It shows cheerfulness and
Lirage.
Maria (has been taking off her rubbers and un-
■ning the skirt of her dress during the'last speeches,
le is now putting many pins into her mouth, and
m sticking them into her waist) : Well, Nancy'd
tter get what attention she can in Berwick,
lere's none to spare hereabouts; and what there
Jane Buzzell takes — when she can get it. Some.-
nes I think widders are worse'n old maids thai
ly.
Mrs. Sargent: There was plenty of attention
r Nancy Wentworth once, for she was about the
ettiest girl in Edgewood. She's pretty now; but
e has a sad look she never used to have ten years
o. She had no eyes for anyone but Justin Pea-
dy then.
Lobelia : Humph ! Men's eyes don't always face
e same way as women's.
Mrs. Miller (sewing, but speaking so as to get
erybody's attention) : Well, if Justin Peabody
dn't gone away from Edgewood and stayed away
always thought that would have been a match,
mcy never let on a word to a soul, from first to
it ; but all the same, everybody could see she was
love with Justin, and he with her, from the time
ey was tall enough to sing out o' the same hymn
ok.
Mrs. Sargent : Well of course Justin wasn't in a
sition to offer marriage to any girl, those days.
Lobelia : I never heard that men folks felt they
.d to offer anything but marriage to a girl ! They
14 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
generally think that's enough, without mentionin',
such triflin' inducements as board an' clothes!
Mrs. Miller : Well if he had offered, and she'd
taken him, Nancy would 'a' been 'a' real helpmate.
She wouldn't 'a'a leaned too hard on any man.
Mari'a: Nobody could have leaned on Justin
Peabody without tippin' him over, I always liked
him, but he wa'n't very stiff backed, Justin wa'n't \
Mrs. Sargent: Sh-sh! There's Nancy now,
coming in with the minister's wife.
All : Hush-sh-sh !
[Mrs. Baxter and Nancy Wentworth enter
from another door than the first one used.
All: How d'ye do, Nancy. Good afternoon,
Mis' Baxter.
Nancy (brightly) : How d'ye do, all! Sorry to
be late, but I'll make it up by sewing longer.
[Maria begins sewing. She is seated on a corner of
the platform in order to break up the stiff line of
chairs.
Mrs. Baxter: So will I. My custard curdled,
and I had to run over to Nancy's and borrow an-
other egg. (Ascending platform steps) : Excuse
my best dress, ladies. The minister's bringing
home company to supper to-night.
Mrs. Burbank: Don't apologize! We're glad
enough to see you, Mrs. Baxter, if you don't take
a stitch.
[Mrs. Burbank shakes hands. Gives Mrs. Baxtei
her chair and takes another.
All: Yes, indeed!
Mrs. Baxter: Thank you.
THE OLD PEABODY PEW ij
Lobelia : And tell us how to make custard with
one egg. ■ I always want two ; but my hens act as if
they'd never heard o' custard.
[Nancy seats herself and lifts two lengths of carpet.
Maria (standing suddenly, and speaking forcibly,
with gesture) : Sakes alive! Don't take f^ot str^,
Nancy ! (Nancy starts at Maria's sudden speech)
Jane Buzzell sewed there last time, and the carpet'U
fall right to pieces in your hands ! You know herf
She said she was depending on the tack hammer to
finish her work.
Nancy : Oh, well. I think I'll risk it. . . .
I don't believe we've got more than an hour's sew-
ing left, do you, Mrs. Burbank?
Mrs. Burbank : I don't think so. . . . Oh 1
How I wish we'd had the money to buy enough
carpet for the whole floor at once! Sometimes I
think our Carpet Committee did wrong to set the
example and carpet their own pews and leave the
others bare. Just stand up, girls, and look at 'em.
[Each one rises as she speaks, holding work. Then,
pointing in turn:
Mrs. Miller: There's mine; — pink and blue
Brussels.
Mrs. Burbank: Mine's striped stair carpeting,
but I'm not a mite ashamed of it.
Mrs. Sargent: Mine is straw matting; but it's
nice and new.
Maria : Mine's a breadth of my parlor tapestry.
'Tain't exactly a church pattern but it cost three
dollars a yard thirty years ago 1
•• Lobellia : Look at mine ! Red was all I had, and
I could pick out my pew from the meeting-house
common. The floor looks like Joseph's coat!
Mrs. Sas'ssr (graciously) : I mustn't be proud
i6 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
if mine is new and like the aisle strips, for the
Dorcas Society gave it to me.
Mrs. Miller: Well, you deserve the best, Mis'
Baxter. (Patting Mrs. Baxter's shoulder; all nod
in agreement)
Nancy (affectionately) : So she does ! I'm going
to bring mine over and lay it after supper; it's all
made. Who's going to tack down this piece?
(They all sit)
Mrs. , Miller : The deacon and Mr. Burbank
and Lobelia's father are coming in and try all tb^
lamps to-night; so they said they'd tack down tnp
platform carpet then. That'll be a mercy! We
wouldn't have any trouble if we only had more men
folks to help along.
- Lobelia (standing to shake her skirt) : Or else
none at all ! If it wan't for dogs an' dark nights I
shouldn't care if I never saw a man. It's havin' so
few that keeps us all stirred up. If there wa'n't any
mywheres, we'd have women deacons and carpenters
and painters, and get along first rate, for somehow
the supply o' women always holds out, same as it
does with caterpillars an' grasshoppers.
(All laugh)
Mrs. Sargent: My goodness Lobelia! Your
tongue cuts both ways like a new-fangled bread-
knife.
Maria : What's the good, anyway, of our slaving
ourselves to death to buy carpeting for all the pew)«
when half of 'em are never set in?
[Somewhere during this conversation Nancy must
touch some letters carried in her little workbag,
as if she were thinking of them. The audience
will note this.
THE OLD PEABODY PEW i>
Mrs. Sargent (shaking her head sadly and con-
tinuing) : People don't take church going so
seriously as they used to.
Lobelia : Most of 'em take it so seriously they
stay to home !
[Mrs. Burbank has risen and moved to borrow
some thread. She stands, threading needle and
waxing thread, and is in a position to speak
eloquently, her last sentences being a good-natured
imitation of a Dorcas Society meeting.
Mrs. Burbank (to Maria) : Don't lose heart,
Maria. You know you'd be the last to let the floor
go uncarpeted, or have the church closed. (Speak'
ing to the whole committee) : We've said dozens of
times to one another that we would stand by this old
meeting house and keep it from rack and ruin. Our
grandfathers and our grandmothers have wor-
shipped under this roof. Then isn't it our part to
keep it tight against wind and weather? Our
fathers and mothers trod this floor. Doesn't that
make it a sacred spot to us? This church was
handed down to us a hundred and fifty years
ago as a precious heritage, and we're going to hand
it down to the children, in our turn, sweet and clean,
and good and sound. (With a smile and quick
change of manner) : All in favor, manifest it by
the usual sign. Contrary minded? It is a vote!
[All the women's right hands are raised, and
laughter and applause follow. Mrs. Burbank
sits.
Nancy: Good, Mrs. Burbank!
Mrs. Sargent (rising as at a meeting) : There
lever are any contrary minded when Mis' Burbank*s
i8 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
in the chair. We can't work too hard for our dear
old church !
Mrs. Baxter (rising) : And, being the House
of God, we are going to take as good care of it, at
least, as we take of our own houses, and have as
much pride in it.
(Sits)
Mrs. Burbank: (.(^jkte) Isn't she /o»«/y/
Maria (wiping her eyes): I know! I'd work
my fingers to the bone — only I do get discouraged.
. . . Nancy, let's sing something. That'd make
the sewing go easier.
Nancy : Shall we sing " Siloam " ?
[A second's pause of quiet sewing, to change the
mood, then Nancy starts the hymn. The women
sing very softly, without accompaniment. The
hymn may he easily arranged for sopranos and
first and second contraltos^
" By cool Siloam's shady rill,
How fair the lily grows;
How sweet the breath beneath the hill.
Of Sharon's dewy rose!
Dependent on Thy bounteous breath,
We seek Thy grace alone,
In childhood, manhood, age, and death,
To keep us still Thine own."
Mrs. Miller (after the voices have died away,
looking around the church) : That's a good hymn!
It always kind o' rests me ! Oh, if only we could
have had the pews painted before we laid the carpet !
Mrs. Baxter: I never noticed how scarred and
dirty they were till we began to make improvements.
Nancy: The hymn made me think of the story
about the poor old woman and the lily. Do you
remember ?
Mrs. Baxter : I don't think I do.
Nancy: Scmieone gave her an Easter lily, and
THE OLD PEABDDY PEW 19
she set it in a glass pitcher on the kitchen table.
After looking at it for a few minutes, she got up
from her chair and washed the pitcher until the glass
shone. Sitting down again, she glanced at the
window. She had forgotten how dusty it was, and
she took her cloth and burnished the panes. Then
she scoured the table, then the floor, then blacked
the stove before she sat down to her knitting. And
of course the lily had done it all — just showing by
its whiteness how grimy everything else was.
Mrs. Baxter: That's as true as the gospel,
Nancy! And I can see how one thing has led to
another in making the church comfortable. But
my husband says that two coats of paint on the
pews would cost more than we can afford just now.
Maria (standing suddenly on the steps of the
pulpit platform) : See here 1 How about cleaning
'em ? I don't believe they've had a good hard wash-
ing since the Flood.
Lobelia: What, Maria? You don't mean the
Dorcas to scrub 'em ?
Nancy: We've done everything else— why
shouldn't we scrub? There's nothing against it in
the Orthodox creed, is there, Mrs. Baxter?
Mrs. Baxter (smiling) : Why, no. Hezekiah
himself " cleaned the temple," so the Bible says, you
know.
Mrs. Sargent (triumphantly): So he did!
Don't that beat all for a coincidence?
Lobelia (poking her neighbor) : I guess if thcK
was any real scrubbin', Mrs. Hezekiah done it !
(General laughter and nods of approval)
Mrs. Burbank: I declare, girls, we could do it!
Or, at any rate, we could wipe off the worst of 'em.
I saw Deacon Miller had two pots o' water on the
stove, and plenty of cloths, ready to wash the lamp
20 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
chimneys to-night. We could use 'em well's not,
and then get some more ready for the men folks.
Mrs. Sargent : I wish Jane Buzzell would come.
She ain't much on fine sewing, but she's certainly
an elegant scrubber.
[The Widow Buzzell, middle-aged and very at-
tractive, slams the outside door and comes up the
aisle, speaking in a loud and genial voice.
Mrs. Buzzell : Well, here I am ! Who's talkin'
about my bein' an elegant scrubber?
Chorus: All of us.
Mrs. Buzzell: I bet that compliment had an
under side to it. Didn't the sexton scrub the plat-
form?
Nancy : Yes. But we're going to wipe down the
paint on some o' the worst pews.
Mrs. Buzzell: Well, why don't you? And
say girls, why don't you scrub the steeple! The
weather vane looks kind o' dusty too. But I don't
care ! I'd rather scrub than sew, any day.
Lobelia: We thought so, Jane, by your com-
ing at three, when the meeting was at two !
Mrs. Buzzell: Mebbe you won't be so free
with your talk. Lobelia, when you hear I stayed to
home frying doughnuts to bring over here to kind
i)' hearten us up. . . . How you gettin' on ?
Mrs. Burbank: We've about finished sewing,
Jane.
Mrs. Buzzell: I'm glad of that!
(General laughter)
Mrs. Miller {to Mrs. Burbank) : Then sup-
pose you take my piece, Elvira, and let me go and
get the water.
Lobelia: I'm through with my piece so I'll go
too. If we've got to scrub let's begin before dark;
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 21
though I guess we could see the dirt fast enough any
time o' night !
Maria : I brought along some cloths and towels
for the men-folks, and left 'em in the back o' the
church. They'll come in good.
[Maria leaves platform after Mrs. Miller and
Lobelia. Mrs. Buzzell turns in the aisle and
joins them. They go down the aisle and dis~
appear quietly to the place where the stove pre-
sumably is. This leaves Mrs. Burbank, Mrs.
Baxter, Mrs. Sargent and Nancy on the plat-
form, first finishing their pieces of work, and then
clearing up. This gives opportunity for quiet corir-
versation about former times and the old Peabody
pew. Both here and in the conversation preceding
Nancy's entrance the love story must be clearly
given to the audience.^
Nancy {has folded her work, starts to go down
to the Peabody pew) : There is nobody here to
clean the right-wing pews, so I will take those.
Mrs. Baxter : You're not making a wise choice,
Nancy. The infant class sits there, you know.
Families don't seem to occupy those pews nowadays,
Mrs. Burbank.
Mrs. Sargent: I can remember when every
seat in the whole church was filled. The one in
front was always called the " deef pew," and all the
folks that was hard o' hearin' used to set there.
Mrs. Baxter: The front wing pew hasn't been
occupied since I came here.
Mrs. Sargent : No ; Squire Bean's folks moved
to Portland. The one back o' that is the old Pea-
body pew — where you're standing, Nancy, ain't it?
Nancy {turning her face away) : I believe so;
it's so long ago I can hardly remember.
Mrs. Sargent: I know 'tis — because the aisle
22 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
mns right up, facin' it. I can see old Deacon Pea"
body settin' in that end, same as if 'twas yesterday.
Mrs. Burbank (standing and folding carpet) :
He had died before Jere and I came back to live.
In my time Justin Peabody sat in the end. Esther,
the pretty sister, sat next, and up in the corner Mrs.
Peabody, in her handsome crepe shawl. You used
to sit with them sometimes, Nancy. You and
Esther were great friends.
Nancy: Yes, we were. (Lifting the old
cushion) : Oh! What's the use of scrubbing and
carpeting when there are only six hassocks and
twenty cushions in the whole church ! I must mend
this.
Lobelia (coming up aisle with pail and cloth, and
going to front of left wing) : I shouldn't trouble
myself to darn other folks' cushions.
Maria (joining her, and beginning to wipe
paint) : I don't know why ! I'm going to mend my
Aunt Achsa's cushion, though we haven't spoken
together for twenty years. Hers is, the next pew to
mine, and I'm going to have my part of the church
look decent, even if she is too stingy to touch her
own pew. Besides there aren't any Peabodys left
to do their own darning, and Nancy was friends
with Esther.
Nancy : Yes ; it's nothing more than right— con-
lidering Esther.
(Mrs. Buzzell has come up the aisle with a basket
of doughnuts in one hand and a pail in the other.
Any noise with pails, or any violent scrubbing
must be avoided, especially when one of the char-
acters has a "point to" make.]
Mrs. Buzzell: Though he don't belong to the
scrubbm' sex, there is one Peabodv aliv*. ac vmi
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 23
and livin' out West somewheres. At least, he's as
much alive as ever he was : he was as good as dead
v^hen he was twenty-one, — but his mother was al-
ways too soft-hearted to bury him. (Nancy shows
distress at the description of her former lover. A
second's pause) Have a doughnut, girls? This is
the contribution basket. It'll be kind o' pleasant to
take something out of it once in a while, instead of
puttin' in. {She passes doughnuts)
Mrs. Burbank: I know Justin Peabody's alive
and doing business in Detroit, for I got his address
ten days ago, and wrote asking him if he'd like to
give something toward repairing the old church.
Mrs. Miller : Hasn't he answered ?
[Nancy tries to hide her interest in Mrs. Burbank's
reply. Then, while the others talk, she takes the
Bible from the Peabody pew rack, also the letter
from her belt or her pocket, opens the envelope,
and standing in the pew so that she may be seen,
quickly copies the quotations from a certain
gospel referred to later. \
Mrs. Burbank: Not yet. Folks don't hurry
about answering when you've asked 'em for a con-
tribution. I wrote to George Wickham — he's the
mayor of Wells, Montana. What do you think he
sent me? {Suspense) Fifty cents. {All show
amusement or amazement) When I wrote him a
receipt I felt like saying what Aunt Polly did when
the neighbors gave her a little piece of beef : " Ever
so much obleeged — ^but don't forget me when you
come to kill the pig."
{Laughter)
Mrs. Sargent {calling to Mrs. Baxter, who is
moving toward one of the pew rails in the right
■Pfing) : Don't touch James Bruce's pew, Rlis'
24 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
Baxter! He don't worship with us now. He's
turned Second Advent.
Mrs. Baxter (good-naturedly) : Well, the pew's
Orthodox, Mrs. Sargent, and it needs cleaning.
Mrs. Sargent : I'll do it, then. He was in my
Sunday-school class, and I feel responsible for him,
though he was Maria's beau one time. (Points this
remark at Maria, who is standing up on the pew
opposite and wiping the glass of the windows) They
say he's going to marry Mrs. Sam Peters, who sings
in their choir, as soon as her year's up. They
make a perfect fool of him in that church.
Maria {with energy from her place of vantage) :
You can't make a fool of a man that nature ain't
begun with. I don't want him, and I can't see that
Mrs. Peters will better herself much!
Mrs. Buzzell (mounting on platform and wiping
woodzvork of pulpit chairs, where she is in a
prominent position) : I don't blame her, for one!
If there's anything duller than cookin' three meals
a day for yourself, and settin' down and eatin' 'em
by yourself, and then gettin' up and clearin' 'em
away after yourself, I'd like to know it. I shouldn't
want any good-lookin', pleasant-spoken man to offer
himself to me, without he expected to be snapped
up— that's all!
Lobelia (at work on some of the front-pew
rails) : You needn't explain, Jane. We all know
you're ready to take a secoiid risk.
(Genial approval from all, including Jane BuzzELti
herself)
Mrs. Sargent: If yo,u've made out to get one
husband in this county, Jane, you can thank the
Lord — and not expect any more favors.
Mrs. Buzzell (cordially) : That's so ! I used
to think my Thomas was poor company, and com-
plain I couldn't have any conversation with him;
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 25
but land! I could talk at him, and there's con-
siderable comfort in that ! And I could pick up after
him.
Mrs. Baxter (now standing in a wing pew and
wiping glass on her side) : It's queer; but it does
seem to make life worth while to have a man about
the house to take steps for and trot 'round after.
Nancy : Yes, if he's a good one, like dear Mr.
Baxter.
Mrs. Buzzell {wiping and dusting on pulpit
platform) : Well, we are all human an' it don't do
to be too partic'lar. There's just three husbands
among the eight women scrubbin' here now, and the
rest of us is all old maids and widders. Nancy's only
housemate is a cat. That don't hardly seem right,
but what can you do? No wonder the men folks
move away, like Justin Peabody. A place with such
a mess o' women- folks ain't healthy to live in !
Lobelia {putting her cloth in a pail of water on
a prominent corner of the platform) : I've no
^patience with men, gallivantin' over the earth! I
shouldn't want to live in a livelier plAce than Edge-
wood, seems 's though. We wash and hang out
Mondays, iron Tuesdays, cook Wednesdays, clean
house and mend Thursdays and Fridays, bake Satur-
days, and go to meetin' Sundays. As there ain't but
seven days in a week I don't hardly see how they
can do any more'n that in Chicago. . . . Nancy, if
you scrub any harder on the Peabody pew you'll
take the paint off. There ! I've finished my share,
and I'm going home now.
Nancy : This is the third pew I've done. They
look pretty clean on this side, Mrs. Burbank. I've
got to come back after supper to lay my own pew
carpet, and I'll do a little more then, if you say so.
Mrs. Burbank: Gracious, no! You've done
the worst ones, anyhow. You must all be real tired.
{Puts on wraps)
Mrs. Miller {coming forward) : Well, 'tain't
precisely a novelty to scrub a church Saturday
26 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
afternoon, when you've just done your own kitdiea
floor, and pantry, and shed !
{Looks pointedly at Lobelia, then getting her things
together)
Mrs. Baxter: Do you really scrub y«wir shed.
Lobelia ?
Maria: Land, yes. She scrubs her hen-house.
Lobelia does.
■Lobelia : Well, there's a good many that would
bear scrubbin'! Good night, all. (On platform):
I declare, now that I look at the floor, it's fairly
unchristian, with our spots o' carpet.
Mrs. Sargent : We've done our best— and let's
hope that folks will look up and not down. It ain't
as if they was goin' to set in the chandelier. Come,
Mis' Burbank, we must be goin'.
Mrs. Buzzell: One thing comforts me, and
that is, the Methodist chapel ain't got any carpet at
all.
Mrs. Baxter (playfully) : Mrs. Buzzdl ! Mrs.
Buzzell !
Mrs. Buzzell : I only mean, now they can't talk
about our spots ! Come on, Maria. I'm goin' home
to my beans. Only me to eat 'em — and plenty for
a good, hearty man !
(Passes down aisle)
Mrs. Sargent (starting) : Aren't you coming,
Nancy ?
Nancy : Yes, in a few minutes,
Mrs. Sargent (backing down the aisle and
speaking to Nancy and Mrs. Baxter) : You just
wait and see if the Methodists don't say they'd
rather have no carpet at all than one that don't go
all over the floor. I know 'em!
[General business of clearing up, getting on varaps
and moving toward the door has gone on during
the last speeches. Good-bys from all, and faint_
THE OLD PEABODY PEW zf
chatter, growing fainter. Mrs. Baxter is tht
last in line. Nancy is putting on her hat and
coat.
Nancy (calling Mrs. Baxter back): EmUy!
Will you come back just a minute? ... Do you
know what I believe I'll do? Christmas and New
Year's both coming on Sunday this year, there'll
be a great many out to church. Instead of putting
down my own carpet, that'll never be noticed, I'll
lay it in the old Peabody pew : the minister always
goes up that side, and it looks so forlorn!
Mrs. Baxter (beside her, at entrance to Pea-
body pew) : I think that's a nice idea, Nancy. The
wing pews are so conspicuous, and they're always
empty. But I don't like to have you come back—
the church'll be so cold.
Nancy : Oh, I'll just run home and eat my beans
and brown bread, and come back with the carpet
before six o'clock. I'll be all through before the
men come in to work. (Hesitatingly) : And—
Emily! (Goes to platform hurriedly and finds
workbag in chair)
Mrs. Baxter (turning) : Yes, dear.
Nancy: Come here a minute. I want to show
you something. (Sits in chair on corner of plat-
form, Mrs. Baxter standing beside her on the
steps below, as she takes two letters from work-
bag) You know Mr. Baxter brought me a letter
from New York yesterday, and I told you it
had nothing in it but one line, and no signature:
" Second Epistle of John, Verse 12." I looked it
up, and it's this (reads from back of an envelope) :
" Having many things to write unto you, I would not
write with paper and ink : but I trust to come unto
you, and speak face to face, that our joy may be
full." (Speaking) : I thought at first it was from
that Mrs. Emerson who sang in the choir last sum-
28 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
mer, and that maybe she was coming back fof
Christmas.
Mrs. Baxter : She was a good Bible scholar, I
remember. Do you suppose she is coming?
Nancy: I don't know; but I've got another
letter this afternoon.
Mrs. Baxter: Another?
Nancy: Here it is. Isn't it queer? It says:
"Second Epistle of John, Verse 5." I've just
copied it from the Bible (reads from the back
of another envelope) : " And now I beseech thecj
lady, not as though I wrote a new commandment
unto thee, but that which we had from the begin-
ning, that we love one another."
{The women are close together looking ai each
other)
Mrs. Baxter: It isn't signed, but I'm sure it
isn't Mrs. Emerson. The handwriting tells no tales,
for it's like print. — (Searchingly) : Is there any-
body else, Nancy ?
Nancy: No. (Turning her head and speaking
with tears in her voice ) : Once— once — I thought
there might be (brushing a tear away), but it was
long ago — I've put it quite out of my mind and
— there's nobody now.
Mrs. Baxter (putting her arm around her) '.
There's Mr. Baxter, and me, and — why, Nancy,
there's the whole village! Everybody likes you.
Nancy: I know, and I'm grateful; and, Emily
(taking both her hands, and speaking with a sense
of humor), of course you'd rather have the whole
village " like " you than — ^the minister — " love "
you, wouldn't you?
Mrs. Baxter (with an affectionate gesture) :
Forgive me, Nancy. I was trying to say the com-
forting thing; but I know that it wasn't true. I
wouldn't change my husband for a thousand villages.
Nancy : I thought so. Come ; we must be going.
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 29
And don't fancy I'm really unhappy; I'm not!
(Takes up her belong-ings) I'm used to it; though
the letters unsettled me somehow.
[Mrs. Baxter starts ahead down the aisle rather
rapidly; when halfway down she speaks back
without turning.
Mrs. Baxter : You'll have to bring your lantern
when you come back, Nancy.
Nancy (settling her hat and buttoning up her coat
as she walks) : Yes, and my tack hammer, and
some clean cloths and towels for the lamps,
Mrs. Baxter (turning, half way down aisle) :
Why not come to supper at the parsonage, Nancy?
Nancy (joining her and speaking so as to be
heard plainly) : No, Emily, deaf. I've got to feed
my cat! The minister is your family — 'Zekiel's
mine.
[They close the inside door, and noisily slam the
outside one, to show the audience they have left
the church.
[Give time for applamse.
[After Nancy and the minister's wife have left
the church there is a minute's pause, after which
the sexton rings the church bell three times, then
three times again. Then the Reader rises from
his or her seat in the front " body pew," steps
out and gives the second extract from the book,
giving a hint of the love story during Nancy's
temporary absence from the scene.
THE READER
" While Nancy is running across the church com-
mon, eating her lonely supper and feeding 'Zekiel,
30 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
the cat, her only housemate, I will tell you a little
about Justin, the only living claimant to the old Pea-
body pew.
The Edgewood branch of the Peabody family
were all of unblemished birth, character and educa-
tion, but few of them had ever made good in busi-
ness affairs.
The farm dwindled during the long illness of
Justin's father. His death was soon followed by
that of Justin's mother, and then by that of his
frail sister Esther. Justin, though only twenty-one,
struggled to maintain the home acres and make a
living on them; but, although pests of all kinds
flourished on his land, the crops never did!
He finally left the farm and engaged in a business
in the nearest city; but it was something quite un-
suited to his abilities and after a year of discourage-
ment he relinquished that hope of amassing wealth.
He came back to Edgewood under a cloud of
depression, convinced himself that he was destined
to be a failure, and quite upheld in his opinion by
the entire neighborhood, who criticized and admon-
ished him until he was sore and embittered.
He drew his slender patrimony from the bank
and left the village without a good-by to anyone
but Nancy. Even that was a stiff and formal affair
that froze the heart of the girl who loved him, and
who believed he only needed to be helped and
cheered to achieve something worth while.
Justin shook Nancy's hand and told her that he
was off for the West, where a position of quite un-
known and uncertain character awaited him. His
own heart was like lead in his breast ; and there was
something in his throat that would have been a sob
had he voiced his true feeling; but turning at the
gate of Nancy's house he lifted his hat once more
and said:
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 31
" Well ! You'll see me back when my luck turns,
Nancy!"
Even that brief phrase had a hint of explanation,
a hint of balm in it ; and on that balm Nancy Went-
worth had lived, for no messages or letters ever
came to supplement it. As a matter of fact Justin's
luck never had turned to any appreciable extent.
Once in the ten years he had lost money in an
investment that bade fair to round out his too
slender salary. He had nothing to offer a woman,
and his pride forbade the entangling of a wife in his
troubled affairs. He always hoped, or fancied he
hoped, that Nancy would marry, but was particularly
glad when he found out twice in his ten years' ab-
sence that up to that time she had not.
So was life going with him when on a stormy
night in December he was walking from his place
of business toward the dreary house where he ate
and slept. As he turned the corner he heard a
woman say to another, while they watched a man
stumbling down the street:
" Going home will be the worst of all for him —
to find nobody there! "
That was what " going home " had meant for
Justin Peabody these ten years; but he afterward
felt that it was strange that the thought should
have struck him so forcibly on that particular day.
Entering the boarding house, he found a letter
with the Edgewood postmark on the hall table, and
took it up to his room, his heart beating with
mingled hope and fear.
He kindled a little fire in the air-tight stove,
watching the flame creep from shavings to kin-
dlings, to small pine and then to the round, hard-
wood sticks ; then when the result seemed certain he
closed the stove door and sat down to read the
ktter.
His heart fell to find it from a stranger, but the
32 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
writer, Mrs. Burbank, president of the Edgewood
Dorcas Society, asked him, simply and graciously,
for a contribution to help the women keep the old
Tory Hill Church in repair. The very mention of
the church sent his thoughts back to his dead father,
mother, sister, and another woman who had been
dearer than all.
Whereupon all manner of strange things began
to happen in his head and heart and flesh and spirit
as he sat there alone, his hands in his pockets, his
feet braced against the legs of the stove.
It was a cold winter night, and the snow and
sleet beat against the windows. He looked about
the ugly room : at the washstand with its square of
faded oilcloth in front and its cracked bowl and
pitcher; at the rigors of his white iron bedstead,
with the valley in the middle of the lumpy mattress
and the darns in the riunpled pillowcases.
Then he leaned back in his chair and closed his
eyes. His soul sickened and cried out like a child's
for something more like home. It was as if a spring
thaw had melted his ice-bound heart, and on the
crest of a wave it was drifting out into milder
waters. He could have laid his head in the kind lap
of a woman at that moment and cried :
" Oh, comfort me ! Give me companionship or I
die!"
The wind howled in the chimney and rattled the
loose window sashes ; but the pressure of the Edge-
wood letter in his hand had worked a miracle. It
was a Tune Sunday in the boarding-house bedroom ;
and for that matter it was not the boarding-house
bedroom, at all: it was the old meeting house on
Tory Hill.
The windows were wide open, and the smell of
the purple clover and the humming of the bees were
drifting into the sweet, wide spaces within. He was
sitting in the end of the old Peabody pew, and
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 33
Nancy was beside him — dark-haired Nancy, under
the shadow of her muslin hat.
" By cool Siloam's shady rill,
How fair the lily grows;
How sweet the breath beneath the hill.
Of Sharon's dewy rose!
The melodeon gave the tune, and Nancy and he
stood to sing, taking the book between them. His
hand touched hers, and as the music of the hymn
rose and fell, the future unrolled itself before his
eyes : a future in which Nancy was his wedded wife,
and the happy years stretched on in front of them
until there were little curly heads in the old Pea-
body pew, and mother and father could look proudly
along the line at the young things they were bring-
ing into the house of the Lord.
The recalling of that vision worked like magic
in Justin's blood. His soul rose and " stretched its
wings " as he sprang to his feet and walked up and
down the bedroom floor. He would get a few days'
leave and go back to Edgewood for Christmas, to
join, with all the old neighbors, in the service at
the meeting house ; and in pursuance of this resolve
he hastily packed his valise and started for the rail-
way station without any supper.
He did not dare write Nancy after the long
silence between them. He wanted to see her and
try to guess his fate by a look into her face; but
he could not resist sending a mysterious message
from New York and another from Boston. On a
sheet of white paper he simply printed the first
time:
" Second Epistle of John, Verse 12 " ; and the
second sheet carried merely another line : " Second
Epistle of John, Verse 5."
If Nancy looked up these references — and what
34 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
woman would not? — she might possibly remember
a boy-and-girl letter of the same sort that had once
passed between them when they were schoolmates.
He was a failure. Everything his hand touched
turned to naught, but he had never loved any woman
but Nancy. If he took the risks, and if she "would
take them, perhaps after all he could make a better
living for two than for one. At any rate he would
go home and, if she were still free, tell her that he
was an unlucky good-for-naught, and ask her if she
would try her hand at making him over.
At this moment he has finished his supper at the
Tory Hill Tavern and is walking to Nancy Went-
worth's house as fast as his feet will carry him.
He pauses by the old church, to wonder at its white-
ness; its fresh-painted blinds; its newly gilded
weather vane. A pale, vagrant light wanders from
place to place inside the building; one of the outer
doors is ajar, and he steps softly into the little entry.
Meantime Nancy is there before him, doing her
last womanly offices for the dear old Peabody pew.
She does not see him, and after a few moments he
feels that he is witnessing something sacred, never
intended for his eyes; and filled with love and
gratitude and reverence he tiptoes out of the church
to knock at the door and give her warning before he
enters te put his case before her.
TO BE SPOKEN SOFTLY YET DISTINCTLY
Now, friends, imagine that you are not here,
Nor lights, nor voices ; Nancy will appear
To carry on the work she loves so well.
She does not know that Justin's come to tell
The story that she's waited long to hear;
That story's not for us at all ; her tear,
Her smile, and Justin's — these shall sacred be.
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 35
Forever hidden both from you and me.
The sexton for the last time rings the bell;
It's Nancy's entrance and my exit — fare you well!
[The sexton rings the church bell three times]
ACT II
[Nancy opens outside door, closes it hard, enters
and walks up aisle with a lighted lantern, a ham-
mer and a small roll of carpet already cut to fit
the Peabody pew, so that it needs little tacking.
She puts carpet on the pew cushions, takes a small
kerosene stove from under the front wing pew,
lifts it to platform, Itghts it and puts a flatiron
on top. She ascends platform, puts her coat over
a chair and takes off her hat. Then she turnsi
up the skirt of her dress, goes to the Peabody
pew and quickly puts in the few tacks needed to
keep the pew carpet temporarily in place. She
is out of sight for a few seconds only, during
which the audience hears the tap of the hammer.
\Just as she rises, Justin enters noiselessly and
comes softly halfway up the right-hand aisle,
where he stands motionless, in view of two-thirds
of the audience.
[Nancy, ignorant that she is watched, takes the
old hymn book from the pew rack, carries it to
platform, " tries " the iron, carefully irons out
a few of the leaves, turns out flame of stove,
kisses the page of the open book, lays it against
her cheek and replaces it m the rack. Then she
quietly kneels on a hassock in the pew and bends
her head over the rail in front for just an in-
36 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
stunt's prayer. Nancy must be within the view
of the audience to hold the interest. If the plat-
form is too low the ironing may be done on the
seat of a chair and she may even kneel there if
necessary. The following scene will be more ef-
fective if the church can be slightly darkened.]
[Justin covers his eyes and bows his head.
(Nancy rises in a moment, looks at the pew ten-
derly, goes slowly and sadly to the platform, an^^
just as she is about to put on her red cape, hir
loneliness overcomes her; she sinks into the chair
and, burying her face in the cape, gives way to.
tears.
[The moment this happens Justin shows that he
feels he is watching what is not intended for his
eyes. He retreats very softly, " hacking " down
the aisle on tiptoe quickly and closes the inside
door behind him; then knocks once, then twice,
more loudly.
[Nancy starts, sits up in the big pulpit chair,
brushes tears away, smooths hair.
Justin {opening door and speaking through the
f;hink): Hello! Don't be frightened! Is Miss
Nancy Wentworth here?
Nancy (startled and tremulous) : I'm here,
Who — -wliat's wanted?
Justin (opening the door and striding halfway
up the aisle): You're wanted, Nancy; wanted
badly, by Justin Peabody, come back from the West.
[Nancy rises, stands silent, moves toward center
ef platform, her hand on her heart.
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 37
Nancy: Is it — can it be — ^Justin Peabody!
or is it Justin Peabody's ghost?
Justin (coming to end of aisle and facing plat-
form) : No, it's Justin Peabody himself. I said I'd
come back to you when my luck turned, Nancy.
Well, it hasn't turned, after all ; but I couldn't wait
any longer for a sight of you. Have you given
a thought to me in all these years, Nancy?
Nancy: What do you think? You said you'd
come back to me when your luck turned. Don't
you think I've remembered that?
Justin (humbly): I think perhaps you have;
for all women are good, and you are better than the
best. But I won't come a step nearer till I tell you
that I'm still a failure, as men go ; though I've never
loved any woman but you. Does that make any
difference ?
Nancy (smiling tearfully) : Well, a man isn't
wholly a failure who can say that.
Justin (stepping nearer) : You ought to despise
me for coming back again with only myself and
my empty hands to offer you.
Nancy: What you've just told me means they
aren't quite empty,
Justin (mth wonder) : Do you count — ^love?
Nancy (earnestly) : A woman always counts
love. (Coming one step nearer) : Why didn't you
write, Justin? How could you keep silent all this
time, without giving me a sign, even of friendship?
Justin (one step nearer) : I don't know! I was
too discouraged to think of an3rthing but my failure.
I wasn't sure that you really cared anything about
me ; and how could I have written, or asked you to
marry me, when I hadn't a dollar in the world?
Nancy : There are other things to give a woman
besides dollars, Justin.
Justin (going nearer but still awaiting a warmer
38 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
without the dollars, for dollars seem to be just what
I can't manage ! Here's what I've come back from
Detroit to say. — In spite of all, will you marry
me, Nancy? You know, you must have known
how it used to be with us in the old days.
Nancy (retreating) : Yes, I know ; but that was
long, long ago! And all the time since then I've
been trying to push you out of my mind and heart.
Justin {humbly) : I don't wonder ! I'm not
surprised.
Nancy (turning quickly) : I didn't say I'd alto-
gether succeeded, but it seems to me I ought to
think it over.
Justin: You've had ten years, Nancy, dear.
Nancy: You have had ten years, / haven't! I
never think whether I'll marry a man till he asks me.
Let's talk about it. Nobody'U be coming in. We've
got to get acquainted all over again somehow.
You're almost like a stranger ! I never thought to
marry a stranger and go West with him !
[Nancy turns and sits on one of the chairs on the
platform, and Justin sits beside her.
Justin (arm on back of Nancy's chair) :
You don't seem a stranger to me ! You, sitting be-
side me here makes me feel as if I'd been dead all
these years, and just bom over again. I've led a
hard-working, honest life, Nancy; and I don't owe
any man a cent — ^the trouble is that no man owes me
one! I've got money to pay two fares back to
Detroit on Monday, although I was terribly afraid
you wouldn't come with me. Will you ? I love you
and I need you !
(Draws her a little nearer)
Nancy : Well, if I'm loved, and needed, I — guess
I'll go !
(Hides face in hands or drops head on Justin's
shoulder)
Justin: God bless you, dear, and make me
worthy of your confidence! Life has been all up
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 39
hill with me so far. Now it will be easier travelling,
with you beside me.
[He bends down and kisses her hair. Momeniary
pause. Nancy lifts her head.
Nancy {with an almost maternal tenderness) :
Has nothing turned out well with you in business,
Justin, dear? What's been the matter?
Justin : I saved nearly a thousand dollars once,
and was all ready to come back and see if you were
still unmarried ; but I invested it, hoping to make it
two thousand, and — lost it all. Then I got more
discouraged than ever.
Nancy: Of course! Anybody would! (turns
away to hide tears) And nobody to go home to and
tell all about it.
Justin : Don't sympathize with me, Nancy ! I'm
not used to it ; and the first thing you know, I should
cry like a child.
Nancy (wiping her eyes, half smiling, half tear-
ful) : If you cry I shall too ; so don't ! You don't
feel so discouraged now, do you?
Justin (right arm around back of chair, other
hand takes hers): Discouraged? No! I don't
believe Croesus feels any richer than I do this
minute — ^but there'll be a good deal of planning at
the beginning, Nancy, for we shall be poor. I'm
getting sixty dollars a month, and I have a couple
of hundred saved for furniture. We can manage
only three rooms at first, I'm afraid.
Nancy: Can I keep hens? I can always make
hens pay!
Justin: Hens? In three rooms, Nancy?
Nancy : Won't there be any yard ?
Justin : No yard, I'm afraid ! Yards don't go
with three rooms — in Detroit.
N.vncy: Shan't we have any trees?
Justin : Oh, yes ! A few ! but you're the tree I
want to dig up and take West, and plant and live
under, and be buried by !
40 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
Nancy (with a hint of tears) : Oh, Just/ , y(i«
make me so happy I can hardly bear it ! Awd I'vq
had hens and yards and trees for thirty years. Do-
ing without them will be a change. I can take in
sewing.
Justin {straightening his shoulders and folding
his arms) : No, you can't, Nancy. I need your
backbone and ingenuity; but if I can't ask you to
sit with your hands folded for the rest of your
life, as I'd like to, you sha'n't use them for other
people. You're marrying me to make a man of me,
I hope, but I'm not marrying you to make you a
drudge.
Nancy (looking up at him and putting her hand
on his shoulder) : Oh, Justin ! There's something
wrong somewhere; but we'll find it out together,
you and I, and make it right. You're not like a
failure. You don't even look poor. And I'm not
quite a pauper. There'll be the rent of my little
house, and a carload of my furniture — and there's
my cat, 'Zekiel.
Justin (laughing) : If I remember right, there's
a cat in Detroit we could get, just to begin house-
keeping with.
Nancy: There's no cat in Detroit like my
'Zekiel (takes hold of his coat lapel) ; and they'll
raise your salary, perhaps, when you tell them you've
got a wife to take care of. (Clasps hands) Oh, I
see it all, and it's going to be as bright and happy
as it can be! Don't you see that if we love each
other, that's the chief thing, and the little worries
and difficulties will gradually disappear?
Justin (rising and pacing platform) : Oh,
Nancy, dear, true Nancy ! Your faith rebukes me !
I'm ashamed that I've been a coward, waiting all
this time, when you surely would have made my
happiness, and I might have been trying to make
yours. (Sitting) Can you forgive — and forget?
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 4I
Nancy (looking up at Justin) : I forgot and
forgave everything, fifteen minutes ago, Justin.
Married people should start even : it's the least they
can do. And love always wipes out everything else
on the slate !
Justin : Bless you, dear ! (Lifting her hand and
kissing it) Then I'll call for you to-morrow morn-
ing, after the last bell has stopped ringing, and we
will walk up the aisle and sit together in my pew
through the service. That will be equal to an
announcement, especially if you take my arm
going up the aisle. It will show without a word
what we've promised to be to each other, and it's
the only thing that will make me feel sure of you,
after all these mistaken years. Have you got the
courage ?
Nancy: I shouldn't wonder! If I had courage
enough to wait for you all this time I've got courage
enough to walk up the aisle with you, and marry
you besides — listen ! (Rises at the sound of distant
sleigh bells the cue being the word " wait ") I think
I hear sleigh bells. (Justin rises) It must be
Deacon Miller to do the lamps. (Pause, during
which they both listen) No ; they've gone by. But
they're certain to be here soon. They always come
in by that door (indicating one), so we'll slip out by
the other, shall we? Then we needn't meet any-
body. I don't feel like it, do you?
Justin (ardently) : No ; I feel like meeting you
every minute — but nobody else! (Both laugh and
blush) Now let's settle the one important thing!
We'll be married right after meeting to-morrow,
shall we? and go home to Detroit next day. (Sigh
of joy) Oh ! I never thought I should call Detroit
home.
Nancy: Nor I!
42 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
Justin : But it will be, with you !
Nancy : Yes it will be — with you !
Justin : Why didn't you take that man in Ber-
wick?
Nancy: What man in Berwick?
Justin : Were there so many ? I don't wonder !
Nancy: How did you know anything about
Berwick ?
Justin: I always got all the news I could! —
Why didn't you take him Nancy ?
Nancy: I don't know quite. Perhaps my heart
was " mortgaged," Justin.
Justin : That makes me hope it belonged to me !
Everything I ever had was always mortgaged!
Nancy : But this time you can foreclose, Justin,
don't you see ?
Justin: Yes, and I'll give you a mortgage on
my heart!
Nancy : By what you say, I've always had one,
so I foreclosed just a few minutes ago of my own
accord. I hope you don't mind?
Justin : No, for the first time in my life I posi-
tively like losing something. It's only my heart and
you've given me a better one in its place. That's
what makes me feel so rich I suppose. What do you
think I am going to put into the plate to-morrow
morning? (Takes out ten-dollar bill) This!
Nancy (taking bill for a moment) : Ten dollars !
Justin I Can you afford it ?
Justin: No; but I'm going to give it just the
same — unless you think I'd better not.
Nancy (between laughing and crying sinks into
a chair) : No, no ! I'd love to have you give it !
I've been on the Furnace Committee, and the Organ
Committee, the Shingling Committee and the Carpet
Committee, and I've never seen a ten-dollar bill
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 43
before. Give it, even if we live on bread and milk
for a week. (She rises again) I just glory in you !
Oh, how Deacon Miller will stare ! I only hope he
won't faint in the aisle. And the Dorcas Society
will be so pleased.
Justin : It will come back to us, Nancy. I feel
sure it will.
Nancy: And so do I. Let's look straight into
each other's eyes and say solemnly. "We'll be
married ; we'll be happy ; we'll prosper in the West ;
and we'll come back every summer, to sit in the
dear old Peabody pew." Say it after me!
Justin : All right ! It'll be a sort of preparation
for to-morrow's ceremony. (He repeating) :
" We'll be married ; we'll be happy ; we'll prosper in
the West ; and we'll come back every summer, to sit
in the dear old Peabody pew " — bless its heart !
(They give each other a straightforward kiss.
Looking at another pew, back in the body of the
church): Poor, lonesome Wentworth pew! I'm
sorry for it !
Nancy: My cat, 'Zekiel, can sit there! Hell
be the only Wentworth left — ^after to-morrow 1
Tableau
END OF PLAY
/ As there is no curtain, my own performances of
the play were finished thus: Nancy takes Justin's
arm after her last speech and faces the audience
quietly. The members of the Carpet Committee
took their places in the rear pews of the church
at their exit, ready to be called when the time comes.
I read the little epilogue as author, but have changed
and shortened it to make it suit the Reader, who
steps again quietly from the front pew and speaks;
44 THE OLD PEABODY PEW
As skilled magicians from the vasty deep
Summon the spirits they themselves create.
So with her pencil, emblem of her craft,
The author fashioned Justin and his mate.
From out the pages of her simple book
They make their how before you here to-night,
And then, their story having well begun.
Swift as they came, they vanish from your sight.
[The Reader here beckons to Nancy and Justin in
turn, and while she speaks the following linex
they walk singly from the platform, like thi
figures in a dream, and take their places
side by side at the threshold of the Peabody pew,
facing the audience. Justin takes hymn booh
and, opening it, holds it with Nancy, but there is
no other movement.
THE READER
Come, Nancy, dear as any living child ;
Come, Justin, true and staunch, tho' slow to woo J
As if 'twere real, we long to hear you sing
The good old hymn tunes in the old-time pew.
[The organist plays " Siloam" once through, very
softly. On the third line of the verse Nancy
and Justin raise their eyes for a long look at
each other, then drop them again.
THE READER
And now the women of the modest tale.
Pious as Dorcas, free from vulgar show,
I summon for the author once again
That they may make their curtsies ere you gOk
Elvira, leader of the Dorcas band.
Precede your faithful sisters up the aisle.
THE OLD PEABODY PEW 45
Good Mistress Miller, follow in her train,
And genial Widow Buzzell, bow and smile.
Now Mistress Sargent, wise in village lore ;
Maria, sharp of tongue but sound of heart ;
And neat Lobelia, who's no friend to man.
Perhaps because she's never felt Love's dart.
Last comes the parson's wife, sweet Nancy's friend ;
Her curtsy, then the reader's — ^then the end.
[The members of the cast have come slowly up one
aisle, crossed before the audience and curtsied,
going down the other aisle. Nancy and Justin
follow arm in arm, and the reader joins the dis-
appearing procession, last in line.]
THE END
THE CHARM SCHOOL
Comedy in 3 acts. By Alice Duer Miller and Robert
Milton. Produced originally at the Bijou Theatre in New-
York. 6 males, 10 females. (May be played by 5 males
and 3 females) . Any number of school girls may be used
in the ensembles. 2 interior scenes. Modern costumes.
The story of "The Charm School" 11 familiar to Mrs. Miller's
readers. It relates the adventures of a handsome young automobile
salesman scarcely out of his *teens who, upon inheriting a girls'
boarding school from a maiden aunt, insists on running it himself,
according to his own ideas, chief of which is, by the way, that the
dominant feature in the education of the young girl of today
should be CHARM.
The situations that arise are teeming with humor— dean, whcde-
some humor. In the end the young man gires up the school and
promises to wait until the most precocious of his pupils reaches a
marriageable age. The freshness of youth, the charm of originality,
and the wholesome pleasant entertainment embodied in this play
make it one of the most popular on our list. !We strongly recommend
it for high school production.
(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price 7; Cents.
CLARENCE
A comedy in 4 acts. By Booth Tarkington. 5 males, 5
females. 2 interior scenes. Modem costumes.
Clarence has no medals, no shoulder bars, no great accomplish-
ment. One of the "five million," he served where he was sent —
though it was no further than Texas. As an entomologist he found
^-on this side of the ocean — ^no field for his specialty in the great
war. So they set him to driving mules.
Now, reduced to civil life and seeking a job, he finds » position
in the home of one Wheeler, a wealthy Englewood man with a
family. And because he'd "been in the army" he becomes guide,
philosopher and friend to the members of the same agitated and
distracted family group. Clarence's position is an anomalous one. He
mends the bathroom plumbing, he tunes the piano, he types — off
stage — he plays the saxophone. And around him revolves such a
group of characters as only Booth Tarkington could offer. It is a
real American comedy; and the audience ripples with appreciative
and delighted laughter.
"It is a< American as 'Huckleberry Finn' or pumpkin pie." N. T.
Times.
(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price 7j Cents.
A CHURCH MOUSE
A comedy in 3 acts. By Ladislaus Fodor. Produced
originally by William A. Brady, Ltd., at the Playhouse,
New York. ; males, 2 females. 2 interior scenes. Modern
costumes. I
Tliis sparkling, tender and entirely captivating little comedy is one
of tlie most delightful items that we have added to our list in a long
time. As Robert Garland, in reriewing the New York production for
the New York 'World-Telegram, puts it — ^"it spoofed big business and
went as far as to laugh out loud in the face of the depression." There
is enough good clean laughter in this play to make it a welcome
visitor at any theatre.
The story is concerned with the manner in which a plain, but very
efficient, stenographer first gets a position as the secretary to a great
Viennese bank president, and how finally she becomes his wife. To
bring this about she discards her plain office clothes, adorns herself
in a becoming evening dress and decides to make her employer realize
that she is more than a writing machine. Her change of costume
effects so complete a transformation that everyone who sees her hails
her as ravishing and exquisite; so much so that the bank president
aslu her — little Susie Sachs — to become his wife — the Baroness von
Ullrich, if you please. A captivating and refreshing comedy, ideal for
amateur and little theatre production.
(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) FucE 75 CEim,
POLLY WITH A PAST
Comedy in 3 acts. By George Middleton and Guy
Bolton. 7 males, 5 females. 2 interiors. Modern costumes.
"Polly** is one of the most successful comedies of recent years.
Produced by David Belasco, with Ina Claire in the leading role,
it ran a whole season at the Belasco Theatre, New York, as well
as in London. The play has to do with the clever efforts of a girl to
manufacture for herself a picturesque past in order to make herself
more interesting and attractive. The little deceit gets many persons
I \j . into trouble, but Folly and her friends eventually turn the trouble to
good account, and Folly finds herself — after the secret is divulged —
even more interesting and attractive than before, despite her desperate
confession to being the daughter of a Baptist clergyman. Exceedingly
good fun, with just enough sophistication.
Your audience will find here an entertainment that is dainty,
sparkling and diverting.
(Royalty, twenty-five doUan.) Pkice 7} Cbnti.
WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT?
A comedy in 3 actc. By Marie Doran. 5 raales, 6
females, i interior scene. Modern costumes.
Caa yott or anyone picture > chaming grandmother coining home
from a hoipital after recuperating from an automobUe accideot in
which she snffereil numeroua concuanons declaring that she had a
mo>t ddightfol time in the hospital and made many friends? ^ould
you believe it? It's in the play. And that's not all for this madiine-
age grandma. She announces her greatest kick in Kfe comes from read-
ing mystery stories. But this play is different, you see; it has a novel
theme and original possibilities of which the author has taken full ad-
vantage. XTe meet Ted Barclay, a lively youth, bent upon a career, and
just home from college. Grandmother suggests that Ted become a great
detective. At first, Ted balks, but finally agrees to become a real
sleuth. He is charged with the solution of a fictitious mystery leading
up to a baffling REAL jewel robbery. Ted becomes ambitious To outdo
Sherlock Holmes, to solve the robbery and bring in "Kaffles" in a
hurry. From this develops comedy that moves briskly and humor-
ously. Ted experiences many a thrill as a **bloodhound of the law.*'
He gets clues leading here, there and everywhere, but mosdy no-
where. It begins to look rather dismal for Ted with Grandmother
expressing disgust, until Ted finally picks up a lead and astoni^ei
Grandmother and the others by solving the mystery single handed.
(Royalty, ten dollars.) Puce 30 Cents.
'ABSENT -MINDED JUDY
An original comedy in 3 acts. By 'Wilbur Braun. ; male^,
6 females, i simple interior. Modern costumes.
Here is a play that is replete with youth and laughter containing
as novel a plot as has been written in many a day. Judy Joyce, the
delightful heroine of the play is both air-minded and absent-minded^.
Arriving home from a long walk one morning it is brought to her
attention that her brother Jerry is to make a non-stop flight from
coast to coast in an airplane belonging to Stephen Brody. Just as
she reaches the house Jerry breaks his arm and is unable to make
the flight. Everything depends on that flight. So Judy slips out of
the house and a short time later the assembled family is met with
the news that Judy, who has never been in a plane before in all
her life, was seen to enter the plane and that now it is gone! How
Judy makes the flight retrieving the family fortunes, how her absent-
mindedness win^ her the dearest thing that life has to offer any
young girl, how her name is blazed forth on the front ' pages at
every newspaper; all these events co-ordinate in making an evening
of ripe entertainment.
(Royalty, tea dollars.) Price 30 Cents.
WHY THE CHIMES RANG. A play in one act by Elizabeth
McFadden. Adapted from the Story of the same name by R. M.
Alden. Especially recommended as a Christmas play because: It
teaches the story of the Christ child, rather than the Byzantine
legend of Santa Claus. It may be adapted to the ritual of any
Christian denomination by slight changeR of costume and setting.
It offers a rare opportunity for exquisite church music. It may be
given in the barest room, againjst a background of Christmas greens,
or it may be presented «ith tite most lavish equipment of a. profes-
sional theatre, yet both productions will thrill the imagination and
touch the heart. It teaches the beauty of a charity that gives heart
' and service as well as gold. Price, 35 cents.
THE CHRISTMAS STORY, dramatized by Virginia A. Gris-
wold. This is the Bible story* of the birth of the Christ, using the
Bible language as far as possibly. It lends itself to four scenes:
The hill country of Judea, the throne-room of Herod, the market-
place in Bethlehem and the stable with the manger. It can be
produced in the simplest manner on a platform, or with all the
Oriental setting and accessories which the imagination and means
can provide. Plays about an hour, and any number of people, adults
and children, can be used. Malces an admirable Christmas enter-
tainment and is well adapted for the use of churches and schools.
Price, 35 cents.
THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS. A Christmas play in
three short acts by William , Patterson Taytor. The NIGHT BE-
FORE CHRISTMAS is a little play In three acts which may be
produced well within an hour. The first act presents the wondrous
and hurried night before Christmas preparation activities in Santa's
workshop at the North Pole. The second act is a night before
Christmas home bed-chamber incident, involving the desperate situa-
tion resulting from a childish difference between two brothers, which
difference — made up" true — introduces, also, the woeful possibilities'
of Santa's calamitous displeasure. (In this and the last act the
children's classic, "The Night Before Christmas," is dramatized.)
In the third act "All's well that ends well." A quartette supplies the
music. This little play has groom during years of local use by the
author and others. Its unbroken success in stirring and impressing
the children (and the "grown-ups," too — whom, also, the author
aimed to reach) was urged as a reason for its publication. Strongly
recommended as an entertainment for the holiday season. Pric^,, -30
cents.
A DREAM ON CHRISTMAS EVE. a very pleasing enter-
tainment for little folks, by Ina Home. Time about thirty minutes,
but it can be lengthened to any duration by the further introduction
of each child's specialty. The costumes are aocorditig to the char-
acter represented and are easily made. The story is the dream of a
little girl on Christmas eve, in which she views the good things
which she is to receive on the morrow. Santa Claus enters and
while filling the stockiiw tells a stor;^ of the little people to whom
he gives his presents. Then the Christinas pudding enters and tells
how she was made. Then the pumpkin pie, the huly, mistletoe, ice
cream, crackers, candy, etc., enter and tell their stOries. The play
is easy to give aiid can, be held in the class room, Sunday-school
or a home, Prke, 30 cents,
THE TOY SHOP. A new and original entertainment for children
by F. S. Isham and Edward WeitzeT, with some new and up-to-date
miisic. No special number required. Particularly adapted to school
or Sunday-school entertainments. One of the best entertainments for
children published. Price 3() cefiits.
SAMUEL FRENCH, PubUsher, 25 West Forty-fifth Sfa
New York City
THE STAR IN THE EAST. , &b1e play in four acts by Anna
Jane Harnwell. 9 males, 4 females. Flaye a full evening'. Biblical
costumes. This four aci drama is one of the prize plays resulting
from the contest recently held b7 the Dtjama League of America
in the hope of securing^ much needed Biblical scenes for use in the
; religious schools. A drama of the Book of Esthers It is written
in blank verse, and adheres closely to the Bible narrative, Mbr-
decai is the stiir role for a man, but the characters of Esther,
Vasbti and the King are almost equally good. The very beautiful
and dramatic setting of the Old Testament story -makes it quite
as interesting as a secular production, though: it is especially suit-
able for church or Sunday School use. 'Settings as simple, or as
elaborate as desired. Price 35 cents.
JEPTHAH'S DAUGHTER. Biblical drama in 1 act, by Elnm
Ebrlich 'I.evtnger. 5 males, 6 females. This one-act drama o{
thd time of Esther is one of the prize plays resulting from the
contest recently held by the Drama League of America in the hcipe
of securing much needed material on Biblical themes for x>se in the
religious schools. It presents the familiar story from a new and
dramatic angle, with a strong elem^t- of suspense. The characters
are vividly drawn, the dialogue poetii; without being stilted. It
may be presented either with simple settings and a small group, or
. as a pageant play with elaborate scenic effects, a large cast and
interpolated choruses and group dances. Price 3S cents.
THE NATIVITY, a Christmas festival composed entirely of sele>
tions from the Bible stoiry of the Nativity, arranged as a mystery
play. It is accompanied by carols and is adapted for easy pro--
duction by children or youflgi people, to be given as a. service at
, Ghristtoas time in the ohiirehe'si 'The "Natisity",,, was published
a few years ago in the "Youth's Compan|ot>," Since that time
. ^ere has been so laVge a demand fqir it .&y -churches of all de-
nominations we have' arranged for its publication. Price, 35 cents.
SAMUEL FRENCH. PubKslier, 25 West Forty-fifth St.
New York City
Cornell University Library
PS 3302.04 1917
The old Peabody pew,
3 1924 010 553 315
*ii;!.
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