haven't eloped?

Betty. Why, Mother dear, what do you mean?

Mrs. Warren. These ladies said—said——

(The ladies all begin to talk at once.)

Mrs. Lawty. You see, Betty dear, Mrs. Pickering told Mrs. Romney, who told me that——

Mrs. Romney. I didn't! Nothing of the sort, Betty! It was you yourself, Mrs. Lawty, who told Mrs. Pickering, who told——

Mrs. Pickering. Me? I had nothing at all to do with it ... nothing at all. I only know that Mrs. Lawer said——

Mrs. Lawer. I said? I said nothing. It was Mrs. Lawty, who told Mrs. Pickering, who told Mrs. Romney—oh, dear me, I mean——

Mrs. Romney. It's a damn lie!

Ladies. (They all gasp for breath; all begin to talk at once) I heard that Doctor Hunter—You told me that he treated his wife shamefully—No, I said—Flowers, he sent her flowers every morning—You told Mrs. Pickering that he was a conversationalist—She said a revolutionist—I said—You said—And then she said—Anyway, I do not believe he is a safe person. But very good looking, my dear. Etc.

Betty. Oh, dear ... what is it all about?

Mrs. Romney. You, my dear, you.

Betty. Me?

Mrs. Romney. These ladies said that you——

Mrs. Lawty. These ladies!

Ladies. (They all begin to talk at once again) Why, it was she herself who said—I had nothing to do with it at all—All I know about the whole affair is that—The impertinence of her saying—I didn't say a word about—— Etc.

Mrs. Warren. It was all of them ... every one of them. They said you had—oh, dear, I just can't say it! They came here to tell me you had eloped with ... with a married man ... with Doctor Hunter!

Betty. Ladies! Mother! How dare you! (She runs to her mother.) How dare you say such a thing! (To her mother) My poor, dear Mother!

Mrs. Warren. And it is so untrue. Oh! Clara ... Clara! My smelling-salts ... my smelling-salts! I'm going to faint ... I'm going to faint ... I'm going to faint!

Mrs. Romney. (Running to Mrs. Warren) Here, use mine, my dear, use mine.

Mrs. Lawty. But the letter, Mrs. Warren.

Mrs. Warren. (She has been fanning herself furiously with the letter. She suddenly holds it up as if it might be a bomb ready to go off in her hand.) The letter! Oh! Take it ... take it ... take it away!

Betty. (Taking the letter) Why, it is a note from——

Ladies. (On the very edges of their chairs) Yes?

Betty. From Mrs. Hunter.

Ladies. Oh. (They watch Betty curiously as she reads the note.)

Betty. Mother, Mrs. Hunter asks if I might go for a carriage drive with her this afternoon to gather wild flowers. She is going to stop for me. She says the doctor told her how very fond I am of flowers.

Mrs. Warren. (With a great sigh of relief) Oh!

Betty. May I go?

Mrs. Warren. Why, yes, dear, if you think——

Mrs. Romney. I fear these ladies were quite mistaken about——

Mrs. Lawty. These ladies, indeed! Do you not include yourself,—that is to say, are you not one of us?

Mrs. Romney. God forbid!

Ladies. Oh!

(The knocker sounds.)

Mrs. Warren. Clara ... Clara!

(Clara enters from the Left.)

Clara. Did you call me, ma'am?

Mrs. Warren. Clara, there is someone at the door.

Clara. Very well, ma'am. (She goes out.)

Mrs. Pickering. I am sure Mrs. Warren will forgive our very grave mistake. But it was for her sake that——

Betty. How could you ever dream of worrying my dear mother by such scandalous gossip? It is shameful!

Mrs. Warren. Betty ... Betty!

Mrs. Lawty. You, my dear, are still too young to understand.

(Clara enters.)

Mrs. Lawer. I fear we were overquick in our judgment.

Mrs. Warren. Yes, Clara?

Clara. It is Mrs. Hunter, ma'am.

Mrs. Warren. Mrs. Hunter? Do have her come right in, Clara.

Clara. Yes, ma'am. Shall I bring more tea, ma'am?

Mrs. Warren. Yes, Clara ... and cake, Clara.

Clara. Yes, ma'am. (She goes out.)

Ladies. Oh, shall we stay? Or shall we go? It might be embarrassing—I am sure Mrs. Hunter——

Mrs. Romney. Such an interesting person ... Mrs. Hunter.

Mrs. Lawty. I am so glad she and her husband have come to live with us here in Northampton.

Mrs. Pickering. We must ask her to join the "Helping Hand Society."

Mrs. Lawer. I am sure she will have so many good ideas.

Mrs. Warren. Ladies, I am so glad you are all here this afternoon ... so pleased.

(The ladies very properly arrange their dresses and bonnets as the curtain falls.)

The Touch-Down

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, but any number of characters can be introduced in the ensembles. Costumes modern. One interior scene throughout the play. Time, 2-1/2 hours.

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story of life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals with the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and the humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith.

"The Touch-Down" has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We strongly recommend it as a high-class and well-written comedy.

Price, 30 Cents.

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2-1/4 hours.

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates that her pretty niece must be affianced before she is twenty-one, and married to her fiancé within a year, if she is to get her spinster relative's million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untrammeled by any other consideration than that of true love. The