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ACT I

A charming room in the Tillmans' house. The walls are white woodwork, framing in old tapestries of deep foliage design, with here and there a flaming flamingo; white furniture with old, green brocade cushions. The room is in the purest Louis XVI. The noon sunlight streams through a window on the left. On the opposite side is a door to the hall. At back double doors open into a corridor which leads to the ballroom. At left centre are double doors to the front hall. A great, luxurious sofa is at the left, with chairs sociably near it, and on the other side of the room a table has chairs grouped about it. On floral small table are books and objets d'art, and everywhere there is a profusion of white roses and maidenhair fern.

In the stage directions Left and Right mean Left and Right of actor, as he faces audience.

Three smart-looking Servants are peering through the crack of the folding door, their backs to the audience. The pretty, slender Maid is on a chair. The elderly Butler dignifiedly stands on the floor. The plump, overfed little Housemaid is kneeling so as to see beneath the head of the Butler.

Housemaid. [Gasping.] Oh, ain't it a beautiful sight!

Butler. [Pompously.] Not to me who 'ave seen a Lord married in Hengland.

Maggie. Oh, you make me sick, Mr. Potts, always talking of your English Aristocracy! I'm sure there never was no prettier wedding than this. Nor as pretty a bride as Miss Jinny.

Butler. [Correcting her.] Mrs. Haustin!

Housemaid. She looks for all the world like one of them frosted angels on a Christmas card. My, I wish I could 'a' seen her go up the aisle with the organ going for all it was worth!

Maggie. It was a beautiful sight!

Butler. A good many 'appens to be 'aving the sense to be going now.

Housemaid. Could you hear Miss Jinny say "I do," and make them other remarks?

Maggie. Yes, plain, though her voice was trembly like. But Mr. Austin he almost shouted!

[Laughing nervously in excitement.

Butler. 'E's glad to get 'er!

Maggie. And her him!

Housemaid. Yes, that's what I likes about it. Did any one cry?

Maggie. Mrs. Tillman. Lots of people are going now.

Housemaid. What elegant clothes! Oh, gosh!

Butler. [Superciliously.] Mrs. Cullingham don't seem in no 'urry; she's a common lot!

Maggie. I don't care, she's rich and Miss Jinny likes her; she just throws money around to any poor person or church or hospital that wants it, or don't! So she can't be so very common neither, Mr. Potts!

Housemaid. Say, I catch on to something! Young Mr. Tillman's sweet on that there tall bridesmaid.

Maggie. [Sharply.] Who?

Butler. Miss Chester. I've seen there was something goin' hon between them whenever she's dined or lunched 'ere.

Maggie. [Angry.] 'Tain't true!

Butler. I'll bet my month's wages.

Maggie. I don't believe you!

Butler. Why, what's it to you, please?

Maggie. [Saving herself.] Nothing—

Housemaid. Well, I guess it's truth enough. That's the second time I've seen him squeeze her hand when no one wasn't lookin'.

Maggie. Here, change places with me! [Getting down from her chair.] If you was a gentleman, Mr. Potts, you'd have given me your place!

[Witheringly.

Butler. If I was a gentleman, miss, I wouldn't be here; I'd be on the other side of the door.

[He moves the chairs away.

Maggie. [To Housemaid.] Honest, you saw something between them?

Housemaid. Who?

Maggie. Him and her? Mr. Geoffrey and Miss Chester—

Housemaid. Cheese it! they're coming this way!

[She and the Maid and the Butler vanish through the door Right.

[Geoffrey and Ruth enter through the double doors quickly at back. Geoffrey is a young, good-looking man, but with a weak face. He is of course very smartly dressed. Ruth is a very serenely beautiful girl, rather noble in type, but unconscious and unpretending in manner. They close the doors quickly behind them.

Geoffrey. We'll not be interrupted here, and I must have a few words with you before you go.

[He follows her to the sofa where she sits, and leans over it, with his arm about her shoulder.

Ruth. Oh, Geof,—Geof, why weren't we married like this?

Geoffrey. It couldn't be helped, darling!

Ruth. It isn't the big wedding I miss, oh, no, it's only it seemed sweeter in a church. Why did we have to steal off to Brooklyn, to that poor, strange little preacher in his stuffy back parlour, and behave as if we were doing something of which we were ashamed?

Geoffrey. You love me, I love you,—isn't that the chief thing, dearest?

Ruth. But how much longer must we keep it secret?

Geoffrey. Till I can straighten my affairs out. I can't explain it all to you; there are terrible debts,—one more than all the others,—a debt I made when I was in college.

Ruth. If I could only help you! I have a little money.

Geoffrey. No, I love you too much; besides, this debt isn't money, and I hope to get rid of it somehow before long.

Ruth. Forgive me for worrying you. It is only that every one is so happy at this wedding except me,—dear Jinny brimming over with joy, as I would be,—and it's made me feel—a little—

Geoffrey. [Comes around the sofa and sits beside her.] I know, dear, and it's made me feel what a brute I am! Oh, if