to the Duke of Birmingham when tea was first introduced into England, passed into the hands of the Puritans in the time of Cromwell, was brought to this country in—— (Enter Mr. Leon Burnett, r.) Why, good-evening, Burnett.

Mr. B. Good-evening, good-evening, Professor. I've come over to get you——

Mr. T. (pushing forward a chair). Sit down, my friend.

Mr. B. (sitting down). Haven't time, really. I just want you to come over to inspect my new burglar alarm—my own invention—greatest device of the century——

Prof. G. (fidgeting about). If you'll excuse me, I'll join the ladies.

Mr. T. (smiling significantly). Certainly, certainly, Professor. [Exit Prof. G., l., with alacrity.

Mr. B. (laughing). Say, does he board over here?

Mr. T. (sitting down). No, that is—it's a state secret, Burnett, but you are like one of the family; Gates is going to marry Hilda.

Mr. B. (springing up in surprise). No?

Mr. T. Yes.

(Hilda appears in door l. and listens intently, unnoticed by the others.)

Mr. B. He's too old.

Mr. T. Oh, no, merely a dignified age for a girl so conservatively reared as Hilda has been. She is much in advance of her years, I assure you.

Mr. B. (pacing the floor thoughtfully). I don't like it.

Mr. T. I think it a most suitable match, and I am intending to present the happy pair with my most precious heirloom—the Templeton teapot.

(Hilda disappears.)

Mr. B. (sitting down). Now, Fanny had always planned Hilda for Eric—her brother, you know. By the way, we've just received a wire saying that he was coming this evening. I don't know just what time to expect him, for he comes and goes like a streak of lightning. I'll be glad to bring him over and introduce him.

Mr. T. Do, by all means. I know him well by reputation. His collection of antiques is very valuable.

Mr. B. Finest private collection in Massachusetts. Eric will hardly leave it. He's never even been to see us since we moved here. But come over to see my burglar alarm. I've just set it. It's going to revolutionize the catching of burglars in this country.

Enter Mrs. Fanny Burnett, r., hurriedly.

Mrs. B. Oh, Leon, Leon, the burglar alarm is going off! I am sure there's a burglar in the pantry.

Mr. B. We'll see about this. Come, Templeton.

(Mr. T. takes a revolver from a drawer in the desk.)

Mr. T. We'll catch him in the act! [Exeunt Mr. T., Mr. B. and Mrs. B., r., hurriedly.

Enter Hilda, l., in street costume, carrying a letter and a suit-case. She places letter on desk, goes to door r., pauses irresolutely, then goes to desk, sits down and buries her face in her hands. Enter Eric Dean, r., with overcoat and suit-case. Drops both, and approaches Hilda softly.

Dean. Who do you think——?

Hilda (springing up with a little scream). What—who——?

Dean (drawing back in confusion). I—er—beg your pardon. (Takes off his hat.)

Hilda. Why, it's you!

Dean. You?

Hilda. Don't tell me that you're a burglar. How dare you come here?

Dean (politely). I'm not a burglar. My name is Dean—of Boston. I'm Mrs. Burnett's brother. I thought this was her house, and, as the door was open, I walked in. I took you for Fanny. (Looks about.) I guess I'm in the wrong place.

Hilda (laughing). Mrs. Burnett lives next door. Mr. Dean, I've often heard of you, and I'm glad to know you. (Extends her hand.) Let me thank you again for your promptness in rescuing me from that brute and saving my money.

Dean (taking her hand). It was my privilege. I wish that I might be always near when you are in danger, Miss——

Hilda. Hilda Templeton.

Dean (in delight). So you're Hilda. Fanny has often told me of you. What a dear old-fashioned name!

Hilda (bitterly). Yes; everything about me is old-fashioned. I was born in the Middle Ages, Mr. Dean.

Dean. You hardly look it.

Hilda. But to-night ends it all. To-morrow I shall be free, free to do as I please for the first time in my life.

Dean (looking at her suit-case). You're not going just as I'm coming? I'd hoped that we'd be such friends.

Hilda. I'm going to my cousin's in New York—to stay—forever, I guess.

Dean (anxiously). What will you do there?

Hilda (with enthusiasm). Something worth while. I'll be an actress, or a settlement-worker, or a suffragette—I don't care what.

Dean. And your parents?

Hilda. Hush! They do not know that I'm going. (Goes to door l. and listens, tiptoes back. Speaks hurriedly.) My father is a collector of antiques. I've been brought up in the stifled atmosphere of tradition. I've never had anything that wasn't at least a thousand years old, or a friend that didn't belong to a family as ancient as that of Noah. I'm sick of it——

Dean. But, my dear girl, you can't——

Hilda (excitedly). Listen! Now father is planning to marry me to a man twice my age, who cares nothing for me, except as a means of acquiring the teapot—that is, all that the teapot stands for: a family-tree, prestige, that sort of thing.

Dean (incredulously). The teapot?

Hilda. Don't you know about our teapot? (Takes teapot from mantel.) Here it is. (Sarcastically.) It belonged to somebody when tea was first introduced into Europe; it was seized by the Puritans under Cromwell; it was brought to this country in 1680, and has been in our family for over two centuries. It's what the teapot stands for that I'm running away from.

Dean (taking the teapot and examining it with the eye of an expert). It's a beauty—rather a harmless looking object to drive one away from home.

Hilda (indignantly). Don't you dare to make fun of me!

Dean (setting down teapot). I was never more serious in my life. Listen, Miss Templeton, if you