Royal. Age 35. Act I. Velvet breakfast jacket, light pants, dark vest, dark curly wig slightly sprinkled with gray, dark mustache, and side whiskers. Act II. Dark suit, thin travelling “ulster,” slouch hat. Act III. Dark mixed suit.
Matt. Age 45. Act I. Ragged suit, with army cap, full gray ragged beard, rough gray wig; red nose, and general make up of a drunkard. Act II. Riding coat, light pants, riding boots, wide collar rolled over coat, open at throat; neat gray wig, long gray side whiskers; face clean shaved, a little florid, whole appearance neat. Act III. 1st dress. Old ragged army overcoat, buttoned at throat, slouch hat, whiskers and wig as in act II, but chin rough and dirty, nose red, general rough appearance. 2d dress, on last appearance, same as in act II, chin clean and smooth; general appearance the same as in act II.
Marcus. Age 24. Act I. Genteel riding suit, with boots and whip. Act II. Darksuit, and travelling overcoat or ulster. Act III. Handsome mixed full suit. Hair and mustache natural.
Simon. Age 25. Act I. Fashionable “loud” spring suit, red neck-tie, white hat, red wig. Act II. Dark pants, green apron, short green jacket. Act III. Light pants, blue coat with brass buttons, black hat, large gold chain, diamond pin a la Tweed; dark pants and white gaiters.
May. Act I. Tasty morning dress, with pretty morning cap. Act II. Afternoon dress, muslin; apron and gloves on entrance. Act III. Evening dress, handsome and tasty.
Bessie. Three dresses of the same character to contrast with May.
Nancy. Act I. Balmoral Petticoat, calico dress, pinned up; sleeves rolled up. Act II. Neat muslin dress, with apron. Act III. Brown dress, white collar and cuffs.
Scene. —Room in Royal Manning’s home. Doors C., open to garden; long window in flat; L., with curtains, draped back, stand of flowers before it; upright piano against flat, R., of door, at which Bessie is seated, playing, back to audience. Mantel, R., with fireplace. Royal standing in chair hanging a sabre (sheathed) above the mantel. Table L., C., May seated L. of it, sewing. Chair R. of table, hassock near it; ottoman back near window. Doors 1 and 3 entrance R.; door 2d entrance, L. Flowers in vase on mantel; whole scene tasty and comfortable. Music at rising of curtain, – “The Dearest Spot on Earth to me is Home, Sweet Home!”
Royal. There, May, we’ll hang this relic of my warrior days above the mantel, to remind us, that now I have become a husband, the sword is beaten into a ploughshare.
May. Very appropriate, now you have become a husbandman.
Roy. Good, very good! Wedlock has sharpened your wits. Yes, I am the happy husband of the best little wife ever erring man was blessed with. Oh, blissful state of matrimony! why did I not become your naturalized citizen before? (Steps from chair). There, old friend, rest in peace! no more shall we in fellowship dash upon the enemy; no more, hand in hand, encounter the perils of the battlefield, the glory of triumph, the shame of defeat. Oh, rest in peace, old dog of war, until you grow rusty with honorable age!
May. How very pathetic! You have pronounced the eulogy. Bess, a dirge would be appropriate just now.
Bess. Yes. How would “Old Dog Tray” suit the occasion?
Roy. Very bad. A biting sarcasm (Looks at sabre). Rather ornamental. Hey, May? (Sits in chair, R. of table.)
May. It has a wicked look. It makes me shudder.
Roy. Indeed! then down it comes. (Rises.)
May. No, let it hang. I only fear that, like its master, it may occasionally have martial fits, and then —
Roy. Fits! Well, what then?
May. My poor vases would fall beneath the sword.
Roy. Never fear; like its master, ’tis securely tied to your apron-string. How time flies! ’Tis ten years since my old friend and I closed our campaign.
May. And just three months since we closed our campaign —
Roy. Of courtship, yes, and massed our forces for the battle of life. Yes, yes. Then I captured the heart, which, for two years, I had so valiantly attacked.
May. Valiantly, indeed. ’Twas with fear and trembling, you, the veteran warrior, approached the citadel.
Roy. Which was longing to surrender.
May. No; I’ll not confess that.
Roy. But you do not regret it, May? You are happy here?
May. Happy, Roy? I never dared to dream of so much happiness. I, a poor sewing-girl, earning my living with the needle, have now a home any lady might well be proud of, and a husband —
Bess. Ahem!
Roy (rising). Hallo! Little Pitcher’s ears are wide open. (Crossing to mantel, and leaning against it). What’s the matter, Bess?
Bess (swinging round on stool). Can’t you speak a little louder, you two? It’s so provoking to only hear the ripple of a conversation which you know will be sure to end in a smacking breeze.
Roy. I was not within saluting distance. (Aside.) I wish I had been.
Bess. Then I should have had a full report of your conversation. Ha! ha! ha! you two have been married three months, and have not yet finished your courting. Remarkable vitality! I thought love-making ended at the altar.
Roy.
