Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays
Chapter 57 : JAMES. Well, if my own particular flame hadn't been fairly robust, the recent drau

JAMES. Well, if my own particular flame hadn't been fairly robust, the recent draughts might have knocked it about a bit. You have no more sacrifices in immediate view?... [_She looks at him in a certain marvelous way, and he suddenly swoops down and kisses her._] To the altar! March! Dash; we shall want another witness.

GERALD. Couldn't I serve?

ROSAMUND. You're sure it wouldn't be too much for your feelings?

GERALD. I should enjoy it.... I mean I shan't mind very much. Let us therefore start. If we're too soon you can watch the process at work on others, and learn how to comport yourselves. By the way, honeymoon?

JAMES. Paris. Charing Cross 1:30. Dine at Dover.

GERALD. Then you shall eat that lunch I have ordered at the Savoy.

ROSAMUND. Er--talking of lunch, as I'm hostess here, perhaps I should ask you men if you'd like a drink.

JAMES AND GERALD [_looking hopefully at each other_]. Well, yes.

ROSAMUND. I have some beautiful lemonade.

JAMES AND GERALD [_still looking at each other, but with a different expression_]. Oh, that will be delightful! [_Lemonade and gla.s.ses produced._]

GERALD. I drink to the happy pair.

ROSAMUND [_a little sinister_]. And I--to Madge.

JAMES. And I--to a good woman--Mrs. Pet [_looking at her fixedly_]. All men like a good woman, but she shouldn't be too good--it's a strain on the system. [_General consumption of lemonade, the men bravely swallowing it down, Rosamund rests her head on James's shoulder._]

ROSAMUND. It occurs to me, Gerald, you only ordered lunch for two at the Savoy.

GERALD. Well, that's right. By that time you and James, if I may call him so, will be one, and me makes two.

[_Curtain._]

THE LITTLE STONE HOUSE

A PLAY

BY GEORGE CALDERON

Copyright, 1913, by Sidgwick & Jackson, Ltd.

All rights reserved.

THE LITTLE STONE HOUSE is founded on a story by the same author, published anonymously some years ago in _Temple Bar_.

The agents for amateur rights in this play are Messrs. Samuel French, 28 West 38th Street, New York, and Joseph Williams, Ltd., 32 Great Portland Street, London, from whom a license to play it in public must be obtained.

It was first performed for the Stage Society at the Aldwych Theatre, London, January 29, 1911, with the following cast:

PRASKoVYA, _a lodging-house keeper_ _Mrs. Saba Raleigh_ VARVaRA, _her servant_ _Miss Eily Malyon_ ASTeRYI, _a lodger_ _Mr. Franklin Dyall_ FOMa, _a lodger_ _Mr. Stephen T. Ewart_ SPIRIDoN, _a stonemason_ _Mr. Leon M. Lion_ A STRANGER _Mr. O. P. Heggie_ A CORPORAL _Mr. E. Cresfan_

Produced by MR. KENELM FOSS.

SCENE: _Small provincial town in Russia._

Reprinted by permission of, and special arrangement with, Messrs.

Sidgwick and Jackson, Ltd., publishers of the English edition.

THE LITTLE STONE HOUSE

A PLAY BY GEORGE CALDERON

[_Praskovya's sitting-room. Street door in porch and a curtainless window at the back. It is night; the light of an oil-lamp in the street dimly shows snow-covered houses and falling snow. The room is plainly furnished: a bed, a curtain on a cord, some books, eikons on a shelf in the corner with a wick in a red gla.s.s bowl burning before them, paper flowers, and Easter eggs on strings. A photograph of a man of twenty hangs by the eikons. There are doors to kitchen and to the lodgers' rooms._

_Varvara is discovered sitting by a lamp darning stockings._

_There is an atmosphere of silence, solitude, and Russian monotony. The clock ticks. A man is seen pa.s.sing in the street; his feet make no sound on the snowy ground. There is the sound of a concertina and a man who laughs in the distance out of doors.

Then silence again._

_Enter Asteryi, stout and lazy; gray hair thrown untidily back, a rough beard. He is in slippers and dirty dressing-gown, with a big case full of Russian cigarettes in his pocket._]

AST. Is Praskovya Petrovna not at home?

VAR. [_rising_]. She is not at home, Asteryi Ivanovitch. She has gone to Vespers at St. Pantaleimon's in the Marsh. It is the festival of the translation of St. Pantaleimon's relics. [_Varvara sits again. Asteryi walks to and fro smoking a cigarette._] Will you not have your game of patience as usual?

AST. Without Praskovya Petrovna?

VAR. She would be sorry if you missed your game because she was late.

You can play again when she returns; she likes to watch you.

AST. Very well.

[_Varvara gets a pack of cards. Asteryi sits at a table at one side and plays._]

VAR. Shall I prepare the samovar?

AST. Not yet; I will wait. How greasy these cards are [_laying out a patience_].

VAR. No wonder, Asteryi Ivanovitch. It is two years since you bought this pack.