Plays - One Hundred Dollar Reward

Joe Cone

Old Saybrook, Conn.

P.O. Box 47

 

O N E  H U N D R E D  D O L L A R S  R E W A R D !

 

A Comedy in One Act.

 

By

 

Joe Cone.

 

Author of The Waybackers

 

(As originally presented by members of the Musical and

Dramatic Club, Academy Hall, Saybrook, Conn., April 9, 1907.)

 

 

Characters.

 

Jack Daniels, a rover,-------------------Jos.  A.  Cone.

“  Happy Walker ,” a tramp,--------------- “    “    “    “

Mrs. Daniels. Jack’s mother---------------Mrs. J. A. Ayer.

Hezekiah Brown, in love with Mrs. Daniels-Charles  King

Mary Green, Jack’s sweetheart------------Miss La Reine Hosmer.

 

 

 

Scene: Typical Country Sitting Room.

 

        Time: The Present.

 

              Time of playing: Thirty minutes.

 

                      Costumes: Modern and eccentric.

 

 

ONE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD.

 

 

Scene. – Mrs. Daniel’s sitting room. Table and easy chair C. Old fashioned sofa R. Small table and chair L. Exits C.R. and L.

(Discovered Mrs. Daniels looking over box of old

letters, and treasures. Seated at table C.)

 

(Enter Mary, C., throwing off hat and wrap.)

 

Mary.  It’s of no use, I’ve hunted the city over and I can’t find a respectable place. I guess I’ll have to stay with you awhile longer and try to find something to do here in the country.

Mrs. D.  Good land, child, you are welcome to stay here as long as you want. This was to be your home anyway, and I don’t see why you shouldn’t stay here. I’d be pretty lonesome I you were to go away, an’ – an’ Jack gone, too.

Mary.  Well, it looks as if I must stay, but I don’t want to be a burden to you, Mrs. Daniels. Tomorrow I shall try to find something to do here in the village. Then I can pay my way. I have some money left from the sale of our things, and of course, when the place is sold I’ll have some more; quite a little, in fact, but for the present I would feel better if I were earning something. (coming nearer.) What are you looking at?

Mrs. D.  Oh, some old letters and trinkets of Jack’s. Do you know, Mary, it’s just a year ago today that he went away? (With feeling.) Oh, my boy, my boy, where is he, and why doesn’t he come home?

Mary.  (Kneeling and bowing head in Mrs. D’s lap.) And I am to blame for it all – for your great sorrow. If I hadn’t quarreled with him he wouldn’t have gone away. (Sobbing.) Oh, Mrs. Daniels, what can I do to make you happy?

Mrs. D.  There, there, my dear, you are not to blame at all. It was the working of fate, I suppose. Jack was always so impulsive. He would have gone away like as not quarrel or no quarrel.

Mary.  I’m so glad you don’t blame me, mother. May I call you mother, now? (Starting up.) There’s somebody rapping at the back door. I’ll see who it is. (Exit L. Outside: “Yes, Mr. Brown, she’s in the sitting room. Step right in.”)

(Enter Hezekiah, L., with basket.)

Hez.  How to do, Mis’ Daniels, how to do. I fetched you over a few ‘arly pie apples. Reckoned mebbie they’d taste good. (Hands basket.)

Mrs. D.  Oh, thank you, Hezekiah, we’re so fond of pie apples, Mary and me. It’s real kind of you. Won’t you set down? You must be nigh beat out.

Hez.  Thanks, don’t keer ef I do. Mortal hot comin’ ’crost the lots, an’ ain’t a bit o’ shade all the way. I say – er – Mis’ Daniels?

Mrs. D.  Yes, Hezekiah, what is it?

Hez.  I come over this mornin’ more ’specially to – to have another talk with you. Kind of a conferdential talk, Mis’ Daniels. It’s be’n a year now sence your boy went away, an’ I’ve waited patiently until you got kinder settled down to his bein’ gone, an’ now I – I don’t see no reason why I orter be kep’ waitin’ any longer. You see, the fact on’t is, I’m purty lonesome over there on the back road all alone, an’ I reckon you’re lonesome, too, Mis’ Daniels, an’ I reckoned mebbie it would be better for both now ef we wuz hitched up.

Mrs. D.  (feigning surprise) Hezekiah Brown, be you crazy?

Hez.  No, Mis’ Daniels, but I will be ef this goes on much longer. I want you to marry me, an’ I don’t see no good reason for puttin’ it off any longer. Can’t you give me no encouragement?

Mrs. D.  Waal, Hezekiah, of course, I am pretty lonesome with Jack gone, although I ain’t all alone same as you be. Mary is a great comfort to me, but there’s no tellin’ how long she’ll stay. It’s pretty dull for her here, I expect, an’ when she can get a good situation I s’pose she’ll go. I appreciate your offer, Hezekiah, but ez I’ve told you before, I can’t think of makin’ any change; not ez long ez Jack’s awy. I don’t know what he’d say. He orter know.

Hez. He’s a dog-gone skunk anyway, to run away an’ leave –

Mrs. D.  Mr. Brown!

Hez.  Excuse me, Mis’ Daniels. I didn’t mean to call Jack hard names, but I – I feel so fur you that sometimes I think he didn’t do right in goin’ off the way he did. You’re his mother an’ his duty is to –

Mrs. D.  Waal, Hezekiah, it won’t do no good to upbraid him. Mebbie he had reasons, I don’t know, an’ mebbie it was for the best. I only hope the good lord will take care of him an’ bring him back some day. He always wuz a good son to me.

Hez.  I wisht I could help you, Mis’ Daniels. (Fumbles hat nervously.) Honest I do. Of course I’ve done all I could in the way of tryin’ to git some trace of Jack, ez I told you I would, but I don’t seem to have no luck. Now ef we wuz married I think I could –

Mrs. D.  No, Hezekiah, you must keep on tryin’. Faint heart ne’er won a fair lady nor a homely one, neither, I guess. You find Jack, or some trace of him, an’ if all is well I’ll swap the name of Daniels for Brown, jest ez soon ez you can git the license.

Hez.  (gleefully) Will ye’? Good! I’ll start right in today. Gimme your hand on it, Mis’ Daniels – Jane – an’ I’ll devote my hull life to the findin’ of him, your boy, an’ – an’  an’ –

Mrs. D.  (Taking his hand.) Yes, our boy, Hezekiah. (They hold hands a moment, she looking shyly down, he bending forward as tho’ desirous of kissing her. Here Happy Walker’s voice is heard off L., singing “I’m a jolly roving dog an’ my classic form’s a beauty,” to the tune of “We sail the ocean blue.” Then Mary’s voice: “Go away you horrid, ugly man, or we’ll set the dog on you!” Hez doesn’t hear. Exits R., saying to audience: “Hope my advertisement in the Herald, ‘One Hundred Dollars Reward for Jack Daniels, Dead or Alive’ will pan out. She’s wuth a hundred dollars of any man’s money, ’cuz she’s got five or six hundred in the bank!”)

(Enter Mary, L., much excited.)

Mary.  Oh, Mrs. Daniels, there’s a horrid tramp in the back shed and he says he won’t go away till he has seen you. He says he knew a Jack Daniels once and that he might have been your son!

Mrs. D.  Waal, ef he knew a Jack Daniels let him come in.

Mary.  Oh, but he’s so ugly looking.

Mrs. D.  Never mind; if he knew my boy I’m not afraid of him.

Mary.  (going L.) Come in Mr. Tramp! (Runs out R.)

(Enter Happy Walker. Hobo costume.)

Hap.  Ah, madam. I saloot you! Queen of the household realm, ruler of the domicile, benefactress of all comers, I remove my shappo to you. (Bows majestically, and starts to sit in good chair.)

Mrs. D.  Here, don’t set in that chair; take the wooden one! (Tramp looks hurt, then sits) Waal, who be you?

Hap.  Happy Walker, alias Walker, worker; one who walks and works. I walk all I can and work everybody I can. I walk and work, but not together. When not walking I’m working. Note the distinction: I don’t do work; I simply work. (Salutes again.) At your service, madam.

Mrs. D.  Never mind any more of the rigamarole, but you say you knew a Jack Daniels once?

Hap.  I did, kind lady, and a fine, true-blue chap he was.

Mrs.  D. What was he like?

Hap.  (leaning forward.) He was much like you, madam.

Mrs. D.  What do you mean?

Hap.  He had the same genteel ways, the same complexion, the same look and the same name, and –

Mrs. D.  (excited) Where was it, when was it and where is he now? Tell me more about him, quick!

Hap.  New York, last winter; he was playing a tramp part in a show. Made a hit, too. The more I look at you, madam, the more I believe he was your son. But he’s not there now; he’s on the road. He said he had a good old mother somewhere in the country and if ever I should run across her to do her a good turn if I could.

Mrs. D.  You say he’s on the road? Where?

Hap.  Doing country towns. (aside) And people.

Mrs. D.  (clasping hands) Oh, I wonder if he is my Jack!

Hap.  I think he are, madam.

Mrs. D.  If I was only sure.

Hap.  I have every reason to believe he is one and the same, good woman. I am seldom mistaken; he was exceedingly good looking. (Mrs. D. bows pleasantly.) He also told me to tell you that I was a deserving sort of a fellow who wouldn’t turn down a piece of good pie or a cup of strong coffee.

Mrs. D.  Wus you an’ him real friends?

Hap.  More than that; we were chums, madam. We ate, slept, drank (coughing), laughed and talked together. (Dramatically) Oh how I loved that boy!

Mrs. D.  But you’re a tramp; Jack wasn’t a tramp, was he?

Hap.  Ah, no, kind lady; that is, not exactly. He took lessons of me. I was his coach, and what a team we made!

Mrs. D.  (Motherly) Waal, my poor fellow, you shall have pie an’ coffee. If you were a chum of Jack’s you shall have anything you want here. You may see him again some day an’ I want you to tell him that he still has a good mother an’  good home an’ is welcome. (Calls.) Mary! Mary! Bring a big piece of mince pie an’ some coffee! (Happy plumes himself.) Here, take off that coat an’ put this one on. (Hands nice coat of Jack’s.) There, you look better now. How nice it fits, too. Land, you and Jack was pretty nigh of a size. I’ll go upstairs and see if I can find some trousers an’ shoes. I know Jack would be willin’ you should have anything of his’n. (Exit, C.)

(Enter Mary, R., bringing tray which she places at arm’s length on table. Happy imitates dog: “Bow-

wow-wow!” Mary jumps back and starts to run.)

Happy.  (laughing) Hold, I won’t bite you, fair maid. I was but coughing for I have contracted a severe cold. You see last night I slept inside an empty beer cask which was full of draughts. In truth fair one, I’m more harmless than this piece of pie, which is full of bow-wows and nightmares besides. Did you know Jack Daniels, too, little one? (Mary nods head.) Yes, I know you did, and a right, good fellow he was, too. I’ve often heard him speak of you. In fact he used to talk of you by the hour. You were on his mind all the time. One night I recollect he awakened me by calling your name. He sat up in bed with his hands uplifted. (Mary leans forward with clasped hands.) He said: “Mary, Mary, if I return will you forgive me? Will you forget all and take me back again?  It was all my fault; I see it now. Mary, Mary, will you let bygones be bygones and take back your poor, broken-hearted Jack once more?” And I reached up and lowered his head upon the pillow and he went off to sleep again murmuring your name upon his lips.

Mary.  (Sinking into chair and sobbing.) Oh, sir, don’t, don’t, I can’t bear it!

Hap.  (Tenderly.) I’m going away again, little girl, and I may see him. What shall I tell him for you?

Mary.  (Face still hidden.) Oh, Mr. Tramp, tell him I love him still; that I forgive him and wish him back. I’m very miserable without him. (While Mary still has face buried Happy tiptoes and stands over her, stretching out both hands.)

Hap.  Mary, don’t you know me? (Removes wig.)

Mary.  (Springing up.) Jack? Oh, Jack, how could you? (They embrace. Rapping heard outside. Mary breaks away and exits L. Happy, sotto voice: “Don’t give me away yet, Mary!” Puts on wig and sits at table and begins a pie.)

(Enter Hez. L., followed by Mary.)

Hez.  (Fiercely.) So, here you be, eh? I heerd down the road that there wuz one of you fellers comin’ this way, an’ I says to my self, says I, I guess I’ll go ’long back over an’ see they ain’t no harm done to Mis’ Daniels.

Hap.  (With mock severity) Well, sir, whom do I have the honor of addressing? I never observed your portrait in the Hall of Fame.

Hez.   Why, you darned skunk, I’m Hezekiah Brown, an’ I’m here to pertect these two unpertected women. Now you’d better take the rest of thet pie an’ git, do y’ hear?

Hap.  I hear, sir, but do not comprehend the drift of your unsavory remarks. To wit: your meaning is obscure.

Hez.  Why, doggone my skin, what does this mean, Mary, this here rag-tag eatin’ pie an’ coffee in the best room? Did he force himself in here?

Hap.  (To Mary.) Here, waiter, make it pie an’ coffee for two; there’s two of us now. Pards, so to speak. Here, fair one, here’s a tip. (Gives coin.)

Hez.  (Enraged.) By the great horn an’ spoons, sech imperdunce! I’ll show you where your place is! (Pulls off coat. Happy picks up old tramp coat and hands it to Hez.)

Hap.  Here, pard, put this one on and let me see how you look. Maybe I’ll take you into the union; that is, if you’re a good walker and haven’t passed the age limit.

Hez.  (Seizing coat and throwing it on floor.) I’ll union you, you, you –

Mary.  (Stepping between them.) Stop, Mr. Brown! Mrs. Daniels invited him in here; he’s her guest. He’s – er – really one of the family now. You see, he knows all about Jack.

Hez.  (Sinking to chair.) Invited – fam’ly – knows about Jack? (Turns to Happy.) What do you mean?

Hap.  My good friend, I’m a wanderer, a scout, a moving information bureau; a detective, as it were. I find lost persons, lost money, characters, arts and lost countries, if you will. Yea, I have been known to find a lost cause. I go about doing good. I am doing exceedingly well here as you will observe. (Eats.)

Hez.  (Aside.) I’ve got an idee! (To Mary.)  Say, jest leave me alone with this chap a few minutes; I’ve got somethin’ to say to him thet mightn’t be good fur purty ears.

Mary.  But aren’t you afraid to be left alone with him, Mr. Brown?

Hez.  N – no, but I’ll keep an eye on him all the same.

Mary.  (Warningly.) See that you be very, very careful, Mr. Brown. (Exits C., slyly throwing kiss to Jack.)

Hez.  You say you know Jack Daniels?

Hap.  I have that honor, sir.

Hez.  Do you know where he is now?

Hap.  On the road.

Hez.  What road?

Hap.  Oh, the King’s Highway; road to recovery, road to Wellville, etc.

Hez.  (Drawing closer.) Say, my friend, do you want to make one hundred dollars?

Hap.  (Straightens, pretending to lose balance.) One hundred what?

Hez.  One hundred dollars.

Hap.  Try me.

Hez.  Kin you keep a secret?

Hap.  I’ve got several of me own.

Hez.  I’ve got an advertisement in the N.Y. Herald offerin’ one hundred dollars for Jack Daniels dead or alive.

Hap.  (Aghast.) Heavens! What has he done?

Hez.  Oh, he ain’t done nothin’ much; thet is, nothin’ crim’nal, though twixt you an’ me I don’t think he’s any too good to. (Happy straightens.) No, my private ‘pinion is he don’t amount to much. (Happy clenches fist.) But you see I – kee hee - ! (Jabs Happy’s ribs.) wanter marry his mother, an’ she won’t hev nothin’ to do with me till I’ve found Jack, dog-gone him. She jest dotes on Jack, the run-away, good-for-nothing scalawag; I’d jest like to –

Hap.  Look here, Jack Daniels is my friend.

Hez.  So’s a hundred dollars, ain’t it? Now I’ve offered thet sum in the Herald, an’ ef you kin produce him the money is your’n. Only you’ve got to keep mum about it round here; see?

Hap.  (Confidentially.) Say, pard, how would you actually prefer him, dead or alive? I can produce him either way. It’s all the same to me, you know.

Hez.  Oh, you’d better bring him alive. Ef he wuz dead it would mean a lot o’ commotion an’ mournin’ an’ a postponement of the weddin’, maybe.

Hap.  All right, old man; you be here tonight at six o’clock with the boodle and I’ll produce the victim. Now scamper away for I want to finish my repast in solitude.

Hez.  No coddin’ ’bout this is they?

Hap.  Do you take me for a fisherman?

Hez.  Waal, I just wanted to make sure, they’s so much buncoin’ goin’ on now’days.

Hap.  Tonight, at six, Uncle Hezzie. (Bowing him out.) And don’t forget to bring the stuff that makes the mare go. Rember, no money, no wedding. Ta, ta! (Waves hand hobo fashion.)

Hez.  (Sticking head in door.) Don’t say nothin’ to the folks round here ’bout this; you understand?

Hap.  Not a twitter, pard; now skidoo. (Exit Hez. L.)

(Enter Mrs. D. C., laden with trousers, collars,

stockings, string ties, etc.)

Mrs. D.  There, my poor fellow, I’ve rummaged in all the closets an’ found these things for you. I’m sure poor Jack wouldn’t care if he knew they were for you. I know he would give you anything he’s got. There, take them an’ after you have finished your lunch go upstairs to the first room to the right an’ take a bath an’ put the best of them on. What you don’t need you may take with you. But you needn’t hurry away, poor man; you were Jack’s friend an’ you may stay as long as you like. Any of Jack’s friends are welcome here. (Mary appears at C. door.)

Hap.  Thank you, kind lady; such beneficence I never experienced before. You are so good I could hug you.  On my soul I believe I will. (Starts toward her.)  Yea, more, I could kiss you, good woman! (Mrs. D. screams and starts round the table. Happy, laden with clothes, carpet bag, etc. chases her. They circulate two or three times, Mary laughing convulsively.)

Mrs. D.  Help, Mary, help! The wretch!  Hezekiah, help, help! He’ll murder me! (Mary steps in, Mrs. D. falls into her arms.)

Hap.  (Sinking into chair, disconsolately.) Well, that is the first time in my life that my mother ever refused to let me kiss her.

Mrs. D.  (Surprised.) Wha-at! That voice – you, Jack, my boy?

Jack.  (Rising.) Yes, mother, it is I; home again until the theatrical season is on again; that is, if you and Mary will forgive me! (Takes each by hand.)

Mrs. D.  Forgive you, Jack, you were forgiven long ago, wasn’t he Mary?

Mary.  Yes, indeed; the very hour he left home.

Mrs. D.  But come, Jack, you must sit down an’ tell us where you’ve been, an’ how you come to come back in such a way.

Jack.  Well, mother, it’s too long a story to tell just now. I must go up stairs to the first room to the right, take a bath and put on some of these clothes which you were so free to give away. (Laughing.) I’m sure Happy wouldn’t care, eh? I will say, though, that I have been doing the tramp part in the ‘Old Home Company” in New York, and seeing this advertisement in the Herald, (Produces paper and points to adv.) I put on my old duds and came home in this fashion to see what it all meant. Now if you and Mary will excuse me I will run upstairs to the first room on the right and remove the remains of Happy Walker. (Exits C.)

Mrs. D.  (Sitting.) Advertisement? Read it, Mary, please.

Mary.  (Sits and reads.) “One hundred dollars reward. The above reward will be paid to any person or persons sending me information that will lead up to the finding of one Jack Daniels, late of Fenbrook, Connecticut, or for delivering said Jack Daniels into my hands, dead or alive. Cash awaiting, and no questions asked. H. B., Box 41, Fenbrook, Connecticut.” Why mother, who on earth could have put such a thing as this in the paper?

Mrs. D.  (Thoughtfully.) “H. B., H. B.,” Hezekiah Brown, as sure as I’m alive! Waal, if I won’t give it up. The old rat; instid of tryin’ to find Jack himself he has been advertisein’ for him in the paper. Jest think of it. Now that’s what I call sheer laziness, an’ I’ll tell him so the next time I see him. Why, what’ll folks think when they see that in the paper? Dead or alive?  Why, they’ll think Jack has done somethin’ awful.

Mary.  (Puzzled.) But what is it all about, mother?

Mrs. D.  Why, you see I promised Hezekiah - Oh, a long, long time ago – that if he’d stir himself an’ find Jack I’d, that is, I’d consider marryin’ him. I suppose ’twas foolish, but I done it, but I didn’t s’pose he’d go an’ make it public like this.

Mary.  And do you love him enough to marry him, mother?

Mrs. D.  Waal, I guess I did, but I don’t know now; I’ve got to think it all over again an’ make up my mind anew. Land! How this room looks! I’ve got to straighten up things afore anybody comes. Hezekiah is comin’ over again at six o’clock. (Starts to pick up clothes and put room in order.)

Mary.  And mother?

Mrs. D.  Yes, Mary?

Mary.  If you happen to see Mr. Brown first don’t let him know who Happy Walker is; I imagine Jack wants to have a little fun with him first to partly pay him back for that advertisement.

Mrs. D.  No fear of me, Mary. I hope somebody will pay him back for puttin’ such trumpery in the paper. I’ll do it myself if I git a good chance, although, of course, (aside.) I don’t wanter offend Hezekiah right out ’n’ out. (Picks up scattering clothes and exits, C.)

Mary.  (Seated, lost in reverie.) Jack home again! And he loves me still. It is almost too good to be true. Maybe I won’t have to go out to work now, for mother will need me here to help her. Then I can see him every day. How strange the workings of fate. Tears today, smiles tomorrow. (Picks up album and studies picture of Jack.)  Just a year ago today you went away, Jack. We quarreled. Both were to blame, one as much as the other. Ah, how long it has been! Oh, dear, I hope I won’t find you changed so very much when you take off that horrid tramp disguise. Ugh, how you did look when I first saw you! And so now, Mr. Jack, you are an actor, just as you always wanted to be. Well, I hope you won’t always play tramp parts.

(Enter Jack, C., well dressed.)

Jack.  Ah, little girl, all alone?

Mary.  Yes, Jack, but how long you’ve been gone.

Jack.  (Looking at watch.) Yes, just six minutes by the clock. (Sits beside her and takes hand.) But tell me, dear, what have you been doing all this time? Mother says you are staying with her now.

Mary.  Yes, I am. A few months after you left father died. Then I sold off all the things, as I couldn’t live alone, you know, and as I had no place to go and nothing much to do – except to – to think of you, Jack, your mother asked me to come here and keep her company and so here I am. Not a long story, you see.

Jack.  No, not so long as mine, but just as interesting. I was bound not to come home until I could hold my head up and jingle some money in my pockets, but that advertisement, “Jack Daniels, dead or alive”, appealed to me somewhat, so I came along a little sooner than I anticipated to see what ’twas all about. I find, however, it is nothing more serious than a love affair between two old people.

Mary.  Yes, but love affairs are pretty serious, aren’t they?

Jack.  Well, young folks’s love affairs are pretty serious, but I don’t know (Puts his arm around her.) anything about the older ones. Do you think mother is desirous of marrying Hezekiah Brown?

Mary.  I think so. And if we were to go away she’d be all alone.

Jack.   That’s so; I hadn’t considered that. We’ll have to give them our blessing. (Looks at watch.) Speaking of Hezekiah, it must be about time he put in an appearance. He was to be here at six sharp. (Rapping heard.) I believe he’s coming now.

Mary. I’ll go and let him in.

(Enter Hezekiah, L., dressed in Sunday best.)

Jack.  (Jumps up and goes forward to shake hands.) Good afternoon Mr. Brown. I’m delighted to see you.

Hez.  Waal, I’ll be blowed! Jack Daniels, is it you?

Jack.  None other, I assure you and more alive than dead. Take a chair old neighbor and make yourself comfortable.

Hez.  (Excited.) Thanks, not yit. When did you git here?

Jack.  Oh, just a short time ago.

Hez.  How did – er – er – you come, Jack? That is, did you come unexpected?

Jack.   Well, yes, rather so; that is, a friend brought me here.

Hez.  Er – where ’bouts is he?

Jack.  Whom?

Hez.  Your friend.

Jack.  Which one?

Hez.  Why, er – I mean thet feller thet uster know you; the one who wuz ’round here this forenoon?

Jack.  Oh, you mean Happy Walker. Well, he’s gone. By the way, Mr. Brown, he told me that if you had anything for him to leave it with me; that it would be perfectly safe, I being his friend, you know.

Hez.  Why, er – yes, - er – no; that is, I ain’t got anything for him. I’ve changed my mind.

Jack.  He told me possibly you might do so, but that if you didn’t keep your word he’d come back and spoil the game, whatever he meant.

Hez.  (Aside.) I wonder ef that doggone skunk told Jack anything about this. Did he say anything more?

Jack.  Well, he whispered this in my ear: “No money no wedding.”

Hez.  I ain’t goin’ to pay him no money. I believe he’s a fraud; one of them bunco steers or green goods fellers you read about.

Jack.  (Rising.) He said I was to let him know immediately.

Hez.  (Frightened.) Darn his skin! He ain’t goin’ to fleece me that way. He’s out of the way now an’ you’re home ag’in an’ I’m goin’ to finish this thing right up. I didn’t put on these here good clothes for nothin’ Where’s your mother, Jack?

Jack.  She’s upstairs fixing a room for Happy Walker. They’re great friends now, mother and Happy. I reckon she’ll keep him here all summer.

Hez.  (Wrathy.)  Waal, she’d better be keerful who she takes in here; he may be a regular outlaw. I wouldn’t trust him in my pig pen. I wanter see her anyway, right off; I’ve got somethin’ important to say.

Jack.  (Trying to conceal mirth.) I think she’s coming now.

(Enter Mrs. Daniels, C.)

Hez.  (Boldly.) Waal, Mis’ Daniels, I’ve come over for my answer. Jack is here now an’ they ain’t no excuse for holdin’ me off any longer. You said as how you couldn’t say “yes” as long as he wuz away, but they’s nothin’ to hinder you sayin’ it now.

Mrs. D.  But Hezekiah. I – I said if you’d find Jack yourself. You see he –

Hez.  (Off guard.) But I did find him, didn’t I?

Mrs. D.  You found him, how?

Hez.   Why, I – er – I wuz the means of his bein’ brought back. I could prove it ef thet dog-goned hobo wuz here.

Jack. (Warningly, and slyly holding out hand.) No money no wedding.

Hez.  (Aside.) By gum, I’ve got my foot in it chock up to the hip. Waal, Jack, (Slyly giving packet.) here’s this for Happy Walker, consarn him! Now Mis’ Daniels, I might ez well own up, I s’pose. I advertised for Jack in the New York Herald, an’ thet hobo said he could fetch him here at short notice, an’ knowin’ you wuz so anxious to see him I told him I would give him the hundred dollars reward. I’ve give it to Jack to give to him, an’ now I want you. It’s wuth all I’ve spent, Mis’ Daniels, ev’ry cent of it. I don’t regret losin’ the money, ut I don’t wanter lose both. Come, now, what do you say?

Mrs. D.  Oh Jack, what shall I do?

Jack.  I don’t know, mother; follow your own heart in the matter. I wonder what Happy would say?

Hez.  (Bristling.) What’s he got to do with it?

Jack.  He’s the middle-man.

Hez.  Waal, I don’t keer nothin’ ’bout the middle-man, but I wanter be the fust man; kin I, Jane? (Mrs. D. slowly puts hand in Hezekiah’s outstretched one.)

(Enter Mary, C.)

Jack.  Perhaps I can be best man; what do you say, Mary?

Mary.  If Happy desires it.

Hez.  Happy, by thunder! Hez ev’rything got to be as he says?

Mrs. D.  Why not; hasn’t he made us all happy?

Hez.  Waal, hadn’t he be’n well paid for it?

Jack.  I guess he has, Mr. Brown. You have been so honest with me now I’ll be equally honest with you. Happy is so happy in his new-found happiness that he would be unhappy to keep your money; he therefore happily returns it. (Hands money to Hezekiah.)

Hez.  Why, what’s this? You don’t mean Jack Daniels thet you are –

Jack.  Happy Walker, now happy Daniels, your prospective step-son.

Hez.  Waal, I’ll be dinged! Say, I see it all now. (Holding packet aloft.) “One Hundred Dollars Reward.” I’ll take it back ag’in, Jack, pervidin’ you let me use it for the happerness of all of us. We’ll all go to New York on our weddin’ trip in the fall an’ see Happy Walker do his tramp act the fust night of the “Old Home Company.”

 

Curtain