Roy. Allow me to correct your pronunciation for suite (sweet) er, rooms, they must have been, with two pair of lovers. Well, Mrs. Bradley died. You must have a home; there was nothing to hinder, and we were married, came here, and brought Bess with us, a welcome addition to our household.
May. Dear girl! She is the light of our house.
Roy. Well, I cannot exactly agree with you, having a star of the first magnitude before my eyes. As a matter of course, Mr. Marcus Graves follows. I don’t object to that, but I do object to his secretiveness. Who is he? He seems to have no relatives, no friends: at least he never speaks of them.
May. You know his business?
Roy. Yes. He’s a drummer.
May. A military man. Then you surely should like him.
Roy. A military man – not exactly, our military drummer – musters his men to battle with the rattle of his sheepskin; your civil drummer, with the rattle of his tongue, taps the sheepskin of the men he musters, and too often makes enemies in his own ranks, with short and poor rations not up to sample. Yes; I have become the natural protector of this young lady, and should know something about this ardent suitor who never speaks of marriage.
May. To be sure you should. Well, why don’t you?
Roy. What! Pin him in a corner, and, like a stern parent, ask him who are his parents, and what are his intentions.
May. And what then?
Roy. Ten to one he’ll fly into a passion, tell me it’s none of my business, and quit the house in disgust.
May. Somehow, Roy, I have faith in Marcus Graves.
Roy. Because Bessie loves him. Oh, the warm cloak of affection covers a multitude of sins!
May. For the world I would not bring a pang to her dear heart! Her mother, for fifteen years, was the dearest friend I had in the world. When the war broke out, my father went to battle. We were all in the West then. What ever became of him I never knew. No doubt he died for his country as bravely as he went forth. My mother —
Roy. Deserted you! Fled with your father’s friend! It’s a sad story, May. Don’t speak of it.
May. Yes: I was left to the care of strangers. And this kind neighbor, Mrs. Bradley, took pity upon me. She was poor; but, hard as was her lot, I was treated as her own child. O Roy! she was a mother to the friendless little stranger! Heaven knows I am grateful! All the tenderness she bestowed upon me I have tried to repay in love for her child. In days of poverty, Bess and I shared our crusts together; and now that fortune has blessed me with prosperity, her happiness is more than ever, with your dear help, to be the aim of my life. Comrades in adversity should be comrades in prosperity.
Roy. Right, Mary. For her happiness we will strive together. Comrades! ah, that brings back the old days, May! But I forget; you do not like to have me speak of them.
May. You do not mean that, Roy. Am I not proud of your war record? Do I not glory in your triumphs, there where brave men fought and fell.
Roy. That old sabre, if it had a tongue, could tell wondrous stories. Ah! old fellow! you failed me once. In those old days I had a friendship for a man in our regiment, with whom I made a queer compact, something after the manner of yours and Bessie’s. He saved my life one day. ’Twas at Antietam, we were swooping down upon the enemy, – a cloud of horsemen with flashing sabres. Just as we reached the foe, my horse stumbled and fell. I thought my time had come. But between me and a descending sabre rode my comrade. I was saved. That night in camp we renewed our friendship, and, in jovial mood, vowed that whatever good fortune should be in store for us in the future should be shared between us. We were both poor – nothing but our soldier’s pay. The war ending, we parted. He went West in search of friends. I come here, to find my only friend, my father, dead, and, to my surprise, a small fortune awaiting me. Poor fellow! I often wonder if he fared as well. (Rises, goes R.)
May. And you have not seen him since?
Roy. No: one of these days I mean to hunt him up.
May. To share with him your fortune?
Roy (comes to back of her chair, hand on table; looks at her). If he be poor, yes; for I shall still be rich. He could not claim my chief treasure, my pearl above price, – you (stoops to kiss her).
Bess. Ahem!
Roy (starting up, and crossing to R). Bother that girl! Well, what now?
Bess. I smell smoke, and where there’s smoke there must be fire.
Roy. Not where you are. You’re a capital extinguisher.
May. Did you find him, Bess?
Bess. No. ’Twas a false alarm. Oh, dear! why don’t he come?
Roy. Poor dear! how sad! Hasn’t seen him since last night – no, this morning; for I’ll be hanged if the sun wasn’t rising when I got up to fasten the door after him!
Bess. Yes, your father’s son. What a shame —
Roy. You’re right. I nearly caught my death.
Bess. To talk so! You know he left the house before ten.
Roy. This morning, yes. Quite time to be moving.
May. Roy, don’t torment her. See how anxious she is!
Roy. As anxious as a cat to seize a poor little mouse, that she may tease it.
Bess. Oh, you wicked wretch! You know we never quarrel. (Goes L.)
Mar. Oh, here you are, Manning! Call your chickens under their mother’s wing; fasten up the hen-roost; barricade your pigpen; call out your troops, and plant your biggest guns upon the ramparts. The enemy is at your door!
Roy. Halloa! Halloa! What’s the matter?
May. Enemy! what enemy?
Bess. Marcus, have you been drinking?
Roy. I told you he was up late. Well, old fellow, who is the enemy?
Mar. The terror of housekeepers! the devourer of cold meats! the robber of the clothes-line! Hush! “take heed! whisper low” – the tramp.
Roy. Oh!
Bess. Ah!
May. Indeed!
Mar. Yes. I met a true type of the fraternity half a mile below. He stopped my horse, and begged money. I always make short work of these fellows, so tossed him a quarter and rode on. He turned into that shanty set apart for the entertainment of man and beast, and no doubt will pour entertainment down his throat in beastly style. So look out, Manning. He may pay you a visit.
Roy. ’Twill be a short one, then; and I’ll give him no quarter.
Mar. Well, how are you all, particularly my bonny Bess? (Shakes hands with her, L.)
Roy. Half a mile below. Did he look rough?
Mar. Rough, but good-natured. Dress ragged, face bloated, figure plump. These fellows thrive on their pickings these pests.
Roy. Don’t say that, Marcus. The fellow may have been unfortunate.
Mar.