George M. Baker

“ I am a foe to capital and the Grand-master of a secret society organized to cripple said capital, to muzzle monopolists, and to elevate the horny-handed son of toil.” You have a good-sized contract, my friend. “When the copartnership of Tollgate & Twitters engaged in their corner in sugar, and robbed the poor of the luxuries of a free breakfast-table, our society determined to foil you. As their agent, I secretly entered the warehouse in which your hoard of sugar was stored, and secreted in various spots amidst the innocent condiment no less than twelve pounds of arsenic. ”

“ Society gatherings are volcanos! Ice-cream leads to the grave! And all through you, most miserable of mortals, who lie soft and count your ill-gotten wealth.” (Enter Mary Jane with coffee. He starts to drink.) “But even you are not exempt from the insidious enemy. The very cup of coffee that you may now be raising to your lips may call you to judgment.” (Drops coffee cup.) What sinful nonsense. I shouldn’t give it a thought if it didn’t charge my poor dead partner with such villany. And Tollgate was a Sunday-school superintendent. (Enter Mary Jane with breakfast.) ”

“ After having done this, I notified your partner, the aforesaid diabolical Tollgate, of my action, and apprised him that all the sugar must be destroyed,—else poison would be thrown broadcast upon the world. You, as his partner, are affected with notice of this. (As a foe to capital, I have incidentally been trained as a lawyer.) The aforesaid diabolical Tollgate, with your connivance,”—Damn law words. I hate ’em—“With your connivance sold the sugar. Through secret channels the deadly grains of arsenic are distilled into the veins of society. ”

“ Twitters. The newspapers talk about arsenic in wall papers. Nonsense, don’t you think so?
Charles (soaring to professional fluency) . Not a bit of it. Arsenic is the most deadly of drugs.
Twitters. Oh, you don’t say so?
Clara. What a disagreeable subject! Come to breakfast, papa dear. (At table.)
Twitters. Stop, Clara, we are not ready for food; I am interested in this matter. How deadly is arsenic—how much would kill?
Charles. Well, in wall-papers it’s one thing; in the stomach, it is another.
Twitters. Take stomachs. I’m interested. ”

“ Yes, he says twelve pounds—in a whole warehouse full of sugar wouldn’t do more than improve the complexion of the public. I should be a benefactor. (Enter Charles and Clara.)
Clara. Is breakfast all ready, papa, dear? I’m dreadfully hungry.
Twitters. Quite ready, dear.
Charles. Where shall I put this? It’s very heavy.
Twitters. Heavy?
Charles. Yes, you see it is quite full of water. I’m afraid of wetting the carpet, you see.
Clara. Why! Sure enough! We forgot to water the flowers!
Twitters. Forgot it, eh? Young people have queer memories, nowadays. ”

“ Scene.—Breakfast-room of the suburban villa of Mr. Twitters. The mother of the late Mrs. Twitters and Mary Jane are discovered.
Mary Jane. But I tell you this is Mr. Twitters’ breakfast, mum. There’s no telling what he’ll do if he don’t catch the train this morning. He’s ordered the horse ready since seven o’clock.
Mother (breaking an egg) . In the midst of life we are in death. ”

“ She snatches at Twitters’ hand) . Your allopathic doses are killing her (producing phial) . These pellets will cure her (starts to give Clara pills) .
Twitters. No sugar pills! For heaven’s sake, no sugar!
Mother (severely) . These are rendered efficacious by an infinitesimal reduction of arsenic.
Twitters (in agony) . Give them to me. (Struggling with her.)
Mother. Prejudiced monster. Like cures like. (They struggle for the phial. Twitters wrenches it away and flings it into the fire-place. Mother stands panting with rage.) ”

“ Clara (having folded paper, reads) . “The lemonade was prepared with her own hands. Traces of arsenic were found in the glass from which the victim drank his last drink; and in the barrel of sugar, which had but just arrived from the highly respectable store of Spicer & Co., not less than half an ounce has already been discovered—” What stupid stuff! Why, papa! What is the matter?
Twitters (with his head on his hands, in agony) . Nothing, my dear nothing. It is so terrible to think of all that suffering (Enter Hunker) .
Hunker. Mr. Twitters, I believe.
Twitters. Yes, what do you want? ”

“ Clara. I don’t understand you, papa.
Twitters. No reason you should, my dear. Everything is bright and happy, excepting that I shall lose my little girl and be left all alone.
Mother (embracing him) . I will take her place, Theophilus. The past shall be forgotten. I will never desert the lonely husband of my departed Sarah.
Twitters (shaking her off. To himself) . I shall have to send for Hunker.
Curtain.
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“ It’s her’s, sir; she’s been and gone and took the boots to the burying, and she’s left nothing behind but Christian resignation.
Twitters. Damn Christian resignation. (Pitches box across stage; a letter falls out; he picks it up and opens it during speech.) Call Miss Clara and tell her I’ll breakfast with her. I can’t get to town till eleven, now. And get something uncommonly good to eat, mind you. A bad temper needs good food. ”

“ THE CLEFT STICK. A Comedy in 3 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char.
66. A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, A TINKER, AND A TAILOR. A Farce in 1 Act. 4 male, 2 female char.
67. GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. A Farce. 2 male, 2 female char. ”