APRIL FOOLS.

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[Pg 1]

APRIL FOOLS

A FARCE IN ONE ACT FOR THREE MALE CHARACTERS

BY W. F. CHAPMAN

Copyright, 1890, by Harold Roorbach.

NEW YORK HAROLD ROORBACH PUBLISHER

[Pg 2] [Pg 3]

CAST OF CHARACTERS.

Time of Representation—Thirty Minutes.

ARGUMENT OF THE PLAY.

Mr. Peter Dunnbrowne, a gentleman with several unmarried daughters on his hands, receives a note from Mr. John Smith proposing for his daughter Fanny. Presently Mr. James Smith calls, he having received a letter announcing that Mr. D's mare Fanny is for sale, and an amusing dialogue at cross purposes ensues. This disposed of, Mr. Joseph Smith, an undertaker, calls, he having been notified that Miss Fanny had suddenly died, and another puzzle follows. Finally it is discovered that the letters are all in the same handwriting, and that the receivers have all been made the victims of an April joke.

COSTUMES.

Dunnbrowne.—Everyday suit.

James Smith.—Very loud "horsey" dress. Carries hat and cane.

Joseph Smith.—Shabby black suit, old black silk hat, black gloves, rusty old cotton umbrella.

PROPERTIES.

Newspaper and several letters on table. Large black bordered letter for Joseph Smith. One letter each for James Smith and Dunnbrowne to produce. Bottle containing cold tea to represent wine, corkscrew and two glasses for Dunnbrowne to bring on.

[Pg 4]

SCENE.

Scene.—Dunnbrowne's parlor. Doors r. and l. Table c., with chairs r. and l. of it.

N. B.—A set scene is not essential, and may be dispensed with if preferred.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

In observing, the player is supposed to face the audience. r. means right; l., left; c., centre; r. c., right of centre; l. c., left of centre; r. d., right door; l. d., left door; UP STAGE, towards the back; DOWN STAGE, towards the audience.

[Pg 5]

APRIL FOOLS.

Scene.—Dunnbrowne's parlor. Entrances r. and l. Table, c. Chairs r. and l. of table. Newspaper and letters on the table.

Dunnbrowne. (without) Well, good morning, my dears, (shows himself in the doorway r.) Don't be away all the morning, and do be merciful in your purchases. (enters r.) Happy is the man who is not troubled with a trio of beautiful daughters, who are incessantly going out shopping. My daughters seem to take a delight in spending my money. I suppose they act upon the principle that, if a thing is worth doing at all it is worth doing well, and as shopping is their chief and only occupation, they strive, and I may add, succeed, to do it as well as any young ladies in this mundane sphere possibly could. (sits r.) I find it of no use whatever to expostulate with them about what I consider their extravagance in dress, for they argue that as they do all the buying and I do all the paying, it is nothing but a right and proper division of labor. Now let me see what trouble has come to me through that prodigious engine of commerce, the post office, this morning. (opens a letter) Another bill from Messrs. Newshape and Whitestraw, the

milliners! It is only two weeks since I paid them $25. (looks at the bill)—$37.50 for millinery! Enough to provide me with hats for twenty years. (opens another letter) More bills! This is Mrs. Goodfit's bill for dressmaking: forty dollars. (throws the bill on the table) Oh, this is going a little beyond all reason. The fact of the matter is, I shall be ruined if this sort of thing is not stopped. (walks across the room two or three times—then pauses) I wish some kind, upright and steady young men of affluent means would come forward and take one or two of my daughters off my hands. I'm sure they would make excellent wives. (sits r.,—takes another letter) I am almost afraid to open this one; but I may as well know the extent of my trouble at once—suspense is useless—so here goes. (opens the letter) What's this? (reads it over rapidly in silence) How opportune! This is precisely what I have long been wishing for. (reads) "Dear sir,—For a long period of time I have fondly and madly loved your daughter Fanny, with a passion that would require the prolific brain of a poet to

describe, but I have never had the courage to declare my passion to her."[Pg 6] Well, that is astonishing. If I had known of this before I should have avoided paying some of her bills, for I would have had them married long ago. (reads) "My object in writing you is to inform you that I shall call upon you to-morrow morning, when I trust you will favor me with an interview." An interview! I'll favor him with forty interviews if he will only take one of my daughters off my hands. (reads) "My means are amply sufficient to justify my taking a wife, so I trust you will not throw cold water on my hopes, but make me eternally happy by giving your consent to our union." Throw cold water on his hopes! By no means. If warm water will help to bring about the desired effect he shall have gallons of it. (reads) "Hoping you will carefully consider this matter and ultimately arrive at a favorable decision, I am yours respectfully, John Smith." (folding the letter) John Smith, umph! Now, the question that arises is, who is this John Smith? John

Smiths are almost as numerous as flies around a sugar-bowl, but I don't happen to be acquainted with any of them. However, I shall not be any wiser by wondering who he is, so I shall wait patiently until he calls. In the meantime I will take a walk around the garden, (goes to door r.—calls) Jane, I am going into the garden. If anyone calls, show him in here and let me know immediately. (goes to the table) By-the-bye I must put these bills out of sight. If John Smith chances to see them they might set him thinking of what he will have to pay when he gets married, and be the means of making him alter his mind. (puts the letters in his pocket) Exit l.

Enter, James Smith, r.

Smith. (speaks at the entrance) Very well. I'll find a seat if you will find your master. (Enters—looks around—sits, r.) I wonder what sort of a fellow this Dunnbrowne is. I don't know anything about him, but he knows something about me or how would he be aware of the fact that I am in want of a mare. I hope there is no blunder about the affair. I don't see how there can be, though. The letter is addressed to me all fair and square, and this is the address the letter is dated from (takes a letter from his pocket and reads) "2, Belverley Terrace, Hedgetown, March 31st. Mr. Smith. Dear sir,—A friend of mine informs me that you are in want of a good mare, so I take the liberty of writing you to say that I wish to dispose of my thoroughbred dark bay mare Fanny. She has splendid action, and is in good condition. If you think she may suit you, I shall be at home in the morning, and will be glad to see you and give you any information respecting her soundness, &c. Yours truly, Peter Dunnbrowne." Oh, it's all right. There cannot be any error

about that—of course not. I am rather fond of the name of Fanny. I had a mare of[Pg 7] that name some years ago, and she was a perfect stunner. (replaces the letter in his pocket) I wonder what price he wants for her. I am not particular to a few dollars if she's a good goer. (takes up the newspaper) What is there fresh in the paper this morning? Ah, another breach of promise case, I see. $500 damages. Poor fellow. Nobody will catch me at that game. Marriage is out of my line altogether. I always drive clear of the ladies. (turns the paper over—reads)

Enter, Dunn., l.

Dunn. (aside) So this is John Smith, my would-be son-in-law. He appears to make himself quite at home. (coming to the front, aloud) Good morning, sir. Mr. Smith, I presume. (extending his hand. Smith hastily puts the newspaper down—rises and shakes hands)

Smith. Good morning, Mr. Dunnbrowne, how do you do, sir; how do you do? Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir. Fine morning this, isn't it? Very fine morning indeed.

Dunn. (aside) He doesn't seem at all bashful.

Smith. I beg your pardon? Ah, I thought you were speaking. You are well, I suppose?

Dunn. Ye—yes, I am quite well, thank you, Mr. Smith, how are you?

Smith. I'm very well, sir, very well indeed; in fact I am never troubled with any complaint excepting the complaints of my groom, and he is always full of them—servants usually are.

Dunn. (aside) Groom! he keeps a horse, then. He must be pretty well to do. (aloud) Take a seat, sir. (they both sit, Dunn., l., Smith, r.)

Smith. Thanks. So you are desirous of disposing of Fanny, Mr. Dunnbrowne?

Dunn. (aside) Disposing of her! (aloud) Well er—that is one way of putting it, but I scarcely like to——(pause)

Smith. Oh, I quite understand your feelings, sir. You have grown quite fond of her, and now you find it rather hard to part with her; but you'll soon get over that. I've parted with several in my time. Excuse my asking, sir, but what are your reasons for parting with her? Do you find her too expensive?

Dunn. Well er—rather; and as I have three of them to keep I——(pause)

Smith. I see—you thought you could possibly spare one of them. Well now, what are her good points? Is she good at jumping walls or fences?

Dunn. (aside) Walls! Fences!

Smith. Can she clear a five-barred gate nicely?

Dunn. (smiling) Well, er—I really could not answer that question. Jumping is an accomplishment that I——(pause)

[Pg 8]

Smith. Perhaps you never tried her at that sort of thing. You ought to, sir, it's fine sport. The last I had was a perfect stunner at it.

Dunn. (aside) The last he had! He has been married before, then—a widower, evidently.

Smith. She turned a little stubborn occasionally, though, and has thrown me over her head two or three times.

Dunn. (aside) Bless me! what a powerful woman she must have been.

Smith. I cured her of that nasty trick after she had repeated it a time or two, I did so. I gave her the lash pretty freely.

Dunn. (aside) Why, the man is nothing less than a wife-beater.

Smith. She soon found out who was master. There's nothing so effective as the whip to cure stubbornness, sir, nothing at all.

Dunn. I suppose not; but don't you think that kind of treatment is rather too harsh?

Smith. Oh, dear no; on the contrary, I think a little now and again does them a power of good.

Dunn. (aside) What a hard hearted fellow he must be. He will have to alter his opinions before he marries my daughter, that he will. (aloud) I may tell you, Mr. Smith, that if I thought you would ill-treat Fanny at all, I should not allow you to take her.

Smith. Don't be afraid of that, my dear sir. I should not ill-treat her if it were not necessary. Does she shy at all when she is out?

Dunn. Shy! That is a peculiar question to ask about a——

Smith. Not at all, Mr. Dunnbrowne. I like to know what I am getting. If I take her from you and find that she shies at anything I shall get rid of her without delay. I shall indeed.

Dunn. (aside) Well, that is cool. He has the impudence to tell me that he would "get rid" of my daughter. I am beginning to dislike this fellow.

Smith. You see, Mr. Dunnbrowne, I want one who will go ahead in the face of everything—a regular fast one that's the sort.

Dunn. (aside) What peculiar taste some men have!

Smith. Is Fanny ever troubled with corns?

Dunn. Corns, sir, corns? No!

Smith. I am glad of that. I don't care to see them walking lame in the slightest. It quite spoils their appearance. Is she quite sound in every other respect?

Dunn. Well, yes, I never heard her complain. (aside) What odd questions he asks!

Smith. She does not cough or wheeze, Mr. Dunnbrowne, does she? She is not broken-winded at all, is she?

Dunn. Broken-winded! I don't understand you, Mr. Smith. Why do you ask so many absurd questions about her? You are not obliged to have her if you don't choose to.

Smith. I am perfectly aware of that, sir. I am simply asking[Pg 9] fair questions. As I said before, I want to know what I am getting. I don't want to make a blind bargain. Can I see her now?

Dunn. Not at present—she is out.

Smith. Taking exercise, I suppose. Well now, Mr. Dunnbrowne, I'll tell you what I will do. I will take her a month on trial.

Dunn. You'll what, sir? You—you'll take her a month on trial! What the dickens do you mean? How dare you propose such a thing to me, sir! (rises)

Smith. Simply because I consider that it is the fairest way of dealing in transactions of this sort. (Dunn. walks across stage) You have no occasion to be vexed at my proposal. I give you my word that I will treat her kindly and pay all expenses during the month, and if she does not suit me I will return her. That is fair and square for both parties, don't you think so?

Dunn. No, sir, I do not think so. If you have a notion that I—the parent of three blooming daughters—am willing to permit you to trifle and play with the affections of the eldest of them in the manner you have so basely proposed, I must ask you to dispel that notion at once and forever, for you never labored under a greater mistake in your life, never.

Smith. Now there is just a little bit of sentiment in that speech, and I must admit that you delivered it in a fair dramatic style, Mr. Dunnbrowne, but you see the general effect is marred by my not knowing what you are driving at. What do you mean?

Dunn. Mean, sir, mean? I think I explained myself sufficiently.

Smith. Scarcely. You volunteer some remarks about your daughters. Now, with all the respect that is due to those young ladies, I must ask you to put your parental feelings aside for a short time, and proceed with the business we have on hand. Ladies are out of my line altogether. Between you and me, Mr. Dunnbrowne, I am not a marrying man.

Dunn. Not a marrying man! Then what under the sun did you write me that letter for respecting your love for my daughter, eh?

Smith. Write you? Why, I never heard your name before this morning.

Dunn. (aside) This is very strange. Can there be a mis—(aloud) Your name is Smith, is it not?

Smith. Yes, that is my name.

Dunn. Ah! (takes a letter from his pocket and unfolds it) Now tell me, Mr. Smith, on your honor as a gentleman, did you or did you not write that letter to me? (giving the letter to Smith)

Smith. (reads) "Dear sir,—for a long period of time I have fondly and madly loved your daughter Fanny with—" Oh, rubbish! On my honor as a gentleman, Mr. Dunnbrowne, I never loved any man's daughter, much less wrote this letter; besides, it is signed John Smith and my name is James. (returns the letter)

[Pg 10]

Dunn. (aside) I cannot understand this at all. (aloud) As you are not the Mr. Smith I took you for, and have not come to see me about my daughter, perhaps you will inform me what you did come for.

Smith. What I came for? Well, that's not bad for you after listening to all I have said. Have you forgotten that you wrote me saying you had a mare to dispose of?

Dunn. Wrote you about a mare!

Smith. What a forgetful man you must be. (takes letter from his pocket—opens it and gives it to Dunn., who looks it over) That is the letter; perhaps it will recall the circumstance to mind.

Dunn. I have not written this, sir. (keeps the letter in his hand)

Smith. You have not? On your honor as a gentleman?

Dunn. On my honor as a gentleman.

Smith. That's curious. Have you not got a mare to dispose of?

Dunn. No; more than that I never possessed one or a horse either.

Smith. Then why did you not say so before? You answered my questions about the mare Fanny and——

Dunn. Because I thought you were speaking of my daughter. You see I am expecting a Mr. Smith here this morning—the writer of the letter I have shown you—who is anxious to pay his addresses to my daughter Fanny. As he is a perfect stranger to me, and as you answered to the name of Smith, I naturally thought you were the gentleman I expected, hence the confusion.

Smith. There is something very peculiar about this affair that I——(a knock is heard at the door, r. Dunn. puts Smith's letter on the table—goes to the door and opens it. Short pause)

Dunn. What name did you say? Oh, Smith. Ah, yes, it's all right, Jane, show him in. (turns to James Smith) I must ask you to excuse me now, Mr. Smith. The other Mr. Smith has arrived. I hope you will hear something about the mare before the day is over.

Smith. I hope so, Mr. Dunnbrowne. (takes his hat and cane)

Enter, Joseph Smith, r.

James S. (aside) So this is the lover. Ah, poor fellow, (aloud) Good morning, Mr. Dunnbrowne, good morning.

Dunn. Good morning, Mr. Smith. (Exit, James S., r.) And good morning to you, Mr. Smith, (shakes hands with Joseph S., who is very pale and looks very mournful)

Joseph S. Good morning, Mr. Dunnbrowne.

Dunn. Take a seat, Mr. Smith.

Smith. Thank you, sir. (sits, r., stands his umbrella between his knees—puts his hat on the top of it and looks vacantly before him. Dunn. sits l. of table)

[Pg 11]

Dunn. (surveying him—aside) His appearance is not very pre-possessing; but I must not judge him by his looks. (aloud) This is a beautiful morning, is it not, Mr. Smith?

Smith. (solemnly) It is.

Dunn. (aside) He is not at all conversational. (aloud) We—we—er—we have had, I may say, several beautiful mornings lately, have we not, Mr. Smith?

Smith. (mournfully) We have.

Dunn. (aside) Umph! He must be very bashful and nervous. I'll get a bottle of wine; perhaps it will help to bring him to the point. (rises—aloud) I am going to my wine bin, Mr. Smith; you will excuse me a moment, will you not?

Smith. Oh, certainly. (Exit, Dunn., l.; suddenly—Smith looks quite cheerful) Wine bin, eh! He does not appear to be greatly distressed through his daughter's death. It may be that he has a large family and does not feel her loss so keenly. Let me see now, does he say in his letter when she died? (takes a black bordered envelope from his pocket and takes the letter from it—reads) "2, Belverley Terrace, Hedgetown, March 31st. Mr. Smith. Dear sir, I am grieved to inform you that my eldest daughter died suddenly this afternoon. Will you kindly call here in the morning to make the necessary preparations for her interment, and oblige, yours truly, Peter Dunnbrowne." (replaces the letter in the envelope and puts it in his pocket) So she died yesterday. (cheerfully) Ah, well, somebody must die or what would become of us poor undertakers? If everybody took a notion to live on from this time forward, the whole body of funeral furnishers would die of starvation. I hear Mr. Dunnbrowne coming, so I must assume my customary mournful

expression. I always find that it pleases my customers. (looks mournful)

Enter, Dunn. l., with bottle of wine and glasses—places them on the table and begins to draw the cork)