1THREE HATS

A FARCICAL COMEDY In Three Acts

adapted by ARTHUR SHIRLEY from LES TROIS CHAPEAUX By Hennequin

FITZGERALD PUBLISHING CORPORATION successor to Dick & Fitzgerald 18 Vesey St. New York

2CHARACTERS.

COSTUMES.

PROPERTIES.

Feather-duster; felt hat; three tall hats of different sizes; sword; umbrella.

3ACT I.

Scene.—Drawing-room; door, L., at back looking into hall; chimney piece R. centre; doors on R. side in second and third entrances; door on left second entrance; window left; small sofa and armchair towards front; escritoire front, L. Music to take up curtain, “We Won’t Go Home Till Morning,” played, piano. As curtain rises stage is unoccupied and in semi-darkness, Selwyn opens door at back, L., and quietly creeps across, the collar of his overcoat is up, and his hat is dripping with rain. He goes R. on tiptoe and off third entrance, then returns to fix a paper on door and exit same way. Fred Bellamy then enters by door at back, L., and executes similar business, holding his muddy boots in his hand, exit, L., second entrance.

Enter Dibbs door right second entrance, yawning and stretching himself, he carries feather brush in his hand.

Dibbs. Ooh! What a shame to have to turn out just when you begin to appreciate your pillow. (Reading paper on door, R.) “Call me at tea-time.” (Crossing to L. and reading paper on other door.) “Don’t call me until to-morrow.” (Looking at clock on chimney piece.) Hullo! Only seven o’clock! I’m up too soon! I have cheated myself out of a clear hour in bed. Shall I go back again? No! The governor’s left out his cigars and I know the best brands he keeps three sorts—these cost about sixpence each and he smokes ’em himself—these are worth perhaps twopence and are for the use of his friends—and these he gives to his father-in-law, warranted real cabbage, five shillings a hundred! I’m not his father-in-law, and I’m not his friend, so I’ll have a dip in here. (Taking some from first box.) It’s strange my tastes and the governor’s should be so similar—we both like the best of everything! (Lighting cigar.) I’m not in a bad billet here, nothing to do and no end of leisure to do it in, especially

when the missus is away; she’s gone to her aunt’s at Tunbridge Wells, so master and his friend, Mr. Fred Bellamy, are left to do as they like. (Sits in easy chair, L.)

Tilly (entering, R. 2 E.). Nobody’s up yet and so I can go to the window and kiss my hand to the night policeman before he goes off his beat. (Going to window.) There he is, leaning 4against the lamp post like a “Polly bellvurdear” in blue. It’s ’is whiskers as first won my heart! I always had a weakness for whiskers and I’m sure they are the finest in the force! Oh! what rapture to hear the clergyman say to those whiskers, “Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife,” and to hear those whiskers reply, “I will,” and then to walk arm in arm with them down the church——(Dibbs comes behind her and takes her by the waist; she screams.) Ah!

Dibbs. Caught you, have I? Making signals to the bobby. I’ll signal him! (Puts finger to his nose at window.)

Tilly. Oh! You impudent young rascal, how dare you insult a full-grown man; you without so much, as an ’air to your upper lip.

Dibbs. I’d rather have no mustarchers than a couple of blacking brushes under my ears! He’s gone now! You’d better look on me with an eye of admiration.

Tilly. You! You bare-faced brat! Smoking, too! Won’t you be ill, that’s all.

Dibbs. Pooh! I’ve been a smoker ever since I was a boy! (Mr. Selwyn’s voice heard outside calling Dibbs.) Hullo! the old rooster’s up early! (Voice, “Dibbs!”)

Tilly. I shall be off, he’s sure to be out of temper; masters and missuses are always grumpy when they first get up. (Dibbs kisses Tilly, who slaps him. Exit, L. U. E.)

Sel. (heard off). Dibbs, are you coming?

Dibbs. Yessir! (He endeavors to extinguish lighted cigar by blowing on it, then opens window and fans the air with feather brush to get rid of smoke.)

Enter Selwyn, looking very seedy, R. 3 E., in dressing-gown and carrying a tall hat in his hand which he holds behind him. He has an “up-all-night” appearance.

Sel. What the deuce are you doing?

Dibbs. Dusting, sir! (He hides cigar in trousers’ pocket.)

Sel. Do you generally dust the air?

Dibbs. Dust everything, sir. (Aside.) Dash that cigar! It ain’t out! (He pulls it secretly from trousers’ pocket and again endeavors to extinguish it.)

Sel. Is Mr. Bellamy about yet?

Dibbs. Not yet, sir.

Sel. Go and call him; say I want to speak to him at once.

Dibbs. Yessir! (Returning.) As a rule he ain’t partial to being called before eleven, sir!

Sel. Rubbish! I always encourage early rising! When I am up first myself!

Dibbs (aside). The boss is in a bad temper, perhaps he’s had the nightmare! (Dibbs knocks at door, L. 2 E. Sleepy voice replies, “What the devil do you want?”)

(Exit Dibbs, L. 2 E. entrance.

Sel. Not a moment is to be lost! My wife will be home by 5the first train and if she catches sight of this infernal tile she’ll ask questions. That’s the worst of wives, they will be so inquisitive! Damocles had a sword hanging over his head, I have a hat! (Putting hat on secretaire.) Now to write to its owner. (Sitting at table.) “Sir, pardon my hastiness last evening”——

Dibbs (entering, L.). Mr. Bellamy’s coming, sir.

Sel. (irritably). Coming! Why don’t he come! He’s always putting things off!

Dibbs. He’s not putting ’em off this time, sir, he’s putting ’em on! (Pantomimes getting into trousers.)

Sel. (finishing letter). That will do! A frank but dignified apology. (Addressing envelope.)—“Tompkins, Esq.” Nobody called this morning inquiring for me, I suppose, Dibbs?

Dibbs. No, sir! (Looking hard at Selwyn.) Lord, sir, how “squiffy” you do look this morning.

Sel. (sternly). “Squiffy,” Dibbs?

Dibbs. Yessir—off color!

Sel. (more sternly). “Off color,” Dibbs?

Dibbs. Yessir! Dotty about the eye-ball. For all the world as though you’d been out on the razzle-dazzle last night, sir.

Sel. Dibbs, I request that you will not indulge in slang out of your proper sphere—the kitchen. (Aside.) He’s right! I am “squiffy”—in fact, I never was “squiffier.” Fetch my smoking cap! (Exit Dibbs, R.) It would be rash of me to assert that I was not “off color” and as to being prepared to take my oath that I did not feel “dotty about the eye-ball” I couldn’t do it!

Dibbs (re-entering from R.). Your smoking cap, sir! (He grins at Selwyn.)

Sel. What are you grinning at?

Dibbs. Nothing, sir—except your bed ain’t a bit tumbled!

Sel. What of that? I suffered from the toothache and had to walk about all night!

Dibbs. Then the roof must want mending, for the rain comes into your room, sir—your clothes are all sopping wet! Oh, sir, if I didn’t know you, sir, I should say you had taken advantage of the missus’ absence to go out on the kick!

Sel. Dibbs, would you dare!——

Dibbs. I say, sir if I did not know you!

Sel. (aside). This boy knows too much for me! (Aloud; showing coin.) See nothing, say nothing!

Dibbs. Oh, sir! Don’t force it on me! (Takes money and puts it in his pocket.) It shall be a secret between man and man. Mum’s the word to the missus!

Sel. (aside). I wish I dared kick him!

Dibbs. Here comes Mr. Bellamy, sir!

Enter Fred, L. 2 E., without his coat.

Sel. At last, my dear Fred, at last! I want you to do me a favor!

Fred (aside). I suppose so! (Aloud.) I certainly do not 6consider it doing me a favor when I am awoke at unearthly hours.

Sel. First let me explain—(noticing Dibbs is listening.) Thank you, Dibbs, I shall not want you any more!

Dibbs (aside). As usual! Always turned out when the interest begins! Never mind, I’ve got a very good ear and the door’s got a very good key-hole; and by putting this (touching ear) and that (pointing to key-hole) together, I may hear of something to my advantage as the advertisements say.

(Exit Dibbs, R. 2 E.

Sel. Sit down, my dear boy.

Fred (yawning). If he is going to spin me one of his long yarns I shall never keep awake! (Sits in arm chair.)

Sel. Fred, we are brothers! (Taking chair over to L.)

Fred. Not exactly——

Sel. Yes, we are! You saved my life, and from that day became my brother. As a proof of my regard I am about to reveal to you what I would not confide to any other man or woman in the world.

Fred. Not even to your wife?

Sel. Not to my wife above all others. Fred, I have been off the line!

Fred. A railway accident?

Sel. No! The matrimonial line. Listen! I dined at Dobbinson’s last night. I ate a good deal and I drank more, in fact, I think I was just a leetle—a very leetle bit——(Gesture.)

Fred. “On?”

Sel. I was going to say “off” but it’s a detail. I walked home and I think I whistled. I generally whistle when I’m——

Fred. “Off?”

Sel. I was going to say “on,” but it’s a detail. I remember that about the Marble Arch I saw a Vision of Loveliness approach me. The vision evidently desired me to do her a favor——

Fred. Had you ever saved her life then?

Sel. No! The timid creature only wanted to be directed to Ludgate Hill; while endeavoring to explain a short cut we walked as far as Piccadilly together. I believe I offered to escort her.

Fred. And she accepted?

Sel. After much hesitation! We chatted and got quite good friends and at last passed by the “Geranium,” a highly respectable establishment, where, you know they admit ladies as well as gentlemen.

Fred. A cock and hen club!

Sel. Yes—but that’s a detail—suddenly the thought struck me to ask her if she had supped and if she would accept—(Gesture.) She replied, no!

Fred. She refused?

Sel. No. She said, “No, I have not supped!”

Fred. She accepted then.

7Sel. After much hesitation——

Fred (digging him in the ribs). Ah! Sly dog!

Sel. Not at all! She got quite confidential and told me her history—how her father had been a curate and got killed at the battle of—no, that was her brother—at any rate, the time passed most pleasantly, when all of a sudden she asked me my name; I stammered a little—then——(Gesture.)

Fred. You didn’t give it?

Sel. No, I gave yours!

Fred (starting up indignantly). What! Give my name to a girl you picked up promiscuously——(Selwyn forces him back into his seat.)

Sel. She was a perfect lady, dear boy. Besides, what was the use of you saving my life if I could not use your name?

Fred (pettishly). Well? Go on.

Sel. Then a faintness came over her—she wasn’t used to late hours!

Fred. Of course not! They never are!

Sel. (talking glibly). I rushed out to fetch a doctor, missed my footing on the top step, and fell headlong amongst a group of gentlemen on the pavement. “Drunken booby,” said one of them, giving me a push that sent me reeling. Off went my hat into the gutter, I went after it, and at last covered with indignation and mud, I flew at the fellow and knocked his hat off, too!

Fred. This is getting exciting!

Sel. We tussled furiously, I think I must have hurt his fist, for my eye is precious painful (putting his hand to his face), and then somebody shouted “police,” and for a wonder an active and intelligent officer at once appeared on the scene.

Fred. And locked you up?

Sel. No! I hastily snatched the hat from the pavement and ran like an antelope, but imagine my horror when I discovered I had taken my antagonist’s hat instead of my own!

Fred. That didn’t matter if it was as good, or better!

Sel. It did matter very much, for since I have had two stolen I have always stuck my card on the inside and consequently I expect to be shortly called upon, and called out by the gentleman I insulted. It is not that I fear for my own sake, but if it gets to my wife’s ears I shall never hear the last of it.

Fred. What are you going to do?

Sel. Simply be beforehand with my antagonist and disarm his resentment by profuse apologies—his name is Tompkins I have found that out.

Fred. Where does he live?

Sel. There’s the rub, for it does not give his address inside his hat, only his name! Now comes my need of your help. Go and buy the London Directory, and with this hat in one hand and that apology in the other call on all the Tompkins’s in the town!

Fred (protestingly). Oh! I say, you know——(Rises and goes, L.)

8Sel. (rises and goes, R.). What! Would you refuse? Oh, that I ever should have allowed a man to save my life who would afterward deny me such a simple favor as this!

Fred. Look here, can’t you send a servant?

Sel. What? Entrust my secret to a mercenary? Frederick Bellamy, did you save my life, or did you not?

Fred (sulkily). I did!

Sel. Did I ask you to do so?

Fred. No, considering you were at the bottom of a pond at the time you couldn’t!

Sel. You should have left me there if you only dived in to drag me on shore to witness your ingratitude.

Fred. Oh, bother! I suppose I must; where’s the infernal stovepipe?

Sel. (joyfully). I knew you would assist me and in return I’ll tell you something (whispering)—look out for a surprise! (Aside.) Poor fellow, I know he adores my daughter and thinks to let concealment like a thingamy in the bud feed on his damask cheek! (Effusively.) Bless you, my boy!

Fred (aside). I wish he wouldn’t look so confoundedly affectionate.

Sel. Now you understand? Here’s the letter and there’s the hat. (Putting them into his hands.) I’m off to dress while you go and buy a directory!

Fred. Buy a directory! I don’t want to buy a directory! I hate directories!

Sel. You should have thought of that before you saved my life.

(Exit Selwyn, R. U. E.

Fred. I have had three months of this sort of thing. I came to London for pleasure and I have suffered slavery ever since. I hadn’t been in town two days when looking over the Serpentine Bridge I beheld a man struggling in the water. I was weak enough to rescue him, and he immediately proved so oppressively grateful that I have never been able to escape from his clutches from that day to this. I would have gone back to Bristol long ago, but there’s my dear little Lottie Blithers to whom I am secretly married and whom I would not desert for untold gold. She keeps a glove shop in Bond street and I pass most of my time in purchasing her stock in trade. This sort of thing can’t go on much longer!

Sel. (re-entering, R. U. E.). What! Not gone yet? Suppose my wife were to return or that Tompkins should turn up.

Fred (protesting). That’s all very well, but——?

Sel. There’s no time for “butting” now!

Fred. Damn it! You don’t want me to go without a coat, do you? (He places on the escritoire the hat that Selwyn had given him and goes off into his room, L. 2 E.)

Sel. (speaking to him off). Do make haste, there’s a good fellow! (Aside.) I knew he wouldn’t be ungrateful. I knew that he wouldn’t forget that I had saved his life, no, I mean that he had saved mine! (Calling off, L.) Ain’t you ready? (Aside.) 9He shall be repaid for this! One of these days. I shall be able to grasp him by the hand and say—(calling off.) What the devil are you doing?

Re-enter Fred, L. 2 E.

Fred. Don’t shout! Here I am!

Sel. At last!

Enter Dibbs, quickly, R. 2 E.

Dibbs. There’s a cab just driven up to the door, sir. I think it’s the missus!

Sel. (to Fred). Off you go! You have the letter? (Going, L.) Not that way, you will meet her! Remember the directory, and above all don’t forget the name “Tompkins.” It’s engraven in letters of enormous size on my heart. Get the same done on yours!

(Exit Fred, door at back.

Sel. Now to hoodwink the wife! (Sitting down and taking newspaper). I must meet her eye without flinching. (Enter Mrs. Selwyn and Grace, at door in flat.) Ah, my dear, so glad to see you back! (He kisses wife and daughter.)

Mrs. S. Have you been dull, Sam dear!

Sel. (most emphatically). Dull! Miserable! Regularly downright, positively wretched.

Mrs. S. I didn’t expect to find you up so soon as this.

Sel. No! I shouldn’t have been only—only——(Searching for an excuse.)

Dibbs (chiming in, R.). Only the master went to bed so early last night!

Sel. (aside to Dibbs). Shut up!

Dibbs (aside to Selwyn). Leave it to me, governor. I’ll pull you through!

Mrs. S. For all that, you look anything but well, you are quite pale and haggard—it’s a most extraordinary thing that whenever I go to aunt’s for a day or two I always find you looking bad when I return.

Sel. (forcing smile). Yes! it’s the—the——

Dibbs (striking in). It’s the toothache!

Grace (sympathetically). Oh! papa dear, have you had the toothache?

Sel. Yes, my dear. (Aside; vexed.) He’s given me the toothache now! I’ll give him something presently! (Aloud.) Ah, and how is your aunt, dear aunt Betty? Is the gout in her foot better?

Mrs. S. Gout! You mean her asthma!

Sel. Gout—asthma! Asthma—gout, just the same, it’s only a detail! All through my indigestion; it affects my memory. Had it awful!

Mrs. S. Oh! I am so sorry, dear! You are looking queer! Can we do anything, for you?

10Sel. Yes, no, it’s the weather—so hot, you know.

Mrs. S. Hot! I thought it chilly!

Sel. Ah! It may have been chilly where you were, it’s been warm here. In fact, yesterday was the warmest day I remember!

Grace (aside to Mrs. Selwyn). Don’t forget to tell him all about Corney!

Mrs. S. (aside to Grace). Presently, child.

Grace. He may be here at any moment, you know! (Grace up C. at window.)

Mrs. S. (close behind Selwyn). Sam, do you know a Mr. Tompkins?

Sel. (paralyzed by the suddenness of the question). Tom—Tom Tompkins! (Aside.) Has she found me out?

Mrs. S. (quietly). No, dear, not Tom Tompkins—Horace Tompkins.

Sel. I never saw, heard of, or spoke to a person of that name in all my life!

Mrs. S. He’s the new society poet and author of Midnight Moans. I hear they’ve made quite a noise!

Sel. No doubt, but I’m not partial to moans.

Mrs. S. The book was only lent me for an hour, and I am so interested that I want Frederick to go out and buy a copy.

Grace (aside, C., rather vexed). I think ma might speak to pa about Captain Katskill instead of her stupid poetry!

Sel. Fred! Oh! He’ll soon get it for you! Stop, though, I forgot, he’s gone out!

Mrs. S. So early?

Sel. Yes. (To Mrs. Selwyn, L.)

Mrs. S. Ah! here he is back again!

Enter Fred quickly, at back, out of breath and with large Directory under his arm. He puts down Directory.

Sel. (Aside). He surely cannot have tracked that Tompkins to his lair already?

Fred. Good morning, Mrs. Selwyn, hope you have enjoyed your trip. (To Selwyn, aside). I say, old fellow, I forgot it after all!

Sel. (aside to Fred). Forgot what?

Fred (aside). The hat!

Sel. Horror, where did you leave it?

Fred (aside). Here! (Points to hat just as Mrs. Selwyn casually picks it up.)

Mrs. S. Who’s is this? (Looking inside.) Tompkins!

Sel. (aside to Fred). Claim it!

Fred (to Mrs. Selwyn). It’s mine!

Sel. (excitedly). Yes, it’s Fred’s. (He snatches it and claps it on Fred’s head, being too large it “bonnets” him.)

Mrs. S. (in astonishment). Surely, it cannot be!

Dibbs (coming between Mr. Selwyn and Mrs. Selwyn, aside). 11I must pull them through again, or they’ll make a mess of it! (Aloud.) No, sir, this is the hat you brought from the club last night! I know it well, ma’am, name of Tompkins inside—the master left his own behind and brought this one home instead! Mr. Bellamy was only taking of it back. (Winks at Mr. Selwyn; aside.)

Sel. (relieved; aside). This boy’s a lovely liar! (Aloud.) Yes!

Fred. Yes!

Mrs. S. Why not have said so at first, dear?

Sel. Oh, I was going to, but Dibbs put me out! (Aside to Dibbs.) You shall have a sovereign for that taradiddle!

Dibbs (aside to Selwyn). It was the truth!

Sel. So it was! I withdraw my generous offer.

Mrs. S. (rapturously gazing at hat). And to think that hat has probably covered the head of the author of “Midnight Moans.”

Fred (aside to Selwyn). Do you know how many Tompkins’s there are in the directory? Two hundred and eighty-nine!