Writing for Vaudeville Part 52

THE FELLOW: No, indeed--they were all tom-cats.

THE GIRL: Who ever heard of such a thing?

THE FELLOW: Well, you've heard of tom-cods, haven't you?

THE GIRL: Yes, of course, but--

THE FELLOW: Well, why not tom-cats then? Say, you must be sure to come over to our camp and see the collection in our private aquarium. We have two compartments, and keep the little daughter fish on one side, and--

THE GIRL: The daughter fis.h.!.+

THE FELLOW: (Nodding his head.) Yes, and the son-fish on the other. (THE GIRL springs to her feet, angrily.)

THE GIRL: You are simply guying me. I shan't listen to you another moment. Give me my glove, sir, I demand it.

THE FELLOW: (Also jumping to his feet and grasping her by the arm.) Oh, please don't get mad. We were getting along so nicely, too.

THE GIRL: (Sneeringly.) "WE" were getting along so nicely. You mean YOU were. I wasn't.

THE FELLOW: Yes, you were doing FINE. You were listening to me, and I can get along all right with anybody that will listen to me.

Besides--ah-ah--fraulein--mam'selle--you know, I don't know your name--besides I--I--I like you. I--I think you're the sweetest girl I've ever seen.

THE GIRL: (Turning her head away, and releasing her arm from his grasp.) Oh, pshaw! You've said that to a hundred girls.

THE FELLOW: No--believe me, I have not. YOU'VE made a mighty big hit with me. I'm hard hit this time. I--

THE GIRL: (Laughing in spite of herself.) Oh, you foolish boy.

How can you expect me to believe you? I'll bet anything that your coat pockets are filled with love letters from other girls this very minute.

THE FELLOW: You are wrong. You are unjust. Clementina, you are--

THE GIRL: (Indignant again.) Clementina! How _dare_ you address me by such a ridiculous--

THE FELLOW: Oh, pardon me. I thought Clementina was quite poetic.

Besides, I've got to call you something. You do me a terrible injustice. On my word of honor--as a--as a _fisherman_--I haven't a love letter in my coat pocket--or anywhere else. I am young, innocent, virtuous and--

THE GIRL: (Bursting into laughter again.) And utterly foolish, I should judge. You are afraid to let me search your pockets.

THE FELLOW: Afraid? Who's afraid? Me afraid! Well, I'd be tickled to death to have you search my pockets. I _dare_ you to search my pockets. I dare you--understand? (He faces her and throws up his hands over his head.)

THE GIRL: You dare me, do you? Well, I just _won't_ take a dare.

I'll do it.

THE FELLOW: Go ahead and do it. I repeat, I _dare_ you! If you doubt my word, prove to your satisfaction that I never lie. I _dare_ you!

THE GIRL: (Leaning her parasol against bench, and stepping up to him in very business-like manner.) Very well, then. I accept your challenge. You can't bluff me out. I believe that ALL men lie when they talk to women, and I am under the impression that you are no exception. Keep your hands up in the air--promise?

THE FELLOW: I promise.

THE GIRL: This is the first time I've ever held up anybody, but here goes. (She searches his right-hand pocket.) I don't suppose you've ever been robbed before?

THE FELLOW: Oh, yes--I was once surrounded by a band of robbers.

THE GIRL: (Still searching.) Indeed! On a public highway?

THE FELLOW: (Still holding up his hands.) No, in a New York hotel cafe. They were the waiters.

THE GIRL: (Taking her hand out of right-hand pocket.) Well, there's nothing in that one but a box of matches. How about this one?

(She thrusts her hand into the lower left-hand pocket, and pulls out a letter, written on dainty writing paper.) Ah! this is what I expected to find. Perfumed note paper. (She looks at it critically.) Yes, this is the one--no need to search further.

THE FELLOW: What the devil!--(His hands drop to his sides, and he opens his eyes in amazement.)

THE GIRL: (Turning on him angrily.) Sir--such language!

THE FELLOW: Oh, I beg your pardon--but--but--(He points to letter.) I--I--that letter isn't mine. I can't understand how it got into my pocket. I--(Suddenly a look of enlightenment comes into his face. Aside, he says.) By thunder!--I had forgotten all about it.

This suit of clothes belongs to Tommy Higgins. Oh, what a mess I've made of it. She'll never believe me _now_ if I tell her I am wearing another fellow's suit. (To her, excitedly.) Say--listen to me, honestly that letter was not written to me, Tommy Higgins, you see--

THE GIRL: (Waving him aside.) No excuses. You probably thought you didn't have it with you. Falsehoods are always found out, you see. I was right. You are like all the rest of the men--a born liar--only with this difference--you are a _bigger_ liar than the average. You are really in a cla.s.s all by yourself. (With the letter held out before her, she scans it eagerly.)

Oh, this is immense!--this is delicious!

THE FELLOW: (Making a grab for the letter.) Give that to me, please.

THE GIRL: Not on your life. It may not be proper to read other people's letters, but the present circ.u.mstances are unusual. I shall certainly read it--and read it aloud. I want to make you swallow every word and see how they agree with you. Listen to I this, you barbaric Ananias. (She reads aloud.) "My beloved Affinity--Come back to town next Sat.u.r.day without fail. Just slip away from the other boys at the camp. Tell them that an important business matter demands your presence in the city. I am crazy to see you. Life without you is very stupid. Come to me, my dearest, without delay.

Always your own,

Clementina."

THE FELLOW: (Collapsing in a heap on the bench.) CLEMENTINA!!

THE GIRL: (Folding up the letter and looking at him in utter scorn.) So _that's_ where you got the name! So you were thinking of the writer of this letter when you addressed ME by the name of Clementina a while ago. Simply outrageous! (She stamps her feet.)

THE FELLOW: (With a groan.) Oh, Lord! I just happened to say "Clementina" because I thought it was a pretty name. Won't you believe me? I don't know who this Clementina is. I never saw the writer of that letter in all my life. That letter was meant for Tommy Higgins. This suit of clothes--

THE GIRL: (Interrupting.) Don't even attempt to make ridiculous explanations. Don't make yourself more of a liar than you have already proved. I won't listen to another word from you. I didn't want to listen to you in the first place. Here is your affinity's letter, sir. (She hands it to him. He takes it and stuffs it angrily into the coat pocket.) Now, let me have my parasol, please, and my glove. (She reaches for the parasol, but he catches it up and holds it behind his back, as he rises from the bench.)

THE FELLOW: You shall not go away until you hear what I want to say. Tommy Higgins--

THE GIRL: Oh, bother Tommy Higgins!

THE FELLOW: Yes. That's what I say--only stronger. But listen, please--

THE GIRL: Don't discuss the matter further. My parasol and glove; sir! (She is facing him angrily.)

THE FELLOW: Oh, come now. Don't be so hard on a fellow. I tell you that letter wasn't written to me. What if I should search your pockets and find a letter that belonged to somebody else?

How would you feel about it?

THE GIRL: You would never find anything in MY pockets that I am ashamed of--that is, if I HAD any pockets. But I have no pockets.