CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that "GREEN STOCKINGS," being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Canada, and all the other countries of the Copyright Union, is subject to royalty, and anyone presenting the play without the consent of the owners or their authorized agents will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications for the amateur acting rights must be made to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. Applications for the professional acting rights must be made to Alice Kauser, 1402 Broadway, New York, N. Y.
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| SAMUEL FRENCH | SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. |
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| 25 West 45th Street | STRAND, W.C.2 |
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The following is a copy of program of the first performance of GREEN STOCKINGS as produced at the Thirty-ninth Street Theatre, New York, on October 2, 1911:
Liebler and Company
presents
GREEN STOCKINGS
A Comedy in Three Acts
By A. E. W. MASON
| Colonel J. N. Smith, D.S.O. | H. Reeves Smith |
| William Faraday, J. P. | Stanley Dark |
| Admiral Grice, R. N. | Arthur Lawrence |
| Honorable Robert Tarver | Ivo Dawson |
| James Raleigh | Wallace Widdecombe |
| Henry Steele | Henry Hull |
| Martin | Halbert Brown |
| Celia Faraday | Margaret Anglin |
| Evelyn Trenchard | Mrs. Ruth Holt Boucicault |
| Madge Rockingham | Helen Langford |
| Phyllis Faraday | Gertrude Hitz |
| Mrs. Chisholm Faraday | Maude Granger |
ACT I. Room in Mr. Faraday's House, February 11th. Evening.
ACT II. Same as Act I. Eight months later. About six o'clock.
ACT III. Morning room in Mr. Faraday's house. Evening same day.
Admiral Grice (Retired), a testy old gentleman of about sixty-five, with the manner of an old sea dog, of ruddy complexion, with white hair and whiskers.
William Faraday, a well-preserved man of about sixty-five. Fashionable, superficial and thoroughly selfish.
Colonel Smith, a dignified, dryly humorous man of military bearing, about forty years old.
Robert Tarver, an empty-headed young swell.
Henry Steele and James Raleigh, two young men of about thirty and thirty-five respectively.
Martin, a dignified old family servant.
Celia Faraday, an unaffected woman of twenty-nine, with a sense of humor.
Madge (Mrs. Rockingham) and Evelyn (Lady Trenchard), handsome, well-dressed, fashionable women of twenty-five and twenty-seven respectively.
Phyllis, the youngest sister, a charming and pretty but thoughtlessly selfish girl of twenty.
Mrs. Chisholm Faraday, of Chicago (Aunt Ida), a florid, quick-tempered, warm-hearted woman of fifty or thereabouts.
Scene: A room in Mr. Faraday's country house; at the upper left corner a little room is recessed, in which is a folding card table and four chairs. Windows at back. On table are two decks of cards, an ashtray and two bridge-markers and pencils. Hanging over table, a shaded electrolier. There is no door, but people sitting at the card tables are practically off the stage, though they can be seen and heard. At right corner balancing left corner exactly is seen a portion of the morning room (backing used is part of Act III set). Directly against back is a small table, between two chairs, both of which are facing it. On table, a lighted lamp and an English periodical, also an ashtray and a vase of spring flowers. Note: All flowers used in this set are spring flowers. Between card room and morning room on back flat, a tapestry is hung, against flat a baby grand piano, keyboard facing right up and down stage; on piano are a scarf, photograph frames, vase of flowers and a lamp. In the center of the left wall of the room, proper is hung a large picture; beneath this stands a large cabinet on which is formal garniture. Below this is a door (L.I) which leads into the hall; above door and to left center, a table on which is a sliding book rack holding several books and an English army list. Also a shaded lamp, a purse for Lady Trenchard to left of table, and a sewing-bag for Aunt Ida to right of table.
In R.I is a door balancing that in L.I. It leads to hall. Above door R. is a large mantel. Above this is hung a large picture, balancing that on left wall. On the mantel, a formal garniture of vases; against mantel, a club fender with upholstered top, fireirons inside fender, grate with lighted coal fire; below fender, facing sofa, an armchair. Opposite and facing the fender and about three feet from it is a large comfortable sofa, with a number of cushions; against the back of this, a long magazine table. On this are, beginning at upper end, an English timetable, a large shaded lamp, large cigarette box containing cigarettes, ashtray, match-holder, vase of tulips, photo frame, and at extreme lower end of table seven or eight English periodicals. On these, a large blue linen envelope, unsealed, flap being turned in. This contains a few spring fashion plates. With this are four ordinary letters, containing circulars (all of these letters are important). Below table, a square tapestry stool, left of table an armchair, under table a waste-paper basket. Between piano and entrance to morning room is a small light writing table. On this, a small lamp or a pair of shaded candles, a blotting pad with paper, envelopes, ink and pens. Above this a chair. Off L. a door bell and set of chimes. Electric light switch on R. wall to R. of morning room opening. Bell push on L. of back flat. The entire room should convey the impression of quiet, dignified, tasteful elegance. Complete darkness at windows, suggesting a rainy night. On rise of curtain, all lamps are lighted and fire aglow.
Before the curtain rises, Phyllis plays for a moment or two.
At Rise: Discovered: Phyllis at piano, playing. Lady Trenchard seated at upper end of sofa, smoking a cigarette and reading a periodical. Madge writing a letter at writing table up stage. Aunt Ida seated in armchair at R. of table L,. knitting. The girls and Aunt Ida are in evening dress. Phyllis continues to play softly under conversation, something cheerful but not too fast. The opening scene should be played brightly and quickly.
Madge. (Rises. Brightly) Oh, Evelyn----
Evelyn. Yes, Madge.
Madge. (Coming down to chair L. of table R. with letter in hand) I do want this letter to my husband to catch the Indian mail. Do you know anything about the postal service in this benighted village?
Evelyn. (Continuing to read and speaking over her magazine) No, Madgie, I don't. Celia always attends to those things. She's away. Ring for Martin.
(Madge goes to bell in upper flat L., rings it, and then comes L.C.)
Aunt Ida. (Without looking up from her knitting) Has anyone gone to the wharf to meet Celia?
Evelyn. (Indifferently) Why, no. She's coming home to-night, isn't she?
Aunt Ida. (Vehemently) You got her telegram.
Madge. (Unconcerned) What time is her boat due?
Aunt Ida. At eight, and now it's nearly nine.
(Enter Martin R.IE. and stands.)
Aunt Ida. (Continuing) She'll have been waiting for an hour on that dreadful wharf.
Evelyn. (Still reading and speaking over her book) Oh, Martin, the motor must go at once to the wharf to fetch Miss Celia.
Martin. Yes, your Ladyship, but hadn't I better send down some extra wraps; it's a very wet night.
Evelyn. (Looking up for a moment) Wet? Dear me, is it raining?
Aunt Ida. Cats and dogs.
Evelyn. (Returning to her reading) Oh, very well, then, Martin, attend to it at once.
Martin. (Turns to go to door R.) Yes, your Ladyship.
Madge. (From L.C.) Attend to me first, Martin, if you please.
Martin. (Turns back) Yes, madam.
Madge. How late can I post in order to catch the Indian mail?
Martin. Up till ten o'clock, madam.
Madge. (Going back to desk) Oh, then I have time to write a longer letter. (Martin exits R.I.)
Aunt Ida. (Looking around at girls, who are all occupied and quite oblivious of Celia's discomfort. With a deep sigh and shaking her head) Poor Celia.
Phyllis. (Gives a slight bang on the piano, rises and comes quickly down center. Indignantly) Poor Celia. Well, she's coming back home just at a moment that's going to complicate--the--whole--situation.
Evelyn. Why, what do you mean?
Phyllis. (Addressing Evelyn) Well, you know how father feels about letting me get married--while Celia is settling down day after day into a permanent old maid. If she'd stay away a little longer, he might forget for a while, but here she's turning up just this very night, just as Bobby has gained courage enough to take the bull by the horns and beard the lion sulking in his tent.
(Enter Tarver in evening dress, dejectedly, R.U., coming down center.)
Aunt Ida. What an extraordinary proceeding.
Phyllis. (Running up to Bobby and taking him by the arm) Oh! Bobby, Bobby! What news?
Tarver. Well, I'm afraid it's hopeless, though I spoke with singular force. (Sits in chair left of table R.)
A
Phyllis. (Stands L. of chair, L. of table R.) Oh, Bobby, how splendid of you! How did you put it?
Tarver. In the form of a question. I said to your father, "Are you aware, sir, that I love your daughter and wish to make her mine?"
Evelyn. What did Father say?
Tarver. Oh, he said, "Has it escaped your observation, sir, that I still have two marriageable daughters?"
Phyllis. (Protestingly) But he hasn't, he hasn't.
Aunt Ida. Eh?
Phyllis. You know what I mean, Aunt Ida. I'm marriageable, but Celia--well--Celia's just--unmarried.
Evelyn. (With smiling sarcasm) And very likely to stay so.
Aunt Ida. (Grunts) Huh!
Tarver. That's just it, but tell me, what is your father's dearest wish in life?
Phyllis. To get rid of us both, of course.
Aunt Ida. Phyllis Faraday!
Evelyn. (Putting magazine on sofa and putting out cigarette on ashtray) Yes, so that he can give up this house to live at his club, but he promised poor mother to wait till we were all married----
Tarver. Yes, and he knows there's a better chance of getting Celia off his hands as long as Phyllis is about, because people will go on talking of her and Celia as the two Faraday girls, and lumping good old Celia into the girl division just out of habit. He won't risk letting Miss Celia put on a third pair of green stockings. (Tarver looks around for ashtray, sees one on upper end of table, rises, goes to upper end of table, flicks ashes on tray and strolls down right of sofa and sits lower end of fender.)
Aunt Ida. Eh? Will you tell me what all this has to do with Celia's stockings?
(Phyllis sits in chair L. of table R.)
Evelyn. (Rising leisurely, going to lower end of table, taking her fan and crossing to Aunt Ida, speaking as she goes) Not Celia's stockings, Aunt Ida, her green stockings.
Aunt Ida. Eh?
Evelyn. Why, yes. Have you never known of the old country custom which requires an elder sister to wear green stockings at the wedding of her younger sister, if that younger sister has captured a husband first?
Aunt Ida. (Turning her back to Evelyn with disgust) No, I never heard of such rubbish.
Evelyn. (Patronizingly, crossing to head of table R. and speaking as she crosses) And poor old Celia has had to put them on twice already. Once for Madge and once for me, and now comes Phyllis. (Puts her hand on Phyllis's shoulder.)
Phyllis. And if I have to wait to be married until Celia is out of the way---- (Sighs. Evelyn moves above table and down R. of sofa.) Oh, couldn't we think of anybody who might marry Celia? Evelyn, do you think you could do anything about it with Henry Steele or Jimmie Raleigh?
Tarver. (With a brilliant inspiration) If it comes to that, why shouldn't Admiral Grice be got to marry Miss Celia? (Everybody exclaims and throws up their hands in horror.)
(Evelyn sits on sofa.)
Phyllis. (Horrified) Oh, Bobby!
Tarver. Yes, Grice. (Thoughtfully, strolling center below table) Isn't half a bad idea, come to think of it. I'd like to get even with Grice. (Aunt Ida gives a grunt of disgust.) The way he keeps roaring questions at me all day about my election, and neither he nor Miss Celia are what you might call--in the first bloom of their youth.
Aunt Ida. (Interrupting sharply) Mr. Tarver, my niece, Miss Celia Faraday, is a dear, delightful young woman, still under thirty.
Evelyn. (Again with smiling sarcasm) Yes, but how much under, Aunt Ida?
Tarver. Yes, as Lady Trenchard says, how much is Miss Celia Faraday under thirty? Thirty-two is freezing-point, remember. (Phyllis laughs.)
Aunt Ida. Tcha! (Picks up knitting and goes on with it angrily.)
Tarver. (Chuckling to himself and strolling right to foot of table) Jimmie Raleigh said a very true thing about her. He said, "Whenever I talk to Miss Faraday, I'm warranted to stay cold for days--like a Thermos bottle." (Sits on stool.)
Phyllis. Oh, Bobby!
Aunt Ida. Oh, Mr. Tarver! (Smiling with suppressed fury) I should like to have you in Chicago for a week.
Tarver. (Taking her seriously) Oh, thanks awfully. I dare say some day, after my election, I shall have to look up America. Just at present, though, I have too much on my mind.
Aunt Ida. Shouldn't overburden the weak, Mr. Tarver.
Phyllis. (Showing resentment) Oh, Aunt Ida! (Evelyn laughs.)
Tarver. (Rises, gives Aunt Ida a resentful look, turns up R. by fender and addresses Evelyn) But the great thing now is to get old Grice to propose to Miss Celia.
Evelyn. (Very patronizingly) Why, yes, Bobby. Then out of gratitude she might go out and canvass for you.
Tarver. (Doubtfully) Ye-es, that would be very nice, of course. (Rises enthusiastically.) But fascinating girls are what is needed at a time like this--like you, Lady Trenchard, and Phyllis and Mrs. Rockingham. (He bows to each as he addresses them. Going up to Madge at desk R.) I say, when is your husband coming back from India?
Madge. Not till Christmas. (Rises.)
Tarver. Then you can spend all your time canvassing for me, can't you?
Madge. (Patronizingly) Oh, of course, Bobby.
Tarver. (Crossing L. to C.) Thanks awfully. And you two girls can do the same. But your sister--well---- (Madge comes to head of magazine table.)
Aunt Ida. (Turning on him quickly) Well, what, Mr. Tarver?
Tarver. (Very diffidently) Well, I'm afraid she wouldn't be of much use--you see, she's rather difficult--isn't she?
Aunt Ida. Difficult!
Tarver. (Seeing he has made a break, tries to recover himself