I
SHE hurried to the first meeting of the play-reading committee.
Her jungle romance had faded, but she retained a religious
fervor, a surge of half-formed thought about the creation of
beauty by suggestion.
A Dunsany play would be too difficult for the Gopher Prairie
association. She would let them compromise on Shaw—on
"Androcles and the Lion," which had just been published.
The committee was composed of Carol, Vida Sherwin, Guy
Pollock, Raymie Wutherspoon, and Juanita Haydock. They
were exalted by the picture of themselves as being
simultaneously business-like and artistic. They were entertained
by Vida in the parlor of Mrs. Elisha Gurrey's boarding-house,
with its steel engraving of Grant at Appomattox, its basket of
stereoscopic views, and its mysterious stains on the gritty
carpet.
Vida was an advocate of culture-buying and
efficiency-systems. She hinted that they ought to have (as at the
committee-meetings of the Thanatopsis) a "regular order of
business," and "the reading of the minutes," but as there
were no minutes to read, and as no one knew exactly what was
the regular order of the business of being literary, they had
to give up efficiency.
Carol, as chairman, said politely, "Have you any ideas about
what play we'd better give first?" She waited for them to
look abashed and vacant, so that she might suggest
"Androcles."
Guy Pollock answered with disconcerting readiness, "I'll
tell you: since we're going to try to do something artistic,
and not simply fool around, I believe we ought to give something
classic. How about `The School for Scandal'?"
"Why— Don't you think that has been done a good
deal?"
"Yes, perhaps it has."
Carol was ready to say, "How about Bernard Shaw?" when
he treacherously went on, "How would it be then to give a
Greek drama—say `Œdipus Tyrannus'?"
"Why, I don't believe—"
Vida Sherwin intruded, "I'm sure that would be too hard
for us. Now I've brought something that I think would be
awfully jolly."
She held out, and Carol incredulously took, a thin gray
pamphlet entitled "McGinerty's Mother-in-law." It was the
sort of farce which is advertised in "school entertainment"
catalogues as:
Riproaring knock-out, 5 m. 3 f., time 2 hrs., interior set, popular
with churches and all high-class occasions.
Carol glanced from the scabrous object to Vida, and realized
that she was not joking.
"But this is—this is—why, it's just a— Why, Vida, I
thought you appreciated—well—appreciated art."
Vida snorted, "Oh. Art. Oh yes. I do like art. It's
very nice. But after all, what does it matter what kind of
play we give as long as we get the association started? The
thing that matters is something that none of you have spoken
of, that is: what are we going to do with the money, if we
make any? I think it would be awfully nice if we presented
the high school with a full set of Stoddard's travel-lectures!"
Carol moaned, "Oh, but Vida dear, do forgive me but this
farce— Now what I'd like us to give is something
distinguished. Say Shaw's `Androcles.' Have any of you read
it?"
"Yes. Good play," said Guy Pollock.
Then Raymie Wutherspoon astoundingly spoke up:
"So have I. I read through all the plays in the public
library, so's to be ready for this meeting. And— But I
don't believe you grasp the irreligious ideas in this `Androcles,'
Mrs. Kennicott. I guess the feminine mind is too innocent to
understand all these immoral writers. I'm sure I don't want
to criticize Bernard Shaw; I understand he is very popular
with the highbrows in Minneapolis; but just the same— As
far as I can make out, he's downright improper! The things
he says— Well, it would be a very risky thing
for our
young folks to see. It seems to me that a play that doesn't
leave a nice taste in the mouth and that hasn't any message
is nothing but—nothing but— Well, whatever it may be,
it isn't art. So— Now I've found a play that is clean, and
there's some awfully funny scenes in it, too. I laughed out
loud, reading it. It's called `His Mother's Heart,' and it's
about a young man in college who gets in with a lot of
free-thinkers and boozers and everything, but in the end his mother's
influence—"
Juanita Haydock broke in with a derisive, "Oh rats, Raymie!
Can the mother's influence! I say let's give something with
some class to it. I bet we could get the rights to `The Girl
from Kankakee,' and that's a real show. It ran for eleven
months in New York!"
"That would be lots of fun, if it wouldn't cost too much,"
reflected Vida.
Carol's was the only vote cast against "The Girl from
Kankakee."