8 THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN, PORTLAND, AUGUST 16, 1914. -
SCENE I.
SUZANNE, who is a thorough little tem
perance woman, is distressed when Tom
brings up again that old question of serving
cocktails and wine at their dinner parties.
She feels that it must soon be settled, once
and for all time. "Our house is the only one
in our circle where the dinners are 'dry' and
correspondingly dull," says her husband.
"Tom, dear, if we have to brighten up our
parties with alcohol, the fault is with the
guests and not with our dinners," retorts
Suzanne.
SCENE n.
SUZANNE consults with her brother
Billy's friend, Brandon Mortimer. Mr.
Mortimer is something on the stage. Billy
says he can do all sorts of stunts and tricks,
and once "doubled in brass" whatever
that means. He will be sure to come, as he
is "resting" at present, and, Billy says, is
known never to decline a dinner invitation.
Suzanne wonders if Mr. Mortimer could
simulate extreme intoxication upon, say, two
drinks. Mr. Mortimer is sure he could.
net
SCENE III.
SUZANNE waits until Tom's father and
mother visit them, and then gives a din
ner party to which is bidden, among others,
Mr. Brandon Mortimer, the distinguished
actor-manager, who goes in with Tom's
mother. Presently Suzanne, looking across
her own turned-down glasses to where the
wine is flowing quite freely, finds herself the
hostess of a very jolly dinner. She has led up
adroitly to two of Tom's best stories when,
at-about half past fish, Mr. Mortimer, never
the one to shirk his part in an entertainment,
becomes noisily "broad" and obliges with a
song. This proves to be a pleasant little
thing called "The Curse of an Aching
Heart," with a chorus beginning, "You've
made me what I am today I hope you're
satisfied. You dragged and dragged me
down until my soul within me died." Look
ing at her husband's face across the table,
Suzanne wonders if her scheme is not, per
haps, working out too well, after all, and her
embarrassment is not entirely feigned.
SCENE IV.
f fpHERE. Never again will a dinner
guest of ours have to be carried out
and put in a cab. He might at least have
stopped singing when the Fergusons stuck
their heads out of the windows." It is Tom
who is speaking, and the time is the morn
ing after.