The Flutter of the Goldleaf

The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and
Other Plays, by

Olive Tilford Dargan and Frederick Peterson This eBook is for the use
of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
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Title: The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other Plays
Author: Olive Tilford Dargan and Frederick Peterson
Release Date: December 23, 2006 [EBook #20172]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF ***

Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Kentuckiana Digital Library)

THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF
AND OTHER PLAYS

BY OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN
AND FREDERICK PETERSON
NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1922

COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
PRINTED AT THE SCRIBNER PRESS NEW YORK, U. S. A.

CONTENTS

PAGE
THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF 1
BY OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN AND FREDERICK PETERSON
THE JOURNEY 49
BY OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN
EVERYCHILD 75
BY FREDERICK PETERSON AND OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN
TWO DOCTORS AT AKRAGAS 103
BY FREDERICK PETERSON

THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF
A PLAY IN ONE ACT

BY
Olive Tilford Dargan
AND
Frederick Peterson

CHARACTERS
PHILO WARNER, a student HIRAM WARNER, his father, the
village grocer MARY ANN WARNER, his mother DR. BELLOWS,
the village physician DR. SEYMOUR, a city specialist REBA SLOAN,
a neighbor's daughter

THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF
SCENE: Laboratory in the attic of the Warner cottage. At right, toward
rear, entrance from down-stairs. A rude partition, left, with door in
centre. Window centre rear. Large kitchen table loaded with apparatus.
Shelves, similarly loaded, against wall near table, right. Wires strung
about. A rude couch, bench, and several wooden chairs.
Time, about 8 p.m. Lamp burns on table. MRS. WARNER comes
up-stairs, puts her head inside the room nervously, then enters and
looks about.
Mrs. W.
Such a mess! And the doctors will be here in half an hour! (Tries to get
busy but seems bothered. Crosses to table and looks at a little machine
that stands upon it.) That's what's driving my boy crazy! If I only dared
to smash it! The right sort of a mother would do just that! (Looks at
machine with dire meditation.)
Warner (without, roaring up the stairs)

Mary Ann!
Mrs. W. (jumps)
Yes, Hiram!
Warner (entering)
Where's Philo?
Mrs. W.
In the orchard. I watched my chance, and thought I'd redd up a little.
He won't let me touch anything when he's here.
Warner
Just about lives up here, don't he?
Mrs. W.
Day and night now, since he's been too sick to go to the store. And I
can't have Dr. Bellows bring in that specialist from New York with
things lookin' as if a woman had never come up the stairs. (Dusting and
rattling.)
Warner
Philo's not onto what the doctors are after, is he?
Mrs. W.
He thinks they're coming to look at his machine mostly--and see what's
keepin' him awake nights. But maybe he knows. He's awful sharp.
Warner
Sharp? Wish he knew enough to sell eggs and bacon. He's ruinin' my
business. Weighs a pound of coffee as if he was asleep. I can see

customers watchin' him out o' the tail o' their eye. They're gettin' afraid
of him! Mary Ann, the boy's going to be a shame to us. He's crazy!
Mrs. W.
Don't you call my boy crazy. I won't hear it, Hiram.
Warner
No, you'll wait till the whole village tells you! They're all talkin' now!
Mrs. W.
It's none o' their business!
Warner
It'll be their business if he flies up and hurts somebody.
Mrs. W.
Philo wouldn't hurt anything alive. He got mad at me once for killin' a
spider.
Warner (scornfully)
Showed his sense there, didn't he?
Mrs. W.
If Philo's queer it's not from my side of the house. You know what your
mother was like--wanderin' round nights starin' at the stars with that old
spy-glass Captain Barker gave her.
Warner
She was a good mother, all the same.
Mrs. W.

Couldn't cook at all. Your father only kept alive by eating at the
neighbors occasionally--and as for sewing and mending, you children
went in rags till your Aunt Sary came to live with you.
Warner
Mother thought a heap of us, though. I remember how she cried
because I wouldn't go to school and went into the grocery business.
And she cried a lot more when I married you. I couldn't understand
her--then....
Mrs. W.
Humph! She'd been shut up fast enough if your father hadn't been the
softest-hearted man alive.
Warner
Maybe the boy does