PROLOGUE.

Curtain rises as church services are concluding. Maxwell standing; choir seated. Maxwell sits down, organist starts for his seat, slight stir of preparation for singing last hymn. Manning, a dusty, worn, shabby-looking young man, rises from one of the rear seats, holds faded hat in both hands and speaks, "I have been wondering since I came in here." He walks down the aisle to communion table and turns facing audience. Maxwell rises and stands looking down at him intently as he speaks. Be repeats his first words. MANNING.-(Very quiet, simple manner.) I have been wondering since I came in here if it would be just the thing to say a word at the close of this service. I am not drunk and I am not crazy and I am perfectly harmless, but if I die as there is every likelihood I shall in a few days, I want the satisfaction of thinking that I said my say in a place like this, before this sort of a crowd, I'm not an ordinary tramp, though I don't know any teaching of Christ that makes one kind of a tramp less worth saving than another. Do you? I lost my job ten months ago. I am a printer by trade. The new linotype machines are a beautiful specimen of invention but I know six men who have killed themselves inside of a year just on account of those machines. Of course I don't blame the newspapers for getting the machines. Meantime, what can a man do? I've tramped all over the country trying to find something. I'm not complaining, am I? Just stating facts. But I was wondering as I sat there under the gallery, if what you call following Jesus is the same thing as what He taught.

The minister said, (here the man turns about and looks up at the pulpit) that it was necessary for the disciple of Jesus to follow His steps, and he said the steps were obedience, faith, love, and imitation. But I did not hear him tell just what he meant that to mean, especially the last step. What do Christians mean by following the steps of Jesus? I've tramped through this city for three days tryng to find a job and in all that time I've not had a word of sympathy or comfort except from your minister here, who said he was sorry for me and hoped I would find a job somewhere. Of course I understand you can't all go out of your way to hunt up jobs for people like me. I'm not asking you to, but what I feel puzzled about is, what is meant by following Jesus? Do you mean that you are suffering and denying yourselves and trying to save lost humanity just as I understand Jesus did? I see the ragged edge of things a good deal. I understand there are more than five hundred men in this city in my case. Most of them have families. My wife died four months ago. I'm glad she is out of trouble. My little girl is staying with a printer's family until I find a job. Somehow I get puzzled when I see so many Christians living in luxury and singing "Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave

and follow Thee," and remember how my wife died in a tenement in New York City, gasping for air and asking God to take the little girl too. It seems to me there's an awful lot of trouble in the world that somehow wouldn't exist if all the people who sing such songs went and lived them out. I suppose I don't understand. But what would Jesus do? Is that what you mean by following in His steps? It seems to me sometimes as if the people in the city churches had good clothes and nice houses to live in, and money to spend for luxuries, and could go away on summer vacations and all that, while the people outside of the churches, thousands of them, I mean, die in tenements and walk the streets for jobs, and never have a piano or a picture in the house, and grow up in misery and drunkenness and sin—

(He gives a queer lurch over in the direction of the communion table and lays one grimy hand on it. His hat falls upon the carpet at his feet. A stir goes through the congregation. Dr. West half rises, but as yet the silence is unbroken by any voice or movement worth mentioning in the audience. The man passes his other hand across his eyes and then without any warning, falls heavily forward on his face, full length, up the aisle.)

Curtain.

ACT I.

Interior of the private office of Edward Norman. Door at right opening on street; door at left opening into assistant's office. Desk at R. C. Table at L. C. covered with papers, correspondence. etc. Chairs at desk and table. Any available appointments suitable for an editor's office. Discovered at rise Norman writing at his desk. Enter Clark.

CLARK.—Here's this press report of yesterday's prize fight at the Resort,—three columns and a half! It all goes in?

NORMAN. (Absent-mindedly.) Yes—No. Let me see it. (Takes typewritten matter, runs over it carefully, then lays it on desk, and does some hard thinking.) We won't run this to-day. (continues writing.)

CLARK.—(Astonished.) What did you say?
NORMAN.—Leave it out. We won't use it.
CLARK.—(Unable to understand.) But!

NORMAN.-(Looks up.) I think, Clark, it ought not to be

printed.

CLARK.—Do you mean the paper goes to press without a word of the prize fight?

NORMAN. (Goes on writing..)
CLARK.-But it's unheard of.

Yes, that's just what I mean. All the other papers will print What will our subscribers say? Why, it's simply—(pauses, unable to find words.)

it.

Shut the

NORMAN.—(Turns squarely around and faces him.) door. Sit down. (slight pause.) Clark, were you in church three weeks ago, when that poor printer tramp addressed us?

CLARK.—Why, yes—I was—But—But what has that got to do with the prize fight?

NORMAN.—A good deal. That poor fellow's words made several of us see some things in a different light.

CLARK.—Yes?

NORMAN.—A little band joined Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell in a pledge not to do anything for one year without first asking the question: "What would Jesus do?" I was one of them.

CLARK.—(Looks serious and speaks more slowly than usual.) Yes I know. I heard about it. How many took the pledge? NORMAN.—Five, besides Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell. (turns slightly

away.)

CLARK.—Five out of six hundred? You're certainly not in the

majority.

NORMAN.—One man on the right side is a majority.

CLARK.—Well, I wish you success in whatever you are trying to do. But let's return to business. The printers are waiting for the copy. I don't see how we can keep out this report. The church members are just as keen about it as anybody else.

NORMAN.-(Turns again and faces Clark squarely.) Clark, if Christ were editing a daily paper do you honestly think he would print three columns and a half of prize fight?

CLARK. (Slowly.) Well I—No, I don't suppose he would. NORMAN.—Well, that is my reason for shutting this account out of the News.

CLARK.-(Turns slightly away, gazes into space.) What effect will that have on the paper?

NORMAN.—What do you think? (with a keen glance at Clark.) CLARK.—I think it will simply ruin the paper. Why, it isn't feasible to run a paper now-a-days on any such basis. The world isn't ready for it. You can't make it pay. Just as sure as you live, if you shut out this prize fight report you will lose hundreds of subscribers. The very best people in town are eager to read it. Surely you can't afford to disregard the wishes of the public to such an extent.

Do

NORMAN.-(After a pause.) See here, Clark, you are a member of a Christian church. (slowly and impressively.) What in your honest opinion is the right standard for determining conduct? you think men everywhere ought to follow Jesus as close as they can in their daily lives?

CLARK.-(Gets up and walks uneasily toward L. E.) Why,— yes, I suppose if you put it on the ground of what they ought to do there is no other standard of conduct. (faces Norman.) But the question is, what is feasible? We can't do as we would do in

an ideal world.

NORMAN.—Do you mean we can't run Christian principles?

the paper strictly on

CLARK.-(Bringing fist down on desk.) Yes, that's just what I mean. It can't be done. We'll go bankrupt in thirty days. NORMAN.—My pledge does not allow me to take account of

that.

CLARK.-(Barely escapes a contemptuous note.) Take no account of the future of your business?

NORMAN.—Not so far as answering that question is concerned.
CLARK —What do you think will be the outcome?

NORMAN.—I believe we can succeed and succeed better than ever.
(turns to desk as though terminating interview.)
CLARK.-(Starts to go, turns back L. C.)
does not go in?

Then the report

NORMAN.—It does not. I am expecting good material to take its place. It ought to be here now, so be prepared to hurry it up when it comes.

CLARK.-(Stopping at door) Are you going to say anything about the absence of the report?

NORMAN.—No. Let the paper go to press as though there had been no such thing as a prize fight yesterday. (Norman turns to writing, Maxwell enters. Shaking hands.) Just thinking of you. Brought your last sermon? I have just the right space,—left vacant by omission of the prize fight. (laughs.)

MAXWELL.-(Smiles, takes manuscript from pocket.) I fear it will hardly fill that space to the satisfaction of the public. You insisted on having it, so don't blame me if your circulation de

creases.

1

2

NORMAN.—I won't. Have a chair. was a good sermon,—one greatly needed. cowards.

It

(rings bell on desk.) Most of us are political

MAXWELL.—I have been. I really would find it easier to live in the Rectangle and work in the slums for the rest of my life for a bare living than to plunge into a political fight. (Enter Clark.) NORMAN.-(Hands sermon to Clark.) Here's your prize fight report. Thought we'd run it after all.

CLARK. (Takes paper and goes to L. E.) I thought you'd repent. I'll hurry it up.

NORMAN.—Good!

CLARK.-(Discovers mistake.) Why, this is—

NORMAN.-(Laughs.) It's a prize fight all right and the minister's in it. (Exit Clark.) Clark can't understand my shutting out the prize fight. It's not to be wondered at. I've given the people prize fights and scandals for a good many years.

MAXWELL. And I have been in this whiskey-ridden city for ten years and never raised a protest against our corrupt city gov ernment before. Now, how shall we go to work to oust our unprincipled officials?

NORMAN.—We must make large plans and profit by the poli tician method of organized, united effort.

MAXWELL.—Yes, we must unite. I have spoken to several ministers since Sunday. They will all help. Father McGann is enthusiastic.

NORMAN. He is a good man and will be of great service, but this fight will be no child's play, Maxwell.

MAXWELL.—No. I have hard work to get my own consent to go into it.

NORMAN.—It will take physical as well as moral courage. The whiskey element in this town stop at nothing to gain their ends. MAXWELL.-(Laughs a little.) Well, that simply stirs my savage blood a little. I might stay out of a fight voluntarily, but I don't propose to be kept out by intimidation.

NORMAN.—A fight on local option some years ago resulted in a riot. One man was killed and several injured.

MAXWELL.—That was before my time.

NORMAN.—Yes, we have made no effort since. But we have a year before the next election. We will see what can be done. If the last words of that poor fellow should lead us to revolutionize this corrupt city, he will not have died in vain.

MAXWELL.-(Remorsefully.)

If I had performed a Christian's

plain duty toward him, he might not have died.

It

NORMAN.—Don't reproach yourself so severely, Maxwell. would have made no difference in his death. Dr. West said it was his heart. He had tramped the country for ten months and was not strong enough to stand it.

MAXWELL.—But you know he called on me Saturday and asked me to help him find work.

NORMAN.—He called here, too.

MAXWELL.—But a Christian Minister! To let a man go from his door in that condition! At that moment I was writing a sermon on following Christ! Norman, you don't know how I hate my