chair; there is a pianola piano, on top of which is a bundle of music-rolls.  In place, ready to play, is a roll of a negro tune called “Bon-Bon Buddie, My Chocolate Drop.”  On top of the piano, in addition to the music-rolls, are a fancy lamp, a large basket of chrysanthemums, and two photos in frames, at the upper corner.  Standing on the floor is a large piano lamp.  On the sofa are cushions, and thrown over its back is a lady’s opera-coat.  On the sofa are also a fan and some small dinner favours.

On the dresser are a lady’s silver toilet set, including powder boxes, rouge boxes, manicuring implements, and a small plush black cat that might have been a favour at some time.  Two little dolls hang on the side of the glass of the dresser, which also might have been favours.  These are used later in the action, and are necessary.

AT RISE. When the curtain rises on this scene it is noticeable that the occupants of the room must have returned rather late at night, after having dined, not wisely, but too well.  In the alcove is a man’s dress-coat and vest thrown on the cushions in a most careless manner; a silk hat badly rumpled is near it.  Over the top of sofa is an opera-cloak, and hung on the mirror is a huge hat, of the evening type, such as women would pay handsomely for.  A pair of gloves is thrown on top of the pier-glass.  The curtains in the bay-window are half drawn, and the light shades are half drawn down the windows, so that when the curtain goes up the place is in a rather dim light.  On the table are the remains of a breakfast, which is served in a box-like tray such as is used in hotels. LAURA is discovered sitting at right of table, her hair a bit untidy.  She has on a very expensive negligee gown. WILL, in a business suit, is at the other side of the table, and both have evidently just about concluded their breakfast and are reading the newspapers while they sip their coffee. LAURA is intent in the scanning of her “Morning Telegraph,” while WILL is deep in the market reports of the “Journal of Commerce,” and in each instance these things must be made apparent. WILL throws down the paper rather impatiently.

WILL.  Have you seen the Sun, Laura?

LAURA.  No.

WILL.  Where is it?

LAURA.  I don’t know.

WILL. [In a loud voice.] Annie, Annie! [A pause.] Annie! [In an undertone, half directed to LAURA.] Where the devil is that nigger?

LAURA.  Why, I suppose she’s at breakfast.

WILL.  Well, she ought to be here.

LAURA.  Did it ever occur to you that she has got to eat just the same as you have?

WILL.  She’s your servant, isn’t she?

LAURA.  My maid.

WILL.  Well, what have you got her for,—­to eat or to wait on you? 
Annie!

LAURA.  Don’t be so cross.  What do you want?

WILL.  I want the Sun.