At rise:  The Real-play, with Bill Right on the fire-escape, sitting on mattress taken from his cot.  Will Left with Mss. at desk.  Peggy talking to Bill.  She wears a “bungalow-apron,” covering a waitress’s costume for quick change.

Peggy.  That’s a dandy big fire-escape to play on!

Bill.  You bet!

Peggy.  You’ve got all your blocks?

Bill.  Yes, Peggy.

Peggy.  And your picture-books?

Bill.  Yes, Peggy.

Peggy.  And you won’t lean over the railing?

Bill.  I won’t.

Peggy (to Will).  Now to the Pot-boiler!

Will.  It’s a shame to keep the child out there on the fire-escape.

Peggy.  He’ll be all right, dear.  It’s the coolest place there is.

Will.  If only we could get him to the park—­

Peggy.  I know, but we can’t. (Sits at table.) Now—­you’ve got the second act already?

Will.  Yes.  Read it, and I’ll get the dishes washed for you. (Exit left.)

Peggy (reads manuscript).  What’s this?  You’ve got a drop-curtain?

Will (off; rattling dishes).  Yes; I want to show Jack’s adventures.  Read the directions.

Peggy (reads).  Jack has been hunting a job, and has been unable to find one.  The drop-curtain shows a street-scene. (The Play-play begins to loom, as described.) A row of houses, just off Fifth Avenue, having the front door on the street level in the modern fashion.  It is evening, and the ground is covered with snow.  The snow-shoveller is at work Right.  His feet and hands are tied with rags and his face is red with cold. (The Play-play in full light.)

Jack (enters Left in hobo-overcoat, shuffling, and dejected).  I beg your pardon—­

Shoveller.  Hey?

Jack.  I beg your pardon—­

Shoveller.  What the devil ye beggin’ me pardon for?

Jack.  I—­I want to know—­is that your shovel?

Shoveller.  Whose d’ye think it is?

Jack.  I mean—­where did you get it?

Shoveller (bridling).  You mean I stole it?

Jack.  No—­no!  I mean, I’d like to get one. (The other pays no heed.) You see, I’m up against it, and I thought perhaps I could earn money shovelling snow.  I’d like to get a shovel. (The other still pays no heed.) You wouldn’t like to rent it for a while, would you?

Shoveller (with mock merriment).  And me live on me income, hey?

Jack.  I might help you, perhaps—­

Shoveller.  Say, young fellow, if you really want to help me, get a hot water bottle an’ hold it to me feet!

Jack (stands nonplussed, then turns away Left; as he is about to exit he changes his mind, and rings the bell at the door of a house Left.  Butler comes) I beg pardon—­