“Well,” she said, “I’m afraid I won’t be in this evening. You see, I met David Watson on the way home to-day, and he asked me to go to see ‘The Boomerang’ with him to-night, and I said I’d go.” “Oh!” said her father. “Then I’d better telephone Marmaduke to come to-morrow evening instead--or will you?” “No,” said Grace serenely. “To-morrow night won’t do, either. David is coming to call.” Her father looked at her over his glasses. Then he took them off, polished them with a small piece of chamois, replaced them, and looked at her again. “Oh!” he said. SOME MISCHIEF STILL CHARACTERS MAXWELL JOHNSON MRS. MAXWELL JOHNSON (_née_ HELEN WHITE) LIONEL MORRIS JOHN RYAN A POLICEMAN PLACE: _New York; the upper West Side_. TIME: _The present_. SCENE--_The living room of a six-room apartment. On one side is a mahogany pianola; at the back is a doorway with a heavy portière, drawn aside to show a portion of the hall with a wall telephone. At the right of the doorway is a life size statue of a nude woman, the distance from her feet to her waist being four times that from her waist to her head, which is very small and has no features except a prominent nose. Her arms are stretched out at right angles to her body, and she has been painted a vivid purple._ _It is evening; the electric lamp is lit and there is a faint light in the hall._ MAXWELL JOHNSON, _a man of about thirty, is lying in slippered ease on a chaise-longue, smoking a cigar_. MRS. JOHNSON _is seated facing him on the bench by the pianola. She is a very pretty young woman, rather too highly coloured, wearing an extremely décolleté gown of pale green charmeuse, a long string of large jade beads and a broad silver bracelet. She has a profusion of bright yellow hair. One knee is crossed over the other, revealing green silk stockings and silver slippers._ MAXWELL But Anarchists don’t ride in automobiles, do they, Nellie? HELEN Max, I do wish you wouldn’t tease me about things that are sacred. If you don’t want to get an automobile, just say so, but don’t try to make fun of things you can’t possibly understand! MAXWELL But, Nellie-- HELEN It’s hard enough for me to put up with your staying home and lying around and reading the paper while I go out night after night without you, and wear myself out at the Settlement and the Ferrer School and making speeches and addresses and everything in the subway and back in it, and losing, all the elation and social consciousness and everything, without having Anarchism and beauty and truth and everything that really means anything to anybody who tries really to think just made a joke of! MAXWELL Good heavens, Nellie, I’m perfectly willing to buy the automobile; and I’m not criticising any of your hobbies! I-- HELEN