_The place is now dark save for the faint light on the skull; and even that fades after a little while._) [CURTAIN] [B] Copyright by George Middleton. See back of title page. TIDES THE PEOPLE WILLIAM WHITE, _a famous Internationalist_. HILDA, _his wife_. WALLACE, _their son_. SCENE _At the Whites; spring, 1917._ TIDES[C] _A simply furnished study. The walls are lined with bookshelves, indicating, by their improvised quality, that they have been increased as occasion demanded. On these are stacked, in addition to the books themselves, many files of papers, magazines and “reports.” The large work-table, upon which rests a double student lamp and a telephone, is conspicuous. A leather couch with pillows is opposite, pointing towards a doorway which leads into the living-room. There is also a doorway in back, which apparently opens on the hallway beyond. The room is comfortable in spite of its general disorder: it is essentially the work-shop of a busy man of public affairs. The strong sunlight of a spring day comes in through the window, flooding the table._ WILLIAM WHITE _is standing by the window, smoking a pipe. He is about fifty, of striking appearance: the visual incarnation of the popular conception of a leader of men. There is authority and strength in the lines of his face; his whole personality is commanding; his voice has all the modulations of a well-trained orator; his gestures are sweeping--for, even in private conversation, he is habitually conscious of an audience. Otherwise, he is simple and engaging, with some indication of his humble origin._ _On the sofa opposite, with a letter in her hand_, HILDA WHITE, _his wife, is seated. She is somewhat younger in fact, though in appearance she is as one who has been worn a bit by the struggle of many years. Her manner contrasts with her husband’s: her inheritance of delicate refinement is ever present in her soft voice and gentle gesture. Yet she, too, suggests strength--the sort which will endure all for a fixed intention._ _It is obvious throughout that she and her husband have been happy comrades in their life together and that a deep fundamental bond has united them in spite of the different social spheres from which each has sprung._ WHITE (_Seeing she has paused_) Go on, dear; go on. Let’s hear all of it. HILDA Oh, what’s the use, Will? You know how differently he feels about the war. WHITE (_With quiet sarcasm_) But it’s been so many years since your respectable brother has honored me even with the slightest allusion.... HILDA If you care for what he says--(_Continuing to read the letter_)--“Remember, Hilda, you are an American. I don’t suppose your husband considers that an honor; but I do.” WHITE (_Interrupting_) And what kind of an American has he been in times of peace? He’s wrung forty per cent profit out of his factory and fought every effort of the workers to organize. Ah, these smug hypocrites! HILDA (_Reading_)