MRS. DUPLEX, a widow with money and a mission. MRS. DEBORAH HARTSHORN, her mother. FLORENCE DUPLEX, her daughter. CAROLINE DUPLEX, her step-daughter. RHODA DENDRON, │ her friends. POLLIE NAY, │ KATIE O'NAIL, the cook. MAGGIE DONOVAN, the chambermaid. COSTUMES MODERN AND APPROPRIATE. SCENE.—_Apartment in_ MRS. DUPLEX'S _house. Lounge_, L.; _two chairs_, R.; _table with writing-materials, and an easy-chair_, C. _Mrs. H._ (_outside_, R.) Don't tell me, yeou imperdent thing! Clear out, I tell yeou! _Maggie_ (_outside_, R.) Faix! not for the likes av yez, at all, at all. _Mrs. H._ (_outside_, R.). Yeou won't, hay? We'll see about it. (_Enter_ MAGGIE, R., _followed by_ MRS. H., _brandishing a broom_.) _Maggie._ Aisy, Mrs. Hartshorn, or it's yersilf will be sent to coort for salt and bathery, sure. _Mrs. H._ Don't care! If I'm sent to prison for life, I mean to have my orders obeyed. _Maggie._ Faix, an' it's not yersilf is the lady of the house, at all, at all. _Mrs. H._ Don't make no difference. Yeou take that broom, and sweep out my room, and be quick about it! _Maggie._ It's warning I'll give to onct the misthress cooms, Mrs. Hartshorn. Faix! there's a power of work in the house, and a heap of misthresses to order about—bad luck to 'em! Niver mind, I'll swape the room; an', if ye find any thing broke, it's not the fault av Maggie Donovan. (_Aside._) Only jist I'll—I'll have one good crack at her chiny vases, so I will. [_Exit_ L. _Mrs. H._ (_sits in chair_, C., _takes out her smelling-bottle, removes stopper, places her finger over it, and applies it to her nose, snuffs it, gives a little start, with something between a sigh and an exclamation, sounding like "Kee," accompanying it. This should be repeated wherever the word appears in the dialogue_). Well! if Hannah Merria's heouse ain't a-going to eternal smash, it's not for want er help. Sich actions I never did see. There's that ere cook! If I stick my head into the kitchen (kee), I'm sure to be saluted with the dishcloth; and, if I go up stairs, there's always a broom laying round loose for me to tumble over (kee). For the land of liberty's sake, what's the use of having a home if you don't take care of it? Neow, here's Hannah Merria, whose husband died a year ago, leaving all his property to her, his second wife, and who ought to be the happiest woman in the world in consequence (kee),—not of his death, but the money,—a-prancin' round in perlitical circuses, ravin' like a lunatic about "speers," and "rights," and "sufferings," and leaving her home to take care of itself. She's the queerest young 'un I ever had (kee). (_Enter_ CAROLINE, R.) _Caroline._ What's the trouble, grandmother?