_Jack._ In the first place wisdom! In the second a wife--a noble-hearted and faithful and loving woman, who will stand by me through all the trials of my life! Isn't that worth more than a quarter of a million dollars? Answer me, Dad--_(Stretches out his arms to him.)_ Oh, Dad, isn't it so? _Dad (gruffly)._ Well, young fellow, I'm glad to hear you've learned a little sense, at least! _(He embraces Jack.)_ _Peggy (leaping to her feet and pointing to the Play-play scene)._ There! There! There's your happy ending! There's your Pot-boiler! CURTAIN. POSTSCRIPT In connection with this play there is a story which should be told, for reasons which will be revealed in the telling. "The Pot-boiler" was written in 1912, and entered for copyright in February, 1913. I took the manuscript to a friend, Edwin Bjorkman, editor of the "Modern Drama Series," and the most widely read student of dramatic literature known to me; also to Edgar Selwyn and Margaret Mayo, who knew thoroughly the contemporary stage. These friends confirmed me in my belief that I had hit upon that rare phenomenon--an entirely new idea to the stage. There are many examples of the "play within a play," but up to that time there had never been a play which showed the WRITING of a play: the processes which go on in the mind of a playwright, and how he uses his personal experiences in his work. "The Pot-boiler" was accepted for production by William Harris, Jr., at the Hudson Theatre, New York. After many delays, Mr. Harris came to the conclusion that the play needed some rewriting to give it that "punch" which is essential to production in the neighborhood of Broadway. He sought to interest a certain well-known playwright, who will be here designated as Mr. X, in the idea of collaborating with me on the play. Mr. X read the manuscript and offered to collaborate on condition that two changes should be made: first, the play should be changed from a "shirt-sleeve play" to a "dress-suit play"--that is, the characters should be rich people; and second, the last act should be located in a manager's office, and show the acceptance of the play. As I did not care for these suggestions, Mr. X dropped the matter, and Mr. Harris allowed his rights in the play to lapse. A year or so later, happening into Mr. Harris' office in the Hudson Theatre, he asked me with a smile, "Have you seen your play?" And when I asked what he meant, he added. "They have put it on downstairs." Needless to say, I purchased a ticket for the performance, and saw a play which differed from my play in two essentials--these being precisely the modifications which Mr. X had tried to persuade me to make!