WILL. (_taking_ MARY _by both hands_). Be all ready, now Mary, when I come back? If I can, I’ll come on so as to stay a day or two before we’re married. But I’ll be here in season, any way. You fix the day, and let me know. And write often (_whispers_), dear Mary, won’t you? MARY. Yes, William. WILL. Good-by! MARY. Good-by! (_Exit_ WILLIAM, L.) J. Q. A. Good-by! Good-by! Smack, smack! _Disposition of characters at end of Act I._ MRS. G. _sitting at table braiding mat_. MARY _standing at left, with her hands clasped before her, looking down_. J. Q. A. _and_ L. J. _in centre, bickering_. ACT II. _Cabin of the Creole Bride, a Mississippi steamboat cosily furnished. Doors_ R. _and_ L. _Table and cradle_ C. _Pictures. Four books on a little shelf. A parasol and handkerchief lie on the table._ MARY, _the_ CAPTAIN’S _wife, sits by the cradle sewing_. MARY (_sings_). “By low baby, By low baby, By low baby, By low by.” (_Rises._) There! he’s asleep at last. He keeps awake just as long as he can, I do believe. (_Takes a book from the shelf._) I don’t know what I should do this stormy weather, I am sure, if it weren’t for these books. Away up here, on this river, where we don’t get a newspaper but once in two weeks! (_Turns over the books._) I am tired of “Baxter’s Saint’s Rest,” and I know “Alonzo and Melissa” by heart. I suppose I ought to read my Bible more, but here’s this book on navigation. (_Reads._) “Thoms’ Navigator,” by Janet Thorms, a Yankee schoolmarm, they say, up near Boston. It seems fresh all the time. I like to study it, too, when I am rocking the cradle. (_Sits and reads._) Somehow, it seems to come natural to me to know all about a boat, and I love any kind of a one. How they skip round the bend of the river, and over the sea, at home! I wonder why they call a vessel _she_! Father says they ought to call steamboats _he_, because they smoke so. Dear father! how I should like to see him, and hear him sing! (_Enter_ PHUS, R.) PHUS (_in a loud voice_). Mis’, de cap’n say— MARY. Sh! you’ll wake the baby. PHUS (_in a loud whisper_). Mis’, de cap’n dun tole me he not feel well, an’ you come to de weel-house. Phus tote de baby. MARY (_rising hastily_). Take good care of him. (_Exit_ R.) PHUS. Take good care ob _him_. (_Imitates her voice, and tip-toes round the room._) How golly fine it am to be de cap’n’s mis’, a-sittin’ down har all fix’ up, and den walkin’ on deck wid de par-sol, totin’ de baby. Oh, Lor! (_Sings softly._) Min’ de pick’niny, Min’ de pick’niny, Take good care ob _him_.