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Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Alias Santa
Claus
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Alias Santa Claus

A play for Christmas

Author: Percival Wilde

Release date: January 21, 2024 [eBook #72774]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: D. Appleton & Company, 1927

Credits: Bob Taylor, Charlene Taylor, Tim Lindell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
(This book was produced from images made available by
the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALIAS SANTA

CLAUS ***
Alias Santa Claus
By PERCIVAL WILDE
COLLECTED PLAYS:
DAWN AND OTHER ONE-ACT PLAYS OF LIFE TODAY
DAWN—THE NOBLE LORD—THE TRAITOR—A HOUSE OF
CARDS—PLAYING WITH FIRE—THE FINGER OF GOD
A QUESTION OF MORALITY AND OTHER PLAYS
A QUESTION OF MORALITY—CONFESSIONAL—THE
VILLAIN IN THE PIECE—ACCORDING TO DARWIN—THE
BEAUTIFUL STORY
THE UNSEEN HOST AND OTHER WAR PLAYS
THE UNSEEN HOST—MOTHERS OF MEN—PAWNS—IN
THE RAVINE—VALKYRIE!
EIGHT COMEDIES FOR LITTLE THEATRES
THE SEQUEL—THE PREVIOUS ENGAGEMENT—THE
DYSPEPTIC OGRE—IN THE NET—A WONDERFUL WOMAN
—CATESBY—HIS RETURN—EMBRYO
THE INN OF DISCONTENT AND OTHER FANTASTIC PLAYS
THE INN OF DISCONTENT—LADY OF DREAMS—THE
LUCK-PIECE—ASHES OF ROMANCE—NOCTURNE
CHILDREN’S PLAYS:
THE TOY SHOP
REVERIE
THE ENCHANTED CHRISTMAS TREE
KINGS IN NOMANIA
CRITICISM:
THE CRAFTSMANSHIP OF THE ONE-ACT PLAY
 Alias Santa Claus
A Play for Children

by

Percival Wilde
Author of
“Kings in Nomania,”
“The Enchanted Christmas Tree,” etc.

D. Appleton and Company

New York :: 1927 :: London
 COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

All Rights Reserved

This play is fully protected in all countries by the copyright law, all
requirements of which have been complied with. No performance,
professional or amateur, no public reading, nor any radio broadcast,
may be given without permission of the publisher, D. APPLETON AND
COMPANY, 35 W. 32nd St., New York, or D. APPLETON AND
COMPANY, 34 Bedford Street, Covent Garden, London, England.

Copyright, 1926, by The Pictorial Review Co.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Alias Santa Claus
 CHARACTERS
David Millman, Jr.
Halligan
Vicky
David Millman, Sr.
Bill
Juvenile Delinquents
Slim
Bessie
Pete
Maggie
T’eodore
Uninvited Guests
Annie
Grover
Woodrow
Calvin
 Alias Santa Claus
It is Christmas day in the Millman home, and the large room upon
which our curtain rises is appropriately adorned for the occasion.
The lighting fixtures are gayly festooned. A holly wreath hangs at
the big window at the back; more wreaths hang from the doors at
either side. There is a wealth of hothouse flowers.
Near the center is a very large and magnificently trimmed Christmas
tree; a tree so splendid that you gasp when you see it. It is
surrounded by a small ocean of gifts; enough to stock a fair-sized
store. A gorgeous bicycle has a place of honor; it is hemmed in by
a whole library of books, a pair of boxing gloves, two sleds, a
regiment of the very latest mechanical wonders, enough musical
instruments to equip a miniature band, and any number of games.
There is everything you can think of—and more.
The toys are most expensive, and you wonder how many children
are to be made happy by them—and then we tell you that they
are all for the exclusive use of David Millman, Jr., who is seven
years old, and who would greatly prefer permission to put on
rompers, and play on some not too clean floor. But being an only
child of a widowed father, and being heir to a string of banks, and
at least one railroad, and half a dozen mansions in town and
country, he is not permitted to do such things.

As our play begins the room is empty—but not for long. A face peers
in through the window at the back, the sash is raised slowly and
noiselessly, and a fourteen-year-old boy hoists himself across the
sill. He is roughly dressed. His eyes are covered by a black mask
with slits in it. Under his arm, with exaggerated care, he carries a
gayly decorated box of candy.
He looks about stealthily, tiptoeing about the room. Then he turns to
the window to hiss to an accomplice:
Slim
Coast’s clear!
[Bill, another boy, masked, and wearing a badly fitting
beard and whiskers, climbs into the room. His
appearance is one-half villainous, one-half pathetic.
He is thin, and he is suffering from a cold.]
Shh!
Bill
I ain’t makin’ no noise—not a w’isper.
[He upsets a chair. It is loaded with mechanical toys, and
falls with a fearful racket.]
Slim
Sufferin’ cats!
[They rush to concealment. There is a dreadful pause.
Presently they poke their heads out cautiously.]
Bill
Nobody hoid it.
Slim
Dey must be deef in dis house.
[He steals to one door and applies his ear to the keyhole.
Bill, timid in the presence of so much luxury, moves
to the other.]
Well?
Bill
Naw—not a sound.
 Slim
Deef—or asleep!
Bill
Slim, pipe de tree!
Slim
Ain’t it a boid?
Bill
It’s a humdinger! It’s a pippin! It’s a looloo!
[He surveys it from top to bottom.]
T’ink of it, Slim, just t’ink of it: a tree like dat—an’ fer one kid!
Slim
Pretty soft, I’ll tell de woild!
Bill
’Tain’t fair! ’Tain’t! Here we got eight young ’uns at home, an’ I
promised ’em a tree fer Christmas, an’ dey ain’t got nuttin’: not even
a geranium! Gee, wouldn’t dey love dis!
Slim
[Scornfully.]
Are yuh gettin’ mushy?
Bill
[With pathetic bravado.]
Me mushy? I’m hard-boiled!
[Suddenly.]
Say——
Slim
W’at?
 Bill
I gotta sneeze.
Slim
Sneeze, an’ I’ll moider yuh!
[He crosses hastily to Bill, and waves his arms
grotesquely in a futile effort to prevent him from
sneezing.]
Now!... Now!... Now!...
Bill
[Thunderously.]
A-choo!
[Slim hastens to hide; Bill follows. There is another
dreadful pause, but nobody comes to disturb them.
Presently Bill becomes visible again. Cheerfully.]
Nobody hoid me.
Slim
[With unlimited sarcasm.]
Dey t’ought it was just blastin’ in de subway!
Bill
Wouldn’t be surprised if dey did. Sounded like it.
Slim
Now keep yer eyes open!
[He crosses stealthily to the tree, and deposits his box of
candy at its foot. It is a large box tied up with red
ribbon. It is very conspicuous.]
Dere!
Bill
Yer sure it ain’t gonna hoit de kid, Slim?
Slim
Leave it to me!
Bill
[Hopefully.]
Maybe he won’t eat it.
Slim
W’at kid won’t eat candy?
Bill
Dis one’s a millionaire kid.
Slim
He’s a kid just de same, ain’t he? He’ll eat one—maybe two. W’at’s
de diff? One’ll do de trick fine an’ dandy. It won’t hoit him none—
Bill
How do yuh know?
Slim
Knock-out drops, dat’s all dere’s in ’em. He’ll go off to sleep just as
nice an’ easy—
Bill
W’at good’s dat gonna do us? De rest of ’em ain’t gonna go to sleep,
an’ dere’s a noice, an’ dere’s a guard dat watches him every minute,
an’ dere’s—
Slim
[Interrupting.]
Dey’ll all holler fer help—see? Dey’ll run fer a doctor. Dey’ll leave him
right here, alone, an’ dead to de woild, an’ den we lift him outa de
winder, wit’out nobody to stop us.
 [He rubs his hands happily.]
We’ll get a million—a cool million—outa his dad before we give him
back.
Bill
[Eagerly.]
Do yuh t’ink he’ll pay it?
Slim
[Grimly.]
He’ll pay it if he expec’s to lay eyes on dat kid again.
Bill
[Anxiously.]
Slim, yuh wouldn’t hoit de kid?
Slim
I don’t know what I’d do. I’m desprit!
[He surveys Bill with scorn.]
Are yuh gettin’ mushy again?
Bill
[With his same pathetic bravado.]
Me mushy? I’m hard-boiled!
Slim
Well, stay dat way!
[He leads the way toward the window.]
Stick to me, Bill, an’ in a week we’ll be rollin’ in money! A million! A
million!
Bill
I don’t need dat much.
 Slim
[Going out at the window.]
I’ll take w’at yuh don’t want.
Bill
[Following.]
I gotta sneeze!
[Slim’s arm reaches up, grabs him by the collar, and hauls
him out head first. The window closes.]
Slim
[Outside.]
Now!... Now!... Now!...
[There is a monstrous sneeze.]
[There is only an instant’s pause this time. Then, from the
right, enters Halligan, a brawny middle-aged
Irishman, whose business it is to guard the young
millionaire. He is followed by Vicky, the nurse.]
Halligan
I thought I was after hearin’ something.
Vicky
You’re forever hearing things, Mr. Halligan!
Halligan
[Seriously.]
I’m paid to keep my eyes and ears open. I’m on the job.
[He looks about the room, goes to the window and looks
out.]
Vicky
[Impressed by his earnestness.]
See anybody?
Halligan
Nary a soul!
Vicky
I’m glad of that! With a young millionaire to look out for, it’s nerve-
racking, I tell you! You never know what to expect—you never know
what might happen.
David
[Saunters in at the right. He is a winsome, appealing boy
of seven, dressed in a most expensive and most
uncomfortable manner. There is an eager look in his
face—a look of yearning that has never been
gratified. What he wants he cannot have, and what
he has means very little indeed to him.]
Hello, Vicky.
Vicky
Master David, you knew you weren’t to come in here until ten
o’clock!
David
[Glancing at a wrist watch.]
It’s nearly that now, Vicky.
Vicky
Exactly ten, your father said; ten exactly. He’s very busy dictating
letters in his study—he’s brought a lot of work home from the office
—but he’s going to give you a few minutes.
David
[Without sentimentality.]
I know what that means: a few minutes.
 Vicky
You’re not to look at the Christmas tree until he comes.
David
All right; I won’t look.
[He turns his back squarely on the tree.]
I’ll watch the door, and wait.
[He faces the left-hand door.]
Vicky
[Sotto voce, to Halligan.]
Did you ever see such a child? You’d think he couldn’t help looking.
Halligan
He doesn’t care about the tree.
Vicky
[Snapping her fingers.]
Not that much!
Halligan
He doesn’t want to see his presents.
Vicky
Why should he—when he has everything in the world?
Halligan
It’s his father he’s after wantin’, I think. Just that.
Vicky
Shh!
[A clock strikes ten. David glances nervously at his watch.
Halligan stiffens to attention. Vicky stands erect,
expectantly. The door at the left opens, and Millman,
 a fine-looking man in his forties, enters briskly,
snapping shut his watch as he crosses the threshold.
He is all alertness and no waste motion—his time is
precious—he never forgets that.]
Millman
Merry Christmas, Davy.
David
[Whose lips are trembling, and whose eyes never leave his
father.]
Merry Christmas, Daddy.
Millman
[Turning to the others, and handing each an envelope.]
Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.
Halligan
Thank you, sir—and the same to you.
Vicky
Merry Christmas—and thank you.
Millman
Tut—tut!
[He turns briskly toward the tree.]
Well, Davy, and how do you like your tree?
David
[Not glancing at it.]
Very much, Daddy.
Millman
It was nice of Santa to bring you so many presents.
 David
Very nice, Daddy.
Millman
[Examining the cards attached to the gifts.]
And here are more presents from your little friends—and your uncle
Joe—and your uncle Eldridge—and your uncle Twombly—
David
Yes, Daddy.
Millman
[Examining an envelope.]
Here’s an envelope from your aunt Mary—and look what’s in it!
[He draws out a yellow-backed bill.]
David
You take care of it for me, Daddy.
Millman
[Putting the envelope in his pocket.]
Here’s an electric train from Santa. Switches, and stations, and coal-
cars—I declare, it’s a wonderful train. Isn’t it, Halligan?
Halligan
It is that, sir.
Millman
You ought to be a very happy boy, Davy.
David
Yes, Daddy.
Millman
[Glancing at his watch again.]
I must go now. You don’t mind, do you, Davy? Important
cablegrams—letters—
David
I understand, Daddy.
Millman
[Already in the doorway.]
By the way, there’s a present from me downstairs—a new limousine.
Later on you’ll go riding in it.
David
[Rushing to him with pathetic eagerness.]
Will you come too, Daddy?
Millman
Sorry, Davy—haven’t time.
[He pats the boy’s head and nods pleasantly to the
others.]
Good morning.
[The door closes behind him, and David, as if struck by a
blow, withdraws again into his shell.]
Vicky
A fine gentleman, Mr. Millman!
Halligan
That he is!
Vicky
Did you see the check he gave me?
[Shows it.]
Halligan
Just take a look at this one!
Vicky
[Fervently.]
The salt of the earth!
Halligan
A fine gentleman!
David
[Who has been motionless, now turns to Halligan, in
joyous assent.]
A fine gentleman, isn’t he, Halligan?
[Proudly.]
When my father walks along the street everybody stops to look at
him! I can see the people nudging each other, and saying, “There
goes Mr. Millman.” And the newspapers send men here to take his
picture—but father’s too busy to let them do that. And when I go out
I hear everybody say, “There goes Millman’s boy.” And all the
policemen touch their caps and talk to me.
Halligan
Yes, I’ve seen that many a time.
David
And it’s all because daddy’s such a fine man!
Halligan
[Finding the statement difficult to correct.]
Yes; I guess that’s the reason.
[He is in distress.]
Vicky
[Coming to the rescue.]
Now you may look at the tree, Master David.
David
[Suddenly unenthusiastic, barely glancing at the tree.]
It’s very nice.
Vicky
Is that all you can say about it?
David
It’s just as nice as the one we had last year—and that was the nicest
I ever saw.
Vicky
[Taking up the gifts.]
Boxing gloves!
David
[Tentatively, knowing what to expect.]
May I put them on?
Vicky
Some day, perhaps—not just yet. Sleds!
David
May I go coasting on them?
Vicky
Next year, maybe—not now. A trumpet?
David
May I blow on it?
Vicky
Mercy, no! Not until it has been boiled.
 David
But that’ll spoil the paint.
Vicky
Better to spoil the paint than to ruin your health.
David
[Disappointed.]
Oh, all right.
Halligan
[Coming to the rescue in his turn.]
I have a list of the presents here.
[He produces a long sheet.]
Two railroad trains—complete.
David
[Not boasting; simply stating facts.]
I have four already.
Halligan
Two phonographs.
David
I have three—and I can’t play more than one at once.
Halligan
Your cousin Willy sent you a set of books.
David
And what did I send him?
Halligan
[Referring to the list.]
You sent him a Boy Scout outfit.
David
Why didn’t he keep the books and send me the outfit?
Halligan
[Avoiding the question.]
Your aunt Genevieve sent you a bicycle.
David
[Interested despite himself.]
Oh, that’s nice!
[He moves toward it.]
Vicky
[Interposing.]
You may ride on it when you’re older.
David
But not now?
Vicky
[With real solicitude.]
You might hurt yourself, Master David.
David
[Crestfallen; turning to Halligan.]
Don’t read me any more, Halligan.
[Christmas is a complete failure so far as he is concerned.
Vicky realizes it, and directs his attention to the gifts.]
Vicky
Look: a tennis racket.
 David
[Despite himself.]
That’ll be fun this summer!
Halligan
It will that!
David
I may play with it?
Vicky
All you like.
David
Good! Watch my overhand!
[He swings the racket.]
Vicky
[Taking it from him.]
Not in the house, Master David; you’ll break something.
David
I knew there was a string tied to it.
Vicky
[Indicating.]
Golf clubs.
David
For the summer?
Vicky
Naturally for the summer.
David
 [Nodding.]
I see; it’s winter now.
[He sees a pair of ice skates, and takes them up.]
Do these have to wait for the summer, too?
Halligan
[Impressively.]
You’re to go to the rink with them this afternoon.
David
That will be nice!
Vicky
They’re a gift from us, Master David—
Halligan
From me and her.
David
[Sincerely.]
Thank you, Vicky.
[He kisses her.]
Thanks, Halligan.
[He shakes hands.]
You couldn’t have given me anything I’d like better.
[He feels the edge.]
They’re sharp, aren’t they?
Halligan
I saw to that.
Vicky
 [Alarmed.]
Be careful, Master David!
David
[Smiling.]
You aren’t going to get them away from me!
[He gives them to Halligan, and turns back to the tree.]
Look!
Halligan
[Following his glance.]
Candy!
Vicky
[Horrified.]
Candy? Who sent it?
Halligan
It’s not down on the list.
Vicky
[Kneeling to examine it.]
There’s no card.
David
I guess it came from Santa Claus.
Vicky
[Reluctantly.]
Of course you mayn’t eat it.
David
That’s all right, Vicky; I don’t mind.