Pipe Down, Bryn Mawr!

Mr. Willoughby, behind Horace
{| Mr. Surette, behind a statue

150 students
24 sheets of music

{ Horace, behind the piano
|
)

Dramatis Personae

Scene—Wyndham Music Room

(The room is crowded with students, who perch on the floor, the window sills,
and the chandeliers. The choir, accustomed to sing in Chapel, is somewhat self-
conscious at facing such a large audience, and tries to retire behind the geraniums
in the windows. Miss Ely, sotto voce, “Oh, my geraniums!’

As the curtain rises, Horace has doled out the twenty-four mimeographed sheets
of music (Willoughby fecit) and the 150 students are rending a Creole song with
enthusiasm and very English accents.)

150 voices—Po’ li'l Lolo she gwine die—(Piano stops).

Horace—No, no! Sing it allegro ma non troppo—that is, with more of a
swoop.  (Illustrates.)

150 voices, (with pleased buzz)—Just too sweet!

(Horace, not knowing whether this refers to himself or po’ li’] Lolo, retires into
the piano and playing resumes).

150 voices, (allegro ma non troppo, that is, with a swoop) Po’ li’l Lolo she
gwine die—etc.

Mr. Surette (from behind statue)—Bravo!

Hor.—Now Miss X. Y. Z. is going to play the Angels’ Serenade on the bassoon,
accompanied by Miss Gehring at the piano. (Applause) (Miss X. Y. Z. serenades
vigorously for at least sixty measures, and then looks panic-stricken, and stops.
The angels have deserted her.)

Mr. Surette (loudly)—Bravo! (Mrs. Surette attends to him).

(After a short silence, however, the basson has resumed playing, faltering at
first, but swelling loud and clear, and the angels redeem themselves. Tremendous
applause from audience.)

Hor—And now the choir, led by Mr. Willoughby, is going to sing a Bach
Chorale.

(The choir emerges from the geraniums with many titters, and shifts bashfully
from foot to foot. Mr. Willoughby places himself at the head of his forces.)

Mr. Surette (from behind statue)—Oh, Mr. Willoughby, why can’t we all join”
in the Chorale? Most of us know it, don’t we?

2 voices from audience—Of course we do!

Mr. Surette (jovially)—Then we're ready when you are, Mr. Willoughby!

(Audience clears throats. Horace turns face away and looks strained).

Mr. Willoughby (apprehensively)—All right—one, two, three, begin!

(The choir sings in four parts. The audience, not to be outdone, sings in six
or seven, not counting four improvised tenors. Fifteen minutes later the Chorale
comes to a lingering close, with the audience two laps ahead of the choir.)

 

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