of us, but we keep fallin' in line.
Them voices--Lord, I guess you've brought along
Your Sunday choir of young angel folks
to help the boys out.

(_Following the music with swaying arms_)

Glory!--Never mind
me singin': you kin drown me out. But I'm
goin' t' jine in, or bust!

(_Joining with the children's voices, he moves unconsciously
along the edge of the woodpile. With stiff steps--his
one hand leaning on the hoe, his other reached as
to unseen hands, that draw him--he totters toward
the sunlight and the green lawn, at back. As he does so,
his thin, cracked voice takes up the battle-hymn where
the children's are singing it._)

"--a-mould'rin' in the grave,
John Brown's body lies a-mould'rin' in the grave.
John Brown's body lies a-mould'rin' in the grave,
But his soul goes--"

(_Suddenly he stops, aware that he is walking, and cries
aloud, astounded_)
Lord, Lord, my legs!
Whar did Ye git my legs?

(_Shaking with delight, he drops his hoe, seizes up the
little flag from the woodpile, and waves it joyously._)

I'm comin', boys!
Link's loose agin: Chipmunk has sprung his trap.

(_With tottering gait, he climbs the little mound in the
woodpile._)

Now, boys, three cheers for Cemetery Ridge!
Jine in, jine in!

(_Swinging the flag_)

Hooray!--Hooray!--Hooray!

(_Outside, the music grows louder, and the voices of old
men and children sing martially to the brass music._

_With his final cheer_, LINK _stumbles down from the
mound, brandishes in one hand his hat, in the other
the little flag, and stumps off toward the approaching
procession into the sunlight, joining his old cracked
voice, jubilant, with the singers:_)

"--ry hallelujah,
Glory, glory hallelujah,
His truth is marchin" on!"

[CURTAIN]

LONESOME-LIKE[1]

Harold Brighouse

[Footnote 1: Included by special permission of the author and of
the publishers, Messrs. Gowans and Gray, of Glasgow.]

CHARACTERS

SAKAH ORMEHOD, An old woman
EMMA BRIERLEY, A young woman
THE REV. FRANK ALLEYNE, A curate
SAM HORROCKS, A young man

THE S