his ideas away, and in fact, you might say, concentrate his energies—but I've thought that sometime I'd try my hand at writing a play.
I've got a rip-snorting idea for a dramatic comedy play, too.
It seems this fellow, my hero, he's an American traveling abroad in one of these hick old-fashioned countries where they haven't got a bathroom or a cake of ice in the whole doggone country, but they got more grand dukes and all like that than you could shake a stick at.
Well, seems the Prince of Wales or whatever they call him, or prime minister or whatever he is that's heir to the throne, well, there's a plot against him and he gets kidnapped, and come to find out, this American—he's a young fellow; I'd make him a newspaperman, I guess, though Delmerine—my daughter—she thinks he ought to be an aviator—well, come to find out, this American is the spittin' image of the fellow that gets kidnapped, and by golly they make out he's the fellow that's missing, and he gets crowned!
