acted by other players, in various other theatres. One of them,
"Overtones," is a theatrical novelty which if prolonged beyond
the one-act form would become monotonous. Another, "Helena's
Husband," is a bantering satire, an intellectual "skit," which
would equally suffer by prolongation. "Eugenically Speaking"
could certainly bear no further extension, unless its mood were
deepened into seriousness. Finally, "The Clod" approaches the
true episodic roundness of the one-act drama, or the short story,
in its best estate. Here is a single episode of reality, taken
from its context and set apart for contemplation. It begins at
the proper moment for understanding, it ends when the tale is
told. There is here more than a hint of the art of Guy de
Maupassant. And the episode is theatrically exciting -- a prime
requisite for practical performance, and spiritually significant
-- a prime requisite for the serious consideration of intelligent
spectators. In these four plays, then, written for the Washington
Square Players, the one-act form demonstrates its right to our
attention and cultivation, for it takes interesting ideas or
situations which are incapable of expansion into longer dramas
and makes intelligent entertainment of what otherwise would be
lost.

Because such organizations as the Abbey Theatre have demonstrated
the value of the one-act play in portraying local life, in
stimulating a local stage literature; because such organizations
in America as the Washington Square Players have demonstrated the
superior value of the one-act play as a weapon with which to win
recognition and build up the histrionic capacity to tackle longer
works; and, finally, because the one-act play offers such obvious
advantages to amateurs, it seems fairly certain that in the