The Boston Dip 2

The Boston Dip 2

Ida._ Proficient, mother.

 

_Mrs. M._ Well, what’s the difference? It’s all arranged. I’m not going

to make a fool of myself before folks when I can pay for private

lessons.

 

DASHER _appears,_ C.

 

_Dasher_ (_loud_). Eureka!

 

_Mrs. M._ (_starting_). Good gracious! You what?

 

_Dasher._ “Fortune favors the brave.” Like Cæsar, I came, I saw, and I’m

overcome. May I come in?

 

_Mrs. M._ Certainly, Mr. Dasher. Your presence always adds a charm to

our—what’s-its-name—circular.

 

_Ida._ Circle, mother.

 

_Mrs. M._ Well, what’s the odds?

 

_Dasher._ Thank you, Mrs. Mulligrub. You are arrayed like an empress;

Miss Ida, your costume is only eclipsed by your charming face; Miss Eva—

 

_Eva._ “Last but not least in our dear love,” must of course be divine;

so spare my blushes and your breath. (_Sits on lounge_, R.)

 

_Dasher._ Thank you. And now congratulate me. I threw down my pen, after

a hard fight with figures, to seek the lonely recesses of my bachelor’s

quarters, heartily sick of life, when it suddenly occurred to me that

this evening Monsieur Adonis gives one of his charming assemblies.

Perhaps, thought I, there I may find rest for my weary brain from the

figures of the ledger, which are dancing in my head, in the figures of

the dance. But did I dream of falling into such charming society? No;

most emphatically and decidedly, no. Therefore, like Cæsar—

 

_Mrs. M._ And pray, Mr. Dasher, who is this Cæsar you’re making such a

fuss about?

 

_Ida._ Why, mother!

 

_Mrs. M._ La, child, there’s nobody of that name I’m acquainted with.

 

_Ida._ You know, mother, Cæsar was the great Roman general, who—

 

_Mrs. M._ La, yes; Mr. Dasher was only speaking metagorically. Cæsar was

the man who crossed the what’s-its-name, and was stabbed by a brute.

 

_Eva._ Never mind Cæsar. Here’s my card, Mr. Dasher. Of course your name

will be the first I shall allow upon it.

 

_Dasher_ (_sits on lounge beside_ EVA). Am I to be so highly honored.

(_Takes card._)

 

_Eva._ For a waltz, and only one.

 

_Mrs. M._ La, child, don’t be so unscrupulous. You’ll dance till you

drop if you get a chance.

 

_Ida._ Hush, mother.

 

_Mrs. M._ Now what’s the matter with you? Mr. What’s-his-name will dance

with you, too. Don’t be so anxious.

 

_Ida._ O, dear, was there ever such a torment. (_Sits on lounge_, L.)

 

_Enter_ KIDS, C.

 

_Kids_ (_with glass to his eye_). Now, weally! Have I stumbled into the

bodwaw of a bevy of enchanting goddesses?—have I, weally?

 

_Ida._ O, Mr. Kids!

 

_Eva._ You have, weally, Mr. Kids.

 

_Dasher._ Lavender, my boy, how are you?

 

_Kids._ And will the divine goddesses permit me to entaw, to disturb

their tableaw of beauty with my horwid figgaw?

 

_Eva._ Yes, trot your horwid figgaw in, Mr. Kids.

 

_Mrs. M._ Eva, I’m astonished at such language as those. Mr. Kids, we

are delighted to see you.

 

_Ida._ Yes, indeed, Mr. Kids. I’ve kept my card for you.

 

_Kids._ Divine creachaw, you overpowaw me—you do, weally. (_Sits on

lounge beside_ IDA, _and takes her card._) Just one waltz?

 

_Eva._ As many as you please, Mr. Kids.

 

_Mrs. M._ Now that’s what I call generous. I wonder where Mr.—no,

Muns_ee_r—Adonis can be. (_Retires up._)

 

_Eva._ Mr. Dasher, how can you tell such falsehoods, when you know, that

I know, that you know, we were to be here to-night.

 

_Dasher._ What a knowing young lady. It’s one of the frailties of

masculine nature, Miss Eva. I’m glad I was not George Washington, for I

should certainly have spoiled that hatchet story by a lie. Now I am

here, dear Miss Eva, overpowered with the burden of a weighty secret, I

am going to disclose it. I—I—

 

_Kids._ I say, Dashaw, I’ve had my bwains surveyed to-day.

 

_Dasher._ Have you? I didn’t know you had any.

 

_Kids._ Yaas, several. Destwuctiveness, combativeness, idolitwy—

 

_Dasher._ Ideality.

 

_Kids._ Yaas, it’s vewry wemarkable how those phwenological fellaws lay

out your bwains, and name them just like—aw—stweets.

 

_Dasher_ (_aside_). They must have labeled some of yours “No

Thoroughfare.”

 

_Eva._ O, don’t talk about brains, Mr. Kids. The discussion of such a

subject might fly to your head.

 

_Dasher._ And so light is the material there, cause a conflagration.

 

_Kids._ Yaas, yaas, like a Mansard woof. And, Dashaw, I’ve got a

diwectory of my bwains, and it’s deucedly clevaw; for if an ideah gets

into my bwains, I can trace it out in the diwectory, and tell just where

it lies, you know, and know just where to find it. Deuced clevaw.

 

_Dasher_ (_aside_). ’Twould die of starvation before you found it.

 

_Mrs. M._ (_comes down_). Ah, here’s Munseer Adonis at last!

 

_Enter_ MONSIEUR ADONIS, R.

 

_Mons. A._ _Charmant, charmant_, leedies and gentimen, I kees your

hands. You do me proud. I feel ze glow of satisfaction in ze inermost

inside of zis bosom, when you do me ze _grande honneur_ to grace my

salon wiz your presence. I feel ze glow all ovar.

 

_Mrs. M._ O, Munseer Adonis!

 

_Eva._ Politest of Frenchmen.

 

_Ida._ Paragon of dancing-masters.

 

_Mons. A._ Pardon me, _charmant_ medmoiselles and adorable madam, if ze

modest blush of shame paint my cheek wiz ze hues of ze roses. I am ze

humble instrument of ze divine art which gives ze grace to ze figure,

and ze airy lightness to ze beautiful toes of madam and ze _charmant_

medmoiselles.

 

_Eva._ Now, Munseer Adonis, we are all impatience. When will the dance

begin?

 

_Mons. A._ On ze instant. Ze company have assemble in ze grande salon.

When madam and her friends make ze grande entrée, zen will ze music

strike ze signal.

 

_Ida._ We are all ready.

 

_Mrs. M._ Munseer Adonis, one word with you.

 

_Mons. A._ Wiz ze uttermost pleasure. Am I not ze slave of ze matchless

madam (_aside_) and her money. (_They retire up stage, and converse._)

 

_Dasher._ Miss Eva, I must have an interview with you this evening. I

have much to say. Meet me here in half an hour.

 

_Eva._ Certainly. I’ll slip away at the first opportunity.

 

_Dasher._ Thank you. The first dance is mine, you remember.

 

_Kids._ Aw, Miss Ida, I must speak with you alone; I must, weally.

There’s something on my bwain—no—on my bweast, that must be welieved.

Don’t go. Stay behind with me.

 

_Ida._ And lose the first dance?—No, indeed.

 

_Kids._ Weally, I couldn’t ask that. Couldn’t you contwive to meet me

here alone?

 

_Ida._ At the first opportunity. I’ll do my best. (_Rises._) Eva, one

moment.

 

_Eva_ (_rises and comes,_ C.). Well, dear?

 

_Ida._ Don’t you think, Mr. Kids wants me to meet him here alone.

 

_Eva._ Does he? The same thought must have wandered into his bwain that

crept into Mr. Dasher’s, for he expects me to meet him here alone.

 

_Ida._ Do you know what it all means?

 

_Eva._ Certainly—proposals.

 

_Ida._ And will you permit Mr. Dasher—

 

_Eva._ No, indeed. Marry that fickle thing? Never!

 

_Ida._ Exactly my mind. Mr. Kid’s a fool.

 

_Eva._ But, like Mr. Dasher, a splendid waltzer. We cannot afford to

lose them.

 

_Ida._ Indeed we cannot. Partners are so scarce.

 

_Eva._ They want father’s money.

 

_Ida._ But they must not have his daughters.

 

_Eva._ No, indeed. You watch me, and I’ll watch you, and there’ll be no

proposals. (_Retire to_ R. _and_ L. MONSIEUR ADONIS _and_ MRS. MULLIGRUB

_come down stage._)

 

_Mrs. M._ And you got my note, Munseer Adonis?

 

_Mons. A._ Ah, madam, I have it next my heart. (_Produces an envelope,

opens it, takes out note, puts envelope in his pocket. Reads._) “Meet me

in the private drawing-room when ze company are waltzing. Do not fail

me. Hannah Mulligrub.” Zat is all it say.

 

_Mrs. M._ But you know what it means. I am anxious to learn “The Boston

Dip.” Were I to come to your school I should be laughed at, but here,

while the company are waltzing, no one would know it, and the inspiring

music would aid me. I don’t want to make a fool of myself, you

understand.

 

_Mons. A._ Certainly. All zat I shall remember. I have written on ze

back of ze note “Boston Dip.” I put him in ze pocket wiz my

handkerchief, so zat when I pull him out to wipe my face ze note will

arrest my attention, and I shall fly to you, madam. (_Puts note and handkerchief in his pocket._)