A COMEDIETTA, IN ONE ACT.
Mr. Moses Mulligrub, once Proprietor of a Fish-cart, now a rich Speculator.
Monsieur Adonis, a Dancing-Master.
Mr. Richard Dasher, a Fast Man.
Mr. Lavender Kids, an Exquisite.
Mrs. Moses Mulligrub.
Miss Ida Mulligrub.
Miss Eva Mulligrub.
Full Evening Dress.
Scene.—
Handsome drawing room in Monsieur Adonis’s Academy. Entrances, R., L., and C. Lounges, R. and L. Screen, L. corner, back. Two chairs, R. and L. of door in flat.
Music, as curtain rises, Straus’s waltz, “Beautiful Blue Danube.” Miss Ida and Miss Eva discovered waltzing, introducing “The Boston Dip.” They waltz a few moments, then stop. Music ceases.
Ida. Now, isn’t that delightful?
Eva. Delightful! It’s positively bewitching. Bless that dear Monsieur Adonis. He deserves a crown of roses for introducing to his assembly the latest Terpsichorean novelty. O, we shall have a splendid time to-night!
Ida. Especially as those charming waltzers, Messrs. Richard Dasher and Lavender Kids, “the glass of fashion and the mould of form,” are to honor us with their presence.
Eva. Yes, indeed. What would the dance be without them?
Ida. Not worth the trouble of dressing. But don’t you think that Mr. Dasher is a little too attentive to Miss Eva Mulligrub,—eh, sister?
Eva. Not more attentive, certainly, than is Mr. Lavender Kids to her charming sister, Miss Ida Mulligrub.—Eh, sister?
Ida. But seriously, Eva, I begin to think that you are carrying this matter a little too far. Mr. Dasher might reasonably expect, from the partiality you unhesitatingly show for his society, and the smiles you bestow upon him, to be considered your lover.
Eva. You begin to think. Why, bless you, Ida, I’ve thought and thought and thought, for a long time, that were I Mr. Lavender Kids, I should pop the question at once, so undeniably entranced are you by his attentions.
Ida. Eva!
Eva. Ida!
Ida. You’re talking nonsense.
Eva. Well, you began it.
Ida. But you know you like Mr. Dasher.
Eva. To be sure I do. He’s the best waltzer in the city. Graceful, agreeable, and decidedly good-looking.
Ida. And you would marry him?
Eva. Not unless he asked me, and then—
Ida. And then—
Eva. I should remember that he is considered a fortune-hunter, that he is too fond of horses, that possibly he might have an eye on father’s bank-book, that I don’t want such a husband, and should very sweetly, calmly, but decidedly say, No, thank you, Mr. Dasher.
Ida. Exactly what I should say to Mr. Kids, without the sweetness and calmness.
Eva. I hope we shall not have the chance, for then, of course, we should lose their society—and they are such superb waltzers.
Ida. But what in the world could have possessed mother to have us come so early. Hurry, girls, hurry! And here we are before the hall is lighted.
Eva. I’m sure I don’t know. It’s one of her whims. One would hardly think that, at her age, she would care for dancing.
Ida. But she does. I caught her to-day attempting a waltz before the glass in her room; and such work as she did make of it!
Eva.