George Baker - The Boston Dip

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.)

Kids ( with glass to his eye ). Now, weally! Have I stumbled into the bodwaw of a bevy of enchanting goddesses? – have I, weally?

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