LITMIR.BIZ

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Silly! (ROSE weeps. MILLY plays into hole.) Hurrah!

       Rose and I have done this hole in seventeen!

       Enter MISS SIMS.

      MISS S. Young ladies, as it is the last day of the term our rules may be a little relaxed.

      MILLY. Oh, you dear kind thing!

      MISS S. Except in the case of Bab, who must remain a prisoner all day.

      BAB. Oh! Oh! Oh!

      MISS S. So we shall admit some men to to-day’s festivities.

      ALL. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

      MISS S. But not real men.

      ROSE. Boys?

      MILLY. Oh, I’m going to bed!

      MISS S. No, but half of you may be permitted for this day only to assume the character of men. It will be quite as amusing.

      ALL (dismally). Oh!

      MISS S. And very much safer.

      MILLY (brightening). Perhaps this game will provide an answer to a question in deportment which has often puzzled me. It is this. Suppose a gentleman were to put his arm round me, what would be the right thing for me to do?

      ROSE. The right thing would be to scream.

      MILLY. No. I think the right thing would be not to let on, so that he shouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that you noticed it.

      BAB. I know what I should do if a man put his arm round me - I would stand still.

      MISS S. Shameless! And what would you do, Jane Annie?

      JANE A. I would run to you, madam, for protection.

      MISS S. (fondling her). Dear Jane Annie! (To girls.) Now go.

       Exeunt girls. BAB goes last in charge of CADDIE.

      MISS S. Now, Jane Annie, dear, there is something strange I want to speak to you about. You remember when you left me in the study this morning?

      JANE A. Yes, Miss Sims.

      MISS S. Well, I must have dropped asleep immediately afterwards, and I had the oddest dreams.

      JANE A. (chuckles, but assumes an air of sympathy as MISS SIMS turns towards her). Dreams, Miss Sims?

      MISS S. Oh, the strangest dreams! I seemed to be writing such a number of letters, but what they were about I cannot imagine.

      JANE A. Of course it was all fancy!

      MISS S. But ten envelopes were missing when I woke.

      JANE A. No!

      MISS S. And my fingers were quite inky. I do hope I have not done anything foolish in my sleep.

      JANE A. I hope not.

      MISS S. Especially just now, while the Proctor is here.

      JANE A. Why specially while he is here?

      MISS S. Ah, Jane Annie, he and I were once — (Sighs.)

      JANE A. No, were you?

      MISS S. I assure you he often — (Sighs.)

      JANE A. Did he? Where?

      MISS S. In the conservatory.

      JANE A. Just where they do it to-day.

      MISS S. But, alas! he — (Sighs.)

      JANE A. How horrid of him.

      MISS S. And so his presence here makes me think of early days when — (Sighs.)

      JANE A. Naturally.

      SONG. — MISS SIMS.

       A girl again I seem to be,

       Though I’m an old schoolmistress grey;

       Again a boy comes courting me,

       Though he’s a hard-faced man to-day.

       He calls me little golden-head,

       I feel his kisses on my brow,

       I still recall the words he said,

       Though I’m an old schoolmistress now,

       Youth dreams of what’s to be, I ween,

       The future’s always far away;

       But age must dream of what has been,

       The past is always yesterday.

       We meet, but he does not recall

       The golden head, the love-lit eyes;

       Our meetings and our partings all

       To him are less than memories.

       He twits the old schoolmistress prim,

       Forgetful of his broken vow,

       And that she owes it all to him

       That she’s an old schoolmistress now.

       Youth dreams of what’s to be, I ween, etc.

      MISS SIMS is retiring up stage. She returns excitedly.

      MISS S. There is a party of those impertinent Press Students coming sown the river, who look as if they intended to land upon our bank.

      JANE A. (in horror). Oh, surely it cannot be. (Aside with exultation.) The result of letter number one.

      MISS S. Let us go and fetch Caddie to protect us. Exeunt MISS SIMS and JANE ANNIE. Song of Oarsmen heard in the distance and coming nearer.

      BARCAROLLE. — PRESS STUDENTS

       Where the willows shade the river,

       Where the leaning rushes quiver,

       Where the water weeds are shining,

       Some enfolding, some entwining,

       There we go! Cheerily oh!

       Eight like one we dip and feather!

       Steadily now! Stroke and bow!

       Pulling along and all together!

       They land, TOM among them.

       Enter MISS SIMS, JANE ANNIE, and CADDIE.

      MISS S. (shrinking from them). The wretches! (To CADDIE.) Order them to go at once, Caddie.

      CADDIE (turning up his sleeves fiercely). Come now, you had best go quietly.

      TOM. What does this sprat mean?

      CADDIE. Sprat! Summer flies! Now, look here, are you going quietly, or must I chuck the blooming lot of you into the river?

      TOM. There is some mistake, madam — we came here by invitation.

      CADDIE. Look here, I know that game.

      MISS S. Impossible! By whose invitation?

      TOM (producing letter). By yours — here is your letter. (Hands it to her.)

      JANE A. (aside). Exquisite!

      MISS S. (reading). “Dear Mr. Tom, as I have seen you in the neighbourhood of my school more than once, I venture to ask whether you will do me the honour of attending a garden party which I am giving to my girls this afternoon. I want to show them a little life. Please bring a few of those pleasant Press Students, and be sure to come in cap and gown. It will be a free and easy affair. My girls join me in sending love, and I am yours sincerely, Dinah Sims.” Oh!

      CADDIE (shocked). Well, of all the — ! The old girl is coming out of her hegg at last. (Exit.)

      MISS S. Oh, Jane Annie, is it not dreadful? I could not have written such a letter.

      JANE A. Well, it is certainly in your writing.

      TOM (aside). Now to look for Bab. (Exit.) Enter CADDIE.

      CADDIE. If you please, ma’am, the man has come with the Scotch whisky.

      MISS S. Whisky! there is some mistake. I never

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