PAPA AND THE BOY

BY J. L. HARBOUR

Charming as is the merry prattle of innocent childhood, it is not particularly agreeable at about one o'clock in the morning. There are young and talkative children who have no more regard for your feelings or for the proprieties of life than to open their eyes with a snap at one or two in the morning, and to seek to engage you in enlivening dialog of this sort.

"Papa."

You think you will pay no heed to the imperative little voice, hoping that silence on your part will keep the youngster quiet; but again that boy of three pipes out sharply:

"Yes, I hear that you are," you say with cold sarcasm. "What do you want?”

"Oh! nuffin."

"Well, lie still and go to sleep then."

"I isn't s'eepy, papa."

"Well, I am, young man.”

"Is you? I isn't-not a bit. Say, papa, papa! If you was wich what would you buy me?”

"Well, a steam engine, may be; now you go right to sleep." "With a bell that would ring, papa?"

"Yes, yes; now you

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"And would the wheels go wound, papa?"

"Oh! yes (yawning). Shut your eyes now, and"And would it go choo, choo, choo, papa?"

"Yes, yes; now go to sleep."

"Say, papa."

No answer.

"Papa!"

"Well, what now?"

"Is you 'fraid of the dark?"

"No" (drowsily).

"I isn't either. Papa!"

"Well?"

"If I was wich I'd buy you somefin."

"Would you?"

"Yes; I'd buy you some ice-cweam and some chocolum drops and a toof brush and panties wiv bwaid on like mine, and a candy wooster, and

"That will do. You must go to sleep now."

Silence for half a second, then

"Papa! papa!"

"Well, what now?”

"I want a jink.” "No, you don't."

"I do, papa."

Experience has taught you that there will be no peace until you have brought the "jink," and you scurry out to the bathroom in the dark for it, knocking your shins against everything in the room as you go.

"Now I don't want to hear another word from you to-night," you say, as he gulps down a mouthful of the water he didn't want. Two minutes later he says:

"Papa!"

"See here, laddie, papa will have to punish you if

"I can spell 'dog,' papa."

"Well, nobody wants to hear you spell at two o'clock in the morning."

"B-o-g-dog; is that right?"

"No, it isn't. But nobody cares if

"Then it's d-o-g, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes; now you lie right down and go to sleep instantly." "Then I'll be a good boy, won't I, papa?"

"Yes; you'll be the best boy on earth. Good-night, dearie." "Papa!"

"Well, well! What now?"

"Is I your little boy?" "Yes, yes; of course."

"Some mans haven't got any little boys; but you have, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Don't you wish you had two, free, nine, 'leben, twenty-six, ninety-ten, free hundred little boys?"

The mere possibility of such a remote and contingent calamity so paralyzes you that you lie speechless for ten minutes during which you hear a yawn or two in the little bed by your side, a little figure rolls over three or four times, a pair of heels fly into the air once or twice, a warm, moist little hand reaches out and touches your face to make sure that you are there, and the boy is asleep with his heels where his head ought to be.

THE OBSTRUCTIVE HAT IN THE PIT

BY F. ANSTEY

SCENE: The Pit of a London theatre during Pantomime Time.

An Overheated Matron (to her husband)-"Well, they don't give you much room in 'ere, I must say. Still, we done better than I expected, after all that crushing. I thought my ribs was gone once-but it was on'y the umbrella's. You pretty comfortable where you are, eh, father?"

Father "Oh, I'm right enough, I am."

Jimmy (their small boy with a piping voice)-"If father is it's more nor what I am. I can't see, mother, I can't!"

Mother-"Lor' bles' the boy! there ain't nothen to see yet; you'll see well enough when the curting goes up. (Curtain rises on opening scene.) Look, Jimmy, ain't that nice, now? All them himps, dancin' round and real fire comin' out of the pot-which I 'ope it's quite safe-and there's a beautiful fairy just come on drest so grand, too!"

Jimmy (whimpering)—“I can't see no fairy-nor yet no himps -no nothen!"

Mother (annoyed)-"Was there ever such an aggravating boy? Set quiet, do, and don't fidget, and look at the hactin'!"

Jimmy-"I tell yer I can't see no hactin', mother. It ain't my fault-it's this lady in front of me, with the 'at."

Mother "Father, the pore boy says he can't see where he is, 'cause of a lady's 'at in front."

Father-"Well, I can't 'elp the 'at, can I? He must put up with it, that's all!"

Mother-"No-but I thought, if you wouldn't mind changing places with him; you're taller than him."

Father-It's always the way with you-never satisfied, you ain't! Well, pass the boy across! I'm for a quiet life, I am (changing seats). Will this do for you?" (He settles down immediately behind a very large, furry hat which he dodges for some time.)

Father (suddenly)-"Blow the 'at."

Mother "You can't wonder at the boy not seeing! P'r'aps the lady wouldn't mind taking it off, if you asked her?"

Father "Ah! (touching the owner of the hat on the shoulder). Excuse me, mum, but might I take the liberty of asking you to kindly remove your 'at?" (The owner of the hat deigns no reply.)

Father (more insistently)—“Would you 'ave any objection to oblige me by taking off your 'at, mum? (Same result.) I don't know if you 'eard me, mum, but I've asked you twice, civil enough, to take that 'at of yours off. I'm playin' 'ide-and-seek be'ind it 'ere!" (No answer.)

Mother-"People didn't ought to be allowed in the Pit with sech 'ats! Callin' 'erself a lady, and settin' there in a great 'at and feathers like a 'ighlander's, and never answering no more nor a stuffed himage!"

Father (to the husband of the owner of the hat)—"Will you tell your good lady to take her 'at off, sir, please?"

The Owner of the Hat (to her husband)-"Don't you do nothing of the sort, Sam, or you'll 'ear of it!"

Mother-"Some people are perlite, I must say. Parties might

be'ave as ladies when they come in the Pit! It's a pity her 'usband can't teach her better manners!"

Father-" "Im teach her! 'E knows better. 'E's got a Tartar there, 'e 'as!"

The Owner of the Hat-"Sam, are you going to set by and hear me insulted like this?"

Her Husband (turning round tremulously)-"I-I'll trouble you to drop making these personal allusions to my wife's 'at, sir. It's puffickly impossible to listen to what's going on on the stage, with all these remarks be'ind!"

Father "Not more nor it is to see what's going on on the stage with that 'at in front! I paid 'arf-a-crown to see the Pantermime, I did; not to 'ave a view of your wife's 'at! . . 'ere, Maria, blowed if I can stand this 'ere game any longer. Jimmy must change places again, and if he can't see, he must stand up on the seat, that's all!" (Jimmy goes back and mounts upon the seat.)

A Pit-ite Behind Jimmy (touching Jimmy's father with an umbrella)—“Will you tell your little boy to set down, please, and not to block the view like this?"

Father-"If you can indooce that lady to take off her 'at, I will, but not before. Stay where you are, Jimmy."

The Pit-ite Behind-"Well, I must stand myself then, that's all. I mean to see somehow!" (He rises.)

People Behind (sternly)-"Set down there, will yer?" (He resumes his seat expostulating.)

Jimmy-"Father, the man behind is a-pinching of my legs!" Father-"Will you stop pinching my little boy's legs. He ain't doing you no 'arm, is he?"

The Pinching Pit-ite-"Let him sit down, then!"
Father "Let the lady take her 'at off!"

Turn 'em

Murmurs Behind-"Order there! Set down! Put that boy down! Take off that 'at! Silence in front there! out! Shame!..

The Husband of the Owner of the Hat (in a whisper to his wife)-"Take off the blessed 'at, and 'ave done with it, do!"

The Owner of the Hat-"What, now? I'd sooner die in the 'at!" (An attendant is called.)