Jimmy's Father. Let the lady take her 'at off!
Murmurs behind. Order, there! Set down! Put that boy down! Take orf that 'at! Silence in front, there! Turn 'em out! Shame!
... &c., &c.
The Husband of the O. of the H. (in a whisper to his Wife). Take off the blessed 'at, and have done with it, do!
The O. of the H. What—now! I'd sooner die in the 'at!
[An Attendant is called.
The Attendant. Order, there, Gentlemen, please—unless you want to get turned out! No standing allowed on the seats—you're disturbing the performance 'ere, you know!
[Jimmy is made to sit down, and weeps silently; the hubbub gradually subsides—and The Owner of the Hat triumphs—for the moment.
Jimmy's Mother. Never mind, my boy, you shall have Mother's seat in a minute. I dessay, if all was known, the lady 'as reasons for keeping her 'at on, pore thing!
The Father (perceiving her drift). Ah, I never thought o' that. So she may. Very likely her 'at won't come off—not without her 'air!
THE MOTHER. Ah, well, we mustn't be 'ard on her, if that's so.