Kids. That’s the ideah, Miss Ida; for when a fellah is on the bwink of such a pwecipice, as the pwecipice I am on the bwink of, the best way to save him is to push him ovaw.
Ida. Well, that’s certainly an original idea.
Kids. Yaas, it is an owiginal, idea—mine, too—I found it in my bwain, with the help of the diwectory. When a fellah’s on the bwink of matwimony, of course his safety and his happiness is secured by his being pushed into it. You see my ideah.
Mulligrub (aside). Deuced clumsy one.
Ida. But how can I help you?
Kids. By pushing me ovaw. Miss Ida, you are bewitching, you are lovely, you are divine, and on my knees I ask you (falls on his knees L. of Ida) to give me a push.
Mulligrub (aside). Confounded jackass.
Ida. But, Mr. Kids, I don’t understand. You’re so—so—(Aside.) Where can Eva be? (Aloud.) You say you are on the brink of a precipice.
Kids. Howid, howid; and if you consent to be—
Enter Eva, r.