Lucy. Certainly. (Releases his foot.)
Bob. Thank you. Ah, Lucy, if I only had you to release me from all the traps I get into!
Lucy. Oh, pshaw! you should keep out of them. Now, I’ll warrant you’ve been in somebody’s melon-patch.
Bob. Lucy, you wrong me. But it’s just my luck. I never shall be understood. I’m born to be unappreciated in this world. I haven’t been in any melon-patch at all. I climbed Farmer Butts’s wall to gather a bouquet for you, when I stuck my foot in it. It’s just my luck. I never tried to gather a rose but what I stuck my hands full of thorns.
Lucy. Ah, Bob, you went too near Farmer Butts’s melon-patch.
Bob. Well, now you mention it, I did take a look at them there bouncers, and they seemed to say, “Come and take us melons;” but this trap said, “Can’t elope,” and fastened its cruel teeth in my tender ankles. Just my luck.
Lucy. O Bob! I’m ashamed of you.
Bob. Now, don’t, Lucy! I’m an unfortunate chap. I was born to be unlucky. I tell you, you should have had the most beautiful melon,—I mean bouquet,—if it hadn’t been for this trap. Just my luck! Here I’ve been sent to this school by my fond but mistaken parent to be fitted for the bar or the pulpit. Fit subject I am for either. The only bar I hanker for is a horizontal bar. I’d like to be a gymnast, join a circus, or something of that kind; but there, you see, I’m too fat. It’s just my luck. If I go out with the boys on a frolic, I’m sure to get caught. If I race on the water, my weight either capsizes the boat, or leaves me a mile behind. I tell you, Lucy, I’m born to ill luck.
Lucy. Oh, no, Bob! Have more confidence in yourself.
Bob. Confidence! Well, I like that. Confidence in what? I’m always at the foot of the class, always the last one up in the morning, and always the last in every thing. Oh, dear! I wonder what will become of me. If it wasn’t for Harry, I should drown myself. No, I couldn’t do that. I’m too fat: I couldn’t sink. Just my luck.