(Exit, R.)
Fred. Well, Lucy, our happy school-days are drawing to a close. To-night I must leave for home.
Bob. And so must I. Ah, Lucy,
“Those happy days are over;
There’s naught but grief and pain”—
Harry.
“When in a trap you set your foot:
So, don’t do it again.”
Oh, pshaw! Boys, don’t be sentimental: let’s end the term with a frolic.
Fred. I’m agreed. What shall it be?