Mrs. G. Do, March, stop that confounded racket!
March. Racket! well that’s a good one. Mother Gale, you’ve got no ear for music.
Mrs. G. More ear than you have voice. Do you call that singing?
March. To be sure I do. (Sings.)
“Oh, my name was Captain—”
Mrs. G. March Gale, if you don’t stop that catawauling, I’ll fling this flat-iron right straight at your head.
March. Now, don’t, Mother Gale. Don’t you do it. The iron would enter my soul. (Sings.)
“As I sailed, as I sailed.”
Mrs. G. Dear, dear! what does ail that boy? March Gale, you’ll distract our fine city boarders.