C. G. Hark! what’s that? (voice behind the lilac-bush sings:)
“Oh, there’s many a bud the cold frost will nip,
And there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.”
Aunt M. That’s Jack’s voice! Goodness me! Let us scoot for home!
Jack. Did he kiss you, Aunt Mattie?
Mary. Do you like the smell of cloves, Uncle Cyrus?
C. G. Confound you both! If I had hold of ye I’d let you know if I like to smell cloves, and birch, too.
(Curtain falls.)