MRS. MOUSER seated at table, working. MOUSER, in a dressing gown, seated at piano-forte, R.
MOUS. (accompanying himself, and singing)
“On the margin of fair Zurich’s waters,
Ya—oo—oo!”
That isn’t quite the thing. (repeating) Ya—oo—oo! That’s more like it!
MRS. M. (throws down her work) This is really intolerable! I wish you wouldn’t attempt to sing that song, Mr. Mouser. You’ll never accomplish it.
MOUS. I will accomplish it, Mrs. Mouser. Indeed, I may say, I have accomplished it—all, except the “Ya—oo—oo,” and I’m not going to be beat by a “Ya—oo—oo,” I can tell you. No, Mrs. Mouser, I’ll accomplish that “Ya—oo—oo,” if I die for it! (very loud, and out of tune) “Ya—oo—oo!” No—that’s worse than ever.
MRS. M. It’s quite clear that you are determined to annoy me.
(pouting)
MOUS. (comes down quickly; very tenderly) Annoy you? You, my Anastasia? You? Pooh!