Sh! [An arm about her The Father leads the Mother softly from the room.]
The Lobs.
[Laughing, imitate them.] Sh! [Then, sweeping up the room, they sing softly:]
Lob here, Lob there, Lob everywhere!
Lob sweep the hearth, Lob mend the toys,
Lob do the tasks of girls and boys!
Who would not be a lob like me,
A merry Lob-lie-by-the-fire like me!
[A streak of daylight makes its way between the window-curtains, and a distant cock-crow is heard, whereupon the Lobs hastily shoulder brooms, salute us as we sit in the audience, and vanish as the play is ended and the curtains close upon the scene.]
THE END