Boys. Doctor! Suppose the likes of you mind the doctor. Let's be off; it is getting late.
Amal. Don't. Why not play on the road near this window? I could watch you then.
Third Boy. What can we play at here?
Amal. With all these toys of mine lying about. Here you are, have them. I
can't play alone. They are getting dirty and are of no use to me.
Boys. How jolly! What fine toys! Look, here's a ship. There's old mother Jatai; say, chaps, ain't he a gorgeous sepoy? And you'll let us have them all? You don't really mind?
Amal. No, not a bit; have them by all means.
Boys. You don't want them back?
Amal. Oh, no, I shan't want them.
Boys. Say, won't you get a scolding for this?