CAPTAIN GADSBY asleep and snoring heavily. Time, 10:30 A. M.—a glorious autumn day at Simla. Enter delicately Captain MAFFLIN of GADSBY's regiment. Looks at sleeper, and shakes his head murmuring “Poor Gaddy.” Performs violent fantasia with hair-brushes on chairback.
Capt. M. Wake up, my sleeping beauty! (Roars.)
“Uprouse ye, then, my merry merry men!
It is our opening day!
It is our opening da-ay!”
Gaddy, the little dicky-birds have been billing and cooing for ever so long; and I'm here!
Capt. G. (Sitting up and yawning.) Mornin'. This is awf'ly good of you, old fellow. Most awf'ly good of you. Don't know what I should do without you. 'Pon my soul, I don't. 'Haven't slept a wink all night.
Capt. M. I didn't get in till half-past eleven. 'Had a look at you then, and you seemed to be sleeping as soundly as a condemned criminal.
Capt. G. Jack, if you want to make those disgustingly worn-out jokes, you'd better go away. (With portentous gravity.) It's the happiest day in my life.
Capt. M. (Chuckling grimly.) Not by a very long chalk, my son. You're going through some of the most refined torture you've ever known. But be calm. I am with you. 'Shun! Dress!
Capt. G. Eh! Wha-at?
Capt. M. Do you suppose that you are your own master for the next twelve hours? If you do, of course—(Makes for the door.)