That’s right, Susan; we’ll be married. Think of it, we’ll be married, Susan!
[Music. Pompey and Hannibal open doors on veranda, showing dining-hall; and Pompey announces that dinner is served.
Northlake.
May you all be my guests! There’s indoors spread a merry cap-sheaf to this mirthful wooing. Let all proceed within.
Violet [presenting Ideal].
Uncle, my Ideal.
Northlake.
Violet, my niece, happy art thou who hast for real thy Ideal.
Violet [persuasively].
Good uncle, thou wilt not cut down the tree in the orchard?