Mr. B. I thought they'd say so. Now be satisfied;
You've studied hard. Have made your mark upon
The honour list. Have passed your second year.
Let that suffice. You know enough to wed,
And Gilmour there would give his very head
To have you. Get married, Kate.
Kate. Papa, you vex me; Gilmour has no chance
And that I'll let him know. Nor have I spent
My youth in studious sort to give up now.
Mr. Bloggs. What will you do? They will not let you in,
For fear you'd turn the heads of all the boys.
And quite right, too. I wouldn't have the care
And worry of a lot of lively girls
For all I'm worth.
[He kisses her.
Kate. P'raps not, papa. But yet I mean to have
The prize I emulate.
If I obtain
The honours hung so tantalizingly
Before us by the University,
Will you defray the cost, as hitherto
You've done, like my own kind papa?
[She kisses him.
Mr. Bloggs. I guess I'll have to: they won't send the bills to you.
Kate. Ah, dear papa! I'll make you proud of me
As if I were a son.
Enter MRS. BLOGGS. Exit MR. BLOGGS.