Red. I see—I understand! We are all practically alive!
Robin. Every man jack of you!
Rod. My brother ancestors! Down from your frames! (The Ancestors descend.) You believe yourselves to be dead—you may take it from me that you’re not, and an application to the Supreme Court is all that is necessary to prove that you never ought to have died at all!
(The Ancestors embrace the Bridesmaids.)
From the omission of this conversation it now follows that the “ancestors,” having once returned to their picture frames, remain there.
——:o:——
An Appeal, after E. A. Poe.
Once upon a midnight dreary, Gilbert pondered weak and weary,
Thinking of a curious title his new Comic Opera for,
When a volume from him flinging, suddenly there came a ringing,