Bob. Never mind—he'll soon get sane. You never knew him to stick at anything very long.
Jessie. Oh! Oh! I think you're horrid! And right before our party—what will we tell the guests?
Bob. Tell them the truth; they'll think it's romantic—like a story in a play. Why, Jessie——
(During this dialogue Jack has slipped back into the coat of Will and sits at the desk, Left 1. The sound of a sharp whistle heard in the Real-play, Left 1. Instantly the Play-play vanishes. Full light on the Real-play.)
Will (looking up in bewilderment and disgust). My God! What's that?
Peggy. Something at the dumb-waiter, dear.
Will. Oh, Lord!
Peggy (rises). Wait, dear. (Hurries out of door Left, calls at shaft.) Well?
Voice below. Garbage!
Will (tears hair). Garbage.