[Violet, Daffodil, and Lily-of-the-Valley emerge, trip to the front, group themselves harmoniously, and dance, ending with a sweeping courtesy. Exeunt.]
The Audience. Of course that was "The Flowers that bloom in the Spring."
Index. Second quotation. Author, Dryden.
[A lady opens the book and walks with dignity across the stage. Draws a chair to front, seats herself, and slowly waves her fan. Raises a lorgnette to her eyes, rises, and turns gracefully to the left. At this moment a tin mouse on wheels is sent whizzing toward her from behind the curtain. She jumps on the chair, gathering her skirts about her, and screaming. A foppish youth comes from the book in affected excitement, and attacks the mouse with his umbrella. While the conflict goes on, the lady covers her face with her hands, now and then stealing a glance at her champion. The mouse is finally slain. The gentleman presents it, kneeling. She turns away at first, but presently dismounts and accepts the hero's arm. They go off together, he waving the mouse at the audience. The audience, after several mistakes, guesses, "None but the brave deserve the fair."]
Index (who has meanwhile frequently bobbed out from behind the book, now cries gleefully). Third quotation. A proverb! A proverb!
[The First and Second Pitchers enter, each holding a ball. They strike all sorts of baseball attitudes as they advance to footlights, then station themselves on opposite sides of stage. They throw the balls until some one guesses, "Little pitchers have big ears." Exeunt.]
Curtain.
The stage is darkened for next scene. A tall boy is draped in white. A small boy, also in flowing white, with crown of laurel such as we see in portraits of Cæsar. The hair and face whitened. The larger boy seats himself in chair (also draped in white) with rollers near cover of book. Small boy is placed astride his shoulders.
Index. Fourth quotation. An exclamation. Author unknown.
[Book opens very slowly. Some one concealed behind the chair pushes it a little beyond the book. Ghost rises deliberately, stands a moment, turns and stalks majestically to draw curtain, behind which he disappears. If the audience fails to see the point early, Index cries, "Can't you guess? Great Cæsar's ghost!">[