Voice through telephone (to officer dragged up from the first sleep he's had for two days). "Thought I'd better report, Sir.—we've just got the consignment of footballs up."
THE SCOTTISH REEL THING AT LAST.
Now that Sir J. M. Barrie has shown us the Transatlantic kinema man's idea of the perfect Macbeth, it is up to the purveyor of American films to retaliate by presenting one of his plots for ordinary stage performance in the Kirriemuir manner. Here and there an inadvertent touch of Western colour may be anticipated.
Scene.—Kensington Gardens. The Heroine—oh, the little love!—is taking a dander round the "Keep off the Grass" boards. Her feet are bare, and this is probably the reason why from time to time she dances among the trees. In the background the Hero, wearing a divided kilt, rides about on a horse. Having thus given the audience time to settle, the play starts.
Heroine (perceiving Hero). Gee! there's that rube I met up North. Sic a bonny lad too! (sighing sadly). But he hasna much siller, I'm sair misdootin'. Guess there's no twelve-pound look about him.
Hero (dashing up and dismounting). Wal, I wanter know. Say, ain't you the peach I useter see from my window in Thrums?
Heroine (coyly). Havers!
Hero (not to be outdone), Dagont!