Heroine. Gee! That's a great idea. If only Peter Pan's goat——
[The Hero, inspired, crawls away unnoticed.]
Villain (preparing to renew the struggle). Lassie, I'm quite sweered o' you. There's an awesome look in your eye. And can ye no be more ladylike in your fechting? Remember whose heroine you are.
[He again strives to bear her off. The Hero, having broken off a couple of branches and affixed them to his head—a little trick he learned from the Admirable Crichton—now returns disguised as a goat. He rushes at Villain, who flees and scales the park railings. But his overcoat collar catches in the spikes, and he hangs suspended and helpless. In that position he slowly starves, and dies inconspicuously as the Hero and Heroine finish the play.]
Hero (extending his arms). Say, is it a deal? I mean, will ye ha'e us, lassie?
Heroine (with little wells of gladness in her eyes). It's a cinch. Guess you're Mr. Smart from Smartville. Ay, I'm thinkin' I'll tak' you. But you men are fickle callants—that's what every woman knows. Come awa' and let's find a little meenister at once.
Hero. Oh, joy! oh, rapture! oh, rosy rapture! [They embrace and exeunt.]
The Audience. Hoots!
Curtain.