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enthusiasm for the artless gaiety of a Bank Holiday.[ 153] <hr style="width: 85%;" /> <h2>A Row in the Pit; or, The Obstructive Hat.</h2> Scene—The Pit during Pantomime Time. The Overture is beginning. An Over-heated Matron (to her Husband). Well, they don't give you much room in 'ere, I must say. Still, we done better than I expected, after all that crushing. I thought my ribs was gone once—but it was on'y the umberella's. You pretty comfortable where you are, eh, Father? Father. Oh, I'm right enough, I am. Jimmy (their Son; a small, bullet-headed boy, with a piping voice). If Father is, it's more nor what I am. I can't see nothen, I can't! His Mother. Lor' bless the boy! there ain't nothen to see yet; you'll see well enough when the Curting goes up. (Curtain rises on opening scene.) Look, Jimmy, ain't that nice, now? All them himps dancin' round, and real fire comin' out of the pot—which I 'ope it's quite safe—and there's a beautiful fairy just come on, dressed so grand, too! Jimmy. I can't see no fairy—nor yet no himps—nor nothen! [He whimpers. His Mother (annoyed). Was there ever such a aggravating boy to take anywheres! Set quiet, do, and don't fidget, and look at the hactin'! Jimmy. I tell yer I can't see no hactin', Mother. It ain't my fault—it's this lady in front o' me, with the 'at. Mother (perceiving the justice of his complaints). Father, the pore boy says he can't see where he is, 'cause of a lady's 'at in front. Father (philosophically). Well, I can't 'elp the 'at, can I? He must put up with it, that's all! Mother. No—but I thought, if you wouldn't mind changing places with him—you're taller than him, and it wouldn't be in your way 'arf so much.[ 154] Father. It's always the way with you—never satisfied, you ain't! Well, pass the boy across—I'm for a quiet life, I am. (Changing seats.) Will this do for you? [He settles down immediately behind a very large, furry, and feathery hat, which he dodges for some time, with the result of obtaining an occasional glimpse of a pair of legs on the stage. Father (suddenly). D—— the 'at! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/p154.png" width-obs="922" height-obs="600" alt=""THE OWNER OF THE HAT DEIGNS NO REPLY."" title="" /> "THE OWNER OF THE HAT DEIGNS NO REPLY."</div> Mother. You can't wonder at the boy not seeing! P'raps the lady wouldn't mind taking it off, if you asked her? Father. Ah! (He touches The Owner of the Hat on the shoulder.) Excuse me, Mum, but might I take the liberty of asking you to kindly remove your 'at? [The Owner of the Hat deigns no reply. Father (more insistently). Would you 'ave any objection to oblige me by taking off your 'at, Mum? (Same result.) I don't know if you 'eard me,[ 155] Mum, but I've asked you twice, civil enough, to take that 'at of yours off (pathetically). I'm a playin' 'Ide and Seek be'ind it 'ere! [No answer. The Mother. People didn't ought to be allowed in the Pit with sech 'ats! Callin' 'erself a lady—and settin' there in a great 'at and feathers like a 'Ighlander's, and never answering no more nor a stuffed himage! Father (to the Husband of The Owner of the Hat). Will you tell your good lady to take her 'at off, Sir, please? The Owner of the Hat (to her Husband). Don't you do nothing of the sort, Sam, or you'll 'ear of it! The Mother. Some people are perlite, I must say. Parties might beyave as ladies when they come in the Pit! It's a pity her 'usband can't teach her better manners! The Father. 'Im teach her! 'E knows better. 'E's got a Tartar there, 'e 'as! The Owner of the Hat. Sam, are you going to set by and hear me insulted like this? Her Husband (turning round tremulously). I—I'll trouble you to drop making these personal allusions to my wife's 'at, Sir. It's puffickly impossible to listen to what's going on on the stage with all these remarks be'ind! The Father. Not more nor it is to see what's going on on the stage with that 'at in front! I paid 'arf-a-crown to see the Pantermime, I did; not to 'ave a view of your wife's 'at!... 'Ere, Maria, blowed if I can stand this 'ere game any longer. Jimmy must change places again, and if he can't see, he must jest stand up on the seat, that's all! [Jimmy is transferred to his original place, and mounts upon the seat. A Pittite behind Jimmy (touching up Jimmy's Father with an umbrella). Will you tell your little boy to set down, please, and not block the view like this? Jimmy's Father. If you can indooce that lady in front to take off her 'at, I will—but not before. Stay where you are, Jimmy, my boy. The Pittite Behind. Well, I must stand myself then, that's all. I mean to see, somehow! [He rises. People behind him (sternly). Set down there, will yer? [He resumes his seat expostulating.[ 156] Jimmy. Father, the gentleman behind is a pinching of my legs! Jimmy's Father. Will you stop pinching my little boy's legs! He ain't doing you no 'arm—is he? The Pinching Pittite. Let him sit down, then! Jimmy's Father. Let the lady take her 'at off! Murmurs behind. Order, there! Set down! Put that boy down! Take orf that 'at! Silence in front, there! Turn 'em out! Shame! ... &c., &c. The Husband of the O. of the H. (in a whisper to his Wife). Take off the blessed 'at, and have done with it, do! The O. of the H. What—now! I'd sooner die in the 'at! [An Attendant is called. The Attendant. Order, there, Gentlemen, please—unless you want to get turned out! No standing allowed on the seats—you're disturbing the performance 'ere, you know! [Jimmy is made to sit down, and weeps silently; the hubbub gradually subsides—and The Owner of the Hat triumphs—for the moment. Jimmy's Mother. Never mind, my boy, you shall have Mother's seat in a minute. I dessay, if all was known, the lady 'as reasons for keeping her 'at on, pore thing! The Father (perceiving her drift). Ah, I never thought o' that. So she may. Very likely her 'at won't come off—not without her 'air! THE MOTHER. Ah, well, we mustn't be 'ard on her, if that's so. The O. of the H. (removing the obstruction). I 'ope you're satisfied now, I'm sure? The Father (handsomely). Better late nor never, Mum, and we take it kind of you. Though, why you shouldn't ha' done it at fust, I dunno; for you look a deal 'ansomer without the 'at than what you did in it—don't she, Maria? The O. of the H. (mollified). Sam, ask the gentleman behind if his little boy would like a ginger-nut. [This olive-branch is accepted; compliments pass; cordiality is restored, and the Pantomime proceeds without further disturbance. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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