Mother. You can’t wonder at the boy not seeing!  P’raps the lady wouldn’t might 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, Mum, but I’ve asked you twice, civil enough, to take that ‘at of yours off.  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 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.

Jimmy.  Father, the gentleman behind is a pinching of my legs!