. . . whose daughters are ye so long as ye do well and are not
afraid with any amazement.
CAPT. M. Dismiss! Break off! Left wheel!
_All troop to vestry. They sign._
CAPT. M. Kiss Her, Gaddy.
CAPT. G. (_Rubbing the ink into his glove._) Eh! Wha--at?
CAPT. M. (_Taking one pace to Bride._) If you don't, I shall.
CAPT. G. (_Interposing an arm._) Not this journey!
_General kissing, in which_ CAPT. G. _is pursued by
unknown female._
CAPT. G. (_Faintly to_ M.) This is Hades! Can I wipe my face now?
CAPT. M. My responsibility has ended. Better ask _Missis_ Gadsby.
CAPT. G. _winces as though shot and procession is
Mendelssohned out of Church to house, where usual
tortures take place over the wedding-cake._
CAPT. M. (_At table._) Up with you, Gaddy. They expect a speech.
CAPT. G. (_After three minutes' agony._) Ha-hmmm. (_Thunders of
applause._)
CAPT. M. Doocid good, for a first attempt. Now go and change your kit
while Mamma is weeping over--'the Missus.' (CAPT. G. _disappears._
CAPT. M. _starts up tearing his hair._) It's not _half_ legal.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213