FRUST. Miss Hopkins, I guess your fawn was fine.

MISS HOPK. Oh! Thank you, Mr Frost. How nice of you to say so. I
do so enjoy playing him.

FRUST. [His eye growing bald] Mr Foreson, I thought the way you
fixed that tree was very cunning; I certainly did. Got a match?

[He takes a match from FORESON, and lighting a very long cigar,
walks up Stage through the French windows followed by FORESON,
and examines the apple-tree.]

[The two Actors depart, but Miss HELLGROVE runs from where she
has been lingering, by the curtain, to VANE, Stage Right.]

MISS H. Oh! Mr Vane--do you think? He seemed quite--Oh! Mr Vane
[ecstatically] If only----

VANE. [Pleased and happy] Yes, yes. All right--you were splendid.
He liked it. He quite----

MISS H. [Clasping her hand] How wonderful Oh, Mr Vane, thank you!

[She clasps his hands; but suddenly, seeing that FRUST is coming
back, fits across into the curtain and vanishes.]

[The Stage, in the crude light, as empty now save for FRUST,
who, in the French windows, Centre, is mumbling his cigar; and
VANE, Stage Right, who is looking up into the wings, Stage
Left.]

VANE. [Calling up] That lighting's just right now, Miller. Got it
marked carefully?

ELECTRICS. Yes, Mr Vane.

VANE. Good. [To FRUST who as coming down] Well, sir? So glad----

FRUST. Mr Vane, we got little Miggs on contract?

VANE. Yes.

FRUST. Well, I liked that little pocket piece fine. But I'm blamed
if I know what it's all about.

VANE. [A little staggered] Why! Of course it's a little allegory.
The tragedy of civilization--all real feeling for Beauty and Nature
kept out, or pent up even in the cultured.

FRUST. Ye-ep. [Meditatively] Little Miggs'd be fine in "Pop goes
the Weasel."

VANE. Yes, he'd be all right, but----

FRUST. Get him on the 'phone, and put it into rehearsal right now.

VANE. What! But this piece--I--I----!

FRUST. Guess we can't take liberties with our public, Mr Vane. They
want pep.

VANE. [Distressed] But it'll break that girl's heart. I--really--I
can't----

FRUST. Give her the part of the 'tweeny in "Pop goes".

VANE. Mr Frust, I--I beg. I've taken a lot of trouble with this
little play. It's good. It's that girl's chance--and I----

FRUST. We-ell! I certainly thought she was fine. Now, you 'phone
up Miggs, and get right along with it. I've only one rule, sir!