_R._ (_Shrilly, still worried_). Do they have to be unharnessed for meals, mother? _The M.F._ Hush, dear. Mr. Slint purrs on about his patience and perseverance. Suddenly there is a stir on the right of the line; there has been an accident; Edward’s wheels are locked with the careless four-wheeler’s on his left. A scurry, a sharp cry from Mr. Slint and Edward has disappeared. Mr. Slint acts promptly. The door of the tent is barred. He announces to the cowering spectators that a valuable artiste is missing and that those present are to be searched before leaving. (_He suspects foul play._) Suddenly he makes a dart at the M.F. and from her shoulder--oh, horror!--he takes a _Thing_. “Larceny!” he cries; “I mean abduction. Quick Bert, the police.” _The Paterfamilias._ Spare her, sir. She is a mother. _A policeman_ (_entering_). Now then, what’s this ’ere? _Mr. S._ (_moved by who knows what chivalrous impulse_). Madam, I have wronged you. This is not Edward. It is one of yours. (_He replaces the Thing._) _The M.F._ (_shrieking_). Oh, oh! The _shame_ of it! _Reginald._ _I_ know, mother! Put it on the table. If it’s Edward it will walk: if it’s one of--if it’s not, it will hop. The Thing is placed solemnly upon the table. All crowd around and watch for the issue. The flea does not walk. On the other hand it does not hop. Nothing happens. The flea is dead. _So no one will ever know._ The M.F. swoons away.... CURTAIN The Little Guiggols II THE LURCH [_Tyltyl._ “It seems hardly worth while, then, to take so much trouble.”--_The Betrothal._] I am afraid this little Guiggol has somehow got mixed up With M. Maeterlinck; but the two schools have, of course, a good deal in common, so it should work out fairly well. The play opens in The Place Which is Neither Here nor There; it seems to be a high hill entirely surrounded by fog. The unfortunate _Bill Tyl_ and his sister _Methyl_[3] are doing their utmost to die, driven on by the sinister figure of _Indigestion_, which grows larger and larger as the play progresses. They meet with a good deal of opposition in their simple project, and when the play begins they have already been to the House of Uncles and The Abode of the Half-Baked for permission to die; but they always find that before they can do it they have to go to just _one_ more place for information and advice. It is like walking up one of those tiresome mountains which never seem to have a top; or it is like trying to find out which Government Department is _really_ responsible; or it is like.... But enough. [3] Who afterwards gave her name to the celebrated spirits.