_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! _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._ Ah, I never thought o' that. So she may. Very likely her 'at won't _come_ off--not without her _'air!_