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These extracts are not from the manuscript of a modern farce-comedy,[A] but belong to Steele's play of "The Funeral, or Grief
Darkness was falling, and the glow from the embers lit their faces like those of two friends camping after a day's hunt. Had it not all been such deadly earnest, the scene would have been farce-comedy. Suddenly Tom Blair raised his eyes. "What are you going to do with me?" he asked directly. Ben said nothing. The question was not repeated, but another trembled on the speaker's lips.
When the evening came we prudently went inside and continued our reading or our talk till we felt inclined to seek our comfortable beds and the oblivion that blots out troubles or pleasures. And so on for five momentous days. Quite unlike the "Seven Days" in the delightful farce-comedy of that name, in which everything happened, here nothing seemed to happen.
Come back here!" cried Barbara, taking hold of her sister's feet. "Nolla, you shan't take the glory from me!" laughed Polly. Meantime Eleanor was pulled back and rolled over, laughing as heartily as if she were at a farce-comedy. "Now listen to me!" advised Polly, shaking a finger at the three girls.
"At first I was afraid the crowd wouldn't get it; I didn't know but they might try to take it seriously. Now, I know for certain that it will get over. It will be the cleanest, funniest, farce-comedy series that has ever been filmed." Luck sat up straight and pulled a cigar from his pocket and looked at it absent-mindedly. "Say, those boys of mine are certainly real ones!
We were out every day capering around in the bushes, and having little skirmishes with the Spanish troops that looked more like kind of tired-out feuds than anything else. The war was a joke to us, and of no interest to them. We never could see it any other way than as a howling farce-comedy that the San Augustine Rifles were actually fighting to uphold the Stars and Stripes.
From the brilliant street, from the gay crowds rolling on in search of witless farce-comedy and trite melodrama, the brooding idealist climbed one night to the gallery to overlook a gloomy, empty auditorium.
"Oh, quite so!" said Antonia, unwittingly adopting Barr-Smith's phrase. "But for a moment I was awfully frightened!" "It looked a little damp, at one time, for farce-comedy," said Cornish. "I wonder how deep it was out there!" "Miss Trescott was quite drenched," said Mr. Barr-Smith, as we got into the carriages. "Too bad, by Jove!"
The Judge had been afraid, not merely morally frightened, but abjectly, utterly terrified in the flesh afraid of the threat in the insolent bearing of the little, shriveled man who had passed out into the night a moment before. It could have been funny. It might have been sublimest farce-comedy, had they not lacked the perspective necessary for its appreciation.
Some one's been telling him he practically made us a present of his stuff." "Hell!" said Luck. "Why didn't you say so?" "Why didn't you say that you were turning that stuff into farce-comedy?" Martinson came back sharply. "I could have told you it wouldn't get by. I knew Brown wouldn't stand for anything like that; and I knew he could put the gaff into us on that 'manner befitting' clause."
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