Scene: The Hill Home

HAROLD HILL: I’m gonna sell so many piccolos today, honey. We’ll finally be in the clear.

MARIAN: How wonderful! You’ll be able to spend some time with Marcellus Jr. and keep him out of trouble.

The sound of seventy-six trombones begins to play. Harold hears it, but is not aware of it.

HAROLD HILL: Trouble… capital T… rhymes with P and stands for… pool.

MARIAN: (with infinite patience) Piccolos, dear.

HAROLD HILL: Right. Uniforms too.

- - -

Scene: The Offices of Winthrop–Hill Musical Instruments

HAROLD HILL: You’re firing me? But I knew you since you were a boy. Back when you used to talk funny. What about our trip to Gary?

Winthrop pulls on his suspenders and takes a puff from a cigar.

WINTHROP: Let me say it once again. You don’t know the territory. Gary, Indiana is a shithole. Sure them broads is good at lighting my face, but unless you have a logical explanation for why I should save you from permanent vacation, then I think we’re done here.

HAROLD HILL: Winthrop—

WINTHROP: It’s nothing personal, Harold. You’re just not the salesman you used to be. And people are starting to talk.

A hundred-and-ten cornets play, softly and close at hand.

HAROLD HILL: Pick-a-little… Talk-a-little… Pick-a-little… Talk-a-little. Cheep. Cheep. Cheep. Talk-a-lot… Pick-a-little-more.

WINTHROP: Harold! Pull yourself together.

- - -

Scene: The Hill Home

MARIAN: Don’t talk to your father that way! You don’t know how hard it is for him.

HAROLD HILL: Are you trying to spite me? Is that it?!?

MARCELLES Jr.: No, Dad! I’m just sick of the way you treat me. The way you treat Mom. You make me want to get up and go.

Rows-and-rows of the finest virtuosos, the cream of every famous band, play softly in the background.

HAROLD HILL: Whatayatalk? Whatayatalk?

MARIAN: Harold?

MARCELLES Jr.: Mom, what’s wrong with him?!?!

HAROLD HILL: Whatayatalk? Whatayatalk? Whatayatalk? Whatayatalk? Whatayatalk…

MARIAN: (heartbroken) Oh, God. Please, no!

- - -

Scene: A Cemetery.

Marian stands over Harold Hill’s grave.

MARIAN: Forgive me dear but I can’t cry. Why did you do it? Why did you crash the Wells Fargo Wagon? I search and search and search, and I can’t understand it. Also, I ordered salmon from Seattle last September and it wasn’t on the wagon. Where is it, Harold?! I search and search and search. I made the last payment on the band equipment nobody would buy from you. We’re free and clear. (sobbing) Goodnight, my someone.

She kisses Harold’s grave.

MARIAN: My raisins too. Couldn’t find those either. You know the ones I like? The ones from Fresno.