Mr. S. Well, my dear.
Mrs. S. Just go down into the kitchen, will you, and make some sandwiches for this gentleman.
Mr. S. I like that, I must say. Me make sandwiches for a negro. Why don’t he buy his own sandwiches?
Mrs. S. That’ll do, George; remember he is just from home.
Billy. Yes, George, remember that. And don’t be afraid of the mustard. And I say, George, cut the bread fleshy.
Mr. S. Sir, you are insolent!
Billy. I am not. I am a South African Pasha!
Mr. S. Confound that negro! [Exit R. 1 E.
Mrs. S. Now, Billy, he’s gone, we can have a nice talk. How is my father?