SWEET. (aside to SHORT) Never fear.
SHORT. (to his wife) Now if you please.
Exit SHORT and MRS. SHORT, door, L. 1 E.
SWEET. Mrs. Short is right—she seems vexed, perhaps she is really sorry.
MRS. SWEET. (rising) These things only happen to me.
SWEET. Whose fault is that, ma’am?
MRS. SWEET. How was I to know I should be so misunderstood?
SWEET. You should be more particular in what you say then. Think before you speak.
MRS. SWEET. Well, so I thought I did. I am quite grieved about it. (rings bell)