"Have yer got fits?" demanded Dinah.
"Bring de peppermint," suggested Othello.
"Miss Clorindy, dear Miss Clorindy, what am it?" cried Dolf, with a sudden sinking at his heart.
Clo would have had hysterics, but not being a fine lady, she gave two or three yells, kicked the table, pulled her frizzed hair, and shouted, amid her tears:
"You Sally, git my bunnit—quick!"
She rose, and they crowded about her.
"Whar be you gwine? What's up?"
"Git my bunnit!" she repeated. "Ise gwine to York, I is."
"To York, this time o' night?" cried Vic.
"Yes, I is—let me go."