Dibbs (entering, L.). Mr. Bellamy’s coming, sir.
Sel. (irritably). Coming! Why don’t he come! He’s always putting things off!
Dibbs. He’s not putting ’em off this time, sir, he’s putting ’em on! (Pantomimes getting into trousers.)
Sel. (finishing letter). That will do! A frank but dignified apology. (Addressing envelope.)—“Tompkins, Esq.” Nobody called this morning inquiring for me, I suppose, Dibbs?
Dibbs. No, sir! (Looking hard at Selwyn.) Lord, sir, how “squiffy” you do look this morning.
Sel. (sternly). “Squiffy,” Dibbs?
Dibbs. Yessir—off color!
Sel. (more sternly). “Off color,” Dibbs?
Dibbs. Yessir! Dotty about the eye-ball. For all the world as though you’d been out on the razzle-dazzle last night, sir.
Sel. Dibbs, I request that you will not indulge in slang out of your proper sphere—the kitchen. (Aside.) He’s right! I am “squiffy”—in fact, I never was “squiffier.” Fetch my smoking cap! (Exit Dibbs, R.) It would be rash of me to assert that I was not “off color” and as to being prepared to take my oath that I did not feel “dotty about the eye-ball” I couldn’t do it!