Ablett.
Well, I dessay a West End life has sooperior advantages over the Profession in some respecks, Mrs. Mossop.
Mrs. Mossop.
When accompanied by wealth, Mr. Ablett. Here's Miss Trelawny but nineteen, and in a month-or-two's time she'll be ordering about her own powdered footman, and playing on her grand piano. How many actresses do that, I should like to know!
[Tom Wrench's voice is heard.]
Tom.
[Outside the door.] Rebecca! Rebecca, my loved one!
Mrs. Mossop.
Oh, go along with you, Mr. Wrench!
[Tom enters, with a pair of scissors in his hand. He is a shabbily-dressed ungraceful man of about thirty, with a clean-shaven face, curly hair, and eyes full of good-humor.]