John. These articles, that were to go in the paper—the printing was at a standstill, waiting for them.
Evje. Hush, hush, John! So you overheard that, did you? You are too clever; you ought never to have been a servant.—Now, be off with you! Here is a shilling or two for you. Good-bye.
John. Thank you very much, sir.—This was how it was, sir. You see, I thought of the number of times I had run over to the printer's with messages when that nice Editor gentleman was spending an evening with you—and so I thought I might just as well run over with this one.
Evje (starting back in alarm). What? What have you done?
John. Just to do you a good turn, sir, I ran along and told them they might print those articles.
Evje. What articles?
John. The ones about you, sir. "Print away," I said—and they printed away. By Jove, how they worked, and then off to the post with the papers!
Evje. You had the impudence, you—! Ah, it's not true! I saw the printer's boy myself, running to the office to countermand the instructions.
John. I caught him up outside here and told him that a message had been sent from Mr. Evje's house. And I gave him sixpence to go to the theatre with; but he must have had to run for it, to be in time, because I am sure it was after seven. Excuse me, sir, but it is after seven now, isn't it?
Evje. You scoundrel! You vindictive brute!