Old Morton. Damn the servants! Don't I—hic—pay them wages—eh?
Oakhurst. Let me lead you to your own room. You are nervously excited. A little rest, sir, will do you good. (Taking his arm.)
Old Morton. No shir, no shir, 'm nerrer goin' to bed any more. Bed's bad habit!—hic—drunken habit. Lesh stay up all ni, Aleck! You and me! Lesh nev'r—go—bed any more! Whar's whiskey—eh? (Staggers to the table for decanter as OAKHURST seizes him, struggle up stage, and then OLD MORTON, in struggle, falls helplessly on sofa, in same attitude as SANDY was discovered.)
Enter SANDY cautiously from door L.
Sandy (to OAKHURST). Jack! Eh, Jack—
Oakhurst. Hush! Go! I will follow you in a moment. (Pushes him back to door L.)
Sandy (catching sight of OLD MORTON). Hallo! What's up?
Oakhurst. Nothing. He was overtaken with a sudden faintness. He will revive presently: go!
Sandy (hesitating). I say, Jack, he wasn't taken sick along o' me, eh, Jack?
Oakhurst. No! No! But go (pushing him toward door).