PHONSIE: (Scared.) What is that, mommer?
GLADYS: Just a horse pill, baby. (Puts it in his mouth.) There, that will help cure mother's little man. (At table.)
PHONSIE: Gee! That tasted fierce. (Business. Knock.) Some one is knocking, mommer.
GLADYS: They're always knocking mommer. (At door.)
VOICE: Have yez th' rint?
GLADYS: I haven't.
VOICE: Much obliged.
GLADYS: You're welcome.
PHONSIE: Who was that, mommer?
GLADYS: That was only the landlord for the rent. Alas, I cannot raise it.