Bob. This way, gentlemen. I feel as light as my four-and-ninepenny gossamer! (Exeunt 2 e. l. h.)
Scr. (Coming down.) Give money—humbug! Who'd give me anything, I should like to know?
Re-enter Bob, 2 e. l. h.
Bob. A letter, sir. (Gives it and retires up.)
Scr. (Opens it—reads.) Ah! what do I see? the Mary Jane lost off the coast of Africa. Then Frank is utterly ruined! his all was embarked on board that vessel. Frank knows not of this—he will apply to me doubtless—but no, no. Why should I part with my hard gained store to assist him, his wife and children—he chooses to make a fool of himself, and marry a smooth-faced chit, and get a family—he must bear the consequences—I will not avert his ruin, no, not by a single penny.
Bob. (Coming down.) Please, sir, it's nine o'clock.
Scr. Already! You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose.
Bob. If quite convenient, sir.
Scr. It's not convenient, and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound, and yet you don't think me ill used when I pay a day's wages for no work.
Bob. Christmas comes but once a year.