Hel. All right, mother.
(Smiles at Percy and exits R., with her mother, carrying churn.)
Percy. Now, my friend, I’ll take a stroll around and leave you here. The chances are that the young lady will soon appear. If she does not, go and knock at the door and inquire for her. I will be near at hand to see and hear the fun. If you carry it through right I’ll give you another five.
Roam. Gee! You bet I’ll do it right, boss. Another five, eh? Why, I certainly am in luck. [Exit Percy, C.
Enter Bill, carrying empty pail and blowing on harmonica.
Bill. Hello! You’re ther man what’s come over to paint the boat, ain’t yer? (Looks at paint cans.)
Roam. (haughtily). I am Percy Heartache, the artist.
Bill (laughing loudly and wiping harmonica on sleeve and putting in pocket). You ain’t ther painter, then?
Roam. No, I am the artist. Can you tell me where I can find Miss Hattie Renwick?
Bill (ignoring the question and pointing to paint cans). Who does ther paint an’ brushes belong to?