Hiram. Mistake, eh? Well, I guess not. You was sent for, wasn’t you?
Percy. Yes, but——
Hiram. Maybe you don’t like the looks of her.
Percy. Oh, yes, I do, Mr. Rodney. She is the nicest——
Hick. (laughing heartily). He ain’t much of a judge, is he, Hiram?
Hiram. Well, I don’t know. He looks as though he ought to know a good model from a bad one. But say. (Nods to Percy.) If you feel like it, and think it ain’t too late, you might start in to scrapin’ the paint off her sides right now. You’ll find she’s pretty well roughed up; but you can fix that all right. You’ll have to go a bit careful when you come to the waist. She’s been layin’ on one side so long that I s’pose the sun has done some damage. Most likely she’s blistered a little.
Percy. Blistered!
Hick. Blistered, of course. There ain’t nothing strange about that, is there?
Hiram. Jim Styles told you it was to be white outside and yaller inside, didn’t he?
Percy (stepping back and turning to audience). Ah! Now I know there is a mistake. He does not refer to his daughter at all. (To Hiram.) Pardon me, Mr. Rodney, but to whom or what are you referring?