Mrs. P. George, I can't spare Paul for an hour or two; he must run over to the landing; the steamer from New Orleans passed up the river last night, and if there's a mail they have thrown it ashore.
Sunny. I saw the mail-bags lying in the shed this morning.
Mrs. P. I expect an important letter from Liverpool; away with you, Paul; bring the mail-bags here.
Paul. I'm 'most afraid to take Wahnotee to the shed, there's rum there.
Wahnotee. Rum!
Paul. Come, then, but if I catch you drinkin', O, laws a mussey, you'll get snakes! I'll gib it you! now mind.
[Exit with Indian, R. U. E.
George. Come, Miss Dora, let me offer you my arm.
Dora. Mr. George, I am afraid, if all we hear is true, you have led a dreadful life in Europe.
George. That's a challenge to begin a description of my feminine adventures.