Sunny. Is it true?
Scud. Every word of it, Squire. Here, you tell it, since you know it. If I was to try, I'd bust.
Mrs. P. Read, George. Terrebonne is yours.
Enter Pete, Dido, Solon, Minnie, and Grace.
Pete. Whar is she—whar is Miss Zoe?
Scud. What's the matter?
Pete. Don't ax me. Whar's de gal? I say.
Scud. Here she is—Zoe!—water—she faints.
Pete. No—no. 'Tain't no faint—she's a dying, sa; she got pison from old Dido here, this mornin'.
George. Zoe.