Mrs Nutts. Just like the whole sect: go on.
Tickle. Well, it is supposed from what followed that her husband went unbeknown to her drawers, and——
Mrs Nutts. What! She never kept ’em locked? Well, perhaps it’s wrong for one woman to say it of another; but after that, whatever she suffered, it served her right. Not lock her drawers! Well, I have been married to Nutts these seventeen years, and——
Nutts. And I’m as well as could be expected after it. Proceed, Mr Tickle.
Tickle. Went unbeknown to her drawers, and got the poor woman’s cotton gown, and steeped it in all the gins I’ve said: and squeezed it; and dried it; and put it back again. Well, the poor soul dressed herself, thinking nothing of the villany of her husband——
Mrs Nutts. Jest like us; and fools we are for our pains.
Tickle. And went away to go to the Surr’y pit. Mr Macready, the imminent tragedian, was to play, and there was a precious squeezing, you may be sure. Well, the doomed ’oman, with the gun-cotton gown upon her——
Mrs Nutts. Dear soul! But she ought to have locked her drawers.
Tickle. With the gun-cotton gown upon her, was standing in the middle of the crowd. Well, when the doors was opened there was a general rush and crush—a bang was heard—the people screamed—the cotton gown had exploded——
Mrs Nutts. And the dear woman?