"Turn him out!" cried several of the audience.
"Where's the cook?" demanded the angry voice.
"Gone to the play," returned a wag.
"Who's that taking my name in vain?" inquired that lady. As she said this she turned round, and beheld the fiery visage of Captain Puffeigh, who had returned to fetch something for his wife, and to tell the servants "they need not sit up."
Upon seeing him she screamed out, "Oh! my! it's the capting!" and immediately went into violent hysterics.
The place was soon cleared, and Puffeigh about to depart, when a movement at the end of the hall arrested his attention. He walked to the table, and pulled the screen on one side; beholding as he did so, a tableau which nearly brought on an apoplectic fit. Mary Ann was seated in a chair, sobbing as if her heart would break. Supporting her on either side were the sergeant and Thompson, who looked at the captain as if he were a transparent substance, and could be seen through.
"Who the deuce are you?" said the captain.
The soldier saluted and the sailor smiled.
"You—you—who are you?"
The sergeant saluted again.