Abner.—Nobody says nothin’ about my kindness for workin’ overtime trampin’ out in the snow for the tree. I’ll join the hired man’s union and strike for only sixteen hours a day.
Susan.—Well, I never. I ain’t hung up a Christmas stocking for forty years.
Edith.—What do you suppose became of that man in the car with us who said he was an inventor and spent all his time drawing on brown paper with a stubby pencil?
Tom.—I think he was inventing a convertible submarine, one that could be turned into an air ship when necessary.
Miss Prudence.—Maybe he has frozen to death upon the train.
(Knock at door and enter Inventor.)
Inventor.—Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Madam, will you permit me to avail myself of the shelter of your home? When the other passengers left the train I was so absorbed in a drawing I was making that I did not observe their departure until a few minutes ago. So seeing the lights of your farm-house I started across the snow.
Susan.—You are very welcome. Abner, take the gentleman’s hat and coat.
(Inventor hands hat and overcoat to Abner and absentmindedly gives him a tip.)