Abner.—Then, when they knocked on my door, I’d say, Nix, I don’t have to get up.
Susan.—Hark! I hear someone at the gate. I hope it ain’t a tramp. I ain’t got no time for those fellers that don’t want to work between meals. Cut out the meals, I say, if that’s the case.
Abner.—You’ve got as much sympathy for them as you have for me. The only place I find sympathy is in the dictionary.
Susan.—Don’t stop to talk, Abner, but open the door.
(Abner reluctantly lays down his book and rises.)
Abner.—Got to tend door, too. Next thing I’ll have to wear a frilly apron and a dinky little cap. Miss Susan is sure the President of the Society for the Prevention of Leisure.
Voice.—Anybody home?
Abner.—Nobody but the lamp and that’s going out.
(Opens door and enter storm-bound party.)
Abner.—Well, I swan! Are you sure you’re all here and ain’t left anybody setting down in the snow? (A thought strikes him.) If this is a surprise for Miss Susan, you’re a week too late for her seventy-eighth birthday was last Wednesday.