Ben. Gentlemen, I'm 'bliged to admit dat I'm hungry all de day long!
Harry. H'and h'all night, you might say, and no h'exaggeratin'.
Tim. We're all of us half starved.
Jerry [warningly]. Here's the boss, fellows!
[Enter Peter, striding into tent and giving
an angry glance around.
Peter [suspiciously]. What are you all doing here? You, Tim, get a hustle on and put out those lights in the big tent. [Exit Tim, slowly and sullenly.] Mike McGinnis, go put your beasts in their cages—look at that monkey wasting the peanuts! Dutch, you aren't worth your salt—can't you take care of your stuff? [Mike, with an injured air, leads out monkey and whistles dog after him. Dutch, much aggrieved, takes up tray, and moves it to another place.] Jerry Pickle, if you and O'Brien can't ring in something new for your turn, you'll soon be given the hook, and Ben's jokes are all stale enough to crumble. As for you, Hopkins, I consider your riding to-night a flunk, and you and Jack are no acrobats at all—you're just a couple of dubs. The show's always had the name of a first-class show, and it's going to keep up to it, if I've got to throw you all out and get a new lot. So you want to look out—see? [Exit angrily.]
Harry [jumping up]. There's a-goin' to be h'end of this—as sure as my name's 'Arry 'Opkins!
Jerry. Well, I'm with you, for one. We never go into winter quarters for a rest——
Harry. No, for the h'old skinflint goes and brings 'is bloomin' show South——