Mr. B. Gooseberry? No—no—not specially.
Artist. Do you wear corns or paper collars?
Mr. B. Well, I've had chilblains.
Artist. Are you subject to hydrophobia?
Mr. B. Well, not precisely; but I've been run over by a Broadway omnibus.
Artist. Are you in the habit of committing suicide?
Mr. B. Well—I—I—don't know—I travel on the Hudson River Railroad sometimes.
Artist. Come to my arms, my long-lost father!
[They embrace.
Mr. B. Bless you, my boy—bless you! bless you!
Enter Lady. Artist sees her, and struggles to escape from Mr. B.'s grasp.