Mrs. Pampinelli. That doesn’t matter, there is absolutely no excuse for it! He’s been here since four o’clock this afternoon! [She crosses towards the left and back again.]
Florence. [Beyond the flats] What sort of a rumor was it, Mr. Rush, if I may ask?
Twiller. [Beyond the flats] The usual kind. [There’s another laugh from beyond the flats, and Mrs. Pampinelli stands petrified, just below the left door. Mrs. Fell turns quickly and peeks, then turns to Mrs. Pampinelli.]
Mrs. Fell. [Despairingly] It fell off again! [Mrs. Pampinelli raises her fists and shakes them.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, why on earth hasn’t he brains enough to leave it off!
Mrs. Fell. He has his hat on, too! [Mrs. Pampinelli steps to the left door and speaks through it.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. Leave your mustache off, Mr. Twiller! Leave it off!—And take off your hat, you’re inside. [Hossefrosse tiptoes over from the right.]
Hossefrosse. What’s the matter, did his mustache fall off?
Mrs. Pampinelli. Yes, twice; and he keeps sticking it on again. [He shakes his head regretfully and tiptoes back to the right.]
Mrs. Ritter. [Beyond the flats] It’s perfectly ridiculous!