Ritter. [To Nelly] Whose fault was it?
Mrs. Pampinelli. [Imperiously, and moving over to a point above the table at which Mrs. Ritter is sitting] It was Mr. Spindler’s fault.
Ritter. Mr. Spindler.
Mrs. Pampinelli. He promised to attend to the various properties and he did not attend to them.—There was supposed to be a pen and ink on the desk for Mrs. Rush to leave a note for Doctor Arlington;—and when Paula sat down to write the note, there was no pen—and no ink. So she simply had to go on sitting there until Mr. Spearing went off and got them.
Ritter. I thought he’d left town.
Mrs. Fell. Oh, he wasn’t gone so very long, Frederick Ritter!
Mrs. Pampinelli. [Bitterly, to Mrs. Fell] Not five minutes.
Ritter. I thought the show’ud be over before he’d get back.
Mrs. Pampinelli. The door wouldn’t open when he attempted to go back, so he was obliged to go around to the other side. [She illustrates the circumstance by waving her fan in a circular gesture about the table. Ritter bursts out laughing. Nelly glares at him, then looks to Mrs. Pampinelli, who, with a deadly, level look, turns and moves haughtily up towards the center-door.]
Ritter. What happened to the skinny guy’s mustache, that it kept falling off every other line?