(Horace takes off his coat and puts on breakfast jacket and smoking-cap, then goes off, L., and returns with an easel, which he sets up, L., then goes off, L., and brings in canvas, brushes, and palette; arranges the canvas on easel to face L., places chair L.)
Clap. (Outside, R., while Horace is arranging his picture.) Hallo, down there, Tinpan!
Timothy. (Outside, as if down stairs.) Faith, now, what’s wanting, sure?
Clap. You’re wanted here.
Tim. All right. Be aisy, honey, till I mind the nose uv this tay-kittle.
Clap. Hallo, Picket!
Picket. (As if up stairs.) Yaw, mine fren.
Clap. You’re wanted in the studio.
Pic. Yaw, dat ish goot. I’ll come right avay pefore soon.
Clap. Hallo, Oakum!