Stub. Wh-wh-what dat? Wha's yer ignorance? wha's yer ignorance? Take, keer, take keer: five hundred dollars fine! Cibil rights bill: dat's me. You can't fool dis yer citizen widout extinction ob color: no, sir. (Raps on table.) Ginger ale and sassaparilla for one. Be libely!
Thornton. Take yourself off: you cannot be served here.
Stub. Take keer, take keer; don't elebate my choler: don't rouse de slumbrin' African lion; ef yer does, down goes de whole hippodrome. Don't cibil rights bill say, don't he, ebery citizen, widout extinction ob color, am entitled to all de privileges ob trabel,—de smokeolotive, steamboat, and—and horse cars: an' to be taken in to all de inns, an' giben all de freedom,—free lunch, free drinks, an' five hundred dollars out ob de pocket ob any man dat says, Dry up? Dat's de law, mind yer eye. (Raps on table.) Soda and sassafras. Be libely, be libely!
Thornton (takes a revolver from his pocket). Will you have my pocket flask?
Stub. O Lor! (Slides under table.) Dat ain't de kind: put 'im up, put 'im up! Ain't dry: guess I won't drink.
Thornton. Out of this, or you'll get a taste of civil rights that will teach you better manners.
Stub. I's gwine: don't want no manners. (Creeps out, and goes up stage. Enter Charity Goodall, r., down steps, enveloped in a waterproof cloak: she comes down c.)
Thornton. What want you here? Who are you?
Charity (extending her hand). Charity.