Mary Jane. Yes, sir. (Exit.)
Twitters (reading). “Theophilus Twitters, Esq., to Grimsby & Weeper, florists. Funeral orders attended with despatch in the latest and tastiest styles. To one Christian resignation, roses, immortelles, etc., $15. A prompt payment is requested.” Then in pencil: “For the sake of our departed Sarah you will please meet this little account.” This is the last straw. I’m a strong camel but my back breaks at this. I’ll give orders that she shan’t be let into the house. And as for this bill, here goes (goes to table and writes): “Grimsby & Weeper; sirs: I won’t pay this rascally, swindling bill, or any other. T. Twitters.” (Rings bell, then sealing letter.) That will settle Christian resignation, I reckon. (Enter Charles.)
Charles (standing in door with handful of letters, timidly). Mr. T-Twitters—
Twitters (not looking up). Come here.
Charles (approaching timidly). Yes, Mr. T-Twitters.
Twitters. Take this to the post and look sharp.
Charles. But I’ve just come from the post, sir.
Twitters. What’s that to me? (Looking up.) Dear me, Charles, I thought you were my man. Seen the paper?
Charles. I’ve brought it in, sir.
Twitters (seizing it). How’s Harshaw this morning?