Mrs. S. O, you know well enough; and I guess you’ll find you’ve made a poor bargain this time. I always told you rum would be your ruin; and if you don’t see the poorhouse staring you in the face afore night, I’m very much mistaken.
Enter Harry, L.
Silas. What on airth are yer talking about? Are yer crazy, or have yer been drinking?
Harry. (Comes down between them.) Hush! not a word! We must not let anybody know you are in the house!
Silas. Hey! what ails you? Got a touch of the old lady’s complaint?
Harry. Hush! Not so loud! We must be cautious. Sheriff Brown is looking for you; but I’ve put him off the scent.
Silas. Then oblige me by putting me on it. What’s the matter? Why is the sheriff looking for me?
Harry. Hush! Not so loud! It’s all about him. (Pointing over his left shoulder.)
Silas. Him! him! Consarn his picter! who is him?
Harry. Hush! Not so loud! I’ve got him locked up in the barn. He got into the melon beds; they’re gone: then into the cucumbers; he’s pickled them all. But I’ve got him safe now.