Harry. These parties have made complaint, and will sue you for damages. There are other disasters connected with the entry of your pet—
Silas. Don’t mention ’em. Don’t speak of any more. There’s enough now to ruin me. Broken fences, smashed hot-houses, ruined flower beds, and a dead horse!
Harry. Consequential damages.
Silas. Consequential humbugs! I am the victim of a conspiracy. I don’t own an elephant. I won’t own him. I never bought him. He’s escaped from a menagerie. Why should I buy an elephant?
Harry. That won’t do, Mr. Somerby. You were seen at the auction; you were heard to bid for the animal. I’m afraid you will have to suffer.
Silas. I won’t pay a cent. They may drag me to jail, torture me with cold baths and hot irons; but not a cent will I pay for the capers of that elephant.
Enter Bias Black, L.
Bias. Hay! What’s dat? Am yer gwine to ’pudiate, Massa Somebody? Gwine back on de ber—ber—bullephant—am yer?
Silas. What’s the matter with you, Bias Black?
Bias. Wal, I speck a heap, Massa Somebody. Dat ar bullephant of yourn has driben dis indervideral inter bankrupturicy. Dar’s been a reg’lar smash up ob his commercial crisis, and de wabes ob affliction are rollin’ into dis yer bussom.