Annie. Adam, are you crazy?
Dr. A. Why not? Our dinner must be an imaginary one, so let's have it as costly and luxurious as possible. There's nothing in the larder. Let's be extravagant, and cook it all.
Annie. Why, how you rave! Is the money all gone?
Dr. A. Every cent.
Annie. But the butcher?
Dr. A. Would carve me with his meat-axe if I asked for credit.
Annie. Then I'll try him. He won't carve me. Now don't be despondent. We have always had a dinner, and, depend upon it, you shall to-day.
Dr. A.
"O Woman, in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please;
But, when the dinner seems to lag,
You'll have it, if you boil the puddin'-bag."