Dennis. D’ye mind that now? (knife.)
Wiggins. You must continue the Elixir night and day, and in six or seven years you will be entirely cured.
Dennis. Yes, skewered (knife).
Aspen. But it makes me so horrid sick.
Wiggins. What if it does?
Dennis. What if it does? (knife.)
Aspen (rising). Well, no matter, I’ll take it. Take a barrel of that nasty stuff. Oh, dear! (Exit with Dennis, L.)
Wiggins. That is one of my best patients. With a little moral suasion, I shall be able to make him swallow a hogshead of the Elixir. (Enter Dennis, L.) Well, Dennis, who now?
Dennis. Major Fingers, sir. (Exit Dennis, L.)
Wiggins. Major Fingers! who the deuce is Major Fingers? It must be a military man. I’m afraid of those chaps. I’ll tell Dennis I can’t receive him. (Starts for door, L., and nearly upsets Major Fingers, who enters.) Excuse me, sir, I didn’t see you.