Sam. Ring, you blasted upstart? (Aside.) With my fork in No. 4 and my knife across No. 11! How was I to ring? (Aloud.) Ring?—no.
Steve. Beg pardon, sir; it must have been 82. (Aside.) Spoons all right. (Exit, L.)
Sam. 82 be blowed! This is a queer proceeding. I’ll try it again. Put your fork in No. 4, draw your knife across No. 11, force yourself, and off comes the (pulls the goose on to the floor) blasted animal. (Enter Pete, R., and Steve, L.)
| Pete. | } Did you ring, sir? |
| Steve. |
(Sam stands by the table trying to hide the goose with the table-cloth, looking first at Pete then at Steve.)
Sam. Ring? Blast your ignorance, no! Where’s your bell?
Steve. (Pointing, R.) There it is, sir.
Sam. When I want you, I’ll ring it loud, and open the door,—so get out. (Exit Pete, R., Steve, L.) After all my trouble, I must go back to No. 4. (Places goose on platter.) No, I wont; I’ll push ahead and trust to luck. (During the remainder of this speech tries in various places to carve the goose.) This is the toughest old gander that ever I saw. I can do nothing with it. O Annastasia! that leg wont come off. O Annastasia! if you could only see me now,—I can’t start that wing. Why did you not ask me to get a horn of the moon, or extinguish the Etna volcano. O Annastasia!—there’s a piece of the breast; what a horrid looking object! What shall I do with him? I can’t eat him, and I should get laughed at if it should be seen. I’ll give him away to some poor individual. (Looks out of door, L.) Nobody about—yes, there’s an urchin. Sh! look here.
Bobby Small (outside, L.) Shine your boots? (Enter, with box and brush, L.) Yes, sir, all right; put yer foot there, and I’ll give yer true Union polish in about forty-five seconds.
Sam. I don’t want my boots polished.