Bridget. Faith, I do, mam; and sorry a one will I let in at all at all.
(Exit, L.)
Aunt M. Trial and triberlation, child! that’s the lot of us weak mortals.
Enter Alice, L., disguised as an old lady; shawl, large bonnet, spectacles, &c.
Massy sakes! who’s that?
Alice. Somebody’s sick here—hain’t there?
Mrs. L. Where did you come from?
Alice. Hay?
Mrs. L. Where did you come from?