Here, show this woman out of the house, quick!
Alice. I’m a regular—
Bridget. Oh, no more of yer blarney! Start yourself quick!
Alice. But, my dear lady, you advertised—
Bridget. (Pushing her off, L.) Ah, away wid yer! Away wid yer!
Mrs. L. (Sinks into her chair.) Oh, dear! was ever a poor sick woman so abused! My camphor, aunt Midget; my camphor! Where can Alice be?
Enter Alice, L.
Alice. Here I am, mother; I was called down stairs to see a lady, a healing medium. She is very desirous of seeing you.
Mrs. L. I will not see her. Those we have had have nearly killed me.