Green. They have, have they? (Voices heard outside shouting, “Halloo!” “Conductor!” “Time’s up!” “Halloo!” “Hurry up!” “Hurry up!”)
Trumps. There, you hear that; the passengers are impatient.
Green. Well, well; drive it yourself.
Trumps. I can’t do that; somebody must look after the company’s property. (Voices heard again impatiently shouting.)
Enter Hartshorn, L.
Harts. Mr. Pwesident, what is the meaning of this wow, and wiot, and wumpus? ’Pon my word, this is decidedly wulgaw; we shall be disgwaced with such an outwageous disturbance in fwont of our door—we shall, indeed.
Green. The fact is, Mr. Hartshorn, the company finds itself destitute of both drivers and conductors, in consequence of the strike.
Harts. Stwike! what a wevolution! You alawm me—you do, indeed.
Green. Well, don’t get frightened; you won’t be struck.
Harts. What’s to be done?