Hard. Hey?
Green. (Very loud and angrily.) Want somebody to drive.
Hard. Somebody’s wife? What business have you to keep a car waiting for somebody’s wife? I don’t ask you to wait for my wife—do I? Where’s your conductor?
Green. He’s on a strike.
Hard. Hey?
Green. (Very loud and excitedly, and flourishing his arms.) I tell you he’s indulging in a strike.
Hard. (Raising his cane.) Oh, that’s your little game, is it? You want to indulge in a strike! Well, indulge, then. Come on, you scoundrel; I’ll strike!
Green. No, no! (Dodging behind Hartshorn.) I don’t mean any thing of that kind. Keep off!
Harts. Good gwacious! what a tewible monstaw!
Hard. (To Hartshorn,)—Oh, you’ll have it—will you, Whiskers? You want a crusher—do you?