Harts. No, no; I don’t want a cwusher! (Dodges behind Greenbax.) I won’t have a cwusher!
Trumps. (Stepping before Hardhead, and speaking very loud.) Beg pardon, sir; but you misunderstand. Our drivers have struck for higher wages.
Hard. Oh, that’s it. Why didn’t he say so? (To Greenbax.) Well, what are you going to do about it? I must go down town at once.
Green. (Loud.) If you will be patient a few minutes, we will try to accommodate you.
Hard. Look here, Mr. —— (to Trumps), what is that individual’s name?
Trumps. Greenbax.
Hard. Look here, Mr. Beeswax; if you don’t hurry up that car, I’ll have you arrested as a swindler. (Voices outside again.)
Trumps. Come, Mr. Greenbax, something must be done at once.
Green. What can I do?