Mrs. Gale. What! a peddler in my house! Get out of this, quick! Out of this, I say!
Kitty. It’s only a poor old Frenchman.
Mrs. Gale. But he’s a peddler; and I won’t have a peddler in my house. Start! Where’s my broom? (Exit, L.)
Grap. What for she get her broom, hey?
March. You’ll find out: quick, run for it!
Grap. What for I run for it? Oh, sacre! I see ze old woman wiz ze broom, and I comprend, I comprend! (Darts out door, C. Enter Mrs. Gale, with broom, L.)
Mrs. Gale. Where is he? where is he? (Darts out door, C.)
Kitty. Hide the old gentleman’s pack, March, quick! Mother will pitch it into the water. (March carries it off, L., as Mrs. Gale enters.)
Mrs. Gale. The idea of a peddler! I’ve had enough on ’em; but they won’t cheat me again in a hurry, I can tell ’em. (Exit, L.)
Kitty. What a blind, silly goose March Gale is!—fighting Bige Parker, and going to fight the Captain, because I encourage their attentions, and can’t see that it’s all to make him speak. So jealous of everybody! If he loves me, why don’t he tell me so? (Enter Capt., C.)