Ton. Shut up quick, and hone those razors! (Zeb goes to table, R.) We’ve had just enough of your talk. (Enter Crusty, R.)
Crusty. Oh! you’re here, are you? Pretty time this is to get your place open,—ain’t it? You forget it’s the early bird that catches the worm.
Zeb. Worms? worms? Going a-fishing, Massa Crusty.
Ton. You Zeb!—
Zeb. By golly, I know where ’em are!—flounders as big as a slab; and eels, golly,—what whoppers!
Ton. Shut up, and mind your business! Yes, Mr. Crusty; first chance for you this morning.
Crusty. Yes, I should think so! I tell you what, Tonsor, you don’t go to work right to make a fortune. Do as I did,—early to bed, and early up in the morning. You live too fast: you should sober down. Why don’t you get married?
Ton. Ah, Mr. Crusty, that’s the very thing I would like to do. A nice little wife, a nice home, every thing comfortable,—ah, sir! a man must be happy.
Crusty. Of course he must, and make money too. Why don’t you try it? There’s plenty of girls about here anxious to get a husband.
Ton. I know that, sir; but I’ve already made my choice.