Dingle.—John Felton signed a lease giving me the right to sell all his effects for any arrears of rent due upon this house.
Dorothy.—Does not the law exempt a certain amount of household chattels?
Dingle.—John Felton waived the benefit of the exemption law.
Dorothy.—But he is dead.
Dingle.—Young woman, his family must suffer the consequences of his act.
Dorothy (Indignantly).—This is unjust; it is contrary to the letter and spirit of the law.
Dingle (Looking through eyeglass).—You talk like a member of the bar; that is, a country member—a squire.
Dorothy.—The exemption law was enacted as a merciful barrier against the sweeping tide of adversity—a life-boat for helpless castaways: how then dare any man’s hand thwart the law and defeat its purpose? To waive that law repeals it: is this an absolute monarchy?
Dingle.—This government is run upon a solid cash basis: if you have cash, you can smile at waivers. The remedy, young woman, is cash. That’s my prescription for landlords’
warrants; it’s a powerful antidote. (Taps his pocket and laughs).