Tho. No, no, chylt! Aw're only a bit stonned, like. Aw'll be o' reet in a smo' bit. Aw dunnot want no doctor. Aw'm a coomin' reawnd.
Ger. Neither of you shall stir to-night. Your rooms will be ready in a few minutes.
Mat. Thank you, sir! I don't know what I should have done with him.—Susan, you wouldn't mind going home without me? You know Miss Lacordère—
Ger. Miss Lacordère! What do you know of her?
Mat. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I oughtn't to have mentioned her. But my poor head!—
Ger. What of Miss Lacordère? For God's sake, tell me.
Enter MRS. C. with JAMES.
Sus. Oh, nothing, sir! nothing at all! Only Miss Lacordère has been good to us—which it's more than can be said for everybody! (Scowls at MRS. C. JAMES proceeds to lift THOMAS. She flies at him.) Put the old gentleman down, you sneakin' reptile! How many doors have you been a hearkenin' at since mornin'—eh, putty-lump? You touch the old man again, and I'll mark you! Here, Bill! I'll take his head—you take his feet. We'll carry him between us like a feather.
Mat. O Susan! do hold your tongue.
Sus. It's my only weapon, my dear. If I was a man—see if I'd talk then.