(The door at the back opens violently, and COLLINE enters frozen and nipped up, stamping his feet, and throwing angrily on the table a bundle of books tied up in a handkerchief.)
COL. Surely miracles apocalyptic are dawning!
For Christmas eve they honor by allowing no pawning!
(Checks himself, seeing a fire in the stove.)
See I a fire here?
RUD. (to COLLINE) Gently, it is my drama.
COL. In blazes!
I find it very sparkling.
RUD. Brilliant! (the fire languishes)
COL. Too short its phrases.
RUD. Brevity's deemed a treasure.
COL. (taking the chair from RUDOLPH)
Your chair pray give me, author.