Scene.—The Linen Closet, at the end of a sunny corridor in Mr. Alexander Sloan’s house. Mrs. Sloan inspecting her sheets and pillow-cases. To her, enter Bridget, her housemaid, with a basket full of linen, the Trega Evening Eagle on the top, folded.
Mrs. Sloan.—Why, that surely isn’t one of the new napkins!—oh, it’s the evening paper. Dear me! how near-sighted I am getting! (Takes it and opens it.) You may put those linen sheets on the top shelf, Bridget. We’ll hardly need them again this Fall. Oh, Bridget—here’s poor Mrs. Boyd’s obituary. You used to live at Colonel Pennington’s before she was married, didn’t you?
Bridget.—I did that, Mum.
Mrs. Sloan (reading).—“Mrs. Boyd’s pall-bearers are fitly chosen from the most distinguished and prominent citizens of Trega.” I’m sure I don’t see why they should be. (Reads.) “Those invited to render the last honors to the deceased are Mr. George Lister—“
Bridget.—’Tis he was foriver at the house.
Mrs. Sloan (reads).—“Mr. John Lang—“
Bridget.—And him.
Mrs. Sloan (reads).—“Mr Dexter Townsend—“