Whitwell. Some singular mistake, sir: I never did. Can’t imagine how the mistake could have occurred.
Coddle. Well, well, Mr. Whitwell, this alters the case. Your uncle wrote me about you. Extraordinary coincidence! Well, since you heard all I said—Ha, ha, ha!
Whitwell. Of course I did. Ha, ha, ha! For every Roland of mine you gave me two Olivers at least. Ha, ha, ha!
Coddle. Neither of us deaf, eh? Diamond cut diamond,—ha, ha, ha! Pull dog, pull devil, eh? (Bursting with laughter. All laugh heartily.)
Jane. He, he, he! I never thought I’d live to see this happy day, master.
Coddle. Hold your tongue, you impudent cat! Quit my house. Mollycoddle, indeed!
Jane. O Mr. Coddle, you won’t go for to turn off a faithful servant in this way. (Aside to Whitwell.) That legacy’s lost. (To Coddle.) Ah, master dear! you won’t find nobody else as’ll work their fingers to the bone, and their voice to a thread-paper, as I have: up early and down late, and yelling and screeching from morning till night. Well, the house will go to rack and ruin when I’m gone,—that’s one comfort.
Whitwell (aside to Jane). The money’s yours, cash down, the day of my wedding.
Coddle. Well, well, Jane, I’ll forgive you, for luck. I’m too happy to bear malice. But I wish you knew how to boil spinach.
Jane. I’ll learn right straight off, sir.