Wid. (Bawling.) I say, what do you want?
Mary. I’m Mary White, the laundress’s, young man, and I’m come to carry home her basket of clothes.
Wid. The devil! (Speaking very loud.) She’s gone, my good fellow—she’s been gone these two hours.
Mary. Two hours! Well, I’m in no hurry, I can stop. But I may as well eat my supper while I’m waiting. I’ve got a plummy slice of ham in my pocket—(pulls a crust of bread and a slice of ham wrapped in a play-bill, from her pocket)—and a play-bill too, for a table-cloth. (Spreading bill on table.) I think that’s coming it rather genteel. (Takes a clasp knife out of her pocket.) Fond of ham, old fellow?
Wid. (At the opposite side of table.) Why, you impudent young vagabond, you don’t mean to say you’re agoing to sup here? Be off, and be damn’d to you.
Mary. Well, you are a regular brick, and I don’t mind if I do take some of your pickles.
Wid. (Bawls.) Zounds! I say, you mustn’t sup here.
Mary. Mustn’t sup here. (Rises.) Why didn’t you say so at once? Never mind, I’ll go into the kitchen, and take it there. (Going.)
Wid. (Alarmed.) To the kitchen! (Holds her.) Not for the world. You quite misunderstood me. Don’t disturb yourself. Sit down, do. (Pushes her again into the chair. Aside.) What’s to become of me? I’d pitch him into the street, only I’m afraid of making a disturbance. There’s no making him hear. Ecod! I know what I’ll do; I’ll run and borrow the speaking-trumpet that I saw this morning hanging at Smith, the broker’s, door, and speak to him through that. (Going, returns.) Stay! The devil might tempt him to peep into the kitchen, I’ll lock the door.
[Locks the folding-door, goes through pantomime, expressive of sorrow for his victim in the water-butt, and exit, L.