(Claps one of the dish covers on Widgetts’ head, who snatches it off, and flings it away in a rage.)
Wid. Allow me to observe——
Mary. There’s no bread, my good fellow.
Wid. Coming. (Aside.) D—n the bread.
(Goes to a table at back, on which is a loaf of bread and rolls.)
Mary. What part of the fowl shall I send you, ma’amselle?
Cheri. The funny idea, Mr. Spraggs, if you please.
Mary. The funny idea! Well, I never!
Cheri. The merry thought, you know.
Mary. Oh, to be sure! Yes, the funny idea.