Mary. (Runs out.) Then, Whittington, I’m your loving Mary again.
Wid. (Jumps up and tries to avoid her, she follows him.) Hollo! No—keep off. (She embraces him.) Hey! Bless me, you’re neither damp or dead; on the contrary you’re remarkably warm and lively. But, are you sure you’re not a water nymph, and that you have not got private apartments in the Thames or the New River?
Mary. No, Widgy; don’t be afraid, ’twas only a trick of mine, to plague you for your inconstancy. (Pointing to water butt.) She’s not me, but the dummy figure, dressed up in some of my clothes.
Wid. Ah, I’ve been finely hoaxed! And where’s the detective policeman, that eat my lobster, and drank my wine?
Mary. Why, of course, he’s here.
(Points to herself.)
Wid. Oh, you villain! But what’s to be done with Brown?
(Brown and Mdlle. Cheri Bounce, who have been conversing at the back, during the later part of the dialogue, come down.)
Brown. Ask Ma’amselle here, for she’s consented to be Mrs. Brown, next Monday, and as for this little affair of the supper I was in the plot with Mary.
Wid. I hope you were not in the water-butt with her; but, never mind, I don’t want any further explanation. I’ve had my lesson—(to Audience)—and I hope you have all profited by it. Now, if there’s any single, good-looking young fellow here, wants a bit of advice. Eh—there’s my friend, Smith. Smith, my dear boy, when you invite a female friend to a quiet bit of supper, mind there’s no water-butt on the premises; and I mention this confidentially to all you bachelors, if your laundress is young and pretty, you had better pay your washing bills regularly; and don’t, like me, get yourself into a scrape, by not knowing “How to Settle Accounts with Your Laundress.”