Todd. (L.) No, my dear, our route. I’ve been studying Bradshaw all the morning, and I find that if we leave—page 49—I mean, if we leave the Paddington—no—the Euston-square Station—at 7 o’clock, a.m., we can get by the Oxford Junction to—to—page—(turning over the leaves) page—page—no—that’s the Tilbury and Southend Line. Ah! here it is!—we’re then to take the express train to—to York—where we meet the Midland Counties, you perceive, and then see—page 74—(turning over the leaves) 74—74—74—74—where there’s a branch to the Eastern Counties that takes us to Norwich—and when we get to Norwich there’s a junction that takes us—somewhere—I don’t precisely know where—but I have a strong reliance on Bradshaw.
Mrs. T. I wish you would put down Bradshaw, Todd, and exert the limited powers with which heaven has blessed you, and help me to pack and cord these things—you leave everything for me to do.
Todd. My dear Laura, there’s the difference between us—you’re remarkable for physical energy—I for contemplative repose. The study of Bradshaw fatigues one’s mind so. (Perks, who has been clearing off luggage, R., gets round at back to L. and takes up concertina from chair) Mind that concertina, Perks—it’s the only instrument I play—(takes it from her, C.), and having devoted myself for six months to “My Mary Ann,” I rather flatter myself I shall create an extraordinary sensation amongst the foreign echoes this summer. (he commences playing “My Mary Ann,” when a knock is heard) Hah! who can this be?
Perks crosses at back and exits, R. 1 E.
Mrs. T. I dare say my uncle Croker—come to bid us good bye.
Todd. Your uncle, my dear, is a very worthy man. I should feel bound to respect his venerable hairs, if he had any left to respect, but that hydropathic habit he has—of throwing cold water upon everything—is very disagreeable.
Enter Choker, R. 1 E., followed by Perks, who collects some of the scattered articles and carries them off, R. 1 E.
Mrs. T. (kissing Croker) My dear uncle! (Croker crosses to C.)
Todd. (L. shaking his hand) How d’ye do, Croker? How are you? Never saw you look so jolly in your life. (aside) Dismal as a cherub on a tombstone! It was very kind of you to call; we start on our tour in the morning, so you’re just in time to see the last of us.
Crok. ( C.) The last of you! Ah, Samuel, I hope there may be nothing prophetic in your words, but I have a melancholy foreboding—