MOUS. Crummy, I’m not apt to make use of strong language—but—by the living jingo, I never wheedled a Betsy out of anything in all my life!
CRUM. Well, I suppose I must believe you. But, intentionally or not, you certainly have made a most powerful impression on her youthful heart! She confessed as much to me just now.
MOUS. (gradually dropping his look of indignation, and with self-satisfaction) Poor Betsy! I’m very sorry for her, I’m sure! I say, Crummy, she’s a niceish little sort of a girl enough.
CRUM. Umph! so, so! (in a contemptuous tone)
MOUS. So, so! No, let’s be just, Crummy—let’s be just. She has good eyes, Crummy, umph?
CRUM. (L.) Squints a little.
MOUS. Does she? I’ve never noticed her in the slightest degree whatever—but I’m damned if she squints!
CRUM. At any rate her eyes seem good enough to have noticed you. But, knowing you to be free from blame in the matter, I reasoned with her, told her the folly of fixing her affections upon a married man, but all in vain—so you’d better take her in hand.
MOUS. Do you think so?
CRUM. Certainly—you can talk to her seriously, but kindly.