MOUS. Of course, I shouldn’t go and behave like a brute to her! I shouldn’t go to blow Betsy up.
CRUM. Certainly not—for, after all, the poor girl is more to be pitied than blamed.
MOUS. Crummy, that sentiment does you honour! It shows that the milk of human kindness flows in your bosom, Crummy. (shaking CRUMMY’S hand)
BETSY. (without, L. H.) Very well, ma’am, I’ll be sure to remember it.
CRUM. That’s her voice! There’s something lively and cheerful about it, eh?
MOUS. Yes, yes, it’s a pleasant voice, Crummy. (arranging his cravat, &c.)
CRUM. She might have gone out by the back door, but, of course, she knew that you were here. Ha, ha! (nudging MOUSER, then retires up)
MOUS. Pooh! Go along! I believe you’re about right, though, ’pon my life I do!
Enter BETSY BAKER, L. D.
BET. (seeing MOUSER) There stands my wretched victim! He little knows what’s going to happen to him.