CRUM. From Mr. Mouser?
BET. Yes, sir, appointing me to meet him here.
CRUM. Why, then, the little profligate is really in love with her! And you read the letter?
BET. No, sir, I defy anybody to say they ever saw me read anything. So I gave it to one of our girls.
CRUM. The devil!
BET. No, sir, Big Charlotte—a red-haired young woman, on a large scale. Perhaps you’ve noticed her, sir?
CRUM. Pshaw! Go on.
BET. Well, sir, she read the letter out loud, at the top of her voice, sir—and she’s a very powerful organ. Perhaps you’ve heard her organ, sir.
CRUM. Confusion! Then the contents of the letter—that Mouser had asked you to meet him here——
BET. Was known all over the laundry in a twinkling. Fancy thirty-seven female voices, including Big Charlotte’s, crying out, “Lawks!” at the same moment? Of course, I was obliged to clear myself, which I did, by telling them the whole business! How it was to oblige you, that I was trying to make Mr. Mouser fall in love with me; because as how you promised to give the little greengrocer’s shop at the corner of the street to the young woman that succeeded in captivating him.