CRUM. Well?
BET. Well, sir—the words were no sooner out of my mouth, than all the washing-tubs were deserted in a moment, and the whole of the thirty-seven girls—Big Charlotte included—seemed determined to set about captivating Mr. Mouser at once—and, as ill-luck would have it, he passed by the window at that moment, sir—and they all instantly rushed out after him, in a body.
CRUM. Zounds! There’s a pretty piece of business! What’ll become of him? Why the devil did I interfere? (snatches up his hat and runs off)
BET. But, sir! Mr. Crummy! Stop! Where’s my shop? I insist on my shop!
(Great noise of WOMEN’S voices suddenly heard—“Stop, sir!” “Mr. Mouser!” “Don’t run!” “It’s only me!” &c.; MOUSER rushes in at D. L. F., followed by WOMEN; after considerable trouble he turns them out again at door and slams it—noise of WOMEN’S voices repeated)
MOUS. (shouting at the door) Go along! Females begone!
(WOMEN heard again at R. D., MOUSER runs and closes it)
MOUS. (advancing) What the deuce is the matter with the women? What are the police about? I pay the police rate—cheerfully and willingly pay it—because I can’t help it. I provide a large body of men, not only with the necessaries of life, but with the luxury of an oilskin cape to protect them from the inclemency of the weather—and yet in open day—walking slowly along the public streets—I find myself suddenly overwhelmed by an avalanche of females! (in a serious tone) It’s a retribution. Mouser, listen to me—you have a wife, Mouser—and yet, you first run after another woman: and now you have fifty women running after you, Mouser. It won’t do, Mouser! (sees BETSY) Ah, Betsy!—so you’re come, eh?
BET. No, sir, I ain’t.
MOUS. Come, I like that.