Cox. Your apartment? Ha! ha!—come, I like that! Look here, sir—[Produces a paper out of his pocket.] Mrs. Bouncer’s receipt for the last week’s rent, sir—
Box. [Produces a paper, and holds it close to Cox’s face.] Ditto, sir!
Cox. [Suddenly shouting.] Thieves!
Box. Murder!
Both. Mrs. Bouncer! [Each runs to door, L. C., calling.
Mrs. Bouncer runs in at door, L. C.
Mrs. B. What is the matter? [Cox and Box seize Mrs. Bouncer by the arm, and drag her forward.
Box. Instantly remove that hatter!
Cox. Immediately turn out that printer!
Mrs. B. Well—but, gentlemen—