MRS. B. Yes, sir. And, by-the-bye, Mr. Box, he begged me to request of you, as a particular favor, that you would not smoke quite so much.
BOX. Did he? Then you may tell the gentle hatter, with my compliments, that if he objects to the effluvia of tobacco, he had better domesticate himself in some adjoining parish.
MRS. B. Oh, Mr. Box! you surely wouldn’t deprive me of a lodger? (pathetically).
BOX. It would come to precisely the same thing, Bouncer; because if I detect the slightest attempt to put my pipe out, I at once give you warning that I shall give you warning at once.
MRS. B. Well, Mr. Box—do you want anything more of me?
BOX. On the contrary—I’ve had quite enough of you!
MRS. B. Well, if ever! What next, I wonder?
[Goes out at L. C., slamming door after her.
BOX. It’s quite extraordinary, the trouble I always have to get rid of that venerable female! She knows I’m up all night, and yet she seems to set her face against my indulging in a horizontal position by day. Now, let me see—shall I take my nap before I swallow my breakfast, or shall I take my breakfast before I swallow my nap—I mean, shall I swallow my nap before— No; never mind! I’ve got a rasher of bacon somewhere (feeling in his pockets). I’ve the most distinct and vivid recollection of having purchased a rasher of bacon— Oh, here it is (produces it, wrapped in paper, and places it on table); and a penny roll. The next thing is to light the fire. Where are my lucifers? (Looking on mantle-piece, R., and taking box, opens it.) Now, ’pon my life, this is too bad of Bouncer—this is, by several degrees, too bad! I had a whole boxful three days ago, and now there’s only one! I’m perfectly aware that she purloins my coals and my candles and my sugar, but I did think—oh, yes, I did think that my lucifers would be sacred! (Takes candlestick off the mantle-piece, R., in which there is a very small end of candle; looks at it.) Now I should like to ask any unprejudiced person or persons their opinion touching this candle. In the first place, a candle is an article that I don’t require, because I’m only at home in the day-time; and I bought this candle on the first of May—Chimney-sweepers’ Day—calculating that it would last me three months, and here’s one week not half over, and the candle three parts gone! (Lights the fire; then takes down a gridiron which is hanging over the fireplace, R.) Mrs. Bouncer has been using my gridiron! The last article of consumption that I cooked upon it was a pork-chop, and now it is powerfully impregnated with the odor of red herrings! (Places gridiron on fire, and then with fork lays rasher of bacon on the gridiron.) How sleepy I am, to be sure! I’d indulge myself with a nap, if there was anybody here to superintend the turning of my bacon. (Yawning again.) Perhaps it will turn itself. I must lie down—so, here goes. (Lies on the bed, closing the curtains round him. After a short pause—
Enter COX, hurriedly, L. C.