PHŒBE. What, Triptolemus Brown! he was only assistant to a chemist and druggist, after all. Poor dear Trip, many’s the cake of soap and box of hair pins he’s given me. Mark my words, uncle Jonathan, I know he’ll come up to London and find me out—I’m sure of it, and then——
BUNNY. (without) Jonathan!
JONATH. (paying no attention) And then—only let me catch him coming after you, and if I don’t give him one for his nob—— (flourishing his broom)
The little door, L. C., opens, and as BUNNY enters, JONATHAN’S broom falls on his hat, and bonnets him.
BUNNY. (shouting) Help! murder!
JONATH. (raising up BUNNY’S hat) Mr. Bunny!
BUNNY. Jonathan! How is it, sir, that I find myself obliged to scramble up in the dark to the top of my own house—to the very attics, after my own servant? and when I find my own servant, my own servant breaks my own broom handle over my own head?
PHŒBE. It’s my fault, Mr. Bunny; I asked uncle, as a particular favour, to come up here.
BUNNY. But I presume you didn’t ask uncle, as a particular favour, to demolish my new hat! (shewing his hat smashed)
JONATH. Oh! if that’s all, I can pay for it; about five and ninepence, I suppose. (putting his hand into his breeches pocket)