BROWN. I’ve got ’em; they cost me a pound of cigars, but that’s not worth thinking about. (showing a packet of cigars)
O’WALKER. Certainly not. (taking cigars) Don’t think of ’em again.
BROWN. I look upon that as money well laid out.
O’WALKER. Decidedly well laid out! (putting the cigars into his blue bag) Now for the letters.
BROWN. (producing letters tied up) Here they are. To my surprise she gave them up without the slightest hesitation, and said she was very much obliged to me for taking the rubbish away.
O’WALKER. Rubbish! Ha, ha! (forcing a laugh)
BROWN. Yes; it seems she has been for some time past pestered with letters from a contemptible fellow with the vulgar name of O’Walker.
O’WALKER. Ha, ha, ha! (aside) This is pleasant!
BROWN. Yes; he signs himself “John Horatio O’Walker,” and she requested me as a particular favour to find Walker out at once, and give Walker a horsewhipping on her account as well as my own.
O’WALKER. Ah, ah, ah! (aside) This is remarkably agreeable.