PAWKINS. Same to you, sir. You are Mr. De—de—fancy soap line, sir?
DE W. De Windsor.
PAWKINS. Well then, sir, two minutes ago I told the young ’oman she was a credit to you, and now I don’t mind telling you you’re a credit to the young ’oman.
DE W. (aside) Somewhat coarse; but frank and genial.
PAWKINS. You’ve sent me a sort o’ note, sir, as the saying is, asking me to come here; but it strikes me there’s some mistake.
DE W. Not in the least, Mr. Pawkins, not in the least. Take a seat.
PAWKINS. (sits, R. after putting down umbrella, R.) That’s all right then. At all events I’ve brought the tongs in my pocket.
DE W. The tongs?—rather a singular proceeding!—and the shovel?
PAWKINS. No; get out with you—I mean the curling irons.
DE W. (coldly) I—I begin to comprehend; Mr. Pawkins, you are a hair-dresser.