M. She did not, then. May be they won’t be home till dark.
Mr. F. I shall be sick in bed before that time.
M. Couldn’t I do something for you, sir?
Mr. F. (shaking his head mournfully). No. (A pause.) Do you know where Mrs. Fisher keeps the cough drops?
M. I do not, sir.
Mr. F. Well, then, it’s no matter. I’ll wait till she comes.
M. Very well, sir.
(Exit Mary, L.)
(Mr. F. leans back in his chair, and rocks for a few moments with closed eyes. He then opens his eyes, and rises slowly.)
Mr. F. It must be that Susan keeps the cough mixture in the closet. I’ll see. (Goes to closet, L., and returns, bringing a bottle, having no label on it, with him.) Yes, here it is. I will take a teaspoonful. (He takes a spoon from the table, and filling it carefully, swallows the contents.) I hope that will make me feel better. (Sits down again in the rocking-chair.) I don’t see what keeps Susan away so long. It always was a mystery to me how women could enjoy shopping as they do. (Begins to cough.) I believe I’ll go into the dining-room and get some water. (Goes out, R.; enter Mary, L.)