Scene I.—Mrs. Skinflint’s sitting-room. Mrs. Skinflint, a tall, bony woman, with a sharp, pinched face, is sitting in a rocking-chair, C., knitting.
Mrs. Skinflint (soliloquizes). I declare I’ll never buy another thing at Thompson’s store. I paid fifteen cents a yard for my last kaliker dress, and Mis’ Hobbs bought one of a peddler yesterday, jest as good, for thirteen cents and three quarters. It’s a shame! On twelve yards I lost fifteen cents. That’s too much money to lose in these hard times. I wish that peddler would come along. I need a sight o’ things, and if I couldn’t beat him down, my name aint Betsy Jane Skinflint.
(A knock is heard at the door, R. Mrs. S. rises and opens it. The visitor proves to be Ezekiel Onthank, a Yankee peddler, with a large pack on his back. He enters.)
Ezekiel. Mornin’, marm. Anything in my line to-day? Dress-patterns, hoop-skirts, shawls, laces, ribbons, jewelry, spectacles, buttons, scissors, needles, pins—
Mrs. S. Massy sakes! don’t tell any more of ’em. I shall forget what you sed fust. You haint got no good clocks, hev ye?
Ezek. Haint I though! I kin beat everybody on clocks. I’ve got some that cum clear from Switzerland. I imported ’em myself. Here’s one (taking it from his pack), the pootiest and best little timepiece ever you see.
Mrs. S. Does it keep good time?
Ezek. I guess it does—tip-top. It goes ahead of anything ever you set your eyes on.
Mrs. S. (cautiously). What d’ye charge for it?
Ezek. (hesitating). Well, I hev been sellin’ on ’em all along for twelve dollars apiece, but seein’ it’s you, I’ll let you have it for ten.