Mr. A. (with an air of offended dignity). Oh, bother! You are not expected to support the family.
[Mrs. A., thinking of that dentist's bill, that shoe bill, and the summer outfit for a family of six, says nothing. Exit Mr. A., who re-enters a moment later.]
Mr. A. You—a—haven't fixed my coat, I see.
Mrs. A. (with a guilty start). I—I forgot it!
Gibbering Fiend Conscience. Ha, ha! Ho, ho!
Curtain falls amid chorus of exulting demons.
I have reserved for the close numerous instances of woman's facility at badinage and repartee. It is there, after all, that she shines perennial and pre-eminent. You will excuse me if I give them to you one after another without comment, like a closing display of fireworks.
And first let me quote from Mrs. Rollins, as an instance of the way in which women often react upon each other in repartee, a little conversation which it was once her privilege to overhear: