Hiti. [Clinging to door-post and waving his hand aimlessly.] He’s not out here!
Olang. The thief! the thief! he has run off with it!
Mrs. O. With what?
Olang. I gave it him to—to keep safe—I remember now,—before I went out!
Mrs. O. Gave him what?
Olang. Why, the certificate, of course! What else? Your son’s certificate of grocery! Ah, fool that I was! Fool!
Yung. My—my certificate?
Olang. Yes,—he has taken it!
Yung. Boohooh! My beautiful—my beautiful certificate. You let him take it because you didn’t want me to be a grocer! I hate you, father! Boohooh! Mother, take me to bed!
Hiti. [From doorway.] I know where he ish:—he’sh behind that picture.