Mrs. O. [Going to inner door.] Mee-Mee, bring in the tea! [To Josi.] Oh, you are there, are you? Here, take that rubbish away! [Gives him sign-board.] When’s that money-lender man of yours coming? [Aside.]
Josi. Preshently. He’s going to see de public executions first: den he’ll come.
Yung. Executions? When are the executions, Josi-Mosi?
Josi. Twelve o’clock, of course, before de Feasht commenshes. You’ll see ’em: dey come dish way.
Yung. Phwit! Ha—ha! [Slaps his knee.
Olang. Ach! you low fellow! That wakes you, does it? That amuses you! Oh, what’s the use of trying to make an artist of you?
Yung. [Sulkily.] I didn’t want to be an artist. I wanted to be a grocer. I was a grocer once. I am still.
Olang. How dare you say so? How dare you?
Yung. The certificate says so: I’ve got the certificate. See! That says——[He produces certificate.
Olang. It says nothing! [Snatching it.] Your name is not on it.