ROSELLE
Yes, but that father of yours isn't so squeamish when he comes on Sundays and tipples till we have to put him out dead-drunk.
ROSARELLE
Don't answer her, my dear; we are not accustomed to these pot-house brawls.
ROSELLE
As for you, miss, who pretend to be so particular, you just go and ask your father, the mayor, who it was that nibbled the holes, which were not made by rats, in the town's cash-box.
ROSARELLE
(Springing to her feet, furiously.) Holes which were not made by rats! What do you mean?
ROSELLE
I mean what every one in the village means!...