Helen. What shall we do?
Amy.
“And he said can this be?
We are ruined by Chinese cheap labour (pause)
We will go for them heathen Chinee.”
Helen (turning). Yes!—but how?
Amy. Girls, put on your thinking-caps, and hunt for some terrible punishment.
Rose. Something “lingering, with boiling oil or melted lead.”
Enter Mrs. W. r. d., with telegraph blank in hand.
Mrs. W. Why, girls, what were those shrieks about?