Horace. Have you an idea for a fire-escape? By Jove, we’ll patent it! Meanwhile——
Tramp. Will you give me the job of cleaning the snow from your front walks?
Horace. Yes, and I will pay you in advance.
Tramp. Needn’t do that, Guv.
Aunt. You will find a shovel in the coal shed, if not——
Horace. A bit of board will do.
Tramp. Shovel’s best, Guv’ner——
Horace. I mean, of course—oh, yes, a shovel, by all means. The servants are up, and if you don’t object to eating before retiring, for there’s no hurry about the snow——
Tramp. I doesn’t object.