Minnie. Why, for you.
Aunt. Have you got a cab?
Horace. Cab? What for?
Aunt. Well, you know the horses are coughing.
Horace. Coughing. No wonder—everybody’s coughing, this beastly weather. I’m coughing—— (Coughs.)
Minnie. (At top of table) Poor dear. How good of you to go out. When will it be here?
Horace. What?
Minnie. The cab.
Horace. I don’t know what you are talking about.