Martin. Johnson, send over half a dozen boxes of these cigars to Mr. Peale’s house. He’ll give you the address. (He exits left)
Peale. And, say, Johnson, wrap ’em up now and I’ll take ’em with me.
Johnson. Very good, sir. (He exits. Peale walks over to the window and looks out at the 13 Soap signs)
Peale. (The telephone rings. Peale looks at it, it rings again, he goes over to desk and raises it) Yes, Sweetie—this is the garage. How long does it take to go to Coney Island? How in hell do I know? (Business of changing money and watch to different pockets. Goes to door L., and opens it) Countess de Bull Run. (He goes into some fake French) De juis—de joie—politesse noblesse oblige.
Countess. You ought to take up French—your accent’s immense. Well, little sweetheart?
Peale. Say, what are you doing in these parts?
Countess. Oh, I came to see Mr. Martin.
Peale. What for?
Countess. What do you think?
Peale. See here, now, if you’re aiming to trim the old man, I won’t stand for it.