MRS. COTTER
We must go through it.
CONSTABLE Well, 'tis a good job we don't live as long as the alligators. We might have to support our grandchilder if we did, an' I may tell you it gives me enough to do to support me own.
MRS. COTTER
How many have you now, Constable?
CONSTABLE
Seven, an' the wife's mother.
MRS. COTTER
I thought she was dead.
CONSTABLE (disgusted)
Dead! There's five years more in her!
MRS. COTTER
You seem to be in a very bad humor to-night.
CONSTABLE An' why not? When I have to put up with that bla'gard of a Sergeant—not to mention the Head-constable!
MRS. COTTER
We all have our troubles.
CONSTABLE Some of us get more than our share. An' 'tis far from troublin' a dacent woman like you I'd be, only for the Sergeant, ma'am.