Mr. W. And in the mean time, what am I to do?
Fer. Oh, your duty is quite clear. You must take care of the body. And I'd advise you to be devilish cautious that no one catches sight of it. Who can tell how you might be misunderstood?
Mr. W. Ferdinand, you are driving me mad. Do you mean to say that while you are taking a journey to America and returning, I am to remain here keeping guard over your poor aunt's body?
Fer. My dear uncle, be a philosopher. As you very properly said just now, there is a skeleton in every man's cupboard.
Mr. W. Damme, sir, yes. I've had a skeleton long enough, and I've done my best to bear it—but I never expected my cupboard to contain a frozen wife, and under the circumstances I don't know how to conduct myself.
Fer. Be a man,—and finish the port.
Mr. W. But how am I to explain her absence to other people?
Fer. Confound it, uncle, you've no imagination. Say she's gone out for a walk.
Mr. W. And supposing your ship is wrecked, and you and your d—d bottle go to the bottom?
Fer. In that case, uncle, I can only wish you well; and, believe me, I will do so. I won't worry you any more now, for your hands are full, and you will like to be left alone to form your own plans. Farewell. If I'm not back with the bottle in ten minutes, think of me on my way to America.