Dr. Short. (Emphatically.) Never! (To Spratt, sternly.) Is this true, sir? (Spratt silent.)
Gin. It is. He’s mad at Mistah Tick ’cause he made fun of his twins, Grover Cleveland Spratt and Benjamin Harrison Spratt.
Topp. I recall some words now, when I come to think of it.
Twiggs. Resign, sir, at once! Do you resign?
Spratt. I do! (Aside.) They are onto my scheme.
Gin. (To Spratt, aside.) Bettah git now.
Spratt. I’ll get even with you, you black rascal. (Exit, while Gin. goes through pantomime of kicking him out.)
Twiggs. (Muses.) Hang it all, I’ll act as second for both parties. How’s that?
Dr. Short. (Gravely.) Unusual, without precedent but honorable.
Twiggs. (Brusquely.) Gentlemen, consider it settled! Take your places! (They move to places. Topp R., Tick L. Tick mechanically, as if half dazed.) The word is one, two, three, fire. (Thrusts pistol in hand of each and goes up C. to give signal. Tick holds his weapon very awkwardly, pointing down.) Young man, are you going to shoot a hole in the earth? (Adjusts pistol on level for him.)