PATSY O’WANG.
PATSY O’WANG.
Scene—Doctor Fluke’s office. Main entrance L., private consultation room R., massage and electric room entrance D. F. R. C. Table C., with old papers and magazines. Small bookcase with books, or shelves with bottles at option, by flat L. C. Diploma on wall. Sign on door “Dr. Fluke, hours 12 to 4.” Settee, R.
Mrs. F. (Discovered as curtain arises.) Well, Dr. Fluke, I shant take the responsibility of having a Chinaman in the house.
Dr. F. My dear, don’t be absurd! There’s no responsibility in the case. Out in California, you know, people are charmed with Chinese cooks. Why, your sister couldn’t be induced to part with Weak Lung.
Mrs. F. Maria always was eccentric.
Dr. F. But you know, darling, we have tried everything but the Chinese—Irish, Swede, German, French, African, Yankee—that’s so as we haven’t had any Hindoos yet nor Cannibal Islanders.
Mrs. F. Dear me! It makes me weary to think of it. Why can’t we get along with Norah?
Dr. F. (Sarcastically.) Or transform Mike into a cook.