Re-enter Mike.
Norah. Doctor wouldn’t like your letting that Chinee boy meddle here.
Mike. I’ve a bit of an arrant. He may turn till I get back. (Exit L.)
Norah. Worry now! These be a bad lot of bottles. (Drops one and breaks it.) There, I’ve broken one. (B. groans “Hold, that’s too fast.” Patsy turns faster. B. yells “stop.” Chinaman does not understand. B. screams in pain, “stop, you scoundrel!”)
Norah. Oh dear, there they go. I knew there would be trouble. (Calls D. L.) “Mike, Mike, come quick. Where is the doctor? He ought to be here.” (Runs out L.)
Boyler. (Gets up, and crash of chair upsetting.) You Mongolian idiot. (Comes out D. F.) Where is that rascally Irishman? (Patsy follows out, looks puzzled.) John, you are a fool.
Patsy. (Grins.) My name not John. Name in Chinee Chin Sum. Melican name Patsy O’Wang.
B. Stop your chatter, you mummy, you saffron colored rat catcher! Where is that rascal of a Mike? When I get well it’ll be a bad day for him. I’ll murder that man yet. (Dances around.) How my nerves thrill, oh! oh! (Seizes left leg and dances around on right.) The liniment! No attendance here. I’ll sue Fluke for damages. Here, you moon-faced Mongolian monkey! What are you grinning at? Do you see that bottle of liniment? (Points with cane to bottle on shelf.)
Patsy. Heap bottle, one time, whichee?