Norah. Where is the Doctor. Everything’s going to ruin. (Runs out L. Another whoop in office. B. frantically rubbing lame leg.)
Mike. That haythen is gettin’ gay. I’ll tache him a lesson he won’t forget soon. I’ll tache him to stay in the kitchen. (Goes toward office door.)
B. (Recovers speech.) I’ll have you arrested, you villain, for malpractice.
Mike. Malpractice! What sort o’ practice is that?
B. You are a pair of knaves. (In excitement puts down lame leg.)
Mike. What a wonderful cure. Beautiful! I’ll just kape this stick as a tistimonial.
B. None of your insolence. I’ll sue Doctor Fluke for damages, and as for you and that Chinaman, I’ll have you put in jail. (Going L.)
Mike. A beautiful cure, sor. Ye walk as straight as—as straight—as the moral law. Ye’d make an illegant drum-major.
B. (Snorts.) Drum-major! (Going.)
Mike. Wont yez take yer hat, sor? (Exit B. L. limping very little.) Now I’ll just settle with John Chinaman, bad cess to him.