Mrs. F. Miss Simper, are you out of your senses? (Pulls her back.)
Dr. F. I will go in.
Mrs. F. (Pulling him back.) Henry, do you want to be murdered?
Dr. F. (Petulantly releasing himself.) Let me alone. (Goes toward door, knocks.) “Patsy! Patsy!”
Mrs. F. Oh rash man! Henry, I know we’ll all be killed in our tracks.
Miss S. Let me reason with him!
Mrs. F. Oh you silly goose. Do be quiet, wont you. What can he be doing? (All listen.) It’s as quiet as the grave. I’ll bet he’s taking poison in his desperation. Or hanging himself, may be.
Mike. There’s a noice bit o’ rope on the pulley machine.
Mrs. F. We’ll all be killed yet, I know. Miss Simper, save yourself. (Shoves Miss S. and Norah out, L.)
Dr. F. Harriet, there isn’t the slightest danger.