Miss. B. William, show these gentlemen into reception room. And ask Mr. Robinson the bookkeeper, to step here a moment. (Exeunt, R.) Well, I never! That man the poet, Ralph Hyde-Arlington. He looks like a junk dealer, and married and nine children! Horrors! I thought Lollie June Tibbie must be a willowy school girl, but she proves to be forty and weighs 180. Oh, the surprises of literature! Arlington’s face would stop a clock.
Re-enter William, R.
William. Robinson says he just wont take any more poets out to lunch.
Miss B. Why?
William. He went out with four yesterday, an’ to-day he’s nearly dead with dyspepsy, or whatever ye call it.
Miss B. Let the firm pay his doctor bill. I’m not here to get rid of people.
William. He’s been takin’ pepsicum all day an’ says he just wont do it fur nobody. (Exit W., R.)
Enter Mr. G. and P. from D. F.
P. (Anxiously.) Have they gone?
Miss B. No, they are in the reception room.