Tick. Who was their sire?
Mrs. T-K. Sir? Their sire? This is grossly insulting. (Screams.) Oh, dear me, oh, oh. Sir (To Topp), are you a man to see a woman thus insulted in your own house?
Topp. (Crosses to L., to Tick.) What the devil are you doing?
Tick. I don’t know.
Mrs. T-K. (Screams hysterically) Oh, my precious darlings! Oh, my dear little angels! Oh, I shall faint!
Topp. She’s going to faint. (Prances around excitedly.) Where’s that niggro?
Mrs. T-K. (Hysterically.) Help! (About to faint.)
Topp. Allow me madam! (About to support her. Tick adroitly slides between, catching her.)
Tick. Allow me madam!
Mrs. T-K. (Hastily standing erect.) You! Oh, you wretch! How dare you! I’ll leave this house at once, since a lady is not free from insult here.