Mrs. N. Good land, I aint a tellin’ anything!
Dick. It must be quits, is mum the word?
Bob. My dear, what a lesson, I’ll never touch another drop.
Mrs. S. Oh, you dear Bob. (Puts arm in his.)
Dick. Mrs. Neverdun, I still stick up for your table. (Dress stage, Dr. angry, R., Mrs. N., Dick down C., Alice L., Mr. and Mrs. S. arm in arm by table.)
Mrs. N. I reckon you will. It’s the best in town.
Dick. I am going to Mrs. Hartley’s to dinner next Wednesday, and—
Mrs. N. Land o’ Goshen! Then jist come to my house Thursday an’ I’ll show ye a dinner ’at’ll be a dinner. What do I care for Mrs. Hartley an’ her kerridge an’ dimons an’ fiddle faddle—
Quick Curtain, while Mrs. N. is talking.