Topp. (Aside.) Can’t be twins. Typewriter of course. (To Angie.) May I ask, do you take readily?
Angie. (Confused.) Why, sir, I—yes—that is, my friends tell me I am very taking!
Tick. (Aside.) Oho!
Topp. (Confused. Admires her.) I quite agree with them, but you mistake my meaning. I meant—ah—are you rapid?
Angie. (Rising offended.) Sir!
Tick. (Stepping between them, L.C.) Allow me to explain! She doesn’t catch on.
Angie. (Laughs.) No, I don’t!
Topp. (Brushing Tick away. Aside.) It must be twins, then. (To Angie.) Write full particulars, give family history, etc.
Tick. And be sure to name the sire. Strain is everything in—