Mrs. T. Oh John, I’m afraid they’re not all in. Jack are you there, an’ Tootsie?
Jack. I’m O.K. maw, Tootsie, too.
Sol. I. Boot me down O.K. (O gay) too. I set my ziglone alarm, greatest invention of the age. Wendt off an hour ago. Macher, I’ll sell you some stock; 50 per zent down, balance—
Mrs. T. Where’s Pattie Baggs?
Mrs. B. I’m here, Mrs. Townsley. And I’m dyin’ o’ fright. Oh, I wish John was here!
Mrs. T. Do you want him here to be blown to fiddle-strings in the cyclone?
Mrs. B. But he’s on the cyars and it may blow the train off the track.
Sol. I. Tear laty, regomment him to my ziglone ogsident bolicy!
Mrs. B. Oh, I shall faint if you go on that way.
Adolph. Deah me, is the stom so vewy violent as that?