Jim F. Well, I should say, Puterbaugh! Last cyclone there was an old goose on a nest under the barn. It blew those goose eggs, would you believe it, right through the brick chimney. Holes in the brickwork looked as if there had been a cannonade.
Adolph. Dweadful! I’m sowwy (sorry) I evah left New Yawk!
Sol. I. Mine frent, Nye Yorick vas a great blace, but it ish not in it gombared to Dexas.
Jim F. That’s what, Isaacstein. A cyclone’s not bad. It’s a little exciting, but rather enjoyable when you get used to it.
Adolph. Weally, you don’t say! It must be vewy twyin’ on the nerves.
Mrs. T. Townsley, is the door barred securely?
Town. Yes, my dear.
Mrs. T. John, put something more against it. (A pause.) You men lean against it.
Town. Let the door alone, can’t you!