Rog. Say Mollie, le’s us pack our traps an’ the whole outfit’ll go to Europe.
Mrs. R. Good land! Jim Rogers, are you crazy? (Servant raps at door.)
Rog. Come in.
Enter servant with card on tray.
Rog. (Takes card.) Somebody callin’ on us, Mollie. Waltz ’em in. (Servant grins.) Say, looky hyur, are you grinnin’ at me, you cussed Ethiopian monkey?[1] I’ll break yer neck! (Grabs at waiter who drops tray and flies out as Rog. throws tray after him. Mrs. R. fit of laughter.) Cyards everywhere! Instead o’ comin’ right in. I can’t stand this foolery nether.
[1] If waiter is white, substitute: “You cussed dried-herrin’, Floridy cracker.”
Enter Mr. Law and Flo.
Law. Mr. Rogers, I believe.
Rog. That’s me! Why, how are you, Mr. Lawton. Awful glad to see you. (Introducing.) My wife! Used to be the Grouse, you know.
Law. Mrs. Rogers, I’m delighted. You remember my daughter.