Twiggs. Who the devil are you, sir, to enter my house in this unceremonious fashion?
Tick. I heard the sound of females in distress. I answered the call. Madam, your lamb shall have protection. The policy of this great free country is—
Mr. T. Bosh! I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance. Who are you?
Topp. Bless my soul, our dog-fancier again! Stick to your trade young man, and don’t meddle with political economy. You had better go, sir.
Mr. T. And who are you to order people out of my house. You had better go too.
Tick. Yes, go to—(Waves him away with comical gesture.)
Topp. (Aside.) Ordered out of my own house! (To Tick) Confound it, I’ll not go!
Mr. T. Then I shall be obliged to eject you.
Tick. That’s right, old man, throw him out. (Crosses L. to Angie and Mrs. T.) Don’t be afraid ladies.