Scene. Home of Mr. Topp. Handsome sitting room of a wealthy man. Doors R. & L. in 1 E. (N. B.—Street door is always L., way to interior of house always R.); also door in flat C. Table and chairs R. C. Small secretary, with mirror over it by flat L. C.
Gin. (Entering L. with mail.) I never see de like of de mail; dah’s a bushel o’ letters an’ one paper. (Puts letters on table; part slide off on floor; he does not see them.) Dat paper is de Sun. Massa done read de Baltimore Sun, mos’ ever since de creation I ’low. (Reads on the wrapper “Topp & Topp, No. 3 Druid Hill Place.”) Didn’t I read dat easy. Pshaw! I kin read heaps, ’ticlarly if dah’s a picter to sort o’ steer by. My poor ole mommy couldn’t read nothin’ but de wrapper, an’ I ’spect she guessed at dat. Crackey! edication is mighty powerful sometimes. My ole mommy couldn’t read an’ she (pauses)—humph, she sold for a thousand dollahs befoh de wah. What ’ud you sell foh, Ginger Potts? You good fur nothin’ nigger, you wouldn’t fetch a blame cent. But your vote, dat’s spot cash. (Bell rings.) Foh de Lord’s sake, w’at ails dat bell. It’s done ringin’ all de time. (Exit L.)
Enter Mrs. Dubbledam R.
Mrs. D. I nefer saw tings like dot already. Seven men haf been at de side door to sell leetle togs to Meester Topp. I get dem all away so gwick as ever for Meester Topp he hates togs already fery much. He vas a mighty gweer man, an’ he gets no better, aint it; he say to me sudden like one day: “Mrs. Tuppletam, we must have some twins.” I tinks to myself, Meester Topp, was you cracy? I felt myself yoost like a puzzle, and he yoost keep silence; dot silence was embarrassed, so I said a little sharp, “Vere you get some twins if you please, Mr. Topp?” Dot man was awful curious, ven I haf temper he haf none, sometimes, and sometimes he haf too much; dot time he vas very quiet, an’ his voice like a woman’s—a woman, ven she is not mat—
Enter Ginger, L 1, with more letters.
Gin. What racket is massa into now, Mrs. Dubbledam?
Mrs. D. Twins. He says, “My gran’fater was twins, an’ my fater oont uncle was twins; my poor brudder an’ me was twins, an’ I’m goin’ to have some twins to run my pisness and pack oysters.” I yoost thought I’d fall in a heap. I guessed dot man was talkin’ out of his head alretty; I could say not one wort, but he turned round an’ walked out. Dot was de piggest puzzle about dem twins. So yesterday, at breakfast, he say sudden like, “Tuppletam, I’m goin’ to advertise for dose twins.”
Gin. Land o’ honey, Mrs. Dubbledam, look at de letters. (Puts them on the table and some fall on the floor.)
Mrs. D. Well, I nefer; where does de letters come from, Ginger? Apout tem twins? What a lot o’ peoples bin havin’ twins! Twins must be plentier dan persimmons.