Mr. T. Let him change his bid and submit sealed proposals.
Mrs. T. There you go again. Husband, you must see him at once.
Mr. T. I’d rather not.
Mrs. T. Duty and the happiness of your child call you. (Authoritatively.) Go!
Mr. T. I prefer not to tackle him again to-day.
Mrs. T. All right, I go myself. Between two evils we must choose the best. I will go.
Mr. T. My dear, I wont allow it. We must choose the worst. I’ll beard the—that proverb is stale—I’ll just beard him. Or shall I not rather unbeard him? (Majestically. With pompous, martial air.) The die is cast and fortune—um—ah—
Mrs. T. Josiah, go. (Points.)
Quick Curtain.