[She does not hear what he says, but she looks her scorn at the ear-trumpet and walks proudly out.
FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [Fumbling at his pocket, as if to find a watch.] Boy, what time is it? I haven't my watch.
IMP. [Grinning mischievously.] Time to milk the cows.
[The Former Rich Citizen starts angrily toward Imp, then evidently thinking better of it, shrugs his shoulders and stalks majestically to the street-door. He pauses with it partly open, turns as if to speak to Imp, drawing himself up haughtily—a ludicrous figure in his shabby outfit—then he goes abruptly out, slamming the door.
[Imp doubles himself up in a paroxysm of glee as the curtain falls.
SCENE II
A fortnight has passed. The curtain rises upon the same stage-setting. The Judge is not about, but we see Imp asleep in a chair. All seems quiet and serene. But suddenly the street-door opens noisily, and the Former Poor Man bursts into the room. He is panting, as though he had been running. He is haggard and seems in great pain, for occasionally he moans. He looks wildly about the room, and seeing Imp asleep in the chair, he rushes to him and shakes him roughly. Imp wakes slowly, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
FORMER POOR MAN. [Frantically.] The Judge, where is he? I must see him at once.
IMP. [Yawning.] You're too early. He isn't down yet.
[Settles himself to go to sleep again.