IMP. [Running over to the Former Poor Man.] Say, this lady feels very bad. Can't you cheer her up a little?
FORMER POOR MAN. [Who is still rocking back and forth with his own misery, looks up at Imp in disgust.] Cheer—her—up! Me? What's the joke?
[The Vain Woman walks to the curtained door, looks in as if seeking something, then returns to a chair, where she sits, weeping softly.
[A peculiar thumping is heard at the street-door. The Former Poor Man jumps to his feet in expectancy, hoping it is the Judge. Imp, also, stands waiting. The door opens as though the person that opened it did so with difficulty. The Former Rich Citizen hobbles in. He is ragged and dirty, and one foot is bandaged, which causes him to use a crutch. He carries a large milk-can. He hobbles painfully to the centre of the stage. The Former Poor Man grunts with disappointment, and sits down again, rubbing away at his stomach. The Vain Woman sits with bowed head, silently weeping. The Former Rich Citizen looks about, then addresses Imp in a rather husky voice.
FORMER RICH CITIZEN. I wish to see the Judge at once. It is most urgent.
IMP. [With an ill-concealed smile.] You can't see the Judge at once.
FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [Impatiently.] Why not? I told you it was most urgent.
IMP. [Grinning openly.] Because he isn't here. He hasn't come in yet. What's your trouble?
FORMER RICH CITIZEN. [Vehemently.] Trouble! Everything's the trouble! I have been abused, insulted, overworked—even the cows have kicked me. [Looking down at his bandaged foot.] I can't stand it. I won't stand it. I want back my proper place in the world, where I am respected, and where I can rest and sleep and mingle with my kind.
[He hobbles to a chair and sits down wearily.