Jennings: Bill, ’tis a sad thing to contemplate what drink will do to the mind of a man.
Porter: Take my advice, Colonel; steer clear of it.
Raidler: I say, let Bill write that story and earn the makings for next Christmas!
Jennings: I wish that fat old financial parasite would come with the makings for this one.
Raidler: If he don’t hurry, I’ll forget what I’ve already had.
Jennings (the door opens and Valentine enters, left): Jimmie Valentine!
Valentine (feeble, barely able to stagger, grey in color, with face drawn): Hello—boys.
Jennings (springs to help him): What’s the matter? (Joe also helps, and they lead Valentine to Jennings’ seat)
Valentine (speaks with difficulty): Nothin’, boys—nothin’ special. Just thought—like to be with friends. Buck me up.
Joe (in voice of grief): Po Jimmie Valentine!