Alfred (half evasively). Not necessarily. I might, of course—for a while, that is. But I shall have many a heavy day of work before me, Spreta, and you will see, now and then perhaps, a great slumberous peace descend on me as I toil away in my brown study—but I shall be making wonderful progress all the same.
Spreta. I shall quite understand that, Alfred. Oh, dear, who in the world's this?
[The Varmint-Blõk appears mysteriously in the gloom.
The Varmint-Blõk. Excuse me, Captin, and your sweet ladyship, but I just happened to drop my eye on one of those lovely little hand-billikins here, and took the liberty to step up, thinking it might so happen that you'd been advertising the very identical dawg what followed me home the other day. You may remember me passing the remark how wonderful partial dawgs was to me. So I brought him up on the chance like.
[He produces Little Mopsëman—in mufti—from a side-pocket.
Spreta. It is our Little Mopsëman! So you are not some supernatural sort of shadowy symbol after all, then?
The Varm.-B. (hurt). Now I ask you, lady—do I look it? Here's my professional card. And if you should have the reward handy—— (As Alfred pays him.) Five Rix dollarkins—correct, my lord, and thankee kindly. (As he departs.) You'll find I've learned that sweet little mongrel a thing or two; take the nonsense out of any rat in Norway now, he will. And just you ask him to set up and give three cheers for Dr. Ibsen—that's all!
[He goes out, chuckling softly.
Alfred (holding out Little Mopsëman at arms' length). H'm; it will be a heavy day's work to purify and ennoble this poodle after all he has been through, eh, Spreta? I think, as you seem to have developed quite a taste for such tasks, I shall allow you to undertake it—all by yourself.
Spreta (turns away with her half-teasing smile). Thanks!