Sadie. (Tasting pickle.) O, ain't it nice! Bessie, run and get one.
Bessie. No, indeed; I shall do no such thing.
Jenny. O, Sadie, I wouldn't believe you could do such a thing.
Sadie. O, pshaw! It's all envy; you know it is.
Enter R., Juno, followed by Mrs. Gabble, who wears a calico dress, has her sleeves rolled up, her apron thrown over her head, and has altogether the appearance of having just left the wash-tub.
Mrs. G. Yes, Juno, poor Mr. Brown has shuffled off this mortal—what's it's name? (Looks at girls.) O, how do you do? I don't know how much he's worth, but they do say—Why, Juno, you've got a new calico—Fine day, young ladies.—They do say—Well, there, I oughtn't to speak of it. Got your washing out, Juno? I've been all day at that tub; and—Where's Miss Pease? I can't stop a minute; so don't ask me to sit down. (Sits in rocking-chair and rocks violently.)
Juno. Yes, Missy Gabble, Missy Pease to home. Send her right up, sure for sartin. Bress my soul, how that woman do go on, for sartin.
Exit, L.
Mrs. G. Ah, poor Mrs. Brown, with all them young ones. I wonder where my Sis is.
Jenny. I think she's in the kitchen, Mrs. Gabble.