Lawton: “Stepped out of the elevator; laughed; cried; went home; got into bed: and did not get up for six weeks. Nervous shock. He was fortunate.”
Mrs. Miller: “I shouldn’t think you’d want an air-cushion on your elevator, Mrs. Roberts.”
Mrs. Roberts: “No, indeed! Horrid!” The bell rings. “Edward, you go and see if that’s Aunt Mary.”
Mrs. Miller: “It’s Mr. Miller, I know.”
Bemis: “Or my son.”
Lawton: “My voice is for Mrs. Roberts’s brother. I’ve given up all hopes of my daughter.”
Roberts, without: “Oh, Curwen! Glad to see you! Thought you were my wife’s aunt.”
Lawton, at a suppressed sigh from Mrs. Roberts: “It’s one of his jokes, Mrs. Roberts. Of course it’s your aunt.”
Mrs. Roberts, through her set teeth, smilingly: “Oh, if it is, I’ll make him suffer for it.”
Mr. Curwen, without: “No, I hated to wait, so I walked up.”