Roberts, walking up and down in great distress: ‘I can’t do it; I can’t do it. It’s very kind of you to think it all out for me, but’—struck by a sudden idea—‘Willis, why shouldn’t you do it?’
Willis: ‘I?’
Roberts: ‘You are good at those things. You have so much aplomb, you know. You could carry it off, you know, first-rate.’
Willis, as if finding a certain fascination in the idea: ‘Well, I don’t know—’
Roberts: ‘And I could chime in on the laugh. I think I could do that if somebody else was doing the rest.’
Willis, after a moment of silent reflection: ‘I should like to do it. I should like to see how old Bemis would look when I played it on him. Roberts, I will do it. Not a word! I should like to do it. Now you go on and hurry up your toilet, old fellow; you needn’t mind me here. I’ll be rehearsing.’
Mrs. Roberts, knocking at the door, outside: ‘Edward, are you never coming?’
Roberts: ‘Yes, yes; I’ll be there in a minute, my dear.’
Willis: ‘Yes, he’ll be there. Run along back, and keep it going till we come. Roberts, I wouldn’t take a thousand dollars for this chance.’
Roberts: ‘I’m glad you like it.’