BOLT. And don't I look well? A'n't I the thing? Nothing like the shop, eh? Nothing against me?--nothing _counter?_ MIZ. No, we have sunk the shop, with a vengeance! Hatchment, the undertaker, will be calling to know if master's dead. BOLT. Well, but where shall we go? MIZ. I'm afraid we've gone too far already. BOLT. Zounds! man, don't keep watering my spirits in that way; and don't pull down the corners of your mouth, and make it look like a horseshoe on its legs. Laugh at our setting out, at least. MIZ. Ha! ha! ha! I will, for I'm thinking there will be devilish little chance of laughing when we return. Eh--what's that? (_Looking off, R.H._) BOLT. What are you staring at now? MIZ. Don't you see something like an old man? BOLT. Lord bless you, Bobby! it's the young women I always look at, not the old men. MIZ. That old man may look at you, notwithstanding. Oh! he draws nearer.--Oh, the devil! it's the old gentleman--master, I mean. BOLT. Eh, that's the hat;--his castor's an unlucky star;--those are his unmentionables. We'll turn down the next street. MIZ. But this damned street has no turning for the next quarter of a mile! Confound it! you must be so fond of enjoying yourself. BOLT. We'll run. MIZ. And attract his attention: a tallish man and a short one. BOLT. (_Knocking at door, F.L._) Then we'll call on Mrs. Stitchley. Yes, that's the name on the plate. MIZ. We don't know her; who the deuce knows Mrs. Stitchley? BOLT. No matter; he mustn't pass us. Egad, he's just here! (_Knocks again; door opens; they run in;--just as door is closing, COTTON runs across from R. to L._) SCENE III. _Room at MRS. STITCHLEY'S._ _Enter SERVANT, L. H., followed by BOLT and MIZZLE._ SERV. This way, gentlemen; my mistress will see you in a minute. (_Exit, R.H._) BOLT. Well, here is a new feature. MIZ. Yes, like a broken nose--a very irregular feature. What are we to say? BOLT. Our wits will inspire us. MIZ. Wits! I've no wits, nor you either, or you wouldn't have advised this blessed expedition. _Enter MRS. STITCHLEY and SERVANT, R.H. SERVANT exits, L._ MRS. S. Good morning, gentlemen. BOLT _and_ MIZZLE. Good morning!--Good morning! MRS. S. May I ask the cause of this visit? MIZ. (_Aside._) Ah! that's the devil of it. BOLT. Cause--ah--madam, the cause is the reason, ma'am--Ahem! and the reason is the cause.--(_Aside._) She must have a customer named Smith. You doubtless know--Miss Smith? MRS. S. No, sir! I have not that honour. MIZ. (_Aside._) Of course not; everything goes wrong to-day. BOLT. (_Aside._) Smith wont do--I'll try Brown. Miss Brown, madam, you know? MRS. S. Oh dear, yes! Miss Brown is one of my best customers. BOLT. Ha! ha! Bobby, the lady and I understand each other now, don't we? (_Nudges him._) MRS. S. (_Aside._) What odd persons!--Yes, sir; but Miss Brown? BOLT. True, true! about Miss Brown. There is a little account--