HORACE. Fire! (_Then he checks himself._) Hope nobody heard me. My nerves are all on edge. I wish old Marsy would tell me whether that inventive vagabond got over his troubles or peacefully expired in the snow. Poor devil! I almost wish I could meet him again. We call such fellows riff-raff, rabble, but, if the truth were told, might not some of us be found to be the real loafers in the snug corners of Easy Street, of little good to anyone, cumbering up the way till that old patrolman, Death, steps up and bids us “Move on”? (_Enter BELLA abruptly and alarmed, R._) BELLA. Oh, sir, did you call? HORACE. Call? (_Innocently._) Call what? BELLA. Fire, sir. Fire. HORACE. Fire is all right. Burning nicely. BELLA. Yes, sir. Perhaps it was the fire engine going by. HORACE. Very likely. Very likely. Did one go by? BELLA. Yes, sir—and I was half dozing, and—— HORACE. You must have been dreaming, Bella. That’s very wrong. You shouldn’t. It’s a bad habit to get into. However, as you are sleepy you needn’t wait up. I shan’t sleep again. I mean I don’t think I shall feel like going to sleep at all. BELLA. (_Aside_) As if I didn’t see him asleep. I think I would like to go to bed, sir, if you think Miss Minnie won’t want anything. They can’t be long now, sir. HORACE. No. You go to bed. By the way, did you fill the lamp? BELLA. Yes, sir, and made up the fire, and brought you in your “Extra.” HORACE. Extra? (_Almost reeling with nervousness._) BELLA. Yes, sir, I put it on the table. Oh, sir, are you ill? HORACE. Ill? No. What an idea! BELLA. You were so—so busy, sir, when I came in with the oil, I didn’t like to wa—— to disturb you, sir. Good night, sir.