MOUS. Hush! (_trying to pacify her_) You’re wrong, Betsy, but you don’t know what it is to have a young and lovely wife, Betsy. BET. Yes I do. MOUS. No you don’t, and what’s more, you probably never will. And so, Betsy--that is--I mean--I say--I mean--(_aside_)--I can’t make up my mind as to what I _do_ mean. _WOMEN heard again without._ MOUS. (_aside_) The women again! I’ll go and shut the office door, for fear they should come in that way. (_goes off, R. D. F._) BET. (_suddenly leaving off sobbing_) I’m horribly afraid the little shop at the corner of the street, will slip through my fingers at last. (_double knock at street door_) Oh, gemini! Who can that be? What’ll become of me? _MRS. MOUSER enters, L. D. F., followed by BOY._ MRS. M. Is Mr. Mouser at home? BOY. No, ma’am. MRS. M. Bring candles. BOY. Yes, ma’am. (_BOY goes off and returns immediately with candles, which he places on table, and then retires at back. BETSY makes her escape, and runs out L. D. F._) MRS. M. Good gracious! What a commotion! There are at least thirty women round the door! I’m quite alarmed! I feel I was wrong to leave the house in a pet against Mr. Mouser. As for my Cousin Crummy’s insinuations, I treat them with the utmost contempt. So, instead of spending the evening with sister Charlotte, I determined to return home, and give my poor dear affectionate little husband an agreeable surprise. MOUS. (_from within_) Don’t be impatient! MRS. M. That’s his voice. Who can he be speaking to? MOUS. (_from within_) I’ll be with you directly, Betsy. MRS. M. Betsy! (_blows out candles, stage dark_) Oh! the monster! _Re-enter MOUSER from Office, R. D. F._ MOUS. How dark it is! Betsy! Where are you, Betsy? (_feeling his way_) MRS. M. (_in an assumed voice_) Here! MOUS. Where? MRS. M. Here, you wretch! (_gives him a box on the ears_) MOUS. Zounds! (_lays hold of MRS. MOUSER, in the struggle she takes off MOUSER’S wig, and runs into room, L., shutting door in MOUSER’S face_) MOUS. Holloa! She’s locked herself up, with my wig, in Mrs. Mouser’s room. Betsy! Elizabeth! Miss Baker! Don’t be absurd! Come out of that room--give me my wig! (_knocking and trying to open door_) Open the door! Open it this instant, or I’ll overwhelm you with my indignation through the keyhole. _Enter CRUMMY from Office, with a candle._ CRUM. I can’t find him any where. (_seeing him_) Holloa!--ha, ha, ha! MOUS. Don’t laugh, Crummy, look at me! She’s here--I mean, she’s there. CRUM. Who? MOUS. Betsy--in my wife’s room. CRUM. Ah! Any one with her? MOUS. Yes, my wig. This is your doing--this is your precious work. (_seizing CRUMMY and shaking him_) It was you--you who exposed me to the fascinations of this juvenile washerwoman. It’s through you that I have lost my peace of mind, and my wig. Where are they? Where’s my peace of mind? Where’s my wig? (_shaking CRUMMY again violently_)