CRUM. “Too attentive by half!” Then it is as I feared, and that simpleton, Mouser, doesn’t see that he is persecuting his wife with his affection. She evidently dreads a conjugal _tête-à-tête_, and no wonder. He never leaves her for a moment; but there he is, eternally and everlastingly at her side, “sighing like furnace,” and making himself ridiculous in her eyes. Mischief will certainly come of it. Some remedy must be devised. But what? If I could only contrive to excite Anastasia’s suspicions that her husband, like Major-General Jones, is not exactly satisfied with one attachment at a time----By this means her jealousy might be roused. But she wouldn’t believe _me_. No, Mouser himself must supply the materials. But how? (_BETSY BAKER knocks at L. D. F._) Come in! _BETSY appears at L. D. F., with a small parcel._ BET. Mrs. Mouser’s veil---- CRUM. Come in, my dear. BET. Pattens and all, sir? CRUM. No. You may leave them outside. BET. If it’s the same to you, sir, I’d rather not. CRUM. Then take them off, at all events. BET. Of course, sir. (_takes off her pattens, and comes forward, carrying them in her hand_) It isn’t likely I should go for to walk on a carpet, especially when the roads are so dreadful muddy. (_putting her pattens down on table with a slam_) CRUM. Zounds! Don’t put ’em on the table! (_takes pattens from her_) BET. I’m sure I don’t know what to do with ’em, so put ’em where you like. CRUM. Ha, ha! Heyday! I think I ought to know that face again. BET. If you ever saw it before, you certainly ought. CRUM. Have I not met you rather frequently of late, walking of an evening with our young clerk, Joseph Harris? BET. Yes, sir. We’ve rather delicate constitutions both of us, so we generally go out for a little fresh air and exercise every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, after work hours. We can’t get out any other evenings, sir. I suppose, you’re Mr. Crummy! You’re not Mr. Mouser. We all know _him!_ CRUM. We! Who? BET. Why, all us girls at the laundry over the way. Ah, there’s a pattern for a husband! ’Tisn’t every woman, sir, as gets a Mouser. No, sir--Mousers are scarce. CRUM. And yet you’d take your chance and marry Joseph Harris? BET. Just try me! And now I think of it, sir, he has told me more than once that you said if ever he found a nice, genteel, respectable young woman that he’d like to marry, you’d do something for him, sir. CRUM. Oh, then, you, I suppose, are the---- BET. The young woman? Yes, sir, Elizabeth Baker, the youngest of sixteen sisters, and all of ’em girls, sir--and hard-working girls, too, sir. It’s worth going over to our laundry to see us, sir. Fancy sixteen Bakers a washing, all of a row! CRUM. Well, I’ll bear my promise in mind.