CRUM. (_aside to him_) Of course! You’ve done the mischief, and you must repair it. (_to BETSY_) Good bye, my good girl. BET. (_with pretended alarm_) You’re not a-going, sir? MOUS. Poor soul! She hopes he’s not a-going. (_aside_) CRUM. (_aside to BETSY_) Capitally. Capitally acted, so far. Only carry it on a little longer, and the shop is yours. (_aside to MOUSER_) Did you ever see such a pair of eyes? (_aside, as he goes out, towards L. D. F._) I’ll not lose sight of them. _Exit L. D. F._ (_MOUSER and BETSY stand at opposite sides of the Stage. Their eyes meet once or twice--she dropping them with emotion, and he drawing himself up and trying to appear indifferent. CRUMMY crosses unseen into Office, R._) BET. Poor man! He’ll never begin, so I suppose I must. (_aloud_) Sir! MOUS. (_aside_) Mouser, be firm. No damned nonsense! Do your duty, Mouser, and that duty commands you instantly to plunge a dagger into the heart that adores you. Well, Miss Baker? (_with great indifference--his back towards her_) BET. Those as likes me calls me Betsy. (_in a plaintive tone_) Call me Betsy, sir! MOUS. No, Betsy--I shall not call you Betsy--I never do call people by their Christian names, Betsy--never, Betsy! Never, Betsy! BET. No more do I--unless they’re very--_very_ pretty ones indeed, such as John, and Timothy, and Marma_dook_. (_in a tender tone, and approaching him_) MOUS. (_aside_) Mouser, be firm. (_turning to BETSY, and seeing her close to him, begins whistling again. BETSY retires a step or two, and approaches him again_) So, you think Marma_dook_ a pretty name, eh? BETSY. Yes, sir. I could go on making rhymes to it all day long, as I stand at the washing-tub: just like the man in the play. There’s not a name in any book, As can compare with Marma_dook_, No breeze as e’er the treeses shook, Sounds half as sweet as Marma_dook._ MOUS. (_aside_) It was wrong in me to stop. I feel, it was highly wrong in me to stop. (_aloud_) But remember, you are going to marry a Joseph. BET. (_with sudden violence, and close to MOUSER_) Never! MOUS. (_jumping away_) Don’t. But why not? BET. I _don’t_ want to marry--I never _will_ marry--I’ll live and die a Baker. (_with great energy_) MOUS. But your reason--your motive--for dying a Baker? BET. (_with a pathetic look at MOUSER_) Can _you_ ask? _You! You?_ Oh, ’tis too much! Oh! Oh! Oh! (_aside_) I wonder how I’m doing it. (_hiding her face in her hands and sobbing_) MOUS. Hush! (_tenderly_) Don’t cry--don’t make such a row, Miss Baker. BET. Call me Betsy! MOUS. Very well, Betsy. (_aside_) I’ve been _too_ firm, Mouser, you’ve been by many degrees too firm. (_aloud, and taking BETSY’S hand_) Now, don’t cry, there’s a dear. (_aside_) I called her a dear! _Here CRUMMY looks in from Office, and observes._ There--there--and, now laugh--laugh directly, you little rogue. (_aside_) I called her a little rogue. (_chucks BETSY under the chin_)