WID. (_Entering, L., and shouting through speaking-trumpet._) Now, young fell--low, I sa--a--ay! Hey, he's gone and the coast's clear! (_Sees supper-tray._) Oh! What! They've sent the supper from the tavern. I quite forgot it. Dear me, this dreadful affair has so upset me and given me such a turn that I doubt I'll never come straight again. What will Ma'amselle Cheri Bounce think of me? I dare say she's been here and gone? Everybody's gone but my interesting victim. Ah, she's still there, standing, with all her imperfections, on her head in the water-butt! Well, I suppose everyone has his lot, but mine's a lot I don't know how to dispose of. I must remove the body from the establishment at all events, and I'll do it now, while the house is still. (_Goes to folding-doors and puts key in the lock._) I haven't strength to open the door with them green boots kicking at my conscience! Courage, Widgetts--courage! Be a man--though you are but a tailor. Stay! I'll take a thimbleful of brandy first. (_Takes bottle from table and pours out a glass, which he drinks._) Ah, that's a reviver. (_Drinks and comes down._) Betts has raised the standard of British spirit in my heart. (_Drinks._) Well, we all want comfort in this miserable world. (_Drinks._) There's poor Mary White gone on a weeping and _wailing_ voyage to that bourne from whence no traveller gets a return ticket. (_Mary laughs in room, R._) Ah, what's that? A laugh. It had a hollow and inhuman sound. Could it be _she?_ (_Points to folding-doors._) Mary--a--a--a--how do I know--she may have been turned into something horrible. The fiend of the water butt, perhaps. She may come to me at night--she said she would. Oh, Lord! The idea of the ghost of a damp laundress at your back. (_Shudders._) W--h--h--h--hew! (_Mary laughs._) There, it is again, that demoniac laugh. I wish I could peep into the kitchen! But I daren't, lest I should see her glaring at me with one eye through the bung-hole of the water-butt. Bless me, how my knees keep giving double knocks upon each other. (_Mary sings in room._) Ah, surely that's singing! (_Listens._) Ghosts haven't got a singing license. Hark! 'Tis somebody committing vocal violence in my bedroom. (_Goes to door of bed-chamber, R., and looks in._) Hey, there's a young fellow making himself quite at home in my establishment. I am not aware I ever saw him before. What had I better do? Go in and ask him what he wants? No; that might be dangerous. 'Twill be safer in my present peculiar position to appear as a stranger. Let me see. I have it--capital idea--the waiter from the tavern with the supper--I think I could _do_ a waiter. It's only, "Coming, sir, in _one_ minute--coming; two brandies and water, coming, sir." (_He ties one of the supper napkins round his neck for a white cravat, changes his coat for an old black one that hangs on the back of a chair, while doing so he looks into the room now and again._) There goes my Macassar oil and my Circassian cream.