TWILL. A lady! Tare my agers, sir. Does the lady bring the lady's maid with her? WID. Don't be impertinent, Twill, but listen to me. The party I expect is Ma'amselle Cheri Bounce, a splendid creature, who dances on a limited income, with the strictest regard to propriety, at the Opera House, and gives lessons to private pupils in the _pokar_ and the waltz _ah do tongs_. TWILL. Whoo! She must be a switcher. (_Going._) I'll run directly, sir. WID. Stay! I must make myself attractive for the interesting occasion. Give me the coat that has just been finished for Sir Chippin Porrage, and the waistcoat that's to be sent home to-morrow morning for the Honourable Cecil Harrowgate's wedding. (_Twill hands a dress coat and waistcoat from the table, L._) I'll give them an air of gentility by wearing them this evening. That will do. There, be off now. TWILL. Ha, ha! By the powers o' war, when you get them on your back, sir, you'll be like Mulligan's dog, your own father wouldn't know you. _Widgetts carries the coat and waistcoat into his bed-room, R., Twill is going towards door, L., when MARY WHITE, the laundress, enters, carrying a basket of clothes under her arm._ MARY. Here, Twill, take my basket, good chap. Is master at home? TWILL. (_Takes basket._) Yes, he _is_ at home. (_Aside._) Take my basket, good chap. Well, there's no bearing the impudence of the lower orders. (_Sets down basket, R., and calls at door, R._) Please, sir, here's the laundress come for your clothes. (_Crosses to door, L. Aside._) Good chap! [_Exit, R._ WID. (_entering, R., aside._) She always comes at an awkward crisis. (_Mary takes off her shawl and sits, L._) Mary, my dear, you're rather late this evening. MARY. Oh dear, yes! I've been half over the town for my customers' washing, and I'm almost tired to death, but I left yours for last, that we might have a comfortable chat together. Stop a minute though till I take off my clogs. [_She goes into the kitchen passing through the folding-doors._ WID. (_Apart._) The poor creature loves me to distraction, but she's painfully familiar; she forgets that our positions are materially altered since I was a journeyman tailor in a two pair back, struggling to make love and trousers for the small remuneration of fifteen shillings a week. Mary White is an uncommon nice girl--as a laundress, but my sentiments is changed respecting her as a wife. _MARY WHITE re-enters and comes down, L._ MARY. Now, Widgy, dear---- Oh, good gracious, what a love of a waistcoat you've on! Let me look at it, do? Well, it's a real beauty. WID. Stylish, eh? The last Paris touch. MARY. You used not to wear such waistcoats as that when you lived in Fuller's Rents. WID. Oh, no, no! Ha, ha! (_Aside._) I wish she'd cut Fuller's Rents.