your little back second floor room be ready?

Mrs. B. Why, to-morrow—

Cox. I’ll take it!

Box. So will I!

Mrs. B. Excuse me—but if you both take it, you may just as well stop where you are.

Cox & Box. True.

Cox. I spoke first, sir—

Box. With all my heart, sir. The little back second floor room is yours, sir—now, go—

Cox. Go? Pooh—pooh!

Mrs. B. Now don’t quarrel, gentlemen. You see, there used to be a partition here—

Cox & Box. Then put it up!

Mrs. B. Nay, I’ll see if I can’t get the other room ready this very day. Now do keep your tempers.

[Exit, L.

Cox. What a disgusting position!

[Walking rapidly round stage.

Box. [Sitting down on chair, at one side of table, and following Cox’s movements.] Will you allow me to observe, if you have not had any exercise to-day, you’d better go out and take it.

Cox. I shall not do anything of the sort, sir.

[Seating himself at the table opposite Box.

Box. Very well, sir.

Cox. Very well, sir! However, don’t let me prevent you from going out.

Box. Don’t flatter yourself, sir. [Cox is about to break a piece of the roll off.] Holloa! that’s my roll, sir— [Snatches it away—puts a pipe in his mouth, lights it with a piece of tinder—and puffs smoke across to Cox.

Cox. Holloa! What are you about, sir?

Box. What am I about? I’m about to smoke.

Cox. Wheugh!

[Goes and opens window at Box’s back.

Box. Holloa! [Turns round.] Put down that window, sir!

Cox. Then put your pipe out, sir!

Box. There!

[Puts pipe on table.

Cox. There!

[Slams down window and re-seats himself.

Box. I shall retire to my pillow. [Goes up, takes off his jacket, then goes towards bed, and sits down upon it, L. C.

Cox. [Jumps up, goes to bed, and sits down on R. of Box.] I beg your pardon, sir—I cannot allow any one to rumple my bed. [Both rising.]

Box. Your bed? Hark ye, sir—can you fight?

Cox. No, sir.

Box. No? Then come on—

[Sparring at Cox.

Cox. Sit down, sir—or I’ll instantly vociferate “Police!”

Box. [Seats himself—Cox does the same.] I say, sir——

Cox. Well, sir?

Box. Although we are doomed to occupy the same room for a few hours longer, I don’t see any necessity for our cutting each other’s throats, sir.

Cox. Not at all. It’s an operation that I should decidedly object to.

Box. And, after all, I’ve no violent animosity to you, sir.

Cox. Nor have I any rooted antipathy to you, sir.

Box. Besides, it was all Mrs. Bouncer’s fault, sir.

Cox. Entirely, sir. [Gradually approaching chairs.]

Box. Very well, sir!

Cox. Very well, sir! [Pause.]

Box. Take a bit of roll, sir?

Cox. Thank ye, sir. [Breaking a bit off. Pause.]

Box. Do you sing, sir?

Cox. I sometimes join in a chorus.

Box. Then give us a chorus. [Pause.] Have you seen the Bosjemans, sir?

Cox. No, sir—my wife wouldn’t let me.

Box. Your wife!

Cox. That is—my intended wife.

Box. Well, that’s the same thing! I congratulate you! [Shaking hands.]

Cox. [With a deep sigh.] Thank ye. [Seeing Box about to get up.] You needn’t disturb yourself, sir. She won’t come here.

Box. Oh! I understand. You’ve got a snug little establishment of your own here—on the sly—cunning dog—[Nudging Cox.]

Cox. [Drawing himself up.] No such thing, sir—I repeat, sir—no such thing, sir, but my wife—I mean, my intended wife—happens to be the proprietor of a considerable number of bathing-machines——

Box. [Suddenly.] Ha! Where? [Grasping Cox’s arm.]

Cox. At a favorite watering-place. How curious you are!

Box. Not at all. Well?

Cox. Consequently, in the bathing season—which luckily is rather a long one—we see but little of each other; but as that is now over, I am daily indulging in the expectation of being blessed with the sight of my beloved. [Very seriously.] Are you married?

Box. Me? Why—not exactly!

Cox. Ah—a happy bachelor!

Box. Why—not—precisely!

Cox. Oh! a—widower?

Box. No—not absolutely!

Cox. You’ll excuse me, sir—but at present I don’t exactly understand how you can help being one of the three.

Box. Not help it?

Cox. No, sir—not you, nor any other man alive!

Box. Ah, that may be—but I’m not alive!

Cox. [Pushing back his chair.] You’ll excuse me, sir—but I don’t like joking upon such subjects.

Box. I’m perfectly serious, sir. I’ve been defunct for the last three years!

Cox. [Shouting.] Will you be quiet, sir?

Box. If you won’t believe me, I’ll refer you to a very large, numerous, and respectable circle of disconsolate friends.

Cox. My dear sir—my very dear sir—if there does exist any ingenious contrivance whereby a man on the eve of committing matrimony can leave this world, and yet stop in it, I shouldn’t be sorry to know it.

Box. Oh! then I presume I’m not to set you down as being frantically attached to your intended?

Cox.