candle—looks at it.] Now I should like to ask any unprejudiced person or persons their opinion touching this candle. In the first place, a candle is an article that I don’t require, because I’m only at home in the day time—and I bought this candle on the first of May—Chimney-sweepers’ Day—calculating that it would last me three months, and here’s one week not half over, and the candle three parts gone! [Lights the fire—then takes down a gridiron, which is hanging over the fireplace, R.] Mrs. Bouncer has been using my gridiron! The last article of consumption that I cooked upon it was a pork chop, and now it is powerfully impregnated with the odour of red herrings! [Places gridiron on fire, and then, with a fork, lays rasher of bacon on the gridiron.] How sleepy I am, to be sure! I’d indulge myself with a nap, if there was anybody here to superintend the turning of my bacon. [Yawning again.] Perhaps it will turn itself. I must lie down—so, here goes. [Lies on the bed, closing the curtains round him—after a short pause—

Enter Cox, hurriedly, L. C.

Cox. Well, wonders will never cease! Conscious of being eleven minutes and a half behind time, I was sneaking into the shop, in a state of considerable excitement, when my venerable employer, with a smile of extreme benevolence on his aged countenance, said to me—“Cox, I shan’t want you to-day—you can have a holiday.”—Thoughts of “Gravesend and back—fare, One Shilling,” instantly suggested themselves, intermingled with visions of “Greenwich for Fourpence!” Then came the Twopenny Omnibuses, and the Halfpenny boats—in short, I’m quite bewildered! However, I must have my breakfast first—that’ll give me time to reflect. I’ve bought a mutton chop, so I shan’t want any dinner. [Puts chop on table.] Good gracious! I’ve forgot the bread. Holloa! what’s this? A roll, I declare! Come, that’s lucky! Now, then, to light the fire. Holloa—[Seeing the lucifer-box on table,]—who presumes to touch my box of lucifers? Why, it’s empty! I left one in it—I’ll take my oath I did. Heydey! why, the fire is lighted! Where’s the gridiron? On the fire, I declare! And what’s that on it? Bacon? Bacon it is! Well, now, ’pon my life, there is a quiet coolness about Mrs. Bouncer’s proceedings that’s almost amusing. She takes my last lucifer—my coals, and my gridiron, to cook her breakfast by! No, no—I can’t stand this! Come out of that! [Pokes fork into bacon, and puts it on a plate on the table, then places his chop on the gridiron, which he puts on the fire.] Now, then, for my breakfast things. [Taking key, hung up, L., opens door L. and goes out, slamming the door after him, with a loud noise.

Box. [Suddenly showing his head from behind the curtains.] Come in! if it’s you, Mrs. Bouncer—you needn’t be afraid. I wonder how long I’ve been asleep? [Suddenly recollecting.] Goodness gracious—my bacon! [Leaps off bed, and runs to the fireplace.] Holloa! what’s this? A chop! Whose chop? Mrs. Bouncer’s, I’ll be bound.—She thought to cook her breakfast while I was asleep—with my coals, too—and my gridiron! Ha, ha! But where’s my bacon? [Seeing it on table.] Here it is. Well, ’pon my life, Bouncer’s going it! And shall I curb my indignation? Shall I falter in my vengeance? No! [Digs the fork into the chop, opens window, and throws chop out—shuts window again.] So much for Bouncer’s breakfast, and now for my own! [With the fork he puts the bacon on the gridiron again.] I may as well lay my breakfast things.—[Goes to mantel-piece at R., takes key out of one of the ornaments, opens door at R. and exit, slamming door after him.

Cox. [Putting his head in quickly at L.] Come in—come in! [Opens door, L. C. Enters with a small tray, on which are tea things, &c., which he places on drawers, L. and suddenly recollects.] Oh, goodness! my chop! [Running to fireplace.] Holloa—what’s that? The bacon again! Oh, pooh! Zounds—confound it—dash it—damn it—I can’t stand this! [Pokes fork into bacon, opens window, and flings it out, shuts window again, returns to drawers for tea things, and encounters Box coming from his cupboard with his tea things—they walk down C. of stage together.] Who are you, sir?

Box. If you come to that—who are you?

Cox. What do you want here, sir?

Box. If you come to that—what do you want?

Cox. [Aside.] It’s the printer! [Puts tea-things on the drawers.

Box. [Aside.] It’s the hatter! [Puts tea-things on table.

Cox. Go to your attic, sir—

Box. My attic, sir? Your attic, sir!

Cox. Printer, I shall do you a frightful injury, if you don’t instantly leave my apartment.

Box. Your apartment? You mean my apartment, you contemptible hatter, you!

Cox. Your apartment? Ha! ha!—come, I like that! Look here, sir—[Produces a paper out of his pocket.] Mrs. Bouncer’s receipt for the last week’s rent, sir—

Box. [Produces a paper, and holds it close to Cox’s face.] Ditto, sir!

Cox. [Suddenly shouting.] Thieves!

Box. Murder!

Both. Mrs. Bouncer! [Each runs to door, L. C., calling.

Mrs. Bouncer runs in at door, L. C.

Mrs. B. What is the matter? [Cox and Box seize Mrs. Bouncer by the arm, and drag her forward.

Box. Instantly remove that hatter!

Cox. Immediately turn out that printer!

Mrs. B. Well—but, gentlemen—

Cox. Explain!

[Pulling her round to him.

Box. Explain! [Pulling her round to him.] Whose room is this?

Cox. Yes, woman—whose room is this?

Box. Doesn’t it belong to me?

Mrs. B. No!

Cox. There! You hear, sir—it belongs to me!

Mrs. B. No—it belongs to both of you!

[Sobbing.

Cox & Box. Both of us?

Mrs. B. Oh, dear gentlemen, don’t be angry—but, you see, this gentleman—[Pointing to Box,]—only being at home in the daytime, and that gentleman—[Pointing to Cox,]—at night, I thought I might venture, until my little back second floor room was ready—

Cox & Box. [Eagerly.] When will