_LADY in morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head
on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. Enter MAGGIE with
tray._
_Maggie._ Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. ’T will cheer ye up like!
_Lady (looking up)._ No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It
is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he’s lost!
_Maggie._ And did ye slape at arl, mum?
_Lady._ Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude
boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes,
or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot,
cannot eat.
_Exit MAGGIE with breakfast things. Enter MIKE with newspapers._
_Mike._ Mornin’ paper, mum.
_Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns)._ Let
me see if he is found. O, here! “Found! A diamond pin on--” Pshaw,
diamond pin! Here it is. “Dog found! Black and tan--” Faugh, black and
tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where’s the notice of our
darling’s being lost?
_Mike._ Shure, an’ it’s to the side o’ the house I put it, mum, arl writ
in illegant sizey litters, mum.
_Lady (in alarm)._ And didn’t you go to the printers at all?
_Mike._ Shure an’ be n’t it better out in the brard daylight, mum,
laning aginst th’ ’ouse convanient like, an’ aisy to see, mum?
_Lady._ O Mike, you’ve undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I
say.
_Exit MIKE._
_Lady (solus)._ It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked
my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my
chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His
little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now?
_Enter MIKE, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large
letters._
Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!!
_Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger._
_Mike._ An’ it’s meeself larned the fine writin’, mum, in th’ ould
counthry.
_Lady (excited)._ Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen
and paper!
_Exit MIKE, muttering. Knock heard at door._
_Lady._ Come!
_Enter_ MARKET-MAN, _in blue frock_.
_Market-man._ Good day, ma’am. Heard you’d lost a dog.
_Lady (eagerly, with hand extended)._ Yes, yes! Where is he?
_Market-man._ Was he a curly, shaggy dog?
_Lady._ Yes! O yes! Where did you find him?
_Market-man._ Was your dog bright and playful?
_Lady (in an excited manner)._ O, very! very!
_Market-man._ Answered to the name of Carlo?
_Lady._ Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms!
_Market-man (in surprise)._ Arms, ma’am? Arms? ’T is a Newfoundland dog!
He could carry you in his arms!
_Lady (dejected)._ O cruel, cruel disappointment!
_Market-man._ What kind of a dog was yours?
_Lady._ O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk!
_Market-man (going)._ Good day, ma’am. If I see him, I’ll fetch him.
_Exit MARKET-MAN. MIKE enters with writing materials, and goes out
again. LADY begins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud._
_Lady._ Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly--(_Tap at door._) Come!
_Enter stupid-looking BOY, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large
hat._
_Lady._ Did you wish to see me?
_Boy (drawling)._ Yes, ma’am.
_Lady._ About a dog?
_Boy._ Yes, ma’am.
_Lady._ Have you found one?
_Boy._ Yes, ma’am.
_Lady._ Is it a very small dog?
_Boy._ Yes, ma’am.
_Lady._ Sweet and playful?
_Boy._ Yes, ma’am?
_Lady._ Did you bring him with you?
_Boy._ Yes, ma’am (_pointing_). Out there.
_Lady (excited)._ O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If
it should! (BOY _brings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted_.)
_Lady (in disgust)._ O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take
him away!
_Boy._ Isn’t that your dog?
_Lady._ No! no! O, can’t you take the horrid animal away?
_Boy (going)._ Yes, ma’am.
_Exit_ BOY _with dog_. LADY _prepares to write_.
_Lady._ Stupid thing! Now I’ll write. (_Repeats._) LOST, STRAYED, OR
STOLEN. A CURLY, WHITE--(_Tap at the door._) Come! (_Lays down pen._)
_Enter ragged BOY, with covered basket._
_Lady._ Have _you_ found a dog?
_Boy._ No, I hain’t found no dog.
_Lady._ Then what do you want?
_Boy._ Father sells puppies. Father said if you’d lost your dog, you’d
want to buy one of ’em. Said you could take your pick out o’ these ’ere
five. (_Opens basket for her to look in._)
_Lady (shuddering)._ Little wretches! Away with them!
_Boy._ They’ll grow, father said, high’s the table.
_Lady._ Carry them off, can’t you?
_Boy._ Father wants to know what you’ll take for your dog, running.
Father said he’d give a dollar, an’ risk the ketchin’ on him.
_Lady._ Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned,
and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry
dollar!
_Boy (going)._ Good mornin’. Guess I’ll be goin’. If I find your dog, I
won’t (_aside_) let you know.
_Exit BOY, with bow and scrape._
_Lady (writes again, and repeats)._ LOST, STRAYED, OR STOLEN. A
CUR--(_Knock at the door._) Come! (_Lays down pen._)
_Enter MRS. MULLIGAN._
_Mrs. Mulligan._ An’ is it yourself lost a dog, thin?
_Lady (eagerly)._ Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen
him?
_Mrs. Mulligan._ Och, no. But’t was barkin’ all night he was, behint th’
’ouse. An’ the b’ys,--that’s me Pat an’ Tim, they _drooned_ him, mum,
bad luck to ’em, in the mornin’ arly.
_Lady._ And did you see him?
_Mrs. Mulligan._ No, shure.
_Lady._ And where is he now?
_Mrs. Mulligan._ O, it’s safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o’ No
Bottom Pond, mum.
_Lady._ And how do you know ’t is my dog?
_Mrs. Mulligan._ Faith, an’ whose dog should it be, thin?
_Lady._ Send your boys, and I’ll speak with them.
_Mrs. Mulligan (going)._ I’ll send them, mum. Mornin’ mum.
_Exit MRS. MULLIGAN. Another tap at the door._
_Lady._ O, this is not to be borne! Come!
_Enter COUNTRYWOMAN with bandbox,--not an old woman._
_Lady (earnestly)._ If it’s about a dog, tell me all you know at once!
Is he living?
_Countrywoman._ Yes’m, but he’s quite poorly. I think dogs shows their
sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin’s.
_Lady._ Do tell quick.
_Countrywoman._ Just what I want, for I’m in a hurry myself. So I’ll
jump right inter the thick on ’t. You see last night when my old man was
ridin’ out o’ town in his cart, with some o’ his cabbages left over, for
garden sarse hadn’t been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin’
out on account o’ the off ox bein’ some lame, and my old man ain’t apt
to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts,
you--
_Lady._ But about the dog!
_Countrywoman._ Wal, the old man was a ridin’ along, slow, you know,--I
alwers tell him he’ll never set the great pond afire,--and a countin’
over his cabbageheads and settlin’ the keg o’ molasses amongst ’em, and
a little jug of--(_nods and winks and smiles_),--jest for a medicine,
you know. For we _never do_,--I nor the old man,--never, ’xcept in case
o’ sickness.
_Lady (impatiently)._ But what about the dog?
_Countrywoman._ Wal, he was a ridin’ along, and jest got to the
outskirts o’ the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin’
which should have a dog,--a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur--
_Lady._ Yes! Go on! Go on!
_Countrywoman._ And he asked ’em would they take fifty cents apiece and
give it up. For he knew ’t would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they
took the fifty.
_Lady (eagerly)._ And what did he do with him? Where is he now?
_Countrywoman._ Why, I was goin’ to ride in with the old man this
mornin’ to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And
we happened to see that ’ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it
out! (_Opening bandbox._) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the
crown o’ my bunnet Seems poorly, but he’ll pick up. (_Takes out a white
lapdog._)[A]
[Footnote A: A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.]
_Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him)._ ’T is my Carlo. O my
precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and
put him to sleep. (_Rises to go out._)
_Countrywoman._ But the five dollars, marm!
_Lady._ O, you must call again. I can’t think of any paltry five
dollars, now. (_Exit._)
_Countrywoman (calling out)._ I’ll wait, marm!
_Enter MIKE._
_Mike._ An’ what bisness are ye doin’ here?
_Countrywoman._ Waiting for my pay.
_Mike._ Pay, is it? Och, she’ll niver pay the day. She’s owin’ me wages,
an’ owin’ the cook, and Mrs. Flarty that scoors, and the millinery
lady, an’ ’t is “Carl agin,” she sez. “Carl agin. Can’t ye carl agin?”
_Countrywoman._ Then I’ll get mine now. (_Takes off shawl, and sits
down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning
on her knitting-sheath._) I don’t budge, without the pay.
_MIKE looks on admiringly. Curtain drops._