THE BARBER. (_Interrupting him by running the lather brush into
his mouth_) Oh, shut up! (_There is a pause._)
THE CUSTOMER. I'll-I'll give you ten dollars to let me go.
THE BARBER. (_Acting as if he did not hear_) Beg pardon, sir?
THE CUSTOMER. (_Taking the scarf-pin from the edge of his vest._)
This scarf-pin--it's worth five hundred dollars--I'll give--
THE BARBER. (_Raises his hand to his ear, knocking the pin out of
THE CUSTOMER's hand_) I don't hear well on this side. Try the
other.
THE CUSTOMER. A thousand dollars! I'll give you a thousand
dollars!
THE BARBER. I'm afraid it won't do, sir. You see, the young lady
who runs the news stand up-stairs says--you won't interrupt me
_this_ time will you?--she says it's important to keep customers
in sight. There's nothing so bad for trade as an empty shop.
THE CUSTOMER. Oh, have you no heart? It's almost too late now!
Every second is worth a dollar to me!
THE BARBER. Well, sir, it will console you to know that my time
is worth very little.
THE CUSTOMER. Please let me up! If I wait two minutes longer, I
might as well shoot myself.
THE BARBER. I shan't object, sir.
THE CUSTOMER. Oh! Oh! Oh!
THE BARBER. So you are beginning to feel some regrets? I'm glad
to see it. I always thought you'd regret sooner or later.
(_Shaving._) By the way, sir, haven't you recognized me yet?
THE CUSTOMER. _Recognized_ you?
THE BARBER. Oh, I see. You thought I was just a lunatic. Well,
I'm not. Look at me. Look at me closely.
THE CUSTOMER. I don't know you!
THE BARBER. No? Well, just say to yourself, "Twelve years ago
this man's hair was not so gray. Twelve years ago this man's face
didn't show so many lines of care. Twelve years ago this man
lived--well, in a little town near Savannah, and--"