MANDERS. [Turns round in terror.] Are you after me here, too?
ENGSTRAND. Yes, strike me dead, but I must--! Oh, Lord! what am I
saying? But this is a terrible ugly business, your Reverence.
MANDERS. [Walks to and fro.] Alas! alas!
REGINA. What's the matter?
ENGSTRAND. Why, it all came of this here prayer-meeting, you see.
[Softly.] The bird's limed, my girl. [Aloud.] And to think it should be
my doing that such a thing should be his Reverence's doing!