MRS. SWEET. Run, Stephen, as fast as your legs will carry you for Mr.
Sawbone.
SWEET. No, no, I won't see him, he'll cut both my legs off.
MRS. SWEET. (_to STEPHEN_) Get your hat, we'll send you word if you
are to go.
STEPH. Yes, mum. (_aside as he goes out looking at SWEET_) Well, he
_has_ gone and smashed his self.
_Exit, L. C._
SHORT. (_examining and bending first his legs and then his arms_)
Courage! come, let me see where you're hurt.
SWEET. (_the moment he is touched_) Oh, oh!
SHORT. Have you broken a limb? (_examining_) No, your legs are all
sound, and so are your arms. Come, sit up, man, you're more frightened
than hurt.
MRS. SWEET. Mercy be praised! How thankful I am!
SHORT. (_to SWEET_) What a turn you have given me. Pour me out a glass
of wine, Loo.
(_MRS. SHORT pours out a glass of wine, and as she is carrying it to
him, MRS. SWEET takes it out of her hand, and gives it to SWEET, who
drinks it_)
MRS. SWEET. (_to MRS. SHORT as she takes the wine_) Thank you.
SHORT. (_looking astonished_) That was meant for me!
MRS. SWEET. (_to SWEET, not hearing SHORT_) How are you now, my dear?
SWEET. Well, I feel a little better, but there's something gone! I'm
sure I felt it go! (_unbuttoning his waistcoat and feeling_)
SHORT. Yes, it's one of your brace buttons, don't you see.
MRS. SHORT. (_to MRS. SWEET_) How pale you are, Fanny!
MRS. SWEET. (_recovering from her alarm_) It is passing off now. I
have had a little fright, that's all.
SHORT. (_to SWEET_) You would go showing off your horsemanship, and
see what has come of it.
SWEET. Not at all, I assure you. I was going along as quietly as
possible, getting gradually more confident and comfortable, when all
of a sudden a cursed little brute of a cur ran out of a yard close by,
and flew at the horse's throat. I thought something was going to
happen by the look of the mare's ears--and just as I was about to let
go the bridle and catch hold of the mane, up went her heels into the
air, and I was shot like a bullet from a gun slap over her head into
the road.
SHORT. And poor little pug was kicked to death, I suppose.
SWEET. No, I had my revenge.
SHORT. How do you mean?
SWEET. Why, I came down in a sitting posture, plump on his back--one
squeak, and it was all over.
MRS. SWEET. (_seeing that nothing is the matter with her husband_)
Come, William, I think you are nearly all right again now.
SWEET. Yes, my dear, thank you, I shall get round again in a day or
two, I dare say. You were far more frightened than I was.
MRS. SWEET. (_smiling_) Oh come, William, I am not quite so sure about
that. Now the danger is over we can afford, you know, to laugh at it.
(_playfully_) You were not _at all_ alarmed, were you, dear? Ha, ha!
and the droll manner in which you fell, ha, ha!
SHORT. Exactly; it certainly broke his fall, and the dog's back at the
same time. Much better than falling the other way. Ha, ha, ha!
MRS. SWEET. (_with good-humoured merriment_) Ha, ha, ha! Only picture
to yourselves my husband's attitude after his descent, comfortably
sitting in the middle of the road without his hat. Ha, ha, ha!
SHORT. Ha, ha, ha! With all the dirty little vagabonds in the parish
gathered around him! Ha, ha, ha!
SWEET. (_getting offended_) I'm glad you're amused! I really don't see
the joke.
MRS. SHORT. (_aside, to MRS. SWEET_) Don't, Fanny! he don't like it.
MRS. SWEET. (_thrusting her handkerchief in her mouth_) I oughtn't to
laugh, perhaps, but I positively can't help it! Ha, ha, ha!
SHORT. No, it makes one laugh in spite of one'self! Ha, ha, ha!
SWEET. (_more offended_) Really, Mrs. Sweet, I consider this behaviour
of yours very extraordinary--not to say disgusting! Here have I been
within a hair's breadth of losing my life, and you are turning the
whole thing into ridicule.
MRS. SWEET. Nay--now, don't be angry--I can't help myself. Ha, ha, ha!
SHORT. Ha, ha, ha! Just imagine our friend here magnificently
enthroned in the gutter on the body of his prostrate enemy. Ha, ha,
ha!
SWEET. Mr. Short--sir, leave off!
SHORT. Well, it is not my fault--it was your wife set me off. Ha, ha,
ha!
SWEET. (_looking angrily at his wife_) Yes, I know it was; and her
preposterous merriment explores her great want of feeling--the stony
nature of her heart!
MRS. SWEET. (_trying in vain to repress her laughter_) Nay, now,
Willie--
SWEET. Yes, ma'am, I repeat it--the stony nature of your heart!
MRS. SWEET. Now, Willie, it's ill-natured of you to say that. If I
could, for laughing, I should be angry with you. Ha, ha, ha! I
_cannot_ stop myself! Ha, ha, ha!
SWEET. Damn it, madam--will you leave off?
MRS. SWEET. I can't, William. Ha, ha, ha! The whole thing seems so
absurd to me now it's all over, that I really can't contain myself!
Ha, ha, ha! I shall do myself an injury! Ha, ha, ha! I'll go out of
the room, since it offends you. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
_Exit, bursting with irresistible laughter, L. 2 E._
SWEET. (_pacing the stage in a passion_) Such scandalous want of
feeling is abominable!--revolting!