WID. Go and lay the table for supper. (_Twill picks up Mary White's
letter from the floor, twists it into an allumette, and lighting it at
the candle, lights with it the lamp on table at back. Widgetts walking
about in a state of agitation and endeavouring to sing._) It's an
awful business; but at all events, they can't charge me with the deed.
I have her letter to prove she made away with herself; _that_ will
clear me. (_Searches his pockets hastily._) Where is it? What have I
done with it? (_Looking about the floor._) Eh, no, no! Twill, Twill,
have you seen a letter lying about here?
TWILL. Letter! I found a piece of crumpled paper on the floor, that
I've lighted the lamp with; there's a bit of it left though.
(_Gives him a fragment of the burnt letter_)
WID. (_Glances hastily at it._) Oh, heivings, you've lighted the lamp,
and snuffed out the candle of my precious existence!
TWILL. Why, what's the matter, Mr. Widgetts? You are going to faint.
Stop, till I'll fetch you a glass of water from the water-butt.
WID. (_Interposing to prevent Twill going to the kitchen._) Water!
Forbear!
TWILL. Bless me, how dreadful you look.
WID. Do I? Ah, very likely! I've been seized with a sudden swimming in
the water-butt--the head--the head, I mean.
TWILL. By my sowl, I see how it is--the murder's out.
WID. (_Collaring him._) Murder--what murder do you allude to? Who's
done it, sir? Speak!
TWILL. Asy, Mr. Widgetts--asy, sir--sure I know you've been taking a
drop too much.
WID. A drop! (_Aside._) The word puts me in a cold perspiration. Oh,
ay! Ha, ha, ha! You may go, Twill; I sha'n't want you any longer.
Stop! You haven't had any enjoyment lately; there's an order for the
Adelphi; go there, my boy, and be happy. (_Gives him a card._)
TWILL. Oh, thank you, sir. May be I'm not a lucky boy.
[_Exit Twill hastily, L._
WID. Now he's gone, I can reflect upon my terrible situation. _She_
must be removed. But how? That's the point.
_He stands, buried in thought, as MARY WHITE, disguised as a boy,
wearing an old blouse, enters._