WID. Eh! Who are you? What do you want?
MARY. E-eh? You must speak up, I'm rather hard of hearing.
WID. (_Bawling._) I say, what do you want?
MARY. I'm Mary White, the laundress's, young man, and I'm come to
carry home her basket of clothes.
WID. The devil! (_Speaking very loud._) She's gone, my good
fellow--she's been gone these two hours.
MARY. Two hours! Well, I'm in no hurry, I can stop. But I may as well
eat my supper while I'm waiting. I've got a plummy slice of ham in my
pocket--(_pulls a crust of bread and a slice of ham wrapped in a
play-bill, from her pocket_)--and a play-bill too, for a table-cloth.
(_Spreading bill on table._) I think that's coming it rather genteel.
(_Takes a clasp knife out of her pocket._) Fond of ham, old fellow?
WID. (_At the opposite side of table._) Why, you impudent young
vagabond, you don't mean to say you're agoing to sup here? Be off, and
be damn'd to you.
MARY. Well, you _are_ a regular brick, and I don't mind if I do take
some of your pickles.
WID. (_Bawls._) Zounds! I say, you mustn't sup here.
MARY. Mustn't sup here. (_Rises._) Why didn't you say so at once?
Never mind, I'll go into the kitchen, and take it there. (_Going._)
WID. (_Alarmed._) To the kitchen! (_Holds her._) Not for the world.
You quite misunderstood me. Don't disturb yourself. Sit down, do.
(_Pushes her again into the chair. Aside._) What's to become of me?
I'd pitch him into the street, only I'm afraid of making a
disturbance. There's no making him hear. Ecod! I know what I'll do;
I'll run and borrow the speaking-trumpet that I saw this morning
hanging at Smith, the broker's, door, and speak to him through _that_.
(_Going, returns._) Stay! The devil might tempt him to peep into the
kitchen, I'll lock the door.
[_Locks the folding-door, goes through pantomime, expressive of sorrow
for his victim in the water-butt, and exit, L._
MARY. (_Jumping up and laughing._) Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho, ho!
Oh, dear, never was anything managed so cleverly. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
(_Throwing off cap and neckerchief._) To think that he didn't know me;
and what a rage he was in. Well, now I'm ready for him in another
character. (_Takes off her leggings and blouse, and appears dressed as
a young man of fashion. Surveys herself in the cheval-glass._) Yes, it
will do--it will do--a very smart little fellow, not extensive, but
uncommonly well got up. These were the clothes that poor Brown got to
be married in; they fit me to a nicety. (_Knock at door_, L.) Come in.
_Enter two WAITERS, L., carrying tray with supper, covered dishes,
plates, bottles, &c._
WAI. Supper, sir, ordered by Mr. Widgetts.
MARY. Supper! Oh, yes! All right. Mr. Widgetts is out, but he'll be
back presently; leave it on this table if you please. (_Waiter places
tray on table, R., back._) There, that will do! Plates, knives, and
forks. All right! You need not wait, young man.
WAI. Thank you, sir. Anything else, sir?
MARY. No; everything is beautiful, thank you.
WAI. Thank you, sir. Good night, sir.
MARY. Good night.
[_Exit Waiters, L. Mary looks under the covers._]
Lobsters, roast fowl, kidneys. Ah, the ungrateful wretch never asked
me to such a supper; but never mind. Hark, I hear him returning.
[_She throws the blouse, hat, and gaiters, into the clothes-basket and
carries all into the chamber, R._
WID. (_Entering, L., and shouting through speaking-trumpet._) Now,
young fell--low, I sa--a--ay! Hey, he's gone and the coast's clear!
(_Sees supper-tray._) Oh! What! They've sent the supper from the
tavern. I quite forgot it. Dear me, this dreadful affair has so upset
me and given me such a turn that I doubt I'll never come straight
again. What will Ma'amselle Cheri Bounce think of me? I dare say she's
been here and gone? Everybody's gone but my interesting victim. Ah,
she's still there, standing, with all her imperfections, on her head
in the water-butt! Well, I suppose everyone has his lot, but mine's a
lot I don't know how to dispose of. I must remove the body from the
establishment at all events, and I'll do it now, while the house is
still. (_Goes to folding-doors and puts key in the lock._) I haven't
strength to open the door with them green boots kicking at my
conscience! Courage, Widgetts--courage! Be a man--though you are but a
tailor. Stay! I'll take a thimbleful of brandy first. (_Takes bottle
from table and pours out a glass, which he drinks._) Ah, that's a
reviver. (_Drinks and comes down._) Betts has raised the standard of
British spirit in my heart. (_Drinks._) Well, we all want comfort in
this miserable world. (_Drinks._) There's poor Mary White gone on a
weeping and _wailing_ voyage to that bourne from whence no traveller
gets a return ticket. (_Mary laughs in room, R._) Ah, what's that? A
laugh. It had a hollow and inhuman sound. Could it be _she?_ (_Points
to folding-doors._) Mary--a--a--a--how do I know--she may have been
turned into something horrible. The fiend of the water butt, perhaps.
She may come to me at night--she said she would. Oh, Lord! The idea of
the ghost of a damp laundress at your back. (_Shudders._)
W--h--h--h--hew! (_Mary laughs._) There, it is again, that demoniac
laugh. I wish I could peep into the kitchen! But I daren't, lest I
should see her glaring at me with one eye through the bung-hole of the
water-butt. Bless me, how my knees keep giving double knocks upon each
other. (_Mary sings in room._) Ah, surely that's singing! (_Listens._)
Ghosts haven't got a singing license. Hark! 'Tis somebody committing
vocal violence in my bedroom. (_Goes to door of bed-chamber, R., and
looks in._) Hey, there's a young fellow making himself quite at home
in my establishment. I am not aware I ever saw him before. What had I
better do? Go in and ask him what he wants? No; that might be
dangerous. 'Twill be safer in my present peculiar position to appear
as a stranger. Let me see. I have it--capital idea--the waiter from
the tavern with the supper--I think I could _do_ a waiter. It's only,
"Coming, sir, in _one_ minute--coming; two brandies and water, coming,
sir." (_He ties one of the supper napkins round his neck for a white
cravat, changes his coat for an old black one that hangs on the back
of a chair, while doing so he looks into the room now and again._)
There goes my Macassar oil and my Circassian cream. There, my eau de
cologne too, that cost me half-a-guinea a bottle. An impudent rascal!
D----n me, if he's not rummaging my drawers! That's free and easy at
all events. Come, I think I'm pretty well disguised now. (_Looks at
himself in the cheval-glass._) No; confound it, this face of mine will
never do--it might be known. I want a pair of whiskers to hide it.
Ecod, I've hit it again. This chair--(_takes knife from table and cuts
open the stuffed seat of the chair_)--there's enough hair in it to
whisker a regiment of Turks.
(_Pulls a handful of the hair out of the chair-seat, goes to the
chimney-glass and arranges it round his chin so as to look like a pair
of large whiskers._)
_Enter from room, R., MARY WHITE, still dressed as a young man, and
drying her hands with a towel._
MARY. (_Aside and laughing._) Heavens, what a figure.