Box. Besides, it was all Mrs. Bouncer's fault, sir. Cox. Very well, sir! [Pause.] Box. Take a bit of roll, sir? Cox. Thank ye, sir. [Breaking a bit off. Pause.} Cox. I sometimes join in a chorus. Box. Then give us a chorus. [Pause.] Have you seen the Bosjemans, sir? Cox. No, sir-my wife wouldn't let me. Box. Your wife! Cox. That is my intended wife. Box. Well, that's the same thing! I congratulate you! [Shaking hands.] Cox. [With a deep sigh.] Thank ye. [Seeing Box about to get up. You needn't disturb yourself, sir. She won't come here. Box. Oh! I understand. You've got a snug little establishment of your own here—on the sly-cunning dog -[Nudging Cox.] Cox. [Drawing himself up.] No such thing, sir--I repeat, sir-no such thing, sir, but my wife-I mean, my intended wife-happens to be the proprietor of a considerable number of bathing machines- Box. [Suddenly.] Ha! Where? [Grasping Cox's arm.] Cox. At a favorite watering-place. How curious you are! Box. Not at all. Well? Cox. Consequently, in the bathing season-which luckily is rather a long one-we see but little of each other; but as that is now over, I am daily indulging in the expectation of being blessed with the sight of my beloved. [Very seriously.] Are you married? Bor. Me? Why-not exactly! Box. No-not absolutely! Cox. You'll excuse me, sir-but, at present, I don't exactly understand how you can help being one of the three. Box. Not help it? Cox. No, sir-not you, nor any other man alive! Box. Ah, that may be-but I'm not alive! Cox. [Pushing back his chair.] You'll excuse me, sir— but I don't like joking upon such subjects. Box. I'm perfectly serious, sir. I've been defunct for the last three years! Cox. [Shouting.] Will you be quiet, sir? Box. If you won't believe me, I'll refer you to a very large, numerous, and respectable circle of disconsolate friends. Cor. My dear sir-my very dear sir-if there does exist any ingenious contrivance whereby a man on the eve of committing matrimony can leave this world, and yet stop in it, I shouldn't be sorry to know it. Box. Oh! then I presume I'm not to set you down as being frantically attached to your intended? Cox. Why, not exactly; and yet, at present, I'm only aware of one obstacle to my doating upon her, and that is, that I can't abide her! Box. Then there's nothing more easy. Do as I did. Cox. [Shouting again.] Will you be quiet, sir? Box. Listen to me. Three years ago it was my misfortune to captivate the affections of a still blooming, though somewhat middle-aged widow, at Ramsgate. Cox. [Aside.] Singular enough! Just my case three months ago at Margate. Box. Well, sir, to escape her'importunities, I came to the determination of enlisting into the Blues, or Life Guards. Cox. [Aside.] So did I. How very odd! Box. But they wouldn't have me-they actually had the effrontery to say that I was too short Cox. [Aside.] And I wasn't tall enough! Box. So I was obliged to content myself with a marching regiment-I enlisted! Cox. [Aside.] So did I. Singular coincidence! Box. I'd no sooner done so, than I was sorry for it. Cox. [Aside.] So was I. Bor. My infatuated widow offered to purchase my discharge, on condition that I'd lead her to the altar. Cox. [Aside.] Just my case! Box. I hesitated-at last I consented. Cox. Aside. I consented at once! scious of the absurdity of my personal appearance already. [Puts on his coat.] Now for my hat. [Puts on his hat, which comes over his eyes.] That's the effect of having one's hair cut. This hat fitted me quite tight before. Luckily I've got two or three more. [Gocs in at L., and returns, with three hats of different shapes, and puts them on, one after the other—all of which are too big for him.] This is pleasant! Never mind. This one appears to me to wabble about rather less than the others [Puts on hat,]-and now I'm off! By the bye, Mrs. Bouncer, I wish to call your attention to a fact that has been evident to me for some time past-and that is, that my coals go remarkably fast cer, Mrs. B. Lor, Mr. Cox! Cox. It is not only the case with the coals, Mrs. Bounbut I've lately observed a gradual and steady increase of evaporation among my candles, wood, sugar, and lucifer matches. Mrs. B. Lor, Mr. Cox! you surely don't suspect me? Cox. I don't say I do, Mrs. B.; only I wish you distinctly to understand, that I don't believe it's the cat. Mrs. B. Is there anything else you've got to grumble about, sir? Cox. Grumble ! Mrs. Bouncer, do you possess such a thing as a dictionary ? Mrs. B. No, sir. Cox, Then I'll lend you one-and if you turn to the letter G, you'll find "Grumble, verb neuter-to complain without a cause." Now that's not my case, Mrs. B., and now that we are upon the subject, I wish to know how it is that I frequently find my apartment full of smoke? Mrs. B. Why I suppose the chimney Cox. The chimney doesn't smoke tobacco. I'm speaking of tobacco smoke, Mrs. B. I hope, Mrs. Bouncer, you're not guilty of cheroots or Cubas? Mrs. B. Not I, indeed, Mr. Cox. Cox. Nor partial to a pipe? Mrs. B. No, sir. Cox. Then, how is it that Mrs. B. Why I suppose-yes-that must be itCox. At present I am entirely of your opinion-because I haven't the most distant particle of an idea what you mean. Mrs. B. Why the gentleman who has got the attics, is hardly ever without a pipe in his mouth-and there he sits, with his feet on the mantel-piece Cox. The mantel piece! That strikes me as being a considerable stretch, either of your imagination, Mrs. B., or the gentleman's legs. I presume you mean the fender or the hob. Well, Mrs. B. Sometimes one, sometimes t'other. there he sits for hours, and puffs away into the fire-place. Cox. Ah, then you mean to say, that this gentleman's smoke, instead of emulating the example of all other sorts of smoke, and going up the chimney, thinks proper to affect a singularity by taking the contrary direction? Mrs. B. Why Cox. Then, I suppose, the gentleman you are speaking of, is the same individual that I invariably meet coming up stairs when I'm going down,.and going down stairs when I'm coming up! Mrs. B. Why-yes—I— Cox. From the appearance of his outward man, I should unhesitatingly set him down as a gentleman connected with the printing interest. Mrs. B. Yes, sir-and a very respectable young gentleman he is. Cox. Well, good morning, Mrs. Bouncer! Mrs. B. You'll be back at your usual time, I suppose, sir ? Cox. Yes-nine o'clock. You needn't light my fire in future, Mrs. B.-I'll do it myself. Don't forget the bolster! [Going, stops.] A halfpenny worth of milk, Mrs. Bouncer-and be good enough to let it stand-I wish the cream to accumulate. [Exit at .. c. Mrs. B. He's gone at last! I declare 1 was all in a tremble for fear Mr. Box would come in before Mr. Cox went out. Luckily, they've never met yet-and what's more, they're not very likely to do so; for Mr. Box is hard at work at a newspaper office all night, and doesn't come home till the morning, and Mr. Cox is busy making hats all day long, and doesn't come home till night; so that I'm getting double rent for my room, and neither of my lodgers are any the wiser for it. It was a capitai idea of mine-that it was! But I haven't an instant to lose. First of all, let me put Mr. Cox's things out of Mr. Box's way. [She takes the three hats, Cox's dressing gown and slippers, opens door at L. and puts them in, then shuts door and locks it. Now, then, to put the key where Mr. Cox always finds it. [Puts the key on the ledge of the door, L.] I really must beg Mr. Box not to smoke so much. I was so dreadfully puzzled to know what to say when Mr. Cox spoke about it. Now, then, to make the bed—and don't let me forget that what's the head of the bed for Mr. Cox, becomes the foot of the bed for Mr. Box-people's tastes do differ so. [Goes behind the curtains of the bed, and seems to be making it—then appears with a very thin bolster in her hand. The idea of Mr. Cox presuming to complain of such a bolster as this! [She disappears again, behind curtains.] Box. [Without.] Pooh-pooh! Why don't you keep your own side of the staircase, sir? [Enters at back, dressed as a Printer. Puts his head out at door again, shouting.] It was as much your fault as mine, sir! I say, sirit was as much your fault as mine, sir! Mrs. B. [Emerging from behind the curtains of bed.] Lor, Mr. Box! what is the matter? Box. Mind your own business, Bouncer! Mrs. B. Dear, dear, Mr. Box! what a temper you are in, to be sure! I declare you're quite pale in the face! Box. What colour would you have a man be, who has been setting up long leaders for a daily paper all night? Mrs. B. But, then, you've all the day to yourself. Box. [Looking significantly at Mrs. Bouncer.] So it seems! Far be it from me, Bouncer, to hurry your movements, but I think it right to acquaint you with my immediate intention of divesting myself of my garments, and going to bed. Mrs. B. Oh, Mr. Box! [Going. Box. Stop! Can you inform me who the individual is that I invariably encounter going down stairs when I'm coming up, and coming up stairs when I'm going down? Mrs. B. [Confused.] Oh-yes-the gentleman in the attic, sir. Box. Oh! There's nothing particularly remarkable about him, except his hats. I meet him in all sorts of hats -white hats and black hats-hats with broad brims, and hats with narrow brims-hats with naps, and hats without naps-in short, I have come to the conclusion, that he |