) Eh!--I say,
Aleck, old boy! what will the Don say? eh? Ha, ha, ha! And
Jovita, that firebrand, how will she--hic--like it, eh? (Laughs
immoderately.)
Oakhurst. Hush! We will be overheard! The servants, sir!
Old Morton. Damn the servants! Don't I--hic--pay them wages--eh?
Oakhurst. Let me lead you to your own room. You are nervously
excited. A little rest, sir, will do you good. (Taking his arm.)
Old Morton. No shir, no shir, 'm nerrer goin' to bed any more.
Bed's bad habit!--hic--drunken habit. Lesh stay up all ni, Aleck!
You and me! Lesh nev'r--go--bed any more! Whar's whiskey--eh?
(Staggers to the table for decanter as OAKHURST seizes him,
struggle up stage, and then OLD MORTON, in struggle, falls
helplessly on sofa, in same attitude as SANDY was discovered.)
Enter SANDY cautiously from door L.
Sandy (to OAKHURST). Jack! Eh, Jack--
Oakhurst. Hush! Go! I will follow you in a moment. (Pushes him
back to door L.)
Sandy (catching sight of OLD MORTON). Hallo! What's up?
Oakhurst. Nothing. He was overtaken with a sudden faintness. He
will revive presently: go!
Sandy (hesitating). I say, Jack, he wasn't taken sick along o' me,
eh, Jack?
Oakhurst. No! No! But go (pushing him toward door).
Sandy. Hold on: I'm going. But, Jack, I've got a kind of
faintness yer, too. (Goes to side-table, and takes up decanter.)
And thar's nothing reaches that faintness like whiskey.
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