Tramp. Some gentleman rolled it away over there. Your wife wasn’t here at the time.
Mr. Beetle. Where was she? Where is she?
Tramp. She went after him. She thought it was you. She kept shoutin’ for yer.
Mr. Beetle. I'm not asking about her. Where ’s my pile, I say?
Tramp. Gentleman rolled it away.
Mr. Beetle. Rolled it away? My pile? Gawd in ’eaven! Catch him. Catch him. Thief! Murder! All my little lot. All I’ve saved. They’ve killed me, they’ve done me in. Who cares about my wife? It ’s my pile they’ve taken. Help—stop thief! Murder!
Tramp. Ha, ha, ha!
Crikee! ’E don’t want pleasure
But jest to pile up treasure;
And when the old sly copper—
Death—come and nabs ’im proper,
’E’ll still be like a nigger
Sweatin’ to make it bigger,
Still ’eavin’ and still puffin’ . . .
And what ’s he gained? Why, nuffin’!
Mr. Cricket. (Off stage) Look out, darling—take care you don't stumble. Here we are—here we are. Oopsidaisy . This is where we live—this is our new little home. Careful—You haven’t hurt yourself, have you?
Enter Mr. and Mrs. Cricket.
Mrs. Cricket. No, Cricket, don’t be absurd.
Mr. Cricket. But darling, you must be careful—When you’re expecting—And now open the peephole—look—How do you like it?
Mrs. Cricket. Oh, darling, how tired I am!
C
