Poison: A Farce

Mother. The carriage will serve me in my sad errand. I have a floral tribute in this box to place upon the grave of the dear departed, a little more hot toast, Mary Jane, an anchor, expressive of hope and Christian resignation. It will be but a trifle among the many offerings. The Rev. Mr. Paddy never knew how many friends he had until he was dead (breaking another egg). Mary Jane. You're eating the last egg, mum. Mother. I grieve that there is no other egg, but this will suffice to support me through the trying ceremony. He was an eminent Christian, - he had three wives. (Bell rings.) Twitters (without, calling). Has that thundering shoemaker sent my new boots? Mary Jane (calling at door). Just come. sir. Mother. Cease this unseemly noise, girl (rising), summon the equipage. Mary Jane. The equipage, mum? I didn't see you come in no carriage. Mother. My limited earthly resources do not permit me to provide myself with such luxuries. I shall use one of your master's. My poor, dear, departed daughter, did not survive to enjoy his prosperity. I do. Mary Jane. But he wants the carriage to go to the train, mum. Mother. Trains go hourly. (Takes up a box. Exit.) Mary Jane (standing at window). Well, if the late Mrs. Twitters was like this mother of hers, it ain't no wonder that master's kind of fidgety like. There. - she's got hold of John, now, and she's stepping into the carriage that was going to take master to the train. And she's druv off! Oh, deary me. What vicious things elderly women can be. (Enter Twitters hastily.) Twitters (Looking at watch). I shall have a close shave for the 9-20 train, but I think I can manage it. Breakfast s ready of course, of course? Mary Jane, It was ready sir. Twitters (approaching table). Why, what on earth does this mean?