_Enter_ GRACE POOL, _with a piece of cake and a pint of porter, followed by_ JOHN, R. H.
_John._ Come now, Mrs. Grace, I’ll tell you what it is. I ain’t a-going to stand your capers. I never was in a family yet that I wasn’t made acquainted with the secrets thereof; here have I been three live-long weeks, and I don’t know nothing yet; it’s disgraceful.
_Grace._ Very!
_John._ There’s a mysterious mystery hanging about the place somewhere, and I’m blessed if I don’t find it out.
_Grace._ Do!
_John._ I will, you may take your davy. Won’t you tell me?
_Grace._ No!
_John._ Then I must depend upon my natural genius to find it out. There was a jolly rumpus last night; who is it laughs in that awful manner every now and then?
_Grace._ Me.
_John._ You? pooh! don’t tell me.
_Grace._ I won’t.
_John._ There’s something a-going on in this house that isn’t right, and a fellow-servant as won’t confide in a fellow-servant don’t deserve to belong to our honourable profession. How can we stand up for our masters and missises unless we knows their little imperfections? it keeps them in order, and makes wages a deal more reg’lar. I know a thing or two. You don’t know what I am.
_Grace._ I do!
_John._ What am I; now let’s know.
_Grace._ A fool!
_John._ Am I? then there’s a pair of us; but never mind. I won’t be beholden to you. The master will be home soon, and while there’s key-holes in the world, and ears ain’t scarce, there ain’t a master in the world can keep a secret from a servant as is determined to find it out; that you may take your oath of. Don’t keep on a-munching of that cake as if you really thought you were hurting it and it did you good to bite so savagely. The new governess will be here to-day, then your nose will be out of joint, thank fortune.
_Grace._ Will it?
_John._ Won’t it?
_Grace._ No!
_John._ Then you’re pretty certain of _your_ situation whatever may come into the house!
_Grace._ Yes!
_John._ Now then, I know there’s a something.
_Grace._ Indeed!
_John._ Yes, and if I don’t come at it I’m a Dutchman.
_Grace._ Don’t try.
_John._ None of your gammon. You want to frighten me. Why do you always eat in your own room? or walking about like a hungry ghost, and not amongst us as you ought to. But I know a way to penetrate the mystery.
_Grace._ How?
_John._ This way. (_Opens door, scream heard._)
_Grace._ Stop!
_John._ (_Frightened._) I saw it! oh, lord! it’s true! I heard so.
_Grace._ What?
_John._ That the house was haunted. Grace, what was that fearful-looking thing?
_Grace._ Nothing!
_John._ Didn’t you hear a scream?
_Grace._ No!
_John._ I’ll take my oath I saw something.
_Grace._ Fool!
_John._ You’re not a-going in?
_Grace._ Yes!
_John._ Don’t! don’t!
_Grace._ Go!
[_Exit through door in flat_, L. H.
_John._ I will; my eyes could not have deceived me, and my ears, too. Here’s a beautifully-awful mystery, a ghost in the house; there’s something delightfully frightful in having one’s feelings harrowed up and agitated all ways at once. I’ve a great mind to peep, just to see if I was right. Pooh! don’t be a coward, heart. I declare I’m goose-fleshing all over; my hair is getting wiry, and my knees wretchedly rheumatic. Pooh! here goes!
(_Approaches door, a wild laugh heard, he bolts precipitately, falls on his knees._ GRACE _enters with dress, touches him on the shoulder_.)
_John._ Oh! don’t; have pity, good ghost. I’ll never be curious again! I won’t! I won’t!
_Grace._ Don’t!
_John._ Is it you? Oh, good gracious! what a coward I am! Oh! there’s a good soul, tell me what I saw in the room.
_Grace._ (_Holding up dress._) Look!
_John._ Nothing but a white dress. Hurrah! Pleasant as it is to be mysteriously terrified, it’s much more agreeable to be _not_. Oh! I could, I really could, very nearly, be induced to embrace you. Indeed, my own feelings have undergone such a complete upsetting that I do believe I could almost kiss you.
_Grace._ Fool!
_John._ You’re right, of the long-eardest description, but I’m cured. I’ll never dive into secret mysteries again.
[_Exit_, R. H., _Grace through door_.