_Jenny._ O, Miss Pease, I'm so glad Mrs. Gabble sent you those pickles, I'm so fond of them!

_Bessie._ Yes, Miss Pease; they're so nice!

_Sadie._ O, they're splendid! Do give us a taste.

_Miss P._ Stop, stop young ladies. While I cannot but be grateful to Mrs. Gabble for her kindness, I wish it had taken some other shape. I have long been of the opinion that pickles are unwholesome, and have never allowed them to be placed upon my table. And I am sure I should be disobeying the instructions I received from your parents--to provide you only wholesome food--did I permit you to taste them. For the present, I shall leave them here. (_Places pail on the table._) If you believe I have your interest at heart, you will not touch that which I have condemned. I know I can trust you. _Exit_, L.

_Bessie._ Well, I declare! The mean old thing!

_Jenny._ It's too bad! Nothing but blasted hopes in this world!

_Sadie._ Well, I don't care, I'm a going to have one of those pickles, if I die for it.

_Jenny._ Why, Sadie Bean, you don't mean it!

_Sadie._ Yes, I do. I know they _are_ wholesome, and my mother always allows me to eat them.

_Bessie._ I wouldn't touch one for the world. How impolite it would be, after Miss Pease has forbidden it!

_Sadie._ No; she didn't forbid it. She said, if we thought she had our interest at heart, we wouldn't touch the pail. Now I don't believe she has, when she wants to deprive us of such a luxury. I'm determined to have a pickle.

_Jenny._ You are wrong, Sadie, to think of such a thing. A Precious Pickle you'll make. (_Sits on sofa._)

_Bessie._ Nothing would tempt me. (_Sits on sofa._) How can you, Sadie?

_Sadie._ Pooh! Cowards! It's just as easy as croquet, when you make up your mind. (_Lifts cover, and takes out pickle._) A Precious Pickle.

I'll taste, Jenny. Ain't they beauties?

_Jenny._ Quick, quick, Sadie; somebody's coming!

_Sadie._ Dear me! (_Claps on cover, runs and sits on sofa between_ JENNY _and_ BESSIE.)

_Enter_ JUNO, L.

_Juno._ Bress my soul! dars Missis Gabble a runnin up de walk like all possessed. Speck her house afire, sure for sartin. _Exit_, R.

_Sadie._ (_Tasting pickle._) O, ain't it nice! Bessie, run and get one.

_Bessie._ No, indeed; I shall do no such thing.

_Jenny._ O, Sadie, I wouldn't believe you could do such a thing.

_Sadie._ O, pshaw! It's all envy; you know it is.

_Enter_ R., JUNO, _followed by_ MRS. GABBLE, _who wears a calico dress, has her sleeves rolled up, her ap.r.o.n thrown over her head, and has altogether the appearance of having just left the wash-tub._

_Mrs. G._ Yes, Juno, poor Mr. Brown has shuffled off this mortal--what's it's name? (_Looks_ _at girls._) O, how do you do? I don't know how much he's worth, but they do say--Why, Juno, you've got a new calico--Fine day, young ladies.--They do say--Well, there, I oughtn't to speak of it. Got your washing out, Juno? I've been all day at that tub; and--Where's Miss Pease? I can't stop a minute; so don't ask me to sit down. (_Sits in rocking-chair and rocks violently._)

_Juno._ Yes, Missy Gabble, Missy Pease to home. Send her right up, sure for sartin. Bress my soul, how that woman do go on, for sartin.

_Exit_, L.

_Mrs. G._ Ah, poor Mrs. Brown, with all them young ones. I wonder where my Sis is.

_Jenny._ I think she's in the kitchen, Mrs. Gabble.

_Mrs. G._ You don't say so? Stuffing herself, I'm sure. And poor Mr.

Brown lying dead in the next house--and there's my washing waiting for soap--and there's Mrs. Jones hasn't sent my ironing-board home; and mercy knows how I'm to get along without it.

_Enter_ MISS PEASE, L. _During the dialogue between_ MISS PEASE _and_ MRS. G., SADIE _slyly eats her pickle, offering it to_ JENNY _and_ BESSIE, _who at first shake their heads, afterwards taste; the pickle is pa.s.sed among them, and devoured before the conclusion of the conversation._

_Miss P._ Ah, Mrs. Gabble! I'm glad to see you. (_Takes chair and sits beside her._)

_Mrs. G._ And poor Brown is gone!

_Miss P._ Mr. Brown dead? This is sad news.

_Mrs. G._ I should think it was--and there's Skillet, the butcher, chopped off his thumb--and Miss Pearson fell down stairs and broke her china sugar-bowl--sp'ilt the whole set. As I told my husband, these expensive dishes never can be matched--and speaking of matches, Mrs.

Thorpe is going to get a divorce. Jest think of it! I met her going into Carter's shop this morning. She had on that pink muslin he gave her for a birthday present--Jenkins has got a new lot of them, only a shilling a yard--speaking of yards, old Cooper tumbled into that miserable well in his back yard this morning. They pulled him out--speaking of pulling, Miss Tibbet was in to the dentist's this morning for a new set of teeth, and--Have you seen my Sis?

_Miss P._ O, yes. She's in the kitchen with Juno. And, speaking of Sissy, reminds me that I must thank you for sending me--

_Mrs. G._ My pickles? Yes. Well, I'm glad you got 'em. But I didn't have a bit of good luck with 'em. And, speaking of pickles, O, Miss Pease, that villain, Smith, the grocer, has been taken up. He's going to be hung. Nothing can save him.

_Miss P._ Mr. Smith arrested! For what pray?

_Mrs. G._ P'isoning! Jest think of it! And he a deacon in the church, and has such a splendid span of horses, and such an elegant beach wagon. I declare, the last time he took us to the beach I nearly died eating soft-sh.e.l.led crabs; and my husband tumbled overboard, and Mr. Brown got sunstruck; and now he's gone! Dear me, dear me! And my washing ain't out yet.

_Miss P._ But tell me, Mrs. Gabble, what is it about the poisoning?

_Mrs. G._ Why, he or somebody else has been putting prussic acid in his vinegar, just at the time, too, when everybody's making pickles; and there's no end of the p'isoning he will have to answer for. Mrs.

Jewel's just sent for the doctor, and Mrs. Poor's been dreadful all day, and Dr. Baldtop's flying round from house to house; and, O, dear--there's my washing! Who'll be the next victim n.o.body knows, I'm sure.

_Sadie._ (_Jumping up._) O, dear! O, dear! Send for the doctor, quick!

I'm dying, I know I am. (_Runs across stage and sinks into chair_, R.)

_Miss P._ (_Running to her._) Bless me child, what ails you?

_Sadie._ I don't know; I can't tell. The doctor, quick!

_Mrs. G._ Deary me, she's took sudden, just for all the world like Susan Richie.

_Jenny._ (_Jumping up._) Water, water! Give me some water! I shall die if I don't have some water. (_Runs down and sinks into chair_, L.)

_Mrs. G._ (_Jumping up and running to her._) Gracious goodness! here's another! It's something dreadful, depend upon it. When folks is took sudden--

_Bessie._ (_Jumping up._) O, my throat! I'm burning up! Give me some ipecac. Quick, quick, quick! (_Runs round stage, then sinks into chair_, C.)

_Mrs. G._ There goes another! It's something dreadful, depend on it.