SCENE II.—_MRS. S. is seated, R., sewing. MR. S. enters, L.

MR. S. What vile odor is that I smell? What have you for dinner, Amanda?

MRS. S. (_complacently_). What you sent, of course.

MR. S. And that is—

MRS. S. Corned beef and cabbage.

MR. S. I knew it. I thought I could not be deceived. Such a villanous smell!

MRS. S. (_surprised_). Of course you knew it. Did you not send it to me this morning?

MR. S. (_excited_). Never! I sent you a pair of the plumpest wild-fowl to be found in the market. My mouth fairly watered for a taste of them as I entered the door, when I was saluted by the scent of that odious cabbage.

MRS. S. What do you suppose has become of them?

MR. S. (_indignantly_). Some other John Smith is doubtless regaling himself on them.

MRS. S. Wouldn’t it be a good plan to send Bridget to see?

MR. S. Yes, and let her go at once.

(_Exit MRS. S., R._)

MR. S. (_soliloquizing_). Some one asks, “What’s in a name?” If his name happened to be John Smith, he wouldn’t have to inquire. Why couldn’t my parents have called me Hezekiah, Ezekiel, or any other heathenish name rather than plain John? Then I should not have been victimized in this way.

(_Enter MRS. S., R., followed by a stranger._)

MRS. S. This gentleman wishes to see you, John.

STRANGER (_inquiringly_). Your name is Smith, sir? (_MR. S. nods._) _John_ Smith, I believe.

MR. S. That is my name, though I wish to goodness it wasn’t.

STR. No wonder, sir, no wonder. When I call on professional business, people almost always wish they were somebody else.

MR. S. And what is your business, if I may be allowed to inquire?

STR. Certainly you may, though there’s no doubt you’d soon learn it without inquiring. I am Sheriff Bailey, and I came to levy an execution on your furniture.

MR. S. And what is that for?

STR. Because it is not paid for. Messrs. Phillips & Hoffman sold you, some time since, a quantity of furniture amounting to two hundred and fifty dollars, which was to be paid for in thirty days. Here is the bill of it. (_Passes to MR. S._) This was three months ago, and though they have repeatedly sent letters calling your attention to it, no notice has been taken of them. Have you anything to say in regard to this matter?

MR. S. (_dryly_). I think I have. In the first place, I haven’t bought any furniture for a year. In the second place, I never heard of Messrs. Phillips & Hoffman, and therefore, of course, never bought anything from them (_sighing_). The fact is, sir, you’ve got hold of the wrong John Smith.

STR. You can’t come that dodge on me. The John Smith that I was looking for lived in Taylor’s Block, and as this is the place, you must be the man I am seeking.

MR. S. (_indignantly_). Do you doubt my word, sir? Let me inform you that there are two other John Smiths living in this block, as I know to my sorrow. Besides, if you’ll take the trouble to look at the furniture, you’ll see that it has been used a much longer time. I notice by the bill (_glancing at it_) that it was a suite of parlor furniture that was bought, and this is the only furniture of that description which we possess.

STR. (_looking around him_). This is not a new style of furniture, certainly. It is possible that I may be mistaken in the person. If so, I beg your pardon. I will make inquiries before proceeding further in this matter.

MR. S. (_with an injured air_). You need make no apologies, sir. I’m getting used to this sort of thing.

(_Exit SHERIFF, L., and enter BRIDGET, R._)

B. It was to number seven that the fowls went, sir.

MR. S. (_eagerly_). Did you bring them back with you?

B. No, sir, they’ve eaten ’em up. Ann McKay said Mrs. Smith thought somebody sent ’em as a present. But she told me privately that they had dinner an hour earlier than usual.

MR. S. A present indeed! They knew very well it was a mistake, and took occasion to eat their dinner earlier, in order to have a nice meal before the mistake could be rectified. Bridget, take the corned beef and cabbage over, and tell them we have no use for it. Then come back and open all the windows, and see if we cannot get rid of this intolerable smell.

MRS. S. But what are we to have for dinner?

MR. S. Boiled eggs—some of yesterday’s roast—or anything you may happen to have in the house. For my part, I haven’t any appetite now.

(_Exit BRIDGET, R. Curtain falls._)