SCENE I.—_Office of a hotel. Table, C. LANDLORD present, R. C.

Enter DEACON ROBINSON, L._

LANDLORD. Good-evening, deacon.

DEA. ROBINSON. Good-evening. I’ve come down from Morristown to ’tend the convention. I may be here two or three days. Can you give me a room?

L. (_suavely_). Oh, yes, certainly; a nice room, too. Will you order supper before going up stairs?

DEA. R. Supper! No, indeed! It’s nine o’clock, and I’m going to bed. Besides, I took supper afore I left home.

L. But you’ll register your name, first? (_Passes pen to him._)

DEA. R. (_takes from his pocket a tin case, which he opens, takes therefrom a pair of spectacles, which he adjusts upon his nose_). Wal, yes, I hain’t no objection. (_Writes._)

L. Here, John, take this lamp and show the gentleman up to Number 33.

JOHN. Yes, sir. (_Takes lamp and goes out, followed by the DEACON._)

(_Enter CHARLES HERBERT FITZ HOWARD, L._)

FITZ HOWARD. Aw—I say—aw—can you give me a good room?

L. Yes sir, directly. But, beg pardon, sir; perhaps you’d like some supper first?

F. H. Aw—yes, but I’ll go to my room first—aw, and make my toilet—remove the dust and travel—aw.

L. Your name, sir! (_Offers pen._)

F. H. Aw—yes—I had forgotten. (_Looking at pen—tries it._) What a deuced poor pen! (_Enter JOHN, R._)

L. Here is another. (_Offers it._)

F. H. (_takes it; gazes at book before him_). Deacon Jonathan Robinson—aw. What a name! Not much like the next one. (_Writes._) Charles Herbert Fitz Howard—aw.

J. Ain’t he a swell, though?

L. (_in a warning tone_). John.

J. Yes, sir.

L. Show this gentleman up to number 35.

J. Yes, sir. (_To FITZ HOWARD._) This way, sir.

(_Exeunt, R. Curtain falls._)