You
_must_ hurry.
HOST (_from above, just as front door opens, admitting_ Baron von
Gosheimer _and two women guests_)--Where the devil are my shirts?
HOSTESS (_unconscious of arrivals_)--Under the bed in my room. Hurry!
(HOST, _in bath gown and slippers, dashes madly into wife's room, and
dives under bed as women guests enter. Unable to escape, he crawls
farther beneath bed. His feet remain visible. Women guests discover
them._)
GUESTS (_in chorus_)--Burglars! burglars! Help! help!
(Baron von Gosheimer, _ascending to the next floor, hears them and
hastens to the rescue._)
BARON--Don't be alarmed, ladies. Has either of you a poker? No? That is
to be deplored. (_Catches_ Host _by heels and drags him out. Tableau._)
HOSTESS (to Poor Relative, _giving an extra tug at her gloves_)--There,
it's all burst out on the side! That stupid saleslady said she knew they
would be too small. Oh, dear, I'm that upset! And these Louis Quinze
slippers are just murdering me. I wish it were all over.
(_Enter_ Baron von Gosheimer _and women guests._)
HOSTESS--Dear baron, how good of you! I was just saying, if you didn't
come I should wish my musicale in Jericho.
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