| Mr. Bumble and Mrs. Corney sit in the chamber. They exchnage loving words over spiked tea. |
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 | You're beautiful. | |
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| You are too kind. | |
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| He can'y live more than a week, the doctor says? | |
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| Oh? Mr. Scout? | |
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| Yes.“He is the master of this establishment; his death will cause a wacancy; that wacancy must be filled up. Oh, Mrs. Corney, what a prospect this opens! Mrs. Corey, will you marry me? | |
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| Ye—ye—yes! | |
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