PHONSIE:  And what prevented him?

MOE REISS:  (Sighs.) Alas, I lost him!

PHONSIE:  That was awful careless of you.  You oughtn’t to have took him out without his chain. (Sniffs.)

MOE REISS:  What’s the matter with your nose?

PHONSIE:  I have the glanders—­and the heaves.  I get all the horse diseases.  Father was a race track tout.

MOE REISS:  A race track tout?  What is your last name?

PHONSIE:  Dressuitcase, Alphonso Dressuitcase.

MOE REISS:  Dressuitcase?  And have you heavy shingle marks on your person, great blue welts?

PHONSIE:  You bet I have, and my popper put them there, too.

MOE REISS:  Why, it’s my boy, Phonsie, my little Phonsie.  Don’t you know me?  It’s popper. (Slams him in face hard with open hand.)

PHONSIE:  Well, your style is familiar, but you don’t need to show off!

GLADYS:  (Enters.  Carrying Growler carefully.) Moe!  Moe!  My husband!  (Buries face in can.)

MOE REISS:  Gladys!  Gladys!  My wife! (Takes can from GLADYS.)

PHONSIE:  (Comes between them.) Here, I want to have my fever reduced. (Back to bed.)

GLADYS:  Where have you been all these years, Moe?

MOE REISS:  Just bumming around, just bumming around.  When I deserted you and copped out Birdie Bedslatz, I went from bad to worse, from Jersey City to Hoboken. [1] When my senses returned, I was insane.

[1] Local.

GLADYS:  My poor husband, how you must have suffered!

MOE REISS:  At heart, I was always true to you and our little boy, and I want to come back home.

GLADYS:  But tell me, Moe, how are you fixed? (Tries to feel his vest pocket.)

MOE REISS:  Fine, I am running a swell gambling joint.

GLADYS:  Splendid!  Now, Phonsie shall have proper nourishment.

MOE REISS:  He shall have all the food he can eat. (Up to bed.)

GLADYS:  Yes, and all the beer he can drink.

MOE REISS:  Great heavens, I could never pay for that.

GLADYS:  Ah, then he will have to cut out his souse.  Dear little chap; he loved to get tanked up.  Oh look at him, Moe, he is the living image of you.  I think if he lives, he will be a great bull fighter. (PHONSIE has finished the beer, and is sucking at a nipple on large bottle marked “Pure Rye.”)

MOE REISS:  Then he does take after me—­dear little chap. (Hits him.)

GLADYS:  Indeed he does.  But is it safe for you to come here, Moe?

MOE REISS:  Not with Whitman [1] on my trail.  You know, Gladys, in the eyes of the world, I am guilty.

[1] Local District Attorney.

GLADYS:  Then the world lies. (Chord.  ALGERNON comes on from R. I and conducts and then Exits.) I still trust you, my husband, though the police want you for stealing moth balls. (Crash off.) What’s that? (Runs to door.) Oh, it’s the health department.  They have come with the garbage wagon to arrest you.  Quick, in there. (Points to door R.)