Peggy (starts to door Left). I’ll see.

Bill (running past her). Let me see! (opens door) Oh, it’s Mr. Schmidt!

Peggy. Mr. Schmidt?

Bill. Our grocer.

Schmidt (appears in doorway of Real-play, wearing same costume). Good afternoon, lady.

Peggy. Oh, Mr. Schmidt.  Good afternoon, Mr. Schmidt.

Schmidt. I come to see ven you pay me dot bill, lady.

Peggy. I’m sorry, Mr. Schmidt, we haven’t the money yet.

Schmidt. But you told me you haf dot money soon!

Peggy. I know—­Mr. Schmidt—­

Schmidt. I got to haf dot money, lady!

Will. Can’t you see I’m working as hard as I can?

Schmidt. I dunno vot you do for vorking.  I dunno vy if you vork you don’t haf money to pay your grocer bills.

Will. Well, I know about my work better than you, I guess!—­

Peggy. Now, Will—­be quiet.  Listen, Mr. Schmidt—­we’ve had hard luck the last few days, but we’re honest people, and we won’t cheat you out of your money.

Schmidt. You don’t come by my place for some days, now, hey?

Peggy. We haven’t had money to buy anything, Mr. Schmidt.

Schmidt.—­Vot you do for food den—­hey?

Peggy. We had a little bread—­and those beans you gave us—­and the prunes.  We’ve been living on them.

Schmidt. But dem beans und prunes—­dey should be all gone now.

Peggy. We’ve been sparing.  There’s enough for to-morrow morning yet.

Schmidt. Hey?  Mein Gott!  Und vot you feed dot liddle boy, hey?

Peggy. We’re hoping for a check to-day—­or perhaps to-morrow.  My husband wrote a poem, and a magazine has just published it—­

Schmidt.  Poem, hey?  Vot dey pay for poems?

Peggy.  I don’t know.  Maybe twenty or thirty dollars.  And then we can pay your bill, and you’ll let us have some more beans.

Schmidt.  It is not right dot liddle boy should live on beans! (stands scratching his head) I dunno, lady, I dunno—­it is not right your husband should vork and not get paid.  I got mine own bills to pay—­und I don’t make no money by my store.  But you can’t feed dot liddle boy on beans und prunes.  You come to my place now, und I give you some pickles und some sauerkraut.

Peggy.  Oh, thank you, Mr. Schmidt!

Will (desperately).  We’ll truly pay you, Mr. Schmidt!

Peggy.  If my husband can’t sell his work, I’m going back on the stage.  I was an actress before I married.

Schmidt.  All right, lady, I trust you.  Good-bye, liddle boy.

Bill, Will, and Peggy.  Good-bye, Mr. Schmidt! (Schmidt exit.)

Peggy (turning to Will).  There now—­off in your local color!