Comrades. Baker George Melville

entered yonder city, five years ago.

      Simon. None of that, Mark. Don’t be shabby; helping hand, indeed, to a loft in the sixth story, a bed on a heap of rags, and dry bread washed down with water.

      Mar. Divided your substance with me. Sim, when I forget your kindness, may I be as hungry as I was then.

      Simon. Yes; but, Mark —

      Mar. Hush. Here comes Miss Bess.

      Simon. Then I’ll just step outside (going).

      Mar (detaining him). Not a step.

(Enter Bess, R. I. E.)

      Bess. Nancy will be here in a minute. Mr. —

      Mar (coming down L., leading Simon, the right hands clasped). Bess, Miss Bradley, allow me to present a very dear friend, – Mr. Simon Stone, my chum.

      Bess. Indeed (offering her hand). Mr. Stone, you are very welcome here.

       Simon (takes hand). Ah – yes; thank you. Thank you – very kind (goes L.). Chums. Chums, – before her, too. There’s nothing shabby about that.

      Mar. We’ll leave you, Simon, to your friend; but don’t go until I’ve seen you again.

      Bess. Oh, no. You must stop to dinner.

(Bess and Marcus exeunt, C., arm in arm.)

       Simon. Yes, thank you, much obliged. Well, now, that’s hearty; pretty as a picture, and he, there’s nothing shabby about him. Now, for Nancy. Won’t her eyes glisten when she sees me in this stunning get-up. I never did care for dress, but when I made up my mind to look after Nancy again, I said to myself, “Simon, don’t be shabby; do the thing in style;” and here I am, bran’ new from top to toe, from shampoo to shining leather, but with the same old heart inside of me, advancing double-shuffle to the tune of “Nancy is my darling.”

(Enter Nancy, R. I. E.)

      Nancy. Now, I’d like to know who – Good gracious! it’s Simon Stone.

      Simon. Nancy, it is. Simon, your Simon. How dye do (offers hand).

      Nancy. Well, I declare! rigged out like a dancing-jack. You extravagant dog!

      Simon (turning round). Gay, ain’t it. Cut to order by an artist, (turns round); look at the “elegance of expression” in the back of that coat, and the tout ensemble of these pantaloons. That’s what he called ’em, and I know they’re there, for I paid for ’em. Nothing shabby about me.