COLONEL LAWTON. [_Taking off his overshoes._] Gee Whillikins! What a day!
Good thing the old windmill out yonder is tied up. Great weather for
baptisms, Parson. [_There is a faint, far-away rumble of thunder._
FREDERIK _enters._] Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy--at the time you
mentioned.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. How are you, Frederik?

COLONEL LAWTON _crosses to the fire, followed by the_ REV. MR.
BATHOLOMMEY.

FREDERIK. [_Who has gone to the desk for a paper lying under a
paper-weight._] I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. I
only came across it yesterday. [_There is a louder peal of thunder. A
flash of lightning illuminates the room._

COLONEL LAWTON. I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman, but
he always tore 'em up. May I have a drink of his plum brandy, Frederik?

FREDERIK. Help yourself. Pastor?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Er--er--

COLONEL LAWTON _goes to the sideboard and pours out two drinks from a
decanter. A heavy roll of thunder now ends in a sharp thunderclap._ MRS.
BATHOLOMMEY, _who is entering the room, gives a cry and puts her hands
over her face._ COLONEL LAWTON _bolts his whiskey. The_ REV. MR.
BATHOLOMMEY _takes a glass and stands with it in his hand._

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Removing her hands in time to see the brandy._] Why,