_Will._ Yes I do!

_Peggy._ But why?

_Will._ Because that's the sort of story I'm writing! Come along
now. (_turns to papers. Bell rings again._) Oh, Lord!

_Peggy (opens door Left)._ What's this?

_The Policeman._ Good-day, mum.

_Peggy and Will._ Why--good-day.

_Policeman._ I come to see yez, mum. Yez have a mattress on yer
fire-escape, mum.

_Peggy._ Why--yes.

_Policeman._ It's agin the law mum, and yez could be got into
trooble. I got strict orders, mum--yez must have it in.

_Peggy._ Oh, very well. I didn't know.

_Policeman_ Yez kin see how 'tis, mum. If there'd be a fire--

_Peggy._ Oh, certainly, certainly. But you see, it's the only place
we have to put the little boy while we're writing.

_Policeman._ Oh, is that so? Well, now, that's too bad! Sure,
mum----well, 'tis on the back fire-escape the mattress is, an' I'd