fall in de water now und should
say, "Rip, Rip! help me oud"--I should say, "Mrs. Van Winkle, I will
just go home and tink about it." Oh, no, Derrick; if Gretchen fall in de
water now she's got to swim, I told you dat--ha, ha, ha, ha! Hullo!
dat's her a-comin' now; I guess it's bedder I go oud! [_Exit_ RIP.

ACT II, SCENE I

CHARACTERS: Rip Van Winkle; Gretchen, his wife; Meenie, their
little daughter.

SCENE: The dimly lighted kitchen of Rip's cottage. Shortly after
his conversation with Von Beekman, Rip's wife catches him carousing
and dancing upon the village green. She drives him away in no very
gentle fashion, and he runs away from her only to carouse the more.
Returning home after nightfall in a decidedly muddled condition, he
puts his head through the open window at the rear, not observing
his irate wife, who stands in ambush behind the clothes-bars with
her ever-ready broomstick, to give him a warm reception, but seeing
only his little daughter Meenie, of whom he is very fond, and who
also loves him very tenderly.

RIP. Meenie! Meenie, my darlin'!

MEENIE. Hush-sh-h. [_Shaking finger, to indicate the presence of her
mother._]

RIP. Eh! what's de matter? I don'd see not'ing, my darlin'.

MEENIE. 'Sh-sh-sh!

RIP. Eh! what? Say, Meenie, is de ole wild cat home? [GRETCHEN _catches
him quickly by the hair_.] Oh, oh! say, is dat you, Gretchen? Say, dere,
my darlin', my angel, don'd do dat. Let go my head, won'd you? Well,
den, hold on to it so long what you like. [GRETCHEN _releases him_.]
Dere, now, look at dat, see what you done--you gone pull out a whole
handful of hair. What you want to do a ting like dat for? You must want
a bald-headed husband, don'd you?

GRETCHEN. Who was that you called a wild cat?

RIP. Who was dat I called a wild cat? Well, now, let me see, who was dat
I called a wild cat? Dat must 'a' been de same time I come in de winder
dere, wasn't it? Yes, I know, it was de same time. Well, now, let me
see. _[Suddenly.]_ It was de dog Schneider dat I call it.

GRETCHEN. The dog Schneider? That's a likely story.

RIP. Why, of course it is a likely story--ain't he my dog? Well, den, I
call him a wild cat just so much what I like, so dere now. [_Gretchen
begins to weep_.] Oh, well; dere, now, don'd you cry, don'd you cry,
Gretchen; you hear what I said? Lisden now. If you don'd cry, I nefer
drink anoder drop of liquor in my