Title: The Wolves and the Lamb
Author: Thackeray, William Makepeace, 1811-1863
Language: English
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THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB


By William Makepeace Thackeray



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

     MR. HORACE MILLIKEN, a Widower, a wealthy City Merchant.
     GEORGE MILLIKEN, a Child, his Son.
     CAPTAIN TOUCHIT, his Friend.
     CLARENCE KICKLEBURY, brother to Milliken's late Wife.
     JOHN HOWELL, M's Butler and confidential Servant.
     CHARLES PAGE, Foot-boy.
     BULKELEY, Lady Kicklebury's Servant.
     MR. BONNINGTON.
     Coachman, Cabman; a Bluecoat Boy, another Boy (Mrs. Prior's Sons).

     LADY KICKLEBURY, Mother-in-law to Milliken.
     MRS. BONNINGTON, Milliken's Mother (married again).
     MRS. PRIOR.
     MISS PRIOR, her Daughter, Governess to Milliken's Children.
     ARABELLA MILLIKEN, a Child.
     MARY BARLOW, School-room Maid.
     A grown-up Girl and Child of Mrs. Prior's, Lady K.'s Maid, Cook.



THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB.



ACT I.


Scene.--MILLIKEN'S villa at Richmond; two drawing-rooms opening into
one another. The late MRS. MILLIKEN'S portrait over the mantel-piece;
bookcases, writing-tables, piano, newspapers, a handsomely furnished
saloon. The back-room opens, with very large windows, on the lawn and
pleasure-ground; gate, and wall--over which the heads of a cab and a
carriage are seen, as persons arrive. Fruit, and a ladder on the walls.
A door to the dining-room, another to the sleeping-apartments, &c.


JOHN.--Everybody out; governor in the city; governess (heigh-ho!)
walking in the Park with the children; ladyship gone out in the
carriage. Let's sit down and have a look at the papers. Buttons fetch
the Morning Post out of Lady Kicklebury's room. Where's the Daily News,
sir?

PAGE.--Think it's in Milliken's room.

JOHN.--Milliken! you scoundrel! What do you mean by Milliken? Speak of
your employer as your governor if you like; but not as simple Milliken.
Confound your impudence! you'll be calling me Howell next.

PAGE.--Well! I didn't know. YOU call him Milliken.

JOHN.--Because I know him, because I'm intimate with him, because
there's not a secret he has but I may have it for the asking; because
the letters addressed to Horace Milliken, Esq., might as well be
addressed John Howell, Esq., for I read 'em, I put 'em away and docket
'em, and remember 'em. I know his affairs better than he does: his
income to a shilling, pay his tradesmen, wear his coats if I like. I
may call Mr. Milliken what I please; but not YOU, you little scamp of a
clod-hopping ploughboy. Know your station and do your business, or you
don't wear THEM buttons long, I promise you. [Exit Page.]

Let me go on with the paper [reads]. How brilliant this writing is!
Times, Chronicle, Daily News, they're all good, blest if they ain't. How
much better the nine leaders in them three daily papers is, than nine
speeches in the House of Commons! Take a very best speech in the 'Ouse
now, and compare it with an article in The Times! I say, the newspaper
has the best of it for philosophy, for wit, novelty, good sense too. And
the party that writes the leading article is nobody, and the chap that
speaks in the House of Commons is a hero. Lord, Lord, how the world
is 'umbugged! Pop'lar representation! what IS pop'lar representation?
Dammy, it's a farce. Hallo! this article is stole! I remember a passage
in Montesquieu uncommonly like it. [Goes and gets the book. As he is
standing upon sofa to get it, and sitting down to read it, MISS PRIOR
and the Children have come in at the garden. Children pass across stage.
MISS PRIOR enters by open window, bringing flowers into the room.]

JOHN.--It IS like it. [He slaps the book, and seeing MISS PRIOR who
enters, then jumps up from sofa, saying very respectfully,]

JOHN.--I beg your pardon, Miss.

MISS P.--[sarcastically.] Do I disturb you, Howell?

JOHN.--Disturb! I have no right to say--a servant has no right to be
disturbed, but I hope I may be pardoned for venturing to look at
a volume in the libery, Miss, just in reference to a newspaper
harticle--that's all, Miss.

MISS P.--You are very fortunate in finding anything to interest you in
the paper, I'm sure.

JOHN.--Perhaps, Miss, you are not accustomed to political discussion,
and ignorant of--ah--I beg your pardon: a servant, I know, has no right
to speak. [Exit into dining-room, making a low bow.]

MISS PRIOR.--The coolness of some people is really quite extraordinary!
the airs they give themselves, the way in which they answer one, the
books they read! Montesquieu: "Esprit des Lois!" [takes book up which
J. has left on sofa.] I believe the man has actually taken this from the
shelf. I am sure Mr. Milliken, or her ladyship, never would. The other
day "Helvetius" was found in Mr. Howell's pantry, forsooth! It is
wonderful how he picked up French whilst we were abroad. "Esprit des
Lois!" what is it? it must be dreadfully stupid. And as for reading
"Helvetius" (who, I suppose, was a Roman general), I really can't
understand how--Dear, dear! what airs these persons give themselves!
What will come next? A footman--I beg Mr. Howell's pardon--a butler
and confidential valet lolls on the drawing-room sofa, and reads
Montesquieu! Impudence! And add to this, he follows me for the last two
or three months with eyes that are quite horrid. What can the creature
mean? But I forgot--I am only a governess. A governess is not a lady--a
governess is but a servant--a governess is to work and walk all day with
the children, dine in the school-room, and come to the drawing-room to
play the man of the house to sleep. A governess is a domestic, only her
place is not the servants' hall, and she is paid not quite so well as
the butler who serves her her glass of wine. Odious! George! Arabella!
there are those little wretches quarrelling again! [Exit. Children are
heard calling out, and seen quarrelling in garden.]

JOHN [re-entering].--See where she moves! grace is in all her steps.
'Eaven in her high--no--a-heaven in her heye, in every gesture dignity
and love--ah, I wish I could say it! I wish you may procure it, poor
fool! She passes by me--she tr-r-amples on me. Here's the chair she sets
in [kisses it.] Here's the piano she plays on. Pretty keys, them fingers
out-hivories you! When she plays on it, I stand and listen at the
drawing-room door, and my heart thr-obs in time! Fool, fool, fool! why
did you look on her, John Howell! why did you beat for her, busy heart!
You were tranquil till you knew her! I thought I could have been a-happy
with Mary till then. That girl's affection soothed me. Her conversation
didn't amuse me much, her ideers ain't exactly elevated, but they are
just and proper. Her attentions pleased me. She ever kep' the best cup
of tea for me. She crisped my buttered toast, or mixed my quiet tumbler
for me, as I sat of hevenings and read my newspaper in the kitching. She
respected the sanctaty of my pantry. When I was a-studying there, she
never interrupted me. She darned my stockings for me, she starched and
folded my chokers, and she sowed on the habsent buttons of which time
and chance had bereft my linning. She has a good heart, Mary has. I know
she'd get up and black the boots for me of the coldest winter mornings.
She did when we was in humbler life, she did.

Enter MARY.

You have a good heart, Mary!

MARY.--Have I, dear John? [sadly.]

JOHN.--Yes, child--yes. I think a better never beat in woman's bosom.
You're good to everybody--good to your parents whom you send half your
wages to: good to your employers whom you never robbed of a halfpenny.

MARY [whimpering].--Yes, I did, John. I took the jelly when you were in
bed with the influenza; and brought you the pork-wine negus.

JOHN.--Port, not pork, child. Pork is the hanimal which Jews ab'or. Port
is from Oporto in Portugal.

MARY [still crying].--Yes, John; you know everything a'most, John.

JOHN.--And you, poor child, but little! It's not heart you want, you
little trump, it's education, Mary: it's information: it's head, head,
head! You can't learn. You never can learn. Your ideers ain't no good.
You never can hinterchange em with mine. Conversation between us is
impossible. It's not your fault. Some people are born clever; some are
born tall, I ain't tall.

MARY.--Ho! you're big enough for me, John. [Offers to take his hand.]

JOHN.--Let go my 'and--my a-hand, Mary! I say, some people are born with
brains, and some with big figures. Look at that great ass, Bulkeley,
Lady K.'s man--the besotted, stupid beast! He's as big as a
life-guardsman, but he ain't no more education nor ideers than the ox he
feeds on.

MARY.--Law, John, whatever do you mean?

JOHN.--Hm! you know not, little one! you never can know. Have YOU ever
felt the pangs of imprisoned genius? have YOU ever felt what 'tis to be
a slave?

MARY.--Not in a free country, I should hope, John Howell--no such a
thing. A place is a place, and I know mine, and am content with the
spear of life in which it pleases heaven to place me, John: and I wish
you were, and remembered what we learned from our parson when we went
to school together in dear old Pigeoncot, John--when you used to help
little Mary with her lessons, John, and fought Bob Brown, the big
butcher's boy, because he was rude to me, John, and he gave you that
black hi.

JOHN.--Say eye, Mary, not heye [gently].

MARY.--Eye; and I thought you never looked better in all your life
than you did then: and we both took service at Squire Milliken's--me as
dairy-girl, and you as knife-boy; and good masters have they been to
us from our youth hup: both old Squire Milliken and Mr. Charles as is
master now, and poor Mrs. as is dead, though she had her tantrums--and I
thought we should save up and take the "Milliken Arms"--and now we have
saved up--and now, now, now--oh, you are a stone, a stone, a stone!
and I wish you were hung round my neck, and I were put down the well!
There's the hup-stairs bell. [She starts, changing her manner as she
hears the bell, and exit.]

JOHN [looking after her].--It's all true. Gospel-true. We were children
in the same village--sat on the same form at school. And it was for her
sake that Bob Brown the butcher's boy whopped me. A black eye! I'm not
handsome. But if I were ugly, ugly as the Saracen's 'Ead, ugly as that
beast Bulkeley, I know it would be all the same to Mary. SHE has never
forgot the boy she loved, that brought birds'-nests for her, and
spent his halfpenny on cherries, and bought a fairing with his first
half-crown--a brooch it was, I remember, of two billing doves a-hopping
on one twig, and brought it home for little yellow-haired, blue-eyed,
red-cheeked Mary. Lord, Lord! I don't like to think how I've kissed 'em,
the pretty cheeks! they've got quite pale now with crying--and she has
never once reproached me, not once, the trump, the little tr-rump!

Is it my fault [stamping] that Fate has separated us? Why did my young
master take me up to Oxford, and give me the run of his libery and the
society of the best scouts in the University? Why did he take me abroad?
Why have I been to Italy, France, Jummany with him--their manners noted
and their realms surveyed, by jingo! I've improved myself, and Mary has
remained as you was. I try a conversation, and she can't respond. She's
never got a word of poetry beyond Watt's Ims, and if I talk of Byron or
Moore to her, I'm blest if she knows anything more about 'em than the
cook, who is as hignorant as a pig, or that beast Bulkeley, Lady Kick's
footman. Above all, why, why did I see the woman upon whom my
wretched heart is fixed for ever, and who carries away my soul with
her--prostrate, I say, prostrate, through the mud at the skirts of her
gownd! Enslaver! why did I ever come near you? O enchantress Kelipso!
how you have got hold of me! It was Fate, Fate, Fate. When Mrs. Milliken
fell ill of scarlet fever at Naples, Milliken was away at Petersborough,
Rooshia, looking after his property. Her foring woman fled. Me and the
governess remained and nursed her and the children. We nursed the little
ones out of the fever. We buried their mother. We brought the children
home over Halp and Happenine. I nursed 'em all three. I tended 'em all
three, the orphans, and the lovely gu-gu-governess. At Rome, where she
took ill, I waited on her; as we went to Florence, had we been attacked
by twenty thousand brigands, this little arm had courage for them all!
And if I loved thee, Julia, was I wrong? and if I basked in thy beauty
day and night, Julia, am I not a man? and if, before this Peri, this
enchantress, this gazelle, I forgot poor little Mary Barlow, how could I
help it? I say, how the doose could I help it?

Enter Lady KICKLEBURY, BULKELEY following with parcels and a spaniel.

LADY K.--Are the children and the governess come home?

JOHN.--Yes, my lady [in a perfectly altered tone].

LADY K.--Bulkeley, take those parcels to my sitting-room.

JOHN.--Get up, old stoopid. Push along, old daddylonglegs [aside to
BULKELEY].

LADY K.--Does any one dine here to-day, Howell?

JOHN.--Captain Touchit, my lady.

LADY K.--He's always dining here.

JOHN.--My master's oldest friend.

LADY K.--Don't tell me. He comes from his club. He smells of smoke; he
is a low, vulgar person. Send Pinhorn up to me when you go down stairs.
[Exit Lady K.]

JOHN.--I know. Send Pinhorn to me, means, Send my bonny brown hair, and
send my beautiful complexion, and send my figure--and, O Lord! O Lord!
what an old tigress that is! What an old Hector! How she do twist
Milliken round her thumb! He's born to be bullied by women: and I
remember him henpecked--let's see, ever since--ever since the time of
that little gloveress at Woodstock, whose picter poor Mrs. M. made such
a noise about when she found it in the lumber-room. Heh! HER picture
will be going into the lumber-room some day. M. must marry to get rid
of his mother-in-law and mother over him: no man can stand it, not M.
himself, who's a Job of a man. Isn't he, look at him! [As he has been
speaking, the bell has rung, the Page has run to the garden-door, and
MILLIKEN enters through the garden, laden with a hamper, band-box, and
cricket-bat.]

MILLIKEN.--Why was the carriage not sent for me, Howell? There was no
cab at the station, and I have had to toil all the way up the hill with
these confounded parcels of my lady's.

JOHN.--I suppose the shower took off all the cabs, sir. When DID a man
ever git a cab in a shower?--or a policeman at a pinch--or a friend when
you wanted him--or anything at the right time, sir?

MILLIKEN.--But, sir, why didn't the carriage come, I say?

JOHN.--YOU know.

MILLIKEN.--How do you mean I know? confound your impudence!

JOHN.--Lady Kicklebury took it--your mother-in-law took it--went out
a-visiting--Ham Common, Petersham, Twick'nam--doose knows where. She,
and her footman, and her span'l dog.

MILLIKEN.--Well, sir, suppose her ladyship DID take the carriage? Hasn't
she a perfect right? And if the carriage was gone, I want to know, John,
why the devil the pony-chaise wasn't sent with the groom? Am I to bring
a bonnet-box and a hamper of fish in my own hands, I should like to
know?

JOHN.--Heh! [laughs.]

MILLIKEN.--Why do you grin, you Cheshire cat?

JOHN.--Your mother-in-law had the carriage; and your mother sent for
the pony-chaise. Your Pa wanted to go and see the Wicar of Putney. Mr.
Bonnington don't like walking when he can ride.

MILLIKEN.--And why shouldn't Mr. Bonnington ride, sir, as long as
there's a carriage in my stable? Mr. Bonnington has had the gout, sir!
Mr. Bonnington is a clergyman, and married to my mother. He has EVERY
title to my respect.

JOHN.--And to your pony-chaise--yes, sir.

MILLIKEN.--And to everything he likes in this house, sir.

JOHN.--What a good fellow you are, sir! You'd give your head off your
shoulders, that you would. Is the fish for dinner to-day? Band-box
for my lady, I suppose, sir? [Looks in]--Turban, feathers, bugles,
marabouts, spangles--doose knows what. Yes, it's for her ladyship.
[To Page.] Charles, take this band-box to her ladyship's maid. [To his
master.] What sauce would you like with the turbot? Lobster sauce
or Hollandaise? Hollandaise is best--most wholesome for you. Anybody
besides Captain Touchit coming to dinner?

MILLIKEN.--No one that I know of.

JOHN.--Very good. Bring up a bottle of the brown hock? He likes the
brown hock, Touchit does. [Exit JOHN.]

Enter Children. They run to MILLIKEN.

BOTH.--How d'you do, Papa! How do you do, Papa!

MILLIKEN.--Kiss your old father, Arabella. Come here, George--What?

GEORGE.--Don't care for kissing--kissing's for gals. Have you brought me
that bat from London?

MILLIKEN.--Yes. Here's the bat; and here's the ball [takes one from
pocket]--and--

GEORGE.--Where's the wickets, Papa. O-o-o--where's the wickets? [howls.]

MILLIKEN.--My dear, darling boy! I left them at the office. What a silly
papa I was to forget them! Parkins forgot them.

GEORGE.--Then turn him away, I say! Turn him away! [He stamps.]

MILLIKEN.--What! an old, faithful clerk and servant of your father and
grandfather for thirty years past? An old man, who loves us all, and has
nothing but our pay to live on?

ARABELLA.--Oh, you naughty boy!

GEORGE.--I ain't a naughty boy.

ARABELLA.--You are a naughty boy.

GEORGE.--He! he! he! he! [Grins at her.]

MILLIKEN.--Hush, children! Here, Arabella darling, here is a book for
you. Look--aren't they pretty pictures?

ARABELLA.--Is it a story, Papa? I don't care for stories in general.
I like something instructive and serious. Grandmamma Bonnington and
grandpapa say--

GEORGE.--He's NOT your grandpapa.

ARABELLA.--He IS my grandpapa.

GEORGE.--Oh, you great story! Look! look! there's a cab. [Runs out.
The head of a Hansom cab is seen over the garden-gate. Bell rings. Page
comes. Altercation between Cabman and Captain TOUCHIT appears to go on,
during which]

MILLIKEN.--Come and kiss your old father, Arabella. He's hungry for
kisses.

ARABELLA.--Don't. I want to go and look at the cab; and to tell Captain
Touchit that he mustn't use naughty words. [Runs towards garden. Page is
seen carrying a carpet-bag.]

Enter TOUCHIT through the open window smoking a cigar.

TOUCHIT.--How d'ye do, Milliken? How are tallows, hey, my noble
merchant? I have brought my bag, and intend to sleep--

GEORGE.--I say, godpapa--

TOUCHIT.--Well, godson!

GEORGE.--Give us a cigar!

TOUCHIT.--Oh, you enfant terrible!

MILLIKEN [wheezily].--Ah--ahem--George Touchit! you wouldn't
mind--a--smoking that cigar in the garden, would you? Ah--ah!

TOUCHIT.--Hullo! What's in the wind now? You used to be a most
inveterate smoker, Horace.

MILLIKEN.--The fact is--my mother-in-law--Lady Kicklebury--doesn't like
it, and while she's with us, you know--

TOUCHIT.--Of course, of course [throws away cigar]. I beg her ladyship's
pardon. I remember when you were courting her daughter she used not to
mind it.

MILLIKEN.--Don't--don't allude to those times. [He looks up at his
wife's picture.]

GEORGE.--My mamma was a Kicklebury. The Kickleburys are the oldest
family in all the world. My name is George Kicklebury Milliken, of
Pigeoncot, Hants; the Grove, Richmond, Surrey; and Portland Place,
London, Esquire--my name is.

TOUCHIT.--You have forgotten Billiter Street, hemp and tallow merchant.

GEORGE.--Oh, bother! I don't care about that. I shall leave that when
I'm a man: when I'm a man and come into my property.

MILLIKEN.--You come into your property?

GEORGE.--I shall, you know, when you're dead, Papa. I shall have this
house, and Pigeoncot; and the house in town--no, I don't mind about the
house in town--and I shan't let Bella live with me--no, I won't.

BELLA.--No; I won't live with YOU. And I'LL have Pigeoncot.

GEORGE.--You shan't have Pigeoncot. I'll have it: and the ponies: and I
won't let you ride them--and the dogs, and you shan't have even a
puppy to play with and the dairy and won't I have as much cream as I
like--that's all!

TOUCHIT.--What a darling boy! Your children are brought up beautifully,
Milliken. It's quite delightful to see them together.

GEORGE.--And I shall sink the name of Milliken, I shall.

MILLIKEN.--Sink the name? why, George?

GEORGE.--Because the Millikens are nobodies--grandmamma says they are
nobodies. The Kickleburys are gentlemen, and came over with William the
Conqueror.

BELLA.--I know when that was. One thousand one hundred and one thousand
one hundred and onety-one!

GEORGE.--Bother when they came over! But I know this, when I come into
the property I shall sink the name of Milliken.

MILLIKEN.--So you are ashamed of your father's name, are you, George, my
boy?

GEORGE.--Ashamed! No, I ain't ashamed. Only Kicklebury is sweller. I
know it is. Grandmamma says so.

BELLA.--MY grandmamma does not say so. MY dear grandmamma says that
family pride is sinful, and all belongs to this wicked world; and that
in a very few years what our names are will not matter.

GEORGE.--Yes, she says so because her father kept a shop; and so did
Pa's father keep a sort of shop--only Pa's a gentleman now.

TOUCHIT.--Darling child! How I wish I were married! If I had such a dear
boy as you, George, do you know what I would give him?

GEORGE [quite pleased].--What would you give him, god-papa?

TOUCHIT.--I would give him as sound a flogging as ever boy had, my
darling. I would whip this nonsense out of him. I would send him to
school, where I would pray that he might be well thrashed: and if
when he came home he was still ashamed of his father, I would put him
apprentice to a chimney-sweep--that's what I would do.

GEORGE.--I'm glad you're not my father, that's all.

BELLA.--And I'M glad you're not my father, because you are a wicked man!

MILLIKEN.--Arabella!

BELLA.--Grandmamma says so. He is a worldly man, and the world is
wicked. And he goes to the play: and he smokes, and he says--

TOUCHIT.--Bella, what do I say?

BELLA.--Oh, something dreadful! You know you do! I heard you say it to
the cabman.

TOUCHIT.--So I did, so I did! He asked me fifteen shillings from
Piccadilly, and I told him to go to--to somebody whose name begins with
a D.

CHILDREN.--Here's another carriage passing.

BELLA.--The Lady Rumble's carriage.

GEORGE.--No, it ain't: it's Captain Boxer's carriage [they run into the
garden].

TOUCHIT.--And this is the pass to which you have brought yourself,
Horace Milliken! Why, in your wife's time, it was better than this, my
poor fellow!

MILLIKEN.--Don't speak of her in THAT way, George Touchit!

TOUCHIT.--What have I said? I am only regretting her loss for our sake.
She tyrannized over you; turned your friends out of doors; took your
name out of your clubs; dragged you about from party to party, though
you can no more dance than a bear, and from opera to opera, though you
don't know "God Save the Queen" from "Rule Britannia." You don't, sir;
you know you don't. But Arabella was better than her mother, who has
taken possession of you since your widowhood.

MILLIKEN.--My dear fellow! no, she hasn't. There's MY mother.

TOUCHIT.--Yes, to be sure, there's Mrs. Bonnington, and they quarrel
over you like the two ladies over the baby before King Solomon.

MILLIKEN.--Play the satirist, my good friend! laugh at my weakness!

TOUCHIT.--I know you to be as plucky a fellow as ever stepped, Milliken,
when a man's in the case. I know you and I stood up to each other for an
hour and a half at Westminster.

MILLIKEN.--Thank you! We were both dragons of war! tremendous champions!
Perhaps I am a little soft as regards women. I know my weakness well
enough; but in my case what is my remedy? Put yourself in my position.
Be a widower with two young children. What is more natural than that
the mother of my poor wife should come and superintend my family? My own
mother can't. She has a half-dozen of little half brothers and sisters,
and a husband of her own to attend to. I dare say Mr. Bonnington and my
mother will come to dinner to-day.

TOUCHIT.--Of course they will, my poor old Milliken, you don't dare to
dine without them.

MILLIKEN.--Don't go on in that manner, George Touchit! Why should not my
step-father and my mother dine with me? I can afford it. I am a domestic
man and like to see my relations about me. I am in the city all day.

TOUCHIT.--Luckily for you.

MILLIKEN.--And my pleasure of an evening is to sit under my own vine and
under my own fig-tree with my own olive-branches round about me; to sit
by my fire with my children at my knees: to coze over a snug bottle of
claret after dinner with a friend like you to share it; to see the young
folks at the breakfast-table of a morning, and to kiss them and so off
to business with a cheerful heart. This was my scheme in marrying, had
it pleased heaven to prosper my plan. When I was a boy and came from
school and college, I used to see Mr. Bonnington, my father-in-law, with
HIS young ones clustering round about him, so happy to be with him! so
eager to wait on him! all down on their little knees round my mother
before breakfast or jumping up on his after dinner. It was who should
reach his hat, and who should bring his coat, and who should fetch his
umbrella, and who should get the last kiss.

TOUCHIT.--What? didn't he kiss YOU? Oh, the hard-hearted old ogre!

MILLIKEN.--DON'T, Touchit! Don't laugh at Mr. Bonnington! he is as good
a fellow as ever breathed. Between you and me, as my half brothers and
sisters increased and multiplied year after year, I used to feel rather
lonely, rather bowled out, you understand. But I saw them so happy that
I longed to have a home of my own. When my mother proposed Arabella for
me (for she and Lady Kicklebury were immense friends at one time), I was
glad enough to give up clubs and bachelorhood, and to settle down as a
married man. My mother acted for the best. My poor wife's character,
my mother used to say, changed after marriage. I was not as happy as I
hoped to be; but I tried for it. George, I am not so comfortable now as
I might be. A house without a mistress, with two mothers-in-law reigning
over it--one worldly and aristocratic, another what you call serious,
though she don't mind a rubber of whist: I give you my honor my mother
plays a game at whist, and an uncommonly good game too--each woman
dragging over a child to her side: of course such a family cannot be
comfortable. [Bell rings.] There's the first dinner-bell. Go and dress,
for heaven's sake.

TOUCHIT.--Why dress? There is no company!

MILLIKEN.--Why? ah! her ladyship likes it, you see. And it costs nothing
to humor her. Quick, for she don't like to be kept waiting.

TOUCHIT.--Horace Milliken! what a pity it is the law declares a widower
shall not marry his wife's mother! She would marry you else,--she would,
on my word.

Enter JOHN.

JOHN.--I have took the Captain's things in the blue room, sir. [Exeunt
gentlemen, JOHN arranges tables, &c.]

Ha! Mrs. Prior! I ain't partial to Mrs. Prior. I think she's an artful
old dodger, Mrs. Prior. I think there's mystery in her unfathomable
pockets, and schemes in the folds of her umbrella. But--but she's
Julia's mother, and for the beloved one's sake I am civil to her.

MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you Charles [to the Page, who has been seen to let
her in at the garden-gate], I am so much obliged to you! Good afternoon,
Mr. Howell. Is my daughter--are the darling children well? Oh, I am
quite tired and weary! Three horrid omnibuses were full, and I have had
to walk the whole weary long way. Ah, times are changed with me, Mr.
Howell. Once when I was young and strong, I had my husband's carriage to
ride in.

JOHN [aside].--His carriage! his coal-wagon! I know well enough who old
Prior was. A merchant? yes, a pretty merchant! kep' a lodging-house,
share in a barge, touting for orders, and at last a snug little place in
the Gazette.

MRS. PRIOR.--How is your cough, Mr. Howell? I have brought you some
lozenges for it [takes numberless articles from her pocket], and if
you would take them of a night and morning--oh, indeed, you would get
better! The late Sir Henry Halford recommended them to Mr. Prior. He
was his late Majesty's physician and ours. You know we have seen happier
times, Mr. Howell. Oh, I am quite tired and faint.

JOHN.--Will you take anything before the school-room tea, ma'am? You
will stop to tea, I hope, with Miss Prior, and our young folks?

MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you: a little glass of wine when one is so faint--a
little crumb of biscuit when one is so old and tired! I have not been
accustomed to want, you know; and in my poor dear Mr. Prior's time--

JOHN.--I'll fetch some wine, ma'am. [Exit to the dining-room.]

MRS. PRIOR.--Bless the man, how abrupt he is in his manner! He quite
shocks a poor lady who has been used to better days. What's here?
Invitations--ho! Bills for Lady Kicklebury! THEY are not paid. Where is
Mr. M. going to dine, I wonder? Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson, Sir John and
Lady Tomkinson, request the pleasure. Request the pleasure! Of course
they do. They are always asking Mr. M. to dinner. They have daughters
to marry, and Mr. M. is a widower with three thousand a year, every
shilling of it. I must tell Lady Kicklebury. He must never go to these
places--never, never--mustn't be allowed. [While talking, she opens all
the letters on the table, rummages the portfolio and writing-box, looks
at cards on mantelpiece, work in work-basket, tries tea-box, and shows
the greatest activity and curiosity.]

Re-enter John, bearing a tray with cakes, a decanter, &c.

Thank you, thank you, Mr. Howell! Oh, oh, dear me, not so much as that!
Half a glass, and ONE biscuit, please. What elegant sherry! [sips a
little, and puts down glass on tray]. Do you know, I remember in better
days, Mr. Howell, when my poor dear husband--

JOHN.--Beg your pardon. There's Milliken's bell, going like mad. [Exit
John.]

MRS. PRIOR.--What an abrupt person! Oh, but it's comfortable, this wine
is! And--and I think how my poor Charlotte would like a little--she so
weak, and ordered wine by the medical man! And when dear Adolphus comes
home from Christ's Hospital, quite tired, poor boy, and hungry, wouldn't
a bit of nice cake do him good! Adolphus is so fond of plum-cake, the
darling child! And so is Frederick, little saucy rogue; and I'll give
them MY piece, and keep my glass of wine for my dear delicate angel
Shatty! [Takes bottle and paper out of her pocket, cuts off a great
slice of cake, and pours wine from wine-glass and decanter into bottle.]

Enter PAGE.

PAGE.--Master George and Miss Bella is going to have their teas down
here with Miss Prior, Mrs. Prior, and she's up in the school-room, and
my lady says you may stay to tea.

MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you, Charles! How tall you grow! Those trousers would
fit my darling Frederick to a nicety. Thank you, Charles. I know the way
to the nursery. [Exit Mrs. P.]

PAGE.--Know the way! I believe she DO know the way. Been a having cake
and wine. Howell always gives her cake and wine--jolly cake, ain't it!
and wine, oh, my!

Re-enter John.

JOHN.--You young gormandizing cormorant! What! five meals a day ain't
enough for you! What? beer ain't good enough for you, hey? [Pulls boy's
ears.]

PAGE [crying].--Oh, oh, do-o-n't, Mr. Howell. I only took half a glass,
upon my honor.

JOHN.--Your a-honor, you lying young vagabond! I wonder the ground don't
open and swallow you. Half a glass! [holds up decanter.] You've took
half a bottle, you young Ananias! Mark this, sir! When I was a boy,
a boy on my promotion, a child kindly took in from charity-school, a
horphan in buttons like you, I never lied; no, nor never stole, and
you've done both, you little scoundrel. Don't tell ME, sir! there's
plums on your coat, crumbs on your cheek, and you smell sherry, sir! I
ain't time to whop you now, but come to my pantry to-night after you've
took the tray down. Come without your jacket on, sir, and then I'll
teach you what it is to lie and steal. There's the outer bell. Scud, you
vagabond!

Enter LADY K.

LADY K.--What was that noise, pray?

JOHN.--A difference between me and young Page, my lady. I was
instructing him to keep his hands from picking and stealing. I was
learning him his lesson, my lady, and he was a-crying it out.

LADY K.--It seems to me you are most unkind to that boy, Howell. He is
my boy, sir. He comes from my estate. I will not have him ill-used. I
think you presume on your long services. I shall speak to my son-in-law
about you. ["Yes, my lady; no, my lady; very good, my lady." John has
answered each sentence as she is speaking, and exit gravely bowing.]
That man must quit the house. Horace says he can't do without him, but
he must do without him. My poor dear Arabella was fond of him, but he
presumes on that defunct angel's partiality. Horace says this person
keeps all his accounts, sorts all his letters, manages all his affairs,
may be trusted with untold gold, and rescued little George out of
the fire. Now I have come to live with my son-in-law, I will keep his
accounts, sort his letters, and take charge of his money: and if little
Georgy gets into the grate, I will take him out of the fire. What is
here? Invitation from Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson. Invitation from Sir
John and Lady Tomkinson, who don't even ask me! Monstrous! he never
shall go--he shall not go! [MRS. PRIOR has re-entered, she drops a very
low curtsy to Lady K., as the latter, perceiving her, lays the cards
down.]

MRS. PRIOR.--Ah, dear madam! how kind your ladyship's message was to the
poor lonely widow woman! Oh, how thoughtful it was of your ladyship to
ask me to stay to tea!

LADY K.--With your daughter and the children? Indeed, my good Mrs.
Prior, you are very welcome!

MRS. PRIOR.--Ah! but isn't it a cause of thankfulness to be MADE
welcome? Oughtn't I to be grateful for these blessings?--yes, I say
BLESSINGS. And I am--I am, Lady Kicklebury--to the mother--of--that
angel who is gone [points to the picture]. It was your sainted daughter
left us--left my child to the care of Mr. Milliken, and--and you, who
are now his guardian angel I may say. You ARE, Lady Kicklebury--you
are. I say to my girl, Julia, Lady Kicklebury is Mr. Milliken's guardian
angel, is YOUR guardian angel--for without you could she keep her place
as governess to these darling children? It would tear her heart in two
to leave them, and yet she would be forced to do so. You know that some
one--shall I hesitate to say whom I MEAN--that Mr. Milliken's mother,
excellent lady though she is, does not love my child because YOU love
her. You DO love her, Lady Kicklebury, and oh! a mother's fond heart
pays you back! But for you, my poor Julia must go--go, and leave the
children whom a dying angel confided to her!

LADY K.--Go! no, never! not whilst I am in this house, Mrs. Prior. Your
daughter is a well-behaved young woman: you have confided to me her long
engagement to Lieutenant--Lieutenant What-d'you-call'im, in the Indian
service. She has been very, very good to my grandchildren--she brought
them over from Naples when my--my angel of an Arabella died there, and I
will protect Miss Prior.

MRS. PRIOR.--Bless you, bless you, noble, admirable woman! Don't take it
away! I must, I WILL kiss your dear, generous hand! Take a mother's, a
widow's blessings, Lady Kicklebury--the blessings of one who has known
misfortune and seen better days, and thanks heaven--yes, heaven!--for
the protectors she has found!

LADY K.--You said--you had--several children, I think, my good Mrs.
Prior?

MRS. PRIOR.--Three boys--one, my eldest blessing, is in a
wine-merchant's office--ah, if Mr. Milliken WOULD but give him an order!
an order from THIS house! an order from Lady Kicklebury's son-in-law!--

LADY K.--It shall be done, my good Prior--we will see.

MRS. PRIOR.--Another, Adolphus, dear fellow! is in Christ's Hospital.
It was dear, good Mr. Milliken's nomination. Frederick is at Merchant
Taylor's: my darling Julia pays his schooling. Besides, I have two
girls--Amelia, quite a little toddles, just the size, though not so
beautiful--but in a mother's eyes all children are lovely, dear Lady
Kicklebury--just the size of your dear granddaughter, whose clothes
would fit her, I am sure. And my second, Charlotte, a girl as tall as
your ladyship, though not with so fine a figure. "Ah, no, Shatty!" I say
to her, "you are as tall as our dear patroness, Lady Kicklebury, whom
you long so to see; but you have not got her ladyship's carriage and
figure, child." Five children have I, left fatherless and penniless by
my poor dear husband--but heaven takes care of the widow and orphan,
madam--and heaven's BEST CREATURES feed them!--YOU know whom I mean.

LADY K.--Should you not like, would you object to take--a frock or two
of little Arabella's to your child? and if Pinhorn, my maid, will let
me, Mrs. Prior, I will see if I cannot find something against winter for
your second daughter, as you say we are of a size.

MRS. PRIOR.--The widow's and orphans' blessings upon you! I said
my Charlotte was as tall, but I never said she had such a figure as
yours--who has?

CHARLES announces--

CHARLES.--Mrs. Bonnington! [Enter MRS. BONNINGTON.]

MRS. B.--How do you do, Lady Kicklebury?

LADY K.--My dear Mrs. Bonnington! and you come to dinner of course?

MRS. B.--To dine with my own son, I may take the liberty. How are my
grandchildren? my darling little Emily, is she well, Mrs. Prior?

LADY K. [aside].--Emily? why does she not call the child by her blessed
mother's name of Arabella? [To MRS. B.] ARABELLA is quite well, Mrs.
Bonnington. Mr. Squillings said it was nothing; only her grandmamma
Bonnington spoiling her, as usual. Mr. Bonnington and all your numerous
young folk are well, I hope?

MRS. B.--My family are all in perfect health, I thank you. Is Horace
come home from the city?

LADY K.--Goodness! there's the dinner-bell,--I must run to dress.

MRS. PRIOR.--Shall I come with you, dear Lady Kicklebury?

LADY K.--Not for worlds, my good Mrs. Prior. [Exit Lady K.]

MRS. PRIOR.--How do you do, my DEAR madam? Is dear Mr. Bonnington QUITE
well? What a sweet, sweet sermon he gave us last Sunday. I often say
to my girl, I must not go to hear Mr. Bonnington, I really must not, he
makes me cry so. Oh! he is a great and gifted man, and shall I not have
one glimpse of him?

MRS. B.--Saturday evening, my good Mrs. Prior. Don't you know that my
husband never goes out on Saturday, having his sermon to compose?

MRS. P.--Oh, those dear, dear sermons! Do you know, madam, that my
little Adolphus, for whom your son's bounty procured his place at
Christ's Hospital, was very much touched indeed, the dear child, with
Mr. Bonnington's discourse last Sunday three weeks, and refused to play
marbles afterwards at school? The wicked, naughty boys beat the poor
child; but Adolphus has his consolation! Is Master Edward well, ma'am,
and Master Robert, and Master Frederick, and dear little funny Master
William?

MRS. B.--Thank you, Mrs. Prior; you have a good heart, indeed!

MRS. P.--Ah, what blessings those dears are to you! I wish your dearest
little GRANDSON---

MRS. B.--The little naughty wretch! Do you know, Mrs. Prior, my
grandson, George Milliken, spilt the ink over my dear husband's bands,
which he keeps in his great dictionary; and fought with my child,
Frederick, who is three years older than George--actually beat his own
uncle!

MRS. P.--Gracious mercy! Master Frederick was not hurt, I hope?

MRS. B.--No; he cried a great deal; and then Robert came up, and that
graceless little George took a stick; and then my husband came out, and
do you know George Milliken actually kicked Mr. Bonnington on his shins,
and butted him like a little naughty ram?

MRS. P.--Mercy! mercy! what a little rebel! He is spoiled, dear madam,
and you know by WHOM.

MRS. B.--By his grandmamma Kicklebury. I know it. I want my son to whip
that child, but he refuses. He will come to no good; that child.

MRS. P.--Ah, madam, don't say so! Let us hope for the best. Master
George's high temper will subside when certain persons who pet him are
gone away.

MRS. B.--Gone away! they never will go away! No, mark my words, Mrs.
Prior, that woman will never go away. She has made the house her own:
she commands everything and everybody in it. She has driven me--me--Mr.
Milliken's own mother--almost out of it. She has so annoyed my dear
husband, that Mr. Bonnington will scarcely come here. Is she not always
sneering at private tutors, because Mr. Bonnington was my son's private
tutor, and greatly valued by the late Mr. Milliken? Is she not making
constant allusions to old women marrying young men, because Mr.
Bonnington happens to be younger than me? I have no words to express my
indignation respecting Lady Kicklebury. She never pays any one, and
runs up debts in the whole town. Her man Bulkeley's conduct in the
neighborhood is quite--quite--

MRS. P.--Gracious goodness, ma'am, you don't say so! And then what an
appetite the gormandizing monster has! Mary tells me that what he eats
in the servants' hall is something perfectly frightful.

MRS. B.--Everybody feeds on my poor son! You are looking at my cap, Mrs.
Prior? [During this time MRS. PRIOR has been peering into a parcel which
MRS. BONNINGTON brought in her hand.] I brought it with me across the
Park. I could not walk through the Park in my cap. Isn't it a pretty
ribbon, Mrs. Prior?

MRS. P.--Beautiful! beautiful? How blue becomes you! Who would think you
were the mother of Mr. Milliken and seven other darling children? You
can afford what Lady Kicklebury cannot.

MRS. B.--And what is that, Prior? A poor clergyman's wife, with a large
family, cannot afford much.

MRS. P.--He! he! You can afford to be seen as you are, which Lady K.
cannot. Did you not remark how afraid she seemed lest I should enter her
dressing-room? Only Pinhorn, her maid, goes there, to arrange the
roses, and the lilies, and the figure--he! he! Oh, what a sweet, sweet
cap-ribbon! When you have worn it, and are tired of it, you will give it
me, won't you? It will be good enough for poor old Martha Prior!

MRS. B.--Do you really like it? Call at Greenwood Place, Mrs. Prior, the
next time you pay Richmond a visit, and bring your little girl with you,
and we will see.

MRS. P.--Oh, thank you! thank you! Nay, don't be offended! I must! I
must! [Kisses MRS. BONNINGTON.]

MRS. B.--There, there! We must not stay chattering! The bell has rung. I
must go and put the cap on, Mrs. Prior.

MRS. P.--And I may come too? YOU are not afraid of my seeing your hair,
dear Mrs. Bonnington! Mr. Bonnington too young for YOU! Why, you don't
look twenty!

MRS. B.--Oh, Mrs. Prior!

MRS. P.--Well, five-and-twenty, upon my word--not more than
five-and-twenty--and that is the very prime of life. [Exeunt Mrs. B. and
Mrs. P., hand in hand. As Captain TOUCHIT enters, dressed for dinner, he
bows and passes on.]

TOUCHIT.--So, we are to wear our white cravats, and our varnished boots,
and dine in ceremony. What is the use of a man being a widower, if he
can't dine in his shooting-jacket? Poor Mill! He has the slavery now
without the wife. [He speaks sarcastically to the picture.] Well, well!
Mrs. Milliken! YOU, at any rate, are gone; and with the utmost respect
for you, I like your picture even better than the original. Miss Prior!

Enter Miss PRIOR.

MISS PRIOR.--I beg pardon. I thought you were gone to dinner. I heard
the second bell some time since. [She is drawing back.]

TOUCHIT.--Stop! I say, Julia! [She returns, he looks at her, takes her
hand.] Why do you dress yourself in this odd poky way? You used to be
a very smartly dressed girl. Why do you hide your hair, and wear such a
dowdy, high gown, Julia?

JULIA.--You mustn't call me Julia, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--Why? when I lived in your mother's lodging, I called you
Julia. When you brought up the tea, you didn't mind being called Julia.
When we used to go to the play with the tickets the Editor gave us, who
lived on the second floor--

JULIA.--The wretch!--don't speak of him!

TOUCHIT.--Ah! I am afraid he was a sad deceiver, that Editor. He was
a very clever fellow. What droll songs he used to sing! What a heap of
play-tickets, diorama-tickets, concert-tickets, he used to give you! Did
he touch your heart, Julia?

JULIA.--Fiddlededee! No man ever touched my heart, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--What! not even Tom Flight, who had the second floor after the
Editor left it--and who cried so bitterly at the idea of going out to
India without you? You had a tendre for him--a little passion--you know
you had. Why, even the ladies here know it. Mrs. Bonnington told me that
you were waiting for a sweetheart in India to whom you were engaged; and
Lady Kicklebury thinks you are dying in love for the absent swain.

JULIA.--I hope--I hope--you did not contradict them, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--Why not, my dear?

JULIA.--May I be frank with you? You were a kind, very kind friend to
us--to me, in my youth.

TOUCHIT.--I paid my lodgings regularly, and my bills without asking
questions. I never weighed the tea in the caddy, or counted the lumps of
sugar, or heeded the rapid consumption of my liqueur--

JULIA.--Hush, hush! I know they were taken. I know you were very good to
us. You helped my poor papa out of many a difficulty.

TOUCHIT [aside].--Tipsy old coal-merchant! I did, and he helped himself
too.

JULIA.--And you were always our best friend, Captain Touchit. When our
misfortunes came, you got me this situation with Mrs. Milliken--and,
and--don't you see?--

TOUCHIT.--Well--what?

JULIA [laughing].--I think it is best, under the circumstances, that the
ladies here should suppose I am engaged to be married--or or, they might
be--might be jealous, you understand. Women are sometimes jealous of
others,--especially mothers and mothers-in-law.

TOUCHIT.--Oh, you arch schemer! And it is for that you cover up that
beautiful hair of yours, and wear that demure cap?

JULIA [slyly].--I am subject to rheumatism in the head, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--It is for that you put on the spectacles, and make yourself
look a hundred years old?

JULIA.--My eyes are weak, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--Weak with weeping for Tom Flight. You hypocrite! Show me your
eyes!

MISS P.--Nonsense!

TOUCHIT.--Show me your eyes, I say, or I'll tell about Tom Flight and
that he has been married at Madras these two years.

MISS P.--Oh, you horrid man! [takes glasses off.] There.

TOUCHIT.--Translucent orbs! beams of flashing light! lovely lashes
veiling celestial brightness! No, they haven't cried much for Tom
Flight, that faithless captain! nor for Lawrence O'Reilly, that killing
Editor. It is lucky you keep the glasses on them, or they would transfix
Horace Milliken, my friend the widower here. DO you always wear them
when you are alone with him?

MISS P.--I never AM alone with him. Bless me! If Lady Kicklebury thought
my eyes were--well, well--you know what I mean,--if she thought her
son-in-law looked at me, I should be turned out of doors the next day,
I am sure I should. And then, poor Mr. Milliken! he never looks at
ME--heaven help him! Why, he can't see me for her ladyship's nose and
awful caps and ribbons! He sits and looks at the portrait yonder, and
sighs so. He thinks that he is lost in grief for his wife at this very
moment.

TOUCHIT.--What a woman that was--eh, Julia--that departed angel! What a
temper she had before her departure!

MISS P.--But the wind was tempered to the lamb. If she was angry--the
lamb was so very lamblike, and meek, and fleecy.

TOUCHIT.--And what a desperate flirt the departed angel was! I knew
half a dozen fellows, before her marriage, whom she threw over, because
Milliken was so rich.

MISS P.--She was consistent at least, and did not change after marriage,
as some ladies do; but flirted, as you call it, just as much as before.
At Paris, young Mr. Verney, the attache, was never out of the house:
at Rome, Mr. Beard, the artist, was always drawing pictures of her:
at Naples, when poor Mr. M. went away to look after his affairs at St.
Petersburg, little Count Posilippo was for ever coming to learn English
and practise duets. She scarcely ever saw the poor children--[changing
her manner as Lady KICKLEBURY enters] Hush--my lady!

TOUCHIT.--You may well say, "poor children," deprived of such a woman!
Miss Prior, whom I knew in very early days--as your ladyship knows--was
speaking--was speaking of the loss our poor friend sustained.

LADY K.--Ah, sir, what a loss! [looking at the picture.]

TOUCHIT.--What a woman she was--what a superior creature!

LADY K.--A creature--an angel!

TOUCHIT.--Mercy upon us! how she and my lady used to quarrel! [aside.]
What a temper!

LADY K.--Hm--oh, yes--what a temper [rather doubtfully at first].

TOUCHIT.--What a loss to Milliken and the darling children!

MISS PRIOR.--Luckily they have YOU with them madam.

LADY K.--And I will stay with them, Miss Prior; I will stay with them! I
will never part from Horace, I am determined.

MISS P.--Ah! I am very glad you stay, for if I had not YOU for a
protector, I think you know I must go, Lady Kicklebury. I think you
know there are those who would forget my attachment to these darling
children, my services to--to her--and dismiss the poor governess. But
while you stay I can stay, dear Lady Kicklebury! With you to defend me
from jealousy I need not QUITE be afraid.

LADY K.--Of Mrs. Bonnington? Of Mr. Milliken's mother; of the parson's
wife who writes out his stupid sermons, and has half a dozen children of
her own? I should think NOT indeed! I am the natural protector of these
children. I am their mother. I have no husband! You STAY in this house,
Miss Prior. You are a faithful, attached creature--though you were sent
in by somebody I don't like very much [pointing to TOUCHIT, who went off
laughing when JULIA began her speech, and is now looking at prints, &c.,
in next room].

MISS P.--Captain Touchit may not be in all things what one could wish.
But his kindness has formed the happiness of my life in making me
acquainted with YOU, ma'am: and I am sure you would not have me be
ungrateful to him.

LADY K.--A most highly principled young woman. [Goes out in garden and
walks up and down with Captain TOUCHIT.]

Enter Mrs. BONNINGTON.

MISS P.--Oh, how glad I am you are come, Mrs. Bonnington. Have you
brought me that pretty hymn you promised me? You always keep your
promises, even to poor governesses. I read dear Mr. Bonnington's sermon!
It was so interesting that I really could not think of going to sleep
until I had read it all through; it was delightful, but oh! it's still
better when he preaches it! I hope I did not do wrong in copying a part
of it? I wish to impress it on the children. There are some worldly
influences at work with them, dear madam [looking at Lady K. in the
garden], which I do my feeble effort to--to modify. I wish YOU could
come oftener.

MRS. B.--I will try, my dear--I will try. Emily has sweet dispositions.

MISS P.--Ah, she takes after her grandmamma Bonnington!

MRS. B.--But George was sadly fractious just now in the school-room
because I tried him with a tract.

MISS P.--Let us hope for better times! Do be with your children, dear
Mrs. Bonnington, as constantly as ever you can, for MY sake as well as
theirs! I want protection and advice as well as they do. The GOVERNESS,
dear lady, looks up to you as well as the pupils; SHE wants the teaching
which you and dear Mr. Bonnington can give her! Ah, why could not Mr.
and Mrs. Bonnington come and live here, I often think? The children
would have companions in their dear young uncles and aunts; so pleasant
it would be. The house is quite large enough; that is, if her ladyship
did not occupy the three south rooms in the left wing. Ah, why, WHY
couldn't you come?

MRS. B.--You are a kind, affectionate creature, Miss Prior. I do not
very much like the gentleman who recommended you to Arabella, you know.
But I do think he sent my son a good governess for his children.

Two Ladies walk up and down in front garden.

TOUCHIT enters.

TOUCHIT.--Miss Julia Prior, you are a wonder! I watch you with respect
and surprise.

MISS P.--Me! what have I done? a poor friendless governess--respect ME?

TOUCHIT.--I have a mind to tell those two ladies what I think of Miss
Julia Prior. If they knew you as I know you, O Julia Prior, what a short
reign yours would be!

MISS P.--I have to manage them a little. Each separately it is not so
difficult. But when they are together, oh, it is very hard sometimes.

Enter MILLIKEN dressed, shakes hands with Miss P.

MILLIKEN.--Miss Prior! are you well? Have the children been good? and
learned all their lessons?

MISS P.--The children are pretty good, sir.

MILLIKEN.--Well, that's a great deal as times go. Do not bother them
with too much learning, Miss Prior. Let them have an easy life. Time
enough for trouble when age comes.

Enter John.

JOHN.--Dinner, sir. [And exit.]

MILLIKEN.--Dinner, ladies. My Lady Kicklebury (gives arm to Lady K).

LADY K.--My dear Horace, you SHOULDN'T shake hands with Miss Prior. You
should keep people of that class at a distance, my dear creature. [They
go in to dinner, Captain TOUCHIT following with Mrs. BONNINGTON. As they
go out, enter MARY with children's tea-tray, &c., children following,
and after them Mrs. PRIOR. MARY gives her tea.]

MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you, Mary! You are so very kind! Oh, what delicious
tea!

GEORGY.--I say, Mrs. Prior, I dare say you would like to dine best,
wouldn't you?

MRS. P.--Bless you, my darling love, I had my dinner at one o'clock with
my children at home.

GEORGY.--So had we: but we go in to dessert very often; and then don't
we have cakes and oranges and candied-peel and macaroons and things! We
are not to go in to-day; because Bella ate so many strawberries she made
herself ill.

BELLA.--So did you.

GEORGY.--I'm a man, and men eat more than women, twice as much as women.
When I'm a man I'll eat as much cake as ever I like. I say, Mary, give
us the marmalade.

MRS. P.--Oh, what nice marmalade! I know of some poor children--

MISS P.--Mamma! don't, mamma [in an imploring tone].

MRS. P.--I know of two poor children at home, who have very seldom nice
marmalade and cake, young people.

GEORGE.--You mean Adolphus and Frederick and Amelia, your children.
Well, they shall have marmalade and cake.

BELLA.--Oh, yes! I'll give them mine.

MRS. P.--Darling, dearest child!

GEORGE [his mouth full].--I won't give 'em mine: but they can have
another pot, you know. You have always got a basket with you, Mrs.
Prior. I know you have. You had it that day you took the cold fowl.

MRS. P.--For the poor blind black man! oh, how thankful he was!

GEORGE.--I don't know whether it was for a black man. Mary, get us
another pot of marmalade.

MARY.--I don't know, Master George.

GEORGE.--I WILL have another pot of marmalade. If you don't, I'll--I'll
smash everything--I will.

BELLA.--Oh, you naughty, rude boy!

GEORGE.--Hold YOUR tongue! I WILL have it. Mary shall go and get it.

MRS. P.--Do humor him, Mary; and I'm sure my poor children at home will
be the better for it.

GEORGE.--There's your basket! now put this cake in, and this pat
of butter, and this sugar. Hurray, hurray! Oh, what jolly fun! Tell
Adolphus and Amelia I sent it to them--tell 'em they shall never want
for anything as long as George Kicklebury Milliken, Esq., can give it
'em. Did Adolphus like my gray coat that I didn't want?

MISS P.--You did not give him your new gray coat?

GEORGE.--Don't you speak to me; I'm going to school--I'm not going to
have no more governesses soon.

MRS. P.--Oh, my dear Master George, what a nice coat it is, and how well
my poor boy looked in it!

MISS P.--Don't, mamma! I pray and entreat you not to take the things!

Enter JOHN from dining-room with a tray.

JOHN.--Some cream, some jelly, a little champagne, Miss Prior; I thought
you might like some.

GEORGE.--Oh, jolly! give us hold of the jelly! give us a glass of
champagne.

JOHN.--I will not give you any.

GEORGE.--I'll smash every glass in the room if you don't; I'll cut my
fingers; I'll poison myself--there! I'll eat all this sealing-wax if you
don't, and it's rank poison, you know it is.

MRS. P.--My dear Master George! [Exit JOHN.]

GEORGE.--Ha, ha! I knew you'd give it me; another boy taught me that.

BELLA.--And a very naughty, rude boy.

GEORGE.--He, he, he! hold your tongue Miss! And said he always got wine
so; and so I used to do it to my poor mamma, Mrs. Prior. Usedn't to like
mamma much.

BELLA.--Oh, you wicked boy!

GEORGY.--She usedn't to see us much. She used to say I tried her nerves:
what's nerves, Mrs. Prior? Give us some more champagne! Will have
it. Ha, ha, ha! ain't it jolly? Now I'll go out and have a run in the
garden. [Runs into garden].

MRS. P.--And you, my dear?

BELLA.--I shall go and resume the perusal of the "Pilgrim's Progress,"
which my grandpapa, Mr. Bonnington, sent me. [Exit ARABELLA.]

MISS P.--How those children are spoilt! Goodness; what can I do? If I
correct one, he flies to grandmamma Kicklebury; if I speak to another,
she appeals to grandmamma Bonnington. When I was alone with them, I had
them in something like order. Now, between the one grandmother and the
other, the children are going to ruin, and so would the house too, but
that Howell--that odd, rude, but honest and intelligent creature, I
must say--keeps it up. It is wonderful how a person in his rank of life
should have instructed himself so. He really knows--I really think he
knows more than I do myself.

MRS. P.--Julia dear!

MISS P.--What is it, mamma?

MRS. P.--Your little sister wants some underclothing sadly, Julia dear,
and poor Adolphus's shoes are quite worn out.

MISS P.--I thought so; I have given you all I could, mamma.

MRS. P.--Yes, my love! you are a good love, and generous, heaven knows,
to your poor old mother who has seen better days. If we had not wanted,
would I have ever allowed you to be a governess--a poor degraded
governess? If that brute O'Reilly who lived on our second floor had not
behaved so shamefully wicked to you, and married Miss Flack, the singer,
might you not have been Editress of the Champion of Liberty at this very
moment, and had your Opera box every night? [She drinks champagne while
talking, and excites herself.]

MISS P.--Don't take that, mamma.

MRS. P.--Don't take it? why, it costs nothing; Milliken can afford it.
Do you suppose I get champagne every day? I might have had it as a girl
when I first married your father, and we kep' our gig and horse, and
lived at Clapham, and had the best of everything. But the coal-trade is
not what it was, Julia. We met with misfortunes, Julia, and we went
into poverty: and your poor father went into the Bench for twenty-three
months--two year all but a month he did--and my poor girl was obliged to
dance at the "Coburg Theatre"--yes you were, at ten shillings a week,
in the Oriental ballet of "The Bulbul and the Rose:" you were, my poor
darling child.

MISS P.--Hush, hush, mamma!

MRS. P.--And we kep' a lodging-house in Bury Street, St. James's,
which your father's brother furnished for us, who was an extensive
oil-merchant. He brought you up; and afterwards he quarrelled with my
poor James, Robert Prior did, and he died, not leaving us a shilling.
And my dear eldest boy went into a wine-merchant's office: and my poor
darling Julia became a governess, when you had had the best of education
at Clapham; you had, Julia. And to think that you were obliged, my
blessed thing, to go on in the Oriental ballet of "The Rose and the
Bul--"

MISS P.--Mamma, hush, hush! forget that story.

Enter Page from dining-room.

PAGE.--Miss Prior! please, the ladies are coming from the dining-room.
Mrs. B. have had her two glasses of port, and her ladyship is now
a-telling the story about the Prince of Wales when she danced with him
at Canton House. [Exit Page.]

MISS P.--Quick, quick! There, take your basket! Put on your bonnet, and
good-night, mamma. Here, here is a half sovereign and three shillings;
it is all the money I have in the world; take it, and buy the shoes for
Adolphus.

MRS. P.--And the underclothing, my love--little Amelia's underclothing?

MISS P.--We will see about it. Good-night [kisses her]. Don't be seen
here,--Lady K. doesn't like it.

Enter Gentlemen and Ladies from dining-room.

LADY K.--We follow the Continental fashion. We don't sit after dinner,
Captain Touchit.

CAPTAIN T.--Confound the Continental fashion! I like to sit a little
while after dinner [aside].

MRS. B.--So does my dear Mr. Bonnington, Captain Touchit. He likes a
little port-wine after dinner.

TOUCHIT.--I'm not surprised at it, ma am.

MRS. B.--When did you say your son was coming, Lady Kicklebury?

LADY K.--My Clarence! He will be here immediately, I hope, the dear boy.
You know my Clarence?

TOUCHIT.--Yes, ma'am.

LADY K.--And like him, I'm sure, Captain Touchit! Everybody does like
Clarence Kicklebury.

TOUCHIT.--The confounded young scamp! I say, Horace, do you like your
brother-in-law?

MILLIKEN.--Well--I--I can't say--I--like him--in fact, I don't. But
that's no reason why his mother shouldn't. [During this, HOWELL,
preceded by BULKELEY, hands round coffee. The garden without has
darkened, as if evening. BULKELEY is going away without offering coffee
to Miss PRIOR. JOHN stamps on his foot, and points to her. Captain
TOUCHIT, laughing, goes up and talks to her now the servants are gone.]

MRS. B.--Horace! I must tell you that the waste at your table is
shocking. What is the need of opening all this wine? You and Lady
Kicklebury were the only persons who took champagne.

TOUCHIT.--I never drink it--never touch the rubbish! Too old a stager!

LADY K.--Port, I think, is your favorite, Mrs. Bonnington?

MRS. B.--My dear lady, I do not mean that you should not have champagne,
if you like. Pray, pray, don't be angry! But why on earth, for you,
who take so little, and Horace, who only drinks it to keep you company,
should not Howell open a pint instead of a great large bottle?

LADY K.--Oh, Howell! Howell! We must not mention Howell, my dear Mrs.
Bonnington. Howell is faultless! Howell has the keys of everything!
Howell is not to be controlled in anything! Howell is to be at liberty
to be rude to my servant!

MILLIKEN.--Is that all? I am sure I should have thought your man was big
enough to resent any rudeness from poor little Howell.

LADY K.--Horace! Excuse me for saying that you don't know--the--the
class of servant to whom Bulkeley belongs. I had him, as a great favor,
from Lord Toddleby. That class of servant is accustomed generally not to
go out single.

MILLIKEN.--Unless they are two behind a carriage-perch they pine away,
as one love-bird does without his mate!

LADY K.--No doubt! no doubt! I only say you are not accustomed here--in
this kind of establishment, you understand--to that class of--

MRS. B.--Lady Kicklebury! is my son's establishment not good enough for
any powdered monster in England? Is the house of a British merchant--?

LADY K.--My dear creature! my dear creature! it IS the house of a
British merchant, and a very comfortable house.

MRS. B.--Yes, as you find it.

LADY K.--Yes, as I find it, when I come to take care of my departed,
angel's children, Mrs. Bonnington--[pointing to picture]--of THAT
dear seraph's orphans, Mrs. Bonnington. YOU cannot. You have other
duties--other children--a husband at home in delicate health, who--

MRS. B.--Lady Kicklebury, no one shall say I don't take care of my dear
husband!

MILLIKEN.--My dear mother! My dear Lady Kicklebury! [To T., who has come
forward.] They spar so every night they meet, Touchit. Ain't it hard?

LADY K.--I say you DO take care of Mr. Bonnington, Mrs. Bonnington, my
dear creature! and that is why you can't attend to Horace. And as he
is of a very easy temper--except sometimes with his poor Arabella's
mother--he allows all his tradesmen to cheat him, all his servants to
cheat him, Howell to be rude to everybody--to me amongst other people,
and why not to my servant Bulkeley, with whom Lord Toddleby's groom of
the chambers gave me the very highest character.

MRS. B.--I'm surprised that noblemen HAVE grooms in their chambers. I
should think they were much better in the stables. I am sure I always
think so when we dine with Doctor Clinker. His man does bring such a
smell of the stable with him.

LADY K.--He! he! you mistake, my dearest creature! Your poor mother
mistakes, my good Horace. You have lived in a quiet and most respectable
sphere--but not--not--

MRS. B.--Not what, Lady Kicklebury? We have lived at Richmond twenty
years--in my late husband's time--when we saw a great deal of company,
and when this dear Horace was a dear boy at Westminster School. And we
have PAID for everything we have had for twenty years, and we have owed
not a penny to any TRADESMAN, though we mayn't have had POWDERED
FOOTMEN SIX FEET HIGH, who were impertinent to all the maids in the
place--Don't! I WILL speak, Horace--but servants who loved us, and who
lived in our families.

MILLIKEN.--Mamma, now, my dear, good old mother! I am sure Lady
Kicklebury meant no harm.

LADY K.--Me! my dear Horace! harm! What harm could I mean?

MILLIKEN.--Come! let us have a game at whist. Touchit, will you make a
fourth? They go on so every night almost. Ain't it a pity, now?

TOUCHIT.--Miss Prior generally plays, doesn't she?

MILLIKEN.--And a very good player, too. But I thought you might like it.

TOUCHIT.--Well, not exactly. I don't like sixpenny points, Horace, or
quarrelling with old dragons about the odd trick. I will go and smoke
a cigar on the terrace, and contemplate the silver Thames, the darkling
woods, the starry hosts of heaven. I--I like smoking better than playing
whist. [MILLIKEN rings bell.]

MILLIKEN.--Ah, George! you're not fit for domestic felicity.

TOUCHIT.--No, not exactly.

HOWELL enters.

MILLIKEN.--Lights and a whist-table. Oh, I see you bring 'em. You know
everything I want. He knows everything I want, Howell does. Let us cut.
Miss Prior, you and I are partners!



ACT II.


SCENE.--As before.


LADY K.--Don't smoke, you naughty boy. I don't like it. Besides, it will
encourage your brother-in-law to smoke.

CLARENCE K.--Anything to oblige you, I'm sure. But can't do without it,
mother; it's good for my health. When I was in the Plungers, our doctor
used to say, "You ought never to smoke more than eight cigars a day"--an
order, you know, to do it--don't you see?

LADY K.--Ah, my child! I am very glad you are not with those unfortunate
people in the East.

K.--So am I. Sold out just in time. Much better fun being here, than
having the cholera at Scutari. Nice house, Milliken's. Snob, but
good fellow--good cellar, doosid good cook. Really, that salmi
yesterday,--couldn't have it better done at the "Rag" now. You have got
into good quarters here, mother.

LADY K.--The meals are very good, and the house is very good; the
manners are not of the first order. But what can you expect of city
people? I always told your poor dear sister, when she married Mr.
Milliken, that she might look for everything substantial,--but not
manners. Poor dear Arabella WOULD marry him.

K.--Would! that is a good one, mamma! Why, you made her! It's a dozen
years ago. But I recollect, when I came home from Eton, seeing her
crying because Charley Tufton--

LADY K.--Mr. Tufton had not a shilling to bless himself with. The
marriage was absurd and impossible.

K.--He hadn't a shilling then. I guess he has plenty now. Elder brother
killed, out hunting. Father dead. Tuf a baronet, with four thousand a
year if he's a shilling.

LADY K.--Not so much.

K.--Four thousand if it's a shilling. Why, the property adjoins
Kicklebury's--I ought to know. I've shot over it a thousand times. Heh!
I remember, when I was quite a young 'un, how Arabella used to go out
into Tufton Park to meet Charley--and he is a doosid good fellow, and a
gentlemanlike fellow, and a doosid deal better than this city fellow.

LADY K.--If you don't like this city fellow, Clarence, why do you come
here? why didn't you stop with your elder brother at Kicklebury?

K.--Why didn't I? Why didn't YOU stop at Kicklebury, mamma? Because you
had notice to quit. Serious daughter-in-law, quarrels about management
of the house--row in the building. My brother interferes, and politely
requests mamma to shorten her visit. So it is with your other two
daughters; so it was with Arabella when she was alive. What shindies you
used to have with her, Lady Kicklebury! Heh! I had a row with my brother
and sister about a confounded little nursery-maid.

LADY K.--Clarence!

K.--And so I had notice to quit too. And I'm in very good quarters here,
and I intend to stay in 'em, mamma. I say--

LADY K.--What do you say?

K.--Since I sold out, you know, and the regiment went abroad, confound
me, the brutes at the "Rag" will hardly speak to me! I was so ill, I
couldn't go. Who the doose can live the life I've led and keep health
enough for that infernal Crimea? Besides, how could I help it? I was
so cursedly in debt that I was OBLIGED to have the money, you know. YOU
hadn't got any.

LADY K.--Not a halfpenny, my darling. I am dreadfully in debt myself.

K.--I know you are. So am I. My brother wouldn't give me any, not a
dump. Hang him! Said he had his children to look to. Milliken wouldn't
advance me any more--said I did him in that horse transaction. He! he!
he! so I did! What had I to do but to sell out? And the fellows cut
me, by Jove. Ain't it too bad? I'll take my name off the "Rag," I will,
though.

LADY K.--We must sow our wild oats, and we must sober down; and we must
live here, where the living is very good and very cheap, Clarence, you
naughty boy! And we must get you a rich wife. Did you see at church
yesterday that young woman in light green, with rather red hair and a
pink bonnet?

K.--I was asleep, ma'am, most of the time, or I was bookin' up the
odds for the Chester Cup. When I'm bookin' up, I think of nothin' else,
ma'am,--nothin'.

LADY K.--That was Miss Brocksopp--Briggs, Brown and Brocksopp, the great
sugar-bakers. They say she will have eighty thousand pound. We will ask
her to dinner here.

K.--I say--why the doose do you have such old women to dinner here? Why
don't you get some pretty girls? Such a set of confounded old frumps as
eat Milliken's mutton I never saw. There's you, and his old mother Mrs.
Bonnington, and old Mrs. Fogram, and old Miss What's-her-name, the woman
with the squint eye, and that immense Mrs. Crowder. It's so stoopid,
that if it weren't for Touchit coming down sometimes, and the billiards
and boatin', I should die here--expire, by gad! Why don't you have some
pretty women into the house, Lady Kicklebury?

LADY K.--Why! Do you think I want that picture taken down: and another
Mrs. Milliken? Wisehead! If Horace married again, would he be your
banker, and keep this house, now that ungrateful son of mine has turned
me out of his? No pretty woman shall come into the house whilst I am
here.

K.--Governess seems a pretty woman: weak eyes, bad figure, poky, badly
dressed, but doosid pretty woman.

LADY K.--Bah! There is no danger from HER. She is a most faithful
creature, attached to me beyond everything. And her eyes--her eyes
are weak with crying for some young man who is in India. She has his
miniature in her room, locked up in one of her drawers.

K.--Then how the doose did you come to see it?

LADY K.--We see a number of things, Clarence. Will you drive with me?

K.--Not as I knows on, thank you. No, Ma; drivin's TOO slow: and you're
goin' to call on two or three old dowagers in the Park? Thank your
ladyship for the delightful offer.

Enter JOHN.

JOHN.--Please, sir, here's the man with the bill for the boats; two
pound three.

K.--Damn it, pay it--don't bother ME!

JOHN.--Haven't got the money, sir.

LADY K.--Howell! I saw Mr. Milliken give you a cheque for twenty-five
pounds before he went into town this morning. Look sir [runs, opens
drawer, takes out cheque-book]. There it is, marked, "Howell, 25L."

JOHN.--Would your ladyship like to step down into my pantry and see what
I've paid with the twenty-five pounds? Did my master leave any orders
that your ladyship was to inspect my accounts?

LADY K.--Step down into the pantry! inspect your accounts? I never heard
such impertinence. What do you mean, sir?

K.--Dammy, sir, what do you mean?

JOHN.--I thought as her ladyship kept a heye over my master's private
book, she might like to look at mine too.

LADY K.--Upon my word, this insolence is too much.

JOHN.--I beg your ladyship's pardon. I am sure I have said nothing.

K.--Said, sir! your manner is mutinous, by Jove, sir! if I had you in
the regiment!--

JOHN.--I understood that you had left the regiment, sir, just before it
went on the campaign, sir.

K.--Confound you, sir! [Starts up.]

LADY K.--Clarence, my child, my child!

JOHN.--Your ladyship needn't be alarmed; I'm a little man, my lady,
but I don't think Mr. Clarence was a-goin' for to hit me, my lady; not
before a lady, I'm sure. I suppose, sir, that you WON'T pay the boatman?

K.--No, sir, I won't pay him, nor any man who uses this sort of damned
impertinence!

JOHN.--I told Rullocks, sir, I thought it was JEST possible you
wouldn't. [Exit.]

K.--That's a nice man, that is--an impudent villain!

LADY K.--Ruined by Horace's weakness. He ruins everybody, poor
good-natured Horace!

K.--Why don't you get rid of the blackguard?

LADY K.--There is a time for all things, my dear. This man is very
convenient to Horace. Mr. Milliken is exceedingly lazy, and Howell
spares him a great deal of trouble. Some day or other I shall take
all this domestic trouble off his hands. But not yet: your poor
brother-in-law is restive, like many weak men. He is subjected to other
influences: his odious mother thwarts me a great deal.

K.--Why, you used to be the dearest friends in the world. I recollect
when I was at Eton--

LADY K.--Were; but friendship don't last for ever. Mrs. Bonnington and
I have had serious differences since I came to live here: she has a
natural jealousy, perhaps, at my superintending her son's affairs. When
she ceases to visit at the house, as she very possibly will, things will
go more easily; and Mr. Howell will go too, you may depend upon it. I am
always sorry when my temper breaks out, as it will sometimes.

K.--Won't it, that's all!

LADY K.--At his insolence, my temper is high; so is yours, my dear. Calm
it for the present, especially as regards Howell.

K.--Gad! d'you know I was very nearly pitching into him? But once,
one night in the Haymarket, at a lobster-shop, where I was with some
fellows, we chaffed some other fellows, and there was one fellah--quite
a little fellah--and I pitched into him, and he gave me the most
confounded lickin' I ever had in my life, since my brother Kicklebury
licked me when we were at Eton; and that, you see, was a lesson to me,
ma'am. Never trust those little fellows, never chaff 'em: dammy, they
may be boxers.

LADY K.--You quarrelsome boy! I remember you coming home with your
naughty head SO bruised. [Looks at watch.] I must go now to take my
drive. [Exit LADY K.]

K.--I owe a doose of a tick at that billiard-room; I shall have that
boatman dunnin' me. Why hasn't Milliken got any horses to ride? Hang
him! suppose he can't ride--suppose he's a tailor. He ain't MY tailor,
though, though I owe him a doosid deal of money. There goes mamma with
that darling nephew and niece of mine. [Enter BULKELEY]. Why haven't you
gone with my lady, you, sir? [to Bulkeley.]

BULKELEY.--My lady have a-took the pony-carriage, sir; Mrs. Bonnington
have a-took the hopen carriage and 'orses, sir, this mornin', which the
Bishop of London is 'olding a confirmation at Teddington, sir, and Mr.
Bonnington is attending the serimony. And I have told Mr. 'Owell, sir,
that my lady would prefer the hopen carriage, sir, which I like the
hexercise myself, sir, and that the pony-carriage was good enough for
Mrs. Bonnington, sir; and Mr. 'Owell was very hinsolent to me, sir; and
I don't think I can stay in the 'ouse with him.

K.--Hold your jaw, sir.

BULKELEY.--Yes, sir. [Exit BULKELEY.]

K.--I wonder who that governess is?--sang rather prettily last
night--wish she'd come and sing now--wish she'd come and amuse me--I've
seen her face before--where have I seen her face?--it ain't at all a bad
one. What shall I do? dammy, I'll read a book: I've not read a book this
ever so long. What's here? [looks amongst books, selects one, sinks down
in easy-chair so as quite to be lost.]

Enter Miss PRIOR.

MISS PRIOR.--There's peace in the house! those noisy children are away
with their grandmamma. The weather is beautiful, and I hope they will
take a long drive. Now I can have a quiet half-hour, and finish that
dear pretty "Ruth"--oh, how it makes me cry, that pretty story.
[Lays down her bonnet on table--goes to glass--takes off cap and
spectacles--arranges her hair--Clarence has got on chair looking at
her.]

K.--By Jove! I know who it is now! Remember her as well as possible.
Four years ago, when little Foxbury used to dance in the ballet over
the water. DON'T I remember her! She boxed my ears behind the scenes,
by jingo. [Coming forward]. Miss Pemberton! Star of the ballet! Light of
the harem! Don't you remember the grand Oriental ballet of the "Bulbul
and the Peri?"

MISS P.--Oh! [screams.] No, n--no, sir. You are mistaken: my name is
Prior. I--never was at the "Coburg Theatre." I--

K. [seizing her hand].--No, you don't, though! What! don't you remember
well that little hand slapping this face? which nature hadn't then
adorned with whiskers, by gad! You pretend you have forgotten little
Foxbury, whom Charley Calverley used to come after, and who used to
drive to the "Coburg" every night in her brougham. How did you know it
was the "Coburg?" That IS a good one! HAD you there, I think.

MISS P.--Sir, in the name of heaven, pity me! I have to keep my mother
and my sisters and my brothers. When--when you saw me, we were in great
poverty; and almost all the wretched earnings I made at that time were
given to my poor father then lying in the Queen's Bench hard by. You
know there was nothing against my character--you know there was not. Ask
Captain Touchit whether I was not a good girl. It was he who brought me
to this house.

K.--Touchit! the old villain!

MISS P.--I had your sister's confidence. I tended her abroad on her
death-bed. I have brought up your nephew and niece. Ask any one if I
have not been honest? As a man, as a gentleman, I entreat you to keep my
secret! I implore you for the sake of my poor mother and her children!
[kneeling.]

K.--By Jove! how handsome you are! How crying becomes your eyes! Get up;
get up. Of course I'll keep your secret, but--

MISS P.--Ah! ah! [She screams as he tries to embrace her. HOWELL rushes
in.]

HOWELL.--Hands off, you little villain! Stir a step and I'll kill you,
if you were a regiment of captains! What! insult this lady who kept
watch at your sister's death-bed and has took charge of her children!
Don't be frightened, Miss Prior. Julia--dear, dear Julia--I'm by you.
If the scoundrel touches you, I'll kill him. I--I love you--there--it's
here--love you madly--with all my 'art--my a-heart!

MISS P.--Howell--for heaven's sake, Howell!

K.--Pooh--ooh! [bursting with laughter]. Here's a novel, by
jingo! Here's John in love with the governess. Fond of plush, Miss
Pemberton--ey? Gad, it's the best thing I ever knew. Saved a good bit,
ey, Jeames? Take a public-house? By Jove! I'll buy my beer there.

JOHN.--Owe for it, you mean. I don't think your tradesmen profit much by
your custom, ex-Cornet Kicklebury.

K.--By Jove! I'll do for you, you villain!

JOHN.--No, not that way, Captain. [Struggles with and throws him.]

K. [screams.]--Hallo, Bulkeley! [Bulkeley is seen strolling in the
garden.]

Enter BULKELEY.

BULKELEY.--What is it, sir?

K.--Take this confounded villain off me, and pitch him into the
Thames--do you hear?

JOHN.--Come here, and I'll break every bone in your hulking body. [To
BULKELEY.]

BULKELEY.--Come, come! whathever his hall this year row about?

MISS P.--For heaven's sake don't strike that poor man.

BULKELEY.--YOU be quiet. What's he a-hittin' about my master for?

JOHN.--Take off your hat, sir, when you speak to a lady. [Takes up a
poker.] And now come on, both of you, cowards! [Rushes at BULKELEY and
knocks his hat off his head.]

BULKELEY [stepping back].--If you'll put down that there poker, you
know, then I'll pitch into you fast enough. But that there poker ain't
fair, you know.

K.--You villain! of course you will leave this house. And, Miss Prior, I
think you understand that you will go too. I don't think my niece wants
to learn DANCIN', you understand. Good-by. Here, Bulkeley! [Gets behind
footman and exit.]

MISS P.--Do you know the meaning of that threat, Mr. Howell?

JOHN.--Yes, Miss Prior.

MISS P.--I was a dancer once, for three months, four years ago, when my
poor father was in prison.

JOHN.--Yes, Miss Prior, I knew it. And I saw you a many times.

MISS P.--And you kept my secret?

JOHN.--Yes, Ju--Jul--Miss Prior.

MISS P.--Thank you, and God bless you, John Howell. There, there. You
mustn't! indeed you mustn't!

JOHN.--You don't remember the printer's boy who used to come to Mr.
O'Reilly, and sit in your 'all in Bury Street, Miss Prior? I was that
boy. I was a country-bred boy--that is if you call Putney country, and
Wimbledon Common and that. I served the Milliken family seven year. I
went with Master Horace to college, and then I revolted against service,
and I thought I'd be a man and turn printer like Doctor Frankling. And I
got in an office: and I went with proofs to Mr. O'Reilly, and I saw
you. And though I might have been in love with somebody else before I
did--yet it was all hup when I saw you.

MISS P. [kindly.]--YOU must not talk to me in that way, John Howell.

JOHN.--Let's tell the tale out. I couldn't stand the newspaper
night-work. I had a mother and brothers and sisters to keep, as you had.
I went back to Horace Milliken and said, Sir, I've lost my work. I and
mine want bread. Will you take me back again? And he did. He's a kind,
kind soul is my master.

MISS P.--He IS a kind, kind soul.

JOHN.--He's good to all the poor. His hand's in his pocket for
everybody. Everybody takes advantage of him. His mother-in-lor rides
over him. So does his Ma. So do I, I may say; but that's over now; and
you and I have had our notice to quit. Miss, I should say.

MISS P.--Yes.

JOHN.--I have saved a bit of money--not much--a hundred pound. Miss
Prior--Julia--here I am--look--I'm a poor feller--a poor servant--but
I've the heart of a man--and--I love you--oh! I love you!

MARY.--Oh ho--ho! [Mary has entered from garden, and bursts out crying.]

MISS P.--It can't be, John Howell--my dear, brave, kind John Howell.
It can't be. I have watched this for some time past, and poor Mary's
despair here. [Kisses Mary, who cries plentifully.] You have the heart
of a true, brave man, and must show it and prove it now. I am not--am
not of your pardon me for saying so--of your class in life. I was bred
by my uncle, away from my poor parents, though I came back to them after
his sudden death; and to poverty, and to this dependent life I am now
leading. I am a servant, like you, John, but in another sphere--have
to seek another place now; and heaven knows if I shall procure one, now
that that unlucky passage in my life is known. Oh, the coward to recall
it! the coward!

MARY.--But John whopped him, Miss! that he did. He gave it him well,
John did. [Crying.]

MISS P.--You can't--you ought not to forego an attachment like that,
John Howell. A more honest and true-hearted creature never breathed than
Mary Barlow.

JOHN.--No, indeed.

MISS P.--She has loved you since she was a little child. And you loved
her once, and do now, John.

MARY.--Oh, Miss! you hare a hangel,--I hallways said you were a hangel.

MISS P.--You are better than I am, my dear much, much better than I am,
John. The curse of my poverty has been that I have had to flatter and to
dissemble, and hide the faults of those I wanted to help, and to smile
when I was hurt, and laugh when I was sad, and to coax, and to tack, and
to bide my time,--not with Mr. Milliken: he is all honor, and kindness,
and simplicity. Who did HE ever injure, or what unkind word did HE ever
say? But do you think, with the jealousy of those poor ladies over his
house, I could have stayed here without being a hypocrite to both of
them? Go, John. My good, dear friend, John Howell, marry Mary. You'll be
happier with her than with me. There! There! [They embrace.]

MARY.--O--o--o! I think I'll go and hiron hout Miss Harabella's frocks
now. [Exit MARY.]

Enter MILLIKEN with CLARENCE--who is explaining things to him.

CLARENCE.--Here they are, I give you my word of honor. Ask 'em, damn em.

MILLIKEN.--What is this I hear? You, John Howell, have dared to strike a
gentleman under my roof! Your master's brother-in-law?

JOHN.--Yes, by Jove! and I'd do it again.

MILLIKEN.--Are you drunk or mad, Howell?

JOHN.--I'm as sober and as sensible as ever I was in my life, sir--I not
only struck the master, but I struck the man, who's twice as big, only
not quite as big a coward, I think.

MILLIKEN.--Hold your scurrilous tongues sir! My good nature ruins
everybody about me. Make up your accounts. Pack your trunks--and never
let me see your face again.

JOHN.--Very good, sir.

MILLIKEN.--I suppose, Miss Prior, you will also be disposed to--to
follow Mr. Howell?

MISS P.--To quit you, now you know what has passed? I never supposed
it could be otherwise--I deceived you, Mr. Milliken--as I kept a secret
from you, and must pay the penalty. It is a relief to me, the sword has
been hanging over me. I wish I had told your poor wife, as I was often
minded to do.

MILLIKEN.--Oh, you were minded to do it in Italy, were you?

MISS P.--Captain Touchit knew it, sir, all along: and that my motives
and, thank God, my life were honorable.

MILLIKEN.--Oh, Touchit knew it, did he? and thought it
honorable--honorable. Ha! ha! to marry a footman--and keep a
public-house? I--I beg your pardon, John Howell--I mean nothing against
you, you know. You're an honorable man enough, except that you have been
damned insolent to my brother-in-law.

JOHN.--Oh, heaven! [JOHN strikes his forehead, and walks away.]

MISS P.--You mistake me, sir. What I wished to speak of was the fact
which this gentleman has no doubt communicated to you--that I danced on
the stage for three months.

MILLIKEN.--Oh, yes. Oh, damme, yes. I forgot. I wasn't thinking of that.

KICKLEBURY.--You see she owns it.

MISS P.--We were in the depths of poverty. Our furniture and
lodging-house under execution--from which Captain Touchit, when he came
to know of our difficulties, nobly afterwards released us. My father was
in prison, and wanted shillings for medicine, and I--I went and danced
on the stage.

MILLIKEN.--Well?

MISS P.--And I kept the secret afterwards; knowing that I could never
hope as governess to obtain a place after having been a stage-dancer.

MILLIKEN.--Of course you couldn't,--it's out of the question; and may I
ask, are you going to resume that delightful profession when you enter
the married state with Mr. Howell?

MISS P.--Poor John! it is not I who am going to--that is, it's Mary, the
school-room maid.

MILLIKEN.--Eternal blazes! Have you turned Mormon, John Howell, and are
you going to marry the whole house?

JOHN.--I made a hass of myself about Miss Prior. I couldn't help her
being l--l--lovely.

KICK.--Gad, he proposed to her in my presence.

JOHN.--What I proposed to her, Cornet Clarence Kicklebury, was my heart
and my honor, and my best, and my everything--and you--you wanted to
take advantage of her secret, and you offered her indignities, and you
laid a cowardly hand on her--a cowardly hand!--and I struck you, and I'd
do it again.

MILLIKEN.--What? Is this true? [Turning round very fiercely to K.]

KICK.--Gad! Well--I only--

MILLIKEN.--You only what? You only insulted a lady under my roof--the
friend and nurse of your dead sister--the guardian of my children. You
only took advantage of a defenceless girl, and would have extorted your
infernal pay out of her fear. You miserable sneak and coward!

KICK.--Hallo! Come, come! I say I won't stand this sort of chaff. Dammy,
I'll send a friend to you!

MILLIKEN.--Go out of that window, sir. March! or I will tell my servant,
John Howell, to kick you out, you wretched little scamp! Tell that big
brute,--what's-his-name?--Lady Kicklebury's man, to pack this young
man's portmanteau and bear's-grease pots; and if ever you enter these
doors again, Clarence Kicklebury, by the heaven that made me!--by your
sister who is dead!--I will cane your life out of your bones. Angel in
heaven! Shade of my Arabella--to think that your brother in your house
should be found to insult the guardian of your children!

JOHN.--By jingo, you're a good-plucked one! I knew he was, Miss,--I told
you he was. [Exit, shaking hands with his master, and with Miss P., and
dancing for joy. Exit CLARENCE, scared, out of window.]

JOHN [without].--Bulkeley! pack up the Capting's luggage!

MILLIKEN.--How can I ask your pardon, Miss Prior? In my wife's name
I ask it--in the name of that angel whose dying-bed you watched and
soothed--of the innocent children whom you have faithfully tended since.

MISS P.--Ah, sir! it is granted when you speak so to me.

MILLIKEN.--Eh, eh--d--don't call me sir!

MISS P.--It is for me to ask pardon for hiding what you know now: but if
I had told you--you--you never would have taken me into your house--your
wife never would.

MILLIKEN.--No, no. [Weeping.]

MISS P.--My dear, kind Captain Touchit knows it all. It was by his
counsel I acted. He it was who relieved our distress. Ask him whether my
conduct was not honorable--ask him whether my life was not devoted to my
parents--ask him when--when I am gone.

MILLIKEN.--When you are gone, Julia! Why are you going? Why should you
go, my love--that is--why need you go, in the devil's name?

MISS P.--Because, when your mother--when your mother-in-law come to hear
that your children's governess has been a dancer on the stage, they will
send me away, and you will not have the power to resist them. They ought
to send me away, sir; but I have acted honestly by the children and
their poor mother, and you'll think of me kindly when--I--am--gone?

MILLIKEN.--Julia, my dearest--dear--noble--dar--the devil! here's old
Kicklebury.

Enter Lady K., Children, and CLARENCE.

LADY K.--So, Miss Prior! this is what I hear, is it? A dancer in my
house! a serpent in my bosom--poisoning--yes, poisoning those blessed
children! occasioning quarrels between my own son and my dearest
son-in-law; flirting with the footman! When do you intend to leave,
madam, the house which you have po--poll--luted?

MISS P.--I need no hard language, Lady Kicklebury: and I will reply to
none. I have signified to Mr. Milliken my wish to leave his house.

MILLIKEN.--Not, not, if you will stay. [To Miss P.]

LADY K.--Stay, Horace! she shall NEVER stay as governess in this house!

MILLIKEN.--Julia! will you stay as mistress? You have known me for a
year alone--before, not so well--when the house had a mistress that is
gone. You know what my temper is, and that my tastes are simple, and
my heart not unkind. I have watched you, and have never seen you out
of temper, though you have been tried. I have long thought you good and
beautiful, but I never thought to ask the question which I put to you
now:--come in, sir! [to CLARENCE at door]:--now that you have been
persecuted by those who ought to have upheld you, and insulted by those
who owed you gratitude and respect. I am tired of their domination, and
as weary of a man's cowardly impertinence [to CLARENCE] as of a woman's
jealous tyranny. They have made what was my Arabella's home miserable
by their oppression and their quarrels. Julia! my wife's friend, my
children's friend! be mine, and make me happy! Don't leave me, Julia!
say you won't--say you won't--dearest--dearest girl!

MISS P.--I won't--leave--you.

GEORGE [without].--Oh, I say! Arabella, look here: here's papa a-kissing
Miss Prior!

LADY K.--Horace--Clarence my son! Shade of my Arabella! can you behold
this horrible scene, and not shudder in heaven! Bulkeley! Clarence! go
for a doctor--go to Doctor Straitwaist at the Asylum--Horace Milliken,
who has married the descendant of the Kickleburys of the Conqueror,
marry a dancing-girl off the stage! Horace Milliken! do you wish to
see me die in convulsions at your feet? I writhe there, I grovel there.
Look! look at me on my knees! your own mother-in-law! drive away this
fiend!

MILLIKEN.--Hem! I ought to thank you, Lady Kicklebury, for it is you
that have given her to me.

LADY K.--He won't listen! he turns away and kisses her horrible hand.
This will never do: help me up, Clarence, I must go and fetch his
mother. Ah, ah! there she is, there she is! [Lady K. rushes out, as the
top of a barouche, with Mr. and Mrs. BONNINGTON and Coachman, is seen
over the gate.]

MRS. B.--What is this I hear, my son, my son? You are going to marry
a--a stage-dancer? you are driving me mad, Horace!

MILLIKEN.--Give me my second chance, mother, to be happy. You have had
yourself two chances.

MRS. B.--Speak to him, Mr. Bonnington. [BONNINGTON makes dumb show.]

LADY K.--Implore him, Mr. Bonnington.

MRS. B.--Pray, pray for him, Mr. Bonnington, my love--my lost, abandoned
boy!

LADY K.--Oh, my poor dear Mrs. Bonnington!

MRS. B.--Oh, my poor dear Lady Kicklebury. [They embrace each other.]

LADY K.--I have been down on my knees to him, dearest Mrs. Bonnington.

MRS. B.--Let us both--both go down on our knees--I WILL [to her
husband]. Edward, I will! [Both ladies on their knees. BONNINGTON with
outstretched hands behind them.] Look, unhappy boy! look, Horace! two
mothers on their wretched knees before you, imploring you to send away
this monster! Speak to him, Mr. Bonnington. Edward! use authority with
him, if he will not listen to his mother--

LADY K.--To his mothers!

Enter TOUCHIT.

TOUCHIT.--What is this comedy going on, ladies and gentlemen? The ladies
on their elderly knees--Miss Prior with her hair down her back. Is it
tragedy or comedy--is it a rehearsal for a charade, or are we acting
for Horace's birthday? or, oh!--I beg your Reverence's pardon--you were
perhaps going to a professional duty?

MR. B.--It's WE who are praying this child, Touchit. This child, with
whom you used to come home from Westminster when you were boys. You
have influence with him; he listens to you. Entreat him to pause in his
madness.

TOUCHIT.--What madness?

MRS. B.--That--that woman--that serpent yonder--that--that
dancing-woman, whom you introduced to Arabella Milliken,--ah! and I rue
the day:--Horace is going to mum--mum--marry her!

TOUCHIT.--Well! I always thought he would. Ever since I saw him and her
playing at whist together, when I came down here a month ago, I thought
he would do it.

MRS. B.--Oh, it's the whist, the whist! Why did I ever play at whist,
Edward? My poor Mr. Milliken used to like his rubber.

TOUCHIT.--Since he has been a widower--

LADY K.--A widower of that angel! [Points to picture.]

TOUCHIT.--Pooh, pooh, angel! You two ladies have never given the
poor fellow any peace. You were always quarrelling over him. You took
possession of his house, bullied his servants, spoiled his children; you
did, Lady Kicklebury.

LADY K.--Sir, you are a rude, low, presuming, vulgar man. Clarence! beat
this rude man!

TOUCHIT.--From what I have heard of your amiable son, he is not in the
warlike line, I think. My dear Julia, I am delighted with all my heart
that my old friend should have found a woman of sense, good conduct,
good temper--a woman who has had many trials, and borne them with great
patience--to take charge of him and make him happy. Horace, give me your
hand! I knew Miss Prior in great poverty. I am sure she will bear as
nobly her present good fortune; for good fortune it is to any woman to
become the wife of such a loyal, honest, kindly gentleman as you are!

Enter JOHN.

JOHN.--If you please, my lady--if you please, sir--Bulkeley--

LADY K.--What of Bulkeley, sir?

JOHN.--He has packed his things, and Cornet Kicklebury's things, my
lady.

MILLIKEN.--Let the fellow go.

JOHN.--He won't go, sir, till my lady have paid him his book and wages.
Here's the book, sir.

LADY K.--Insolence! quit my presence! And I, Mr. Milliken, will quit a
house--

JOHN.--Shall I call your ladyship a carriage?

LADY K.--Where I have met with rudeness, cruelty, and fiendish [to Miss
P., who smiles and curtsies]--yes, fiendish ingratitude. I will go, I
say, as soon as I have made arrangements for taking other lodgings. You
cannot expect a lady of fashion to turn out like a servant.

JOHN.--Hire the "Star and Garter" for her, sir. Send down to the
"Castle;" anything to get rid of her. I'll tell her maid to pack her
traps. Pinhorn! [Beckons maid and gives orders.]

TOUCHIT.--You had better go at once, my dear Lady Kicklebury.

LADY K.--Sir!

TOUCHIT.--THE OTHER MOTHER-IN-LAW IS COMING! I met her on the road with
all her family. He! he! he! [Screams.]

Enter Mrs. PRIOR and Children.

MRS. P.--My lady! I hope your ladyship is quite well! Dear, kind Mrs.
Bonnington! I came to pay my duty to you, ma'am. This is Charlotte, my
lady--the great girl whom your ladyship so kindly promised the gown for;
and this is my little girl, Mrs. Bonnington, ma'am, please; and this
is my Bluecoat boy. Go and speak to dear, kind Mr. Milliken--our best
friend and protector--the son and son-in-law of these dear ladies. Look,
sir! He has brought his copy to show you. [Boy shows copy.] Ain't it
creditable to a boy of his age, Captain Touchit? And my best and most
grateful services to you, sir. Julia, Julia, my dear, where's your cap
and spectacles, you stupid thing? You've let your hair drop down. What!
what!--[Begins to be puzzled.]

MRS. B.--Is this collusion, madam?

MRS. P.--Collusion, dear Mrs. Bonnington!

LADY K.--Or insolence, Mrs. Prior!

MRS. P.--Insolence, your ladyship! What--what is it? what has happened?
What's Julia's hair down for? Ah! you've not sent the poor girl away?
the poor, poor child, and the poor, poor children!

TOUCHIT.--That dancing at the "Coburg" has come out, Mrs. Prior.

MRS. P.--Not the darling's fault. It was to help her poor father in
prison. It was I who forced her to do it. Oh! don't, don't, dear Lady
Kicklebury, take the bread out of the mouths of these poor orphans!
[Crying.]

MILLIKEN.--Enough of this, Mrs. Prior: your daughter is not going away.
Julia has promised to stay with me--and--never to leave me--as governess
no longer, but as wife to me.

MRS. P.--Is it--is it true, Julia?

MISS P.--Yes, mamma.

MRS. P.--Oh! oh! oh! [Flings down her umbrella, kisses JULIA, and
running to MILLIKEN,] My son, my son! Come here, children. Come,
Adolphus, Amelia, Charlotte--kiss your dear brother, children. What, my
dears! How do you do, dears? [to MILLIKEN'S children]. Have they heard
the news? And do you know that my daughter is going to be your mamma?
There--there--go and play with your little uncles and aunts, that's good
children! [She motions off the Children, who retire towards garden. Her
manner changes to one of great patronage and intense satisfaction.] Most
hot weather, your ladyship, I'm sure. Mr. Bonnington, you must find
it hot weather for preachin'! Lor'! there's that little wretch beatin'
Adolphus! George, sir! have done, sir! [Runs to separate them.] How ever
shall we make those children agree, Julia?

MISS P.--They have been a little spoiled, and I think Mr. Milliken will
send George and Arabella to school, mamma: will you not, Horace?

MR. MILLIKEN.--I think school will be the very best thing for them.

MRS. P.--And [Mrs. P. whispers, pointing to her own children] the blue
room, the green room, the rooms old Lady Kick has--plenty of room for
us, my dear!

MISS P.--No, mamma, I think it will be too large a party,--Mr. Milliken
has often said that he would like to go abroad, and I hope that now he
will be able to make his tour.

MRS. P.--Oh, then! we can live in the house, you know: what's the use of
payin' lodgin', my dear?

MISS P.--The house is going to be painted. You had best live in your own
house, mamma; and if you want anything, Horace, Mr. Milliken, I am sure,
will make it comfortable for you. He has had too many visitors of late,
and will like a more quiet life, I think. Will you not?

MILLIKEN.--I shall like a life with YOU, Julia.

JOHN.--Cab, sir, for her ladyship!

LADY K.--This instant let me go! Call my people. Clarence, your arm!
Bulkeley, Pinhorn! Mrs. Bonnington, I wish you good-morning! Arabella,
angel! [looks at picture] I leave you. I shall come to you ere long.
[Exit, refusing MILLIKEN's hand, passes up garden, with her servants
following her. MARY and other servants of the house are collected
together, whom Lady K. waves off. Bluecoat boy on wall eating plums.
Page, as she goes, cries, Hurray, hurray! Bluecoat boy cries, Hurray!
When Lady K. is gone, JOHN advances.]

JOHN.--I think I heard you say, sir, that it was your intention to go
abroad?

MILLIKEN.--Yes; oh, yes! Are we going abroad, my Julia?

MISS P.--To settle matters, to have the house painted, and clear
[pointing to children, mother, &c.] Don't you think it is the best thing
that we can do?

MILLIKEN.--Surely, surely: we are going abroad. Howell, you will come
with us of course, and with your experiences you will make a capital
courier. Won't Howell make a capital courier, Julia? Good honest fellow,
John Howell. Beg your pardon for being so rude to you just now. But my
temper is very hot, very.

JOHN [laughing].--You are a Tartar, sir. Such a tyrant! isn't he, ma'am?

MISS P.--Well, no; I don't think you have a very bad temper, Mr.
Milliken, a--Horace.

JOHN.--You must--take care of him--alone, Miss Prior--Julia--I mean Mrs.
Milliken. Man and boy I've waited on him this fifteen year: with the
exception of that trial at the printing-office, which--which I won't
talk of NOW, madam. I never knew him angry; though many a time I have
known him provoked. I never knew him say a hard word, though sometimes
perhaps we've deserved it. Not often--such a good master as that is
pretty sure of getting a good servant--that is, if a man has a heart in
his bosom; and these things are found both in and out of livery. Yes, I
have been a honest servant to him,--haven't I, Mr. Milliken?

MILLIKEN.--Indeed, yes, John.

JOHN.--And so has Mary Barlow. Mary, my dear! [Mary comes forward.] Will
you allow me to introduce you, sir, to the futur' Mrs. Howell?--if Mr.
Bonnington does YOUR little business for you, as I dare say [turning to
Mr. B.], hold gov'nor, you will!--Make it up with your poor son, Mrs.
Bonnington, ma'am. You have took a second 'elpmate, why shouldn't Master
Horace? [to Mrs. B.] He--he wants somebody to help him, and take care of
him, more than you do.

TOUCHIT.--You never spoke a truer word in your life, Howell.

JOHN.--It's my general 'abit, Capting, to indulge in them sort of
statements. A true friend I have been to my master, and a true friend
I'll remain when he's my master no more.

MILLIKEN.--Why, John, you are not going to leave me?

JOHN.--It's best, sir, I should go. I--I'm not fit to be a servant in
this house any longer. I wish to sit in my own little home, with my own
little wife by my side. Poor dear! you've no conversation, Mary, but
you're a good little soul. We've saved a hundred pound apiece, and if
we want more, I know who won't grudge it us, a good fellow--a good
master--for whom I've saved many a hundred pound myself, and will take
the "Milliken Arms" at old Pigeoncot--and once a year or so, at this
hanniversary, we will pay our respects to you, sir, and madam. Perhaps
we will bring some children with us, perhaps we will find some more in
this villa. Bless 'em beforehand! Good-by, sir, and madam--come away,
Mary! [going].

MRS. P. [entering with clothes, &c.]--She has not left a single thing
in her room. Amelia, come here! this cloak will do capital for you, and
this--this garment is the very thing for Adolphus. Oh, John! eh,
Howell! will you please to see that my children have something to eat,
immediately! The Milliken children, I suppose, have dined already?

JOHN.--Yes, ma'am; certainly, ma'am.

MRS. P.--I see he is inclined to be civil to me NOW!

MISS P.--John Howell is about to leave us, mamma. He is engaged to Mary
Barlow, and when we go away, he is going to set up housekeeping for
himself. Good-by, and thank you, John Howell [gives her hand to JOHN,
but with great reserve of manner]. You have been a kind and true
friend to us--if ever we can serve you, count upon us--may he not, Mr.
Milliken?

MILLIKEN.--Always, always.

MISS P.--But you will still wait upon us--upon Mr. Milliken, for a day
or two, won't you, John, until we--until Mr. Milliken has found some
one to replace you. He will never find any one more honest than you, and
good, kind little Mary. Thank you, Mary, for your goodness to the poor
governess.

MARY.--Oh miss! oh mum! [Miss P. kisses Mary patronizingly].

MISS P. [to JOHN].--And after they have had some refreshment, get a cab
for my brothers and sister, if you please, John. Don't you think that
will be best, my--my dear?

MILLIKEN.--Of course, of course, dear Julia!

MISS P.--And, Captain Touchit, you will stay, I hope, and dine with Mr.
Milliken? And, Mrs. Bonnington, if you will receive as a daughter one
who has always had a sincere regard for you, I think you will aid in
making your son happy, as I promise you with all my heart and all my
life to endeavor to do. [Miss P. and M. go up to Mrs. BONNINGTON.]

MRS. BONNINGTON.--Well, there, then, since it must be so, bless you, my
children.

TOUCHIT.--Spoken like a sensible woman! And now, as I do not wish to
interrupt this felicity, I will go and dine at the "Star and Garter."

MISS P.--My dear Captain Touchit, not for worlds! Don't you know I
mustn't be alone with Mr. Milliken until--until--?

MILLIKEN.--Until I am made the happiest man alive! and you will come
down and see us often, Touchit, won't you? And we hope to see our
friends here often. And we will have a little life and spirit and gayety
in the place. Oh, mother! oh, George! oh, Julia! what a comfort it is
to me to think that I am released from the tyranny of that terrible
mother-in-law!

MRS. PRIOR.--Come in to your teas, children. Come this moment, I
say. [The Children pass quarrelling behind the characters, Mrs. PRIOR
summoning them; JOHN and MARY standing on each side of the dining-room
door, as the curtain falls.]





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