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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2797-h.zip b/2797-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..96f4ded --- /dev/null +++ b/2797-h.zip diff --git a/2797-h/2797-h.htm b/2797-h/2797-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..517e546 --- /dev/null +++ b/2797-h/2797-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3571 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Wolves and the Lamb, by William Makepeace Thackeray + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Wolves and the Lamb, by William Makepeace Thackeray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wolves and the Lamb + +Author: William Makepeace Thackeray + +Release Date: May 27, 2006 [EBook #2797] +Last Updated: December 17, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By William Makepeace Thackeray + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary=""> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> DRAMATIS PERSONAE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB.</b></big> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ACT I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT II. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + PAGE.—Think it's in Milliken's room. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + PAGE.—Well! I didn't know. YOU call him Milliken. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—It IS like it. [He slaps the book, and seeing MISS PRIOR who + enters, then jumps up from sofa, saying very respectfully,] + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I beg your pardon, Miss. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—[sarcastically.] Do I disturb you, Howell? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—You are very fortunate in finding anything to interest you + in the paper, I'm sure. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Enter MARY. + </p> + <p> + You have a good heart, Mary! + </p> + <p> + MARY.—Have I, dear John? [sadly.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Port, not pork, child. Pork is the hanimal which Jews ab'or. + Port is from Oporto in Portugal. + </p> + <p> + MARY [still crying].—Yes, John; you know everything a'most, John. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MARY.—Ho! you're big enough for me, John. [Offers to take his hand.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MARY.—Law, John, whatever do you mean? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Say eye, Mary, not heye [gently]. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + Enter Lady KICKLEBURY, BULKELEY following with parcels and a spaniel. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Are the children and the governess come home? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Yes, my lady [in a perfectly altered tone]. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Bulkeley, take those parcels to my sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Get up, old stoopid. Push along, old daddylonglegs [aside to + BULKELEY]. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Does any one dine here to-day, Howell? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Captain Touchit, my lady. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—He's always dining here. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—My master's oldest friend. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—But, sir, why didn't the carriage come, I say? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—YOU know. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—How do you mean I know? confound your impudence! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Heh! [laughs.] + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Why do you grin, you Cheshire cat? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—And to your pony-chaise—yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—And to everything he likes in this house, sir. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—No one that I know of. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Very good. Bring up a bottle of the brown hock? He likes the + brown hock, Touchit does. [Exit JOHN.] + </p> + <p> + Enter Children. They run to MILLIKEN. + </p> + <p> + BOTH.—How d'you do, Papa! How do you do, Papa! + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Kiss your old father, Arabella. Come here, George—What? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Don't care for kissing—kissing's for gals. Have you + brought me that bat from London? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Yes. Here's the bat; and here's the ball [takes one from + pocket]—and— + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Where's the wickets, Papa. O-o-o—where's the wickets? + [howls.] + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—My dear, darling boy! I left them at the office. What a + silly papa I was to forget them! Parkins forgot them. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Then turn him away, I say! Turn him away! [He stamps.] + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA.—Oh, you naughty boy! + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—I ain't a naughty boy. + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA.—You are a naughty boy. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—He! he! he! he! [Grins at her.] + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Hush, children! Here, Arabella darling, here is a book for + you. Look—aren't they pretty pictures? + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—He's NOT your grandpapa. + </p> + <p> + ARABELLA.—He IS my grandpapa. + </p> + <p> + 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] + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Come and kiss your old father, Arabella. He's hungry for + kisses. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + Enter TOUCHIT through the open window smoking a cigar. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—How d'ye do, Milliken? How are tallows, hey, my noble + merchant? I have brought my bag, and intend to sleep— + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—I say, godpapa— + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Well, godson! + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Give us a cigar! + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Oh, you enfant terrible! + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN [wheezily].—Ah—ahem—George Touchit! you + wouldn't mind—a—smoking that cigar in the garden, would you? + Ah—ah! + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Hullo! What's in the wind now? You used to be a most + inveterate smoker, Horace. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—The fact is—my mother-in-law—Lady Kicklebury—doesn't + like it, and while she's with us, you know— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Don't—don't allude to those times. [He looks up at + his wife's picture.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—You have forgotten Billiter Street, hemp and tallow + merchant. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—You come into your property? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—No; I won't live with YOU. And I'LL have Pigeoncot. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—What a darling boy! Your children are brought up + beautifully, Milliken. It's quite delightful to see them together. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—And I shall sink the name of Milliken, I shall. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Sink the name? why, George? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Because the Millikens are nobodies—grandmamma says + they are nobodies. The Kickleburys are gentlemen, and came over with + William the Conqueror. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—I know when that was. One thousand one hundred and one + thousand one hundred and onety-one! + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Bother when they came over! But I know this, when I come + into the property I shall sink the name of Milliken. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—So you are ashamed of your father's name, are you, George, + my boy? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Ashamed! No, I ain't ashamed. Only Kicklebury is sweller. I + know it is. Grandmamma says so. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [quite pleased].—What would you give him, god-papa? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—I'm glad you're not my father, that's all. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—And I'M glad you're not my father, because you are a wicked + man! + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Arabella! + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Bella, what do I say? + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—Oh, something dreadful! You know you do! I heard you say it + to the cabman. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + CHILDREN.—Here's another carriage passing. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—The Lady Rumble's carriage. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—No, it ain't: it's Captain Boxer's carriage [they run into + the garden]. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Don't speak of her in THAT way, George Touchit! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—My dear fellow! no, she hasn't. There's MY mother. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Yes, to be sure, there's Mrs. Bonnington, and they quarrel + over you like the two ladies over the baby before King Solomon. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Play the satirist, my good friend! laugh at my weakness! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Of course they will, my poor old Milliken, you don't dare + to dine without them. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Luckily for you. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—What? didn't he kiss YOU? Oh, the hard-hearted old ogre! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Why dress? There is no company! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Enter JOHN. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I have took the Captain's things in the blue room, sir. + [Exeunt gentlemen, JOHN arranges tables, &c.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I'll fetch some wine, ma'am. [Exit to the dining-room.] + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + Re-enter John, bearing a tray with cakes, a decanter, &c. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Beg your pardon. There's Milliken's bell, going like mad. + [Exit John.] + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + Enter PAGE. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <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! + </p> + <p> + Re-enter John. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + PAGE [crying].—Oh, oh, do-o-n't, Mr. Howell. I only took half a + glass, upon my honor. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + Enter LADY K. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—What was that noise, pray? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—With your daughter and the children? Indeed, my good Mrs. + Prior, you are very welcome! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—You said—you had—several children, I think, my + good Mrs. Prior? + </p> + <p> + 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!— + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—It shall be done, my good Prior—we will see. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES announces— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES.—Mrs. Bonnington! [Enter MRS. BONNINGTON.] + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—How do you do, Lady Kicklebury? + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—My dear Mrs. Bonnington! and you come to dinner of course? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—My family are all in perfect health, I thank you. Is Horace + come home from the city? + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Goodness! there's the dinner-bell,—I must run to + dress. + </p> + <p> + MRS. PRIOR.—Shall I come with you, dear Lady Kicklebury? + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Not for worlds, my good Mrs. Prior. [Exit Lady K.] + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—Thank you, Mrs. Prior; you have a good heart, indeed! + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Ah, what blessings those dears are to you! I wish your + dearest little GRANDSON—- + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Gracious mercy! Master Frederick was not hurt, I hope? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Mercy! mercy! what a little rebel! He is spoiled, dear + madam, and you know by WHOM. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—And what is that, Prior? A poor clergyman's wife, with a + large family, cannot afford much. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Oh, thank you! thank you! Nay, don't be offended! I must! I + must! [Kisses MRS. BONNINGTON.] + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—There, there! We must not stay chattering! The bell has + rung. I must go and put the cap on, Mrs. Prior. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—Oh, Mrs. Prior! + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + Enter Miss PRIOR. + </p> + <p> + MISS PRIOR.—I beg pardon. I thought you were gone to dinner. I heard + the second bell some time since. [She is drawing back.] + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + JULIA.—You mustn't call me Julia, Captain Touchit. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + JULIA.—The wretch!—don't speak of him! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + JULIA.—Fiddlededee! No man ever touched my heart, Captain Touchit. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JULIA.—I hope—I hope—you did not contradict them, + Captain Touchit. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Why not, my dear? + </p> + <p> + JULIA.—May I be frank with you? You were a kind, very kind friend to + us—to me, in my youth. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT [aside].—Tipsy old coal-merchant! I did, and he helped + himself too. + </p> + <p> + 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?— + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Well—what? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Oh, you arch schemer! And it is for that you cover up that + beautiful hair of yours, and wear that demure cap? + </p> + <p> + JULIA [slyly].—I am subject to rheumatism in the head, Captain + Touchit. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—It is for that you put on the spectacles, and make yourself + look a hundred years old? + </p> + <p> + JULIA.—My eyes are weak, Captain Touchit. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Weak with weeping for Tom Flight. You hypocrite! Show me + your eyes! + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Nonsense! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Oh, you horrid man! [takes glasses off.] There. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—What a woman that was—eh, Julia—that departed + angel! What a temper she had before her departure! + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—But the wind was tempered to the lamb. If she was angry—the + lamb was so very lamblike, and meek, and fleecy. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Ah, sir, what a loss! [looking at the picture.] + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—What a woman she was—what a superior creature! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—A creature—an angel! + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Mercy upon us! how she and my lady used to quarrel! + [aside.] What a temper! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Hm—oh, yes—what a temper [rather doubtfully at + first]. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—What a loss to Milliken and the darling children! + </p> + <p> + MISS PRIOR.—Luckily they have YOU with them madam. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—And I will stay with them, Miss Prior; I will stay with + them! I will never part from Horace, I am determined. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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]. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—A most highly principled young woman. [Goes out in garden + and walks up and down with Captain TOUCHIT.] + </p> + <p> + Enter Mrs. BONNINGTON. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—I will try, my dear—I will try. Emily has sweet + dispositions. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Ah, she takes after her grandmamma Bonnington! + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—But George was sadly fractious just now in the school-room + because I tried him with a tract. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Two Ladies walk up and down in front garden. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT enters. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Miss Julia Prior, you are a wonder! I watch you with + respect and surprise. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Me! what have I done? a poor friendless governess—respect + ME? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Enter MILLIKEN dressed, shakes hands with Miss P. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Miss Prior! are you well? Have the children been good? and + learned all their lessons? + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—The children are pretty good, sir. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Enter John. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Dinner, sir. [And exit.] + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Dinner, ladies. My Lady Kicklebury (gives arm to Lady K). + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + MRS. PRIOR.—Thank you, Mary! You are so very kind! Oh, what + delicious tea! + </p> + <p> + GEORGY.—I say, Mrs. Prior, I dare say you would like to dine best, + wouldn't you? + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Bless you, my darling love, I had my dinner at one o'clock + with my children at home. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—So did you. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Oh, what nice marmalade! I know of some poor children— + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Mamma! don't, mamma [in an imploring tone]. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—I know of two poor children at home, who have very seldom + nice marmalade and cake, young people. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—You mean Adolphus and Frederick and Amelia, your children. + Well, they shall have marmalade and cake. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—Oh, yes! I'll give them mine. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Darling, dearest child! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—For the poor blind black man! oh, how thankful he was! + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—I don't know whether it was for a black man. Mary, get us + another pot of marmalade. + </p> + <p> + MARY.—I don't know, Master George. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—I WILL have another pot of marmalade. If you don't, I'll—I'll + smash everything—I will. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—Oh, you naughty, rude boy! + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Hold YOUR tongue! I WILL have it. Mary shall go and get it. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Do humor him, Mary; and I'm sure my poor children at home + will be the better for it. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—You did not give him your new gray coat? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Don't you speak to me; I'm going to school—I'm not + going to have no more governesses soon. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Oh, my dear Master George, what a nice coat it is, and how + well my poor boy looked in it! + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Don't, mamma! I pray and entreat you not to take the things! + </p> + <p> + Enter JOHN from dining-room with a tray. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Some cream, some jelly, a little champagne, Miss Prior; I + thought you might like some. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Oh, jolly! give us hold of the jelly! give us a glass of + champagne. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I will not give you any. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—My dear Master George! [Exit JOHN.] + </p> + <p> + GEORGE.—Ha, ha! I knew you'd give it me; another boy taught me that. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—And a very naughty, rude boy. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—Oh, you wicked boy! + </p> + <p> + 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]. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—And you, my dear? + </p> + <p> + BELLA.—I shall go and resume the perusal of the "Pilgrim's + Progress," which my grandpapa, Mr. Bonnington, sent me. [Exit ARABELLA.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Julia dear! + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—What is it, mamma? + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Your little sister wants some underclothing sadly, Julia + dear, and poor Adolphus's shoes are quite worn out. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—I thought so; I have given you all I could, mamma. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Don't take that, mamma. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Hush, hush, mamma! + </p> + <p> + 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—" + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Mamma, hush, hush! forget that story. + </p> + <p> + Enter Page from dining-room. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—And the underclothing, my love—little Amelia's + underclothing? + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—We will see about it. Good-night [kisses her]. Don't be seen + here,—Lady K. doesn't like it. + </p> + <p> + Enter Gentlemen and Ladies from dining-room. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—We follow the Continental fashion. We don't sit after + dinner, Captain Touchit. + </p> + <p> + CAPTAIN T.—Confound the Continental fashion! I like to sit a little + while after dinner [aside]. + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—So does my dear Mr. Bonnington, Captain Touchit. He likes a + little port-wine after dinner. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—I'm not surprised at it, ma am. + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—When did you say your son was coming, Lady Kicklebury? + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—My Clarence! He will be here immediately, I hope, the dear + boy. You know my Clarence? + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Yes, ma'am. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—And like him, I'm sure, Captain Touchit! Everybody does like + Clarence Kicklebury. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—The confounded young scamp! I say, Horace, do you like your + brother-in-law? + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—I never drink it—never touch the rubbish! Too old a + stager! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Port, I think, is your favorite, Mrs. Bonnington? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Is that all? I am sure I should have thought your man was + big enough to resent any rudeness from poor little Howell. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Unless they are two behind a carriage-perch they pine + away, as one love-bird does without his mate! + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + 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—? + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—My dear creature! my dear creature! it IS the house of a + British merchant, and a very comfortable house. + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—Yes, as you find it. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—Lady Kicklebury, no one shall say I don't take care of my + dear husband! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Mamma, now, my dear, good old mother! I am sure Lady + Kicklebury meant no harm. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Me! my dear Horace! harm! What harm could I mean? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Miss Prior generally plays, doesn't she? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—And a very good player, too. But I thought you might like + it. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Ah, George! you're not fit for domestic felicity. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—No, not exactly. + </p> + <p> + HOWELL enters. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II. + </h2> + <p> + SCENE.—As before. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Don't smoke, you naughty boy. I don't like it. Besides, it + will encourage your brother-in-law to smoke. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Ah, my child! I am very glad you are not with those + unfortunate people in the East. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Mr. Tufton had not a shilling to bless himself with. The + marriage was absurd and impossible. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Not so much. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Clarence! + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—What do you say? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Not a halfpenny, my darling. I am dreadfully in debt myself. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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'. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + K.—Governess seems a pretty woman: weak eyes, bad figure, poky, + badly dressed, but doosid pretty woman. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + K.—Then how the doose did you come to see it? + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—We see a number of things, Clarence. Will you drive with me? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Enter JOHN. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Please, sir, here's the man with the bill for the boats; two + pound three. + </p> + <p> + K.—Damn it, pay it—don't bother ME! + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Haven't got the money, sir. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Step down into the pantry! inspect your accounts? I never + heard such impertinence. What do you mean, sir? + </p> + <p> + K.—Dammy, sir, what do you mean? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I thought as her ladyship kept a heye over my master's private + book, she might like to look at mine too. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Upon my word, this insolence is too much. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I beg your ladyship's pardon. I am sure I have said nothing. + </p> + <p> + K.—Said, sir! your manner is mutinous, by Jove, sir! if I had you in + the regiment!— + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I understood that you had left the regiment, sir, just before + it went on the campaign, sir. + </p> + <p> + K.—Confound you, sir! [Starts up.] + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Clarence, my child, my child! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + K.—No, sir, I won't pay him, nor any man who uses this sort of + damned impertinence! + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I told Rullocks, sir, I thought it was JEST possible you + wouldn't. [Exit.] + </p> + <p> + K.—That's a nice man, that is—an impudent villain! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Ruined by Horace's weakness. He ruins everybody, poor + good-natured Horace! + </p> + <p> + K.—Why don't you get rid of the blackguard? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + K.—Why, you used to be the dearest friends in the world. I recollect + when I was at Eton— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + K.—Won't it, that's all! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—At his insolence, my temper is high; so is yours, my dear. + Calm it for the present, especially as regards Howell. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + K.—Hold your jaw, sir. + </p> + <p> + BULKELEY.—Yes, sir. [Exit BULKELEY.] + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + Enter Miss PRIOR. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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?" + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Oh! [screams.] No, n—no, sir. You are mistaken: my + name is Prior. I—never was at the "Coburg Theatre." I— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + K.—Touchit! the old villain! + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + K.—By Jove! how handsome you are! How crying becomes your eyes! Get + up; get up. Of course I'll keep your secret, but— + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Ah! ah! [She screams as he tries to embrace her. HOWELL + rushes in.] + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Howell—for heaven's sake, Howell! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Owe for it, you mean. I don't think your tradesmen profit much + by your custom, ex-Cornet Kicklebury. + </p> + <p> + K.—By Jove! I'll do for you, you villain! + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—No, not that way, Captain. [Struggles with and throws him.] + </p> + <p> + K. [screams.]—Hallo, Bulkeley! [Bulkeley is seen strolling in the + garden.] + </p> + <p> + Enter BULKELEY. + </p> + <p> + BULKELEY.—What is it, sir? + </p> + <p> + K.—Take this confounded villain off me, and pitch him into the + Thames—do you hear? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Come here, and I'll break every bone in your hulking body. [To + BULKELEY.] + </p> + <p> + BULKELEY.—Come, come! whathever his hall this year row about? + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—For heaven's sake don't strike that poor man. + </p> + <p> + BULKELEY.—YOU be quiet. What's he a-hittin' about my master for? + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Do you know the meaning of that threat, Mr. Howell? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Yes, Miss Prior. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—I was a dancer once, for three months, four years ago, when + my poor father was in prison. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Yes, Miss Prior, I knew it. And I saw you a many times. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—And you kept my secret? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Yes, Ju—Jul—Miss Prior. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Thank you, and God bless you, John Howell. There, there. You + mustn't! indeed you mustn't! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MISS P. [kindly.]—YOU must not talk to me in that way, John Howell. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—He IS a kind, kind soul. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Yes. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MARY.—Oh ho—ho! [Mary has entered from garden, and bursts out + crying.] + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MARY.—But John whopped him, Miss! that he did. He gave it him well, + John did. [Crying.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—No, indeed. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—She has loved you since she was a little child. And you + loved her once, and do now, John. + </p> + <p> + MARY.—Oh, Miss! you hare a hangel,—I hallways said you were a + hangel. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + MARY.—O—o—o! I think I'll go and hiron hout Miss + Harabella's frocks now. [Exit MARY.] + </p> + <p> + Enter MILLIKEN with CLARENCE—who is explaining things to him. + </p> + <p> + CLARENCE.—Here they are, I give you my word of honor. Ask 'em, damn + em. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—What is this I hear? You, John Howell, have dared to + strike a gentleman under my roof! Your master's brother-in-law? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Yes, by Jove! and I'd do it again. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Are you drunk or mad, Howell? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Very good, sir. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—I suppose, Miss Prior, you will also be disposed to—to + follow Mr. Howell? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Oh, you were minded to do it in Italy, were you? + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Captain Touchit knew it, sir, all along: and that my motives + and, thank God, my life were honorable. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Oh, heaven! [JOHN strikes his forehead, and walks away.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Oh, yes. Oh, damme, yes. I forgot. I wasn't thinking of + that. + </p> + <p> + KICKLEBURY.—You see she owns it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Well? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Poor John! it is not I who am going to—that is, it's + Mary, the school-room maid. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Eternal blazes! Have you turned Mormon, John Howell, and + are you going to marry the whole house? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I made a hass of myself about Miss Prior. I couldn't help her + being l—l—lovely. + </p> + <p> + KICK.—Gad, he proposed to her in my presence. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—What? Is this true? [Turning round very fiercely to K.] + </p> + <p> + KICK.—Gad! Well—I only— + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + KICK.—Hallo! Come, come! I say I won't stand this sort of chaff. + Dammy, I'll send a friend to you! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN [without].—Bulkeley! pack up the Capting's luggage! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Ah, sir! it is granted when you speak so to me. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Eh, eh—d—don't call me sir! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—No, no. [Weeping.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Julia, my dearest—dear—noble—dar—the + devil! here's old Kicklebury. + </p> + <p> + Enter Lady K., Children, and CLARENCE. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Not, not, if you will stay. [To Miss P.] + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Stay, Horace! she shall NEVER stay as governess in this + house! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—I won't—leave—you. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [without].—Oh, I say! Arabella, look here: here's papa + a-kissing Miss Prior! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Hem! I ought to thank you, Lady Kicklebury, for it is you + that have given her to me. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Give me my second chance, mother, to be happy. You have + had yourself two chances. + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—Speak to him, Mr. Bonnington. [BONNINGTON makes dumb show.] + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Implore him, Mr. Bonnington. + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—Pray, pray for him, Mr. Bonnington, my love—my lost, + abandoned boy! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Oh, my poor dear Mrs. Bonnington! + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—Oh, my poor dear Lady Kicklebury. [They embrace each other.] + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—I have been down on my knees to him, dearest Mrs. + Bonnington. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—To his mothers! + </p> + <p> + Enter TOUCHIT. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—What madness? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—Since he has been a widower— + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—A widower of that angel! [Points to picture.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Sir, you are a rude, low, presuming, vulgar man. Clarence! + beat this rude man! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + Enter JOHN. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—If you please, my lady—if you please, sir—Bulkeley— + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—What of Bulkeley, sir? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—He has packed his things, and Cornet Kicklebury's things, my + lady. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Let the fellow go. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—He won't go, sir, till my lady have paid him his book and + wages. Here's the book, sir. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Insolence! quit my presence! And I, Mr. Milliken, will quit + a house— + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Shall I call your ladyship a carriage? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—You had better go at once, my dear Lady Kicklebury. + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Sir! + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—THE OTHER MOTHER-IN-LAW IS COMING! I met her on the road + with all her family. He! he! he! [Screams.] + </p> + <p> + Enter Mrs. PRIOR and Children. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + MRS. B.—Is this collusion, madam? + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Collusion, dear Mrs. Bonnington! + </p> + <p> + LADY K.—Or insolence, Mrs. Prior! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—That dancing at the "Coburg" has come out, Mrs. Prior. + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Is it—is it true, Julia? + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Yes, mamma. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MR. MILLIKEN.—I think school will be the very best thing for them. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—Oh, then! we can live in the house, you know: what's the use + of payin' lodgin', my dear? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—I shall like a life with YOU, Julia. + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Cab, sir, for her ladyship! + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—I think I heard you say, sir, that it was your intention to go + abroad? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Yes; oh, yes! Are we going abroad, my Julia? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + JOHN [laughing].—You are a Tartar, sir. Such a tyrant! isn't he, + ma'am? + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—Well, no; I don't think you have a very bad temper, Mr. + Milliken, a—Horace. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Indeed, yes, John. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + TOUCHIT.—You never spoke a truer word in your life, Howell. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Why, John, you are not going to leave me? + </p> + <p> + 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]. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + JOHN.—Yes, ma'am; certainly, ma'am. + </p> + <p> + MRS. P.—I see he is inclined to be civil to me NOW! + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Always, always. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + MARY.—Oh miss! oh mum! [Miss P. kisses Mary patronizingly]. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + MILLIKEN.—Of course, of course, dear Julia! + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + MRS. BONNINGTON.—Well, there, then, since it must be so, bless you, + my children. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + MISS P.—My dear Captain Touchit, not for worlds! Don't you know I + mustn't be alone with Mr. Milliken until—until—? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wolves and the Lamb, by +William Makepeace Thackeray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB *** + +***** This file should be named 2797-h.htm or 2797-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/2797/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wolves and the Lamb + +Author: William Makepeace Thackeray + +Release Date: May 27, 2006 [EBook #2797] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson + + + + + +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.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wolves and the Lamb, by +William Makepeace Thackeray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB *** + +***** This file should be named 2797.txt or 2797.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/2797/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com. + + + + + +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.] + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext The Wolves and the Lamb by Thackeray + diff --git a/old/wlvlm10.zip b/old/wlvlm10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..276e946 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wlvlm10.zip |