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!