JANE. He's going to write some wizard thing. He'll vanish in a flame of
fire, I warrant ye!
WHITWELL (_gives paper to JANE_). Here, young woman.
JANE (_to CODDLE_). Take it, sir. I dar'n't hold it. Ugh!
CODDLE. What's this? "I am afflicted with total deafness." Ha,
delightful! He says he's deaf. Thank Heaven for all its mercies. He's
deaf. Stone deaf!
JANE. Deef!
CODDLE. So you're deaf, eh? (_Points to ears._) Deaf?
WHITWELL. Third term, by all means. You're right. Gen. Grant, as you
say, of course.
CODDLE. Deaf! He is indeed. A Heaven-sent son-in-law! My idea realized!
Heaven has heard my prayers at last.
JANE. Son-in-law! Mercy presarve us all!
CODDLE. Delightful young man! I must have a little confidential talk
with him, Jane. But don't you go.
JANE. A deef son-in-law! Lord 'a' mercy! must I have a pair on 'em on
my hands!
CODDLE. My afflicted friend, pray take a chair. (_WHITWELL takes no
notice._) Delicious! he don't hear a sound. (_Louder._) Take a seat.
(_Shouts._) Seat!
WHITWELL (_bows_). Nothing to eat: thanks.
CODDLE. Charming! Overflowing with intellect. Never again disbelieve in
special providences. (_Signs to WHITWELL to sit down._)
WHITWELL (_points to easy-chair_). After you, venerable sir.
CODDLE. The manners of a prince of the blood! Kind Heaven, I thank
thee! (_Both sit._)
JANE. Deary me, deary me! A pair of posts, like, and nary a trumpet
between 'em, except me.
CODDLE (_looks at WHITWELL_). Young man, you look surprised at the
interest I take in you.
WHITWELL. No, sir, I prefer shad.
CODDLE. What does he say? (_Jumps up._) Jane, who knows but he's
already married! (_Sits, shouts._) Have you a wife?
WHITWELL. Yes, sir; always with a knife.
JANE (_shouts_). Have you a wife? A wife?
WHITWELL. All my life? Yes.
JANE (_shouts_). I say, have you a wife?
WHITWELL. A wife? No.
JANE. Drat him! he's single, and marries Eglantine for sartain.
CODDLE. He said no, I thought. (_Shouts._) Are you a bachelor?
(_Shouts._) A bachelor? Bachelor? (_Projects his ear._)
WHITWELL. Yes.
CODDLE (_shouts_). What do you say?
WHITWELL (_roars_). Yes! By Jove, _he's_ deaf, and no mistake.
CODDLE. He said yes, didn't he? (_Rises._) A bachelor! Glorious!
(_Roars._) Will you dine with us?
WHITWELL. Lime-juice? with the shad? delicious!
CODDLE. Dine with us?
WHITWELL. With the greatest pleasure.
CODDLE. Haven't the leisure? Oh, yes, you have! We'll dine early. I'll
take no refusal.--Jane, dinner at five.
JANE. Yes, sir. (_Courtesies._) Yah, old crosspatch! with your
providential son-in-laws, and your bachelors, and your dine-at-fives.
CODDLE. No, thank you, Jane; not fish-balls. Curried lamb I prefer. Go,
give the order at once.
JANE. Bah! with your fish-balls and your curries. Oh, if it wasn't for
that trumpery legacy! Yah! (_Exit L., snarling._)
CODDLE. Faithful Jane; invaluable friend! What should I do without her?
WHITWELL (_loudly_). My dear sir, is it possible you suffer such
insolence?
CODDLE (_shouts_). You're quite right. Yes, a perfect treasure, my
young friend. A model, I assure you.
WHITWELL (_aside_). Well, after that, deaf isn't the word for it.
CODDLE (_rises, shuts doors and window, sets gun in corner, then sits
near WHITWELL. Shouts._) Now, my _dear_ friend, let us have a little
talk; a confidential talk, eh!
WHITWELL. Confidential, in a bellow like that!
CODDLE (_shouts_). I wish to be perfectly frank. I asked you to dinner,
not that you might eat.
WHITWELL (_aside_). What for, then, I'd like to know?
CODDLE (_shouts_). Had you been a married man, I would have sent you
to jail with pleasure; but you're a bachelor. Now, I'm a father, with
a dear daughter as happy as the day is long. Possibly in every respect
you may not suit her.
WHITWELL (_picks up hat_). Does the old dolt mean to insult me!
CODDLE (_shouting_). But you suit _me_, my friend, to a T; and I offer
you her hand, plump, no more words about it.
WHITWELL. Sir; (_Aside._) She's humpbacked, I'll stake my life, a
dromedary!
CODDLE (_shouts_). Between ourselves, sir,--in the strictest
confidence, mind,--she will bring you a nest-egg of fifty thousand
dollars.
WHITWELL (_aside_). A double hump, then, beyond all doubt. Not a
dromedary,--a camel! a backtrian! (_Bows._) (_Shouts._) Sir, I
appreciate the honor, but I--(_Going._)
CODDLE. Not so fast; you can't go to her yet. If you could have heard a
word she said, you shouldn't have my daughter. Do you catch my idea?
WHITWELL (_shouts_). With great difficulty, like my hare.
CODDLE (_shouts_). Perhaps you may not have noticed that I'm a trifle
deaf.
WHITWELL. Ha, ha! a trifle deaf! I should say so. (_Shouts._) I think I
did notice it.
CODDLE. A little hard of hearing, so to speak.
WHITWELL (_shouts_). You must be joking.
CODDLE. Effect of smoking? Tut! I never smoke,--or hardly ever. You
see, young man, I live here entirely alone with my daughter. She talks
with nobody but _me_, and is as happy as a bird the livelong day.
WHITWELL (_aside_). She must have a sweet old time of it.
CODDLE. Now, suppose I were to take for a son-in-law one of the dozen
who have already teased my life out for her,--a fellow with his ears
entirely normal: of course they'd talk together in their natural
voice, and force me to be incessantly calling out, "What's that you're
saying?" "I can't hear; say that again." You understand? Ah! the
young are so selfish. The thing's preposterous, of course. Now, with
a son-in-law like yourself,--deaf as a door-post,--this annoyance
couldn't happen. You'd shout at your wife, she'd shout back, of course,
and I'd hear the whole conversation. Catch the idea?
WHITWELL (_shouts_). Fear? Oh, no! I ain't afraid. (_Aside._) The old
scoundrel looks out for number one, don't he?
(_Enter JANE, door in F., with visiting-card._)
CODDLE (_shouts_). It's a bargain, then? Shake hands on it, my boy. I
get an audible son-in-law, you, a charming wife.
WHITWELL (_aside_). Charming, eh? Ah! she with a double hump on her
back, and he has the face to say she's charming.
JANE. Oh, dear! we're in for another deefy in the family. (_Shouts._) A
gentleman to see you, sir.
CODDLE. Partridges? Yes, Jane, they'll do nicely. (_Shouts._) Now, my
boy, before you see your future bride, you'll want to fix up a little,
eh? (_Points to door, R._) Step in there, my dear friend, and arrange
your dress.
WHITWELL (_shakes his head_). (_Shouts._) Distress? Not a bit. It
delights me, sir. (_Aside._) This scrape I'm in begins to look
alarming.
CODDLE. The dear boy! he _is_ deaf, indeed. (_Pushes him out._) Be
off, lad, be off. Find all you want in there. (_Motions to brush his
hair, &c._) Brushes, combs, collars, and a razor. (_Exit WHITWELL, R._)
I felt certain a merciful Providence would send me the right husband
for Eglantine at last. Jane, you here yet? Set the table for four,
remember. Every thing's settled. He accepts. What have you there? a
card?
JANE (_shouts_). Yes, sir. Oh, you old botheration!
CODDLE. Good heavens!
JANE. Lawks! what now?
CODDLE. The man himself.
JANE. What man? Land's sake! he'll be the death of me.
CODDLE. In the library at this moment! Dear, faithful, affectionate
Jane, wish me joy! The doctor has come at last! (_Exit R. 1 E._)
(_EGLANTINE enters R. as her father runs out._)
EGLANTINE. Jane, is any thing the matter with papa? Isn't he well?
JANE. Yes, miss, he's well enough. He's found that son-in-law of
his'n,--that angel!
EGLANTINE. Angel? son-in-law?
JANE. That's all the matter with _him_.
EGLANTINE. Son-in-law? Good heavens! Where is he?
JANE. In that there room, a-cleaning hisself.
EGLANTINE. Did you see him? Is he young? Is he handsome?
JANE (_impressively_). You've heared of the sacrifice of Abraham, Miss
Eglantine?
EGLANTINE. Certainly.
JANE (_slowly_). Well, 'tain't a circumstance to the sacrifice of
Coddle!
EGLANTINE. Jane, what do you mean?
JANE. Maybe you know, miss, that, in the matter of hearing, your pa is
deficient?
EGLANTINE. Yes, yes! Go on.
JANE (_slowly_). Alongside of the feller he's picked out for your beau,
your pa can hear the grass grow on the mounting-top, easy!
EGLANTINE. Deaf?
JANE. Not deef, miss; deef ain't a touch to it.
EGLANTINE. Deaf? it's out of the question! I won't have him! I refuse
him! A hundred thousand times I refuse such a husband.
JANE. Quite right, miss. He'd be the death of me. Your pa can't marry
you without your consent: don't give it.