_Rose._
Don't you love him now, the more? [_His head droops a little, and his
hands wander to the brooch which secures his plaid._] Let me take your
shawl from you. You would catch cold when you go out----
[_He allows her to remove the plaid, protesting during the process._]
_Sir William._
I'll not trouble ye, ma'am. Much obleeged to ye, but I'll not trouble
ye. [_Rising._] I'll not trouble ye---
[_He walks away to the fireplace, and up the room. She folds the plaid
and lays it upon the sofa. He looks round--speaking in an altered
tone._] My dear, gypsying doesn't seem to be such a good trade with ye,
as it used to be by all accounts----
[_The center door opens and Avonia enters boldly, in the dress of a
burlesque prince--cotton-velvet shirt, edged with bullion trimming, a
cap, white tights, ankle boots, etc._]
_Avonia._
[_Unconsciously._] How's this, Rose------?
[Illustration: 0183]
_Sir William._
Ah--h-h--h!
_Rose._
Oh, go away, 'Vonia!
_Avonia._
Sir Gower! [_To Sir William._] Good-morning.
[_She withdraws._]
_Sir William._
[_Pacing the room--again very violent._] Yes! and these are the
associates you would have tempted my boy--my grandson--to herd with!
[_Flourishing his stick._] Ah--h--h--h!
_Rose._
[_Sitting upon the basket--weakly._] That young lady doesn't live in
that attire. She is preparing for the pantomime------
_Sir William._
[_Standing over her._] And now he's gone; lured away, I suspect, by one
of ye--[_pointing to the center door_] by one of these harridans!----
[_Avonia reappears defiantly._]
_Avonia._