MAR. Oh! look at my Billy dancing! I never saw him so full of fun
before.
BLEN. Well, Lady Evergreen, I shall certainly accept your kind
invitation: I must return to my quarters for a short time, but will
rejoin you in the course of half-an-hour. I am delighted at meeting
you again, Sir William, and believe me equally delighted at my
introduction to your excellent lady.
MAR. That's hearty! give me your hand--_you're_ the kind o' man _I_
like, after all.
SIR W. Don't be longer than half-an-hour.
BLEN. Not a moment. Adieu, my lady, for the present.
MAR. Good bye! Come again soon, now.
_BLENHEIM goes off at the back--MARGERY calls after him._
--Captain! _bon jour!_ There! that's French, there's a bit of
education for him!
SIR W. Now, my dear, that we are alone, I must tell you that your
behaviour has been abominable.
MAR. Oh! has it? Now if I didn't think I was quite the lady!
SIR W. What with your directions respecting your animals, and your
reference to your cousin Joe and the old woman your schoolmistress,
and your ridiculous eulogium on the uniform of the yeomanry, I thought
I should have taken to my heels and have run out of the house.
MAR. I wish you had--I know I should have got on much better without
_you_ at my elbow. And as for my cousin Joe, he may be a stupid fellow
and all that, but he's a very good fellow, and if he don't know how to
make a proper bow, or a long speech like you do--such as when I've
heard you practising to yourself about railroads, and borrowing money,
and taxes, and the state of the nation, and situation of the
population, and that horrible Education--_he_ can talk so as I can
understand him, and that's more than I always can when you talk--and
anybody else, for the matter o' that. And if I did like the sojers I
used to see so often, what harm was there in that? I'm sure the
Captain was a fine man, a very fine man, whiskers and all--and I've
often looked at him till I've felt as if I could eat him.
SIR W. I know that you mean no harm--I know that your heart is pure;
but you must learn to be conscious of your present station in society.
The diamond, though of value in its rough and original state, must be
polished and set before it can be worn. Now to-day, when I rang for
the cook and wished you to commence giving your own orders for dinner,
and had previously practised you in the pronunciation of asking for
_cabillaud au gratin poulet roti_--_pomme de terre bute_----
MAR. Well, I couldn't recollect it, and so I thought it best to ask
for what I liked better than anything.
SIR W. And are you aware what you did ask for?
MAR. I only asked for a toad in a hole.
SIR W. And didn't you perceive the vain endeavour of the servant to
conceal his laughter? didn't you perceive my face suffused with
blushes?
MAR. Well, I speak according to my knowledge, and I know I always
speak the truth and what I want to say, without any beating about the
bush; and that's much better than being deceitful and making believe
to be glad to see people when you really wish 'em at Jericho, and go
grinning and smiling up to 'em, and shaking hands, when in your heart
you'd like to shake 'em inside out--and make use of fine words and say
beautiful things when you don't mean it. You may call it polish if you
like, but I call it telling lies.