SCENE III.

SCENE III.

Room at MRS. STITCHLEY’S.

Enter SERVANT, L. H., followed by BOLT and MIZZLE.

SERV. This way, gentlemen; my mistress will see you in a minute.

(Exit, R.H.)

BOLT. Well, here is a new feature.

MIZ. Yes, like a broken nose—a very irregular feature. What are we to say?

BOLT. Our wits will inspire us.

MIZ. Wits! I’ve no wits, nor you either, or you wouldn’t have advised this blessed expedition.

Enter MRS. STITCHLEY and SERVANT, R.H. SERVANT exits, L.

MRS. S. Good morning, gentlemen.

BOLT and MIZZLE. Good morning!—Good morning!

MRS. S. May I ask the cause of this visit?

MIZ. (Aside.) Ah! that’s the devil of it.

BOLT. Cause—ah—madam, the cause is the reason, ma’am—Ahem! and the reason is the cause.—(Aside.) She must have a customer named Smith. You doubtless know—Miss Smith?

MRS. S. No, sir! I have not that honour.

MIZ. (Aside.) Of course not; everything goes wrong to-day.

BOLT. (Aside.) Smith wont do—I’ll try Brown. Miss Brown, madam, you know?

MRS. S. Oh dear, yes! Miss Brown is one of my best customers.

BOLT. Ha! ha! Bobby, the lady and I understand each other now, don’t we? (Nudges him.)

MRS. S. (Aside.) What odd persons!—Yes, sir; but Miss Brown?

BOLT. True, true! about Miss Brown. There is a little account—

MRS. S. Oh! between me and Miss Brown?—(Aside.) He is a gentlemanly young fellow, after all.

BOLT. I, madam, will settle that account.

MIZ. (Aside.) He’ll settle himself if he does; he must be flush to-day.

MRS. S. I’ll send my servant for a stamp directly, sir.

BOLT. Don’t hurry yourself, ma’am; I’ll settle it to-morrow. That’s what I called for,—to tell you I’d settle it to-morrow.

MRS. S. Oh—h—h!—(Aside.) There’s a great vulgarity about him.

BOLT. I’ve nothing more to say. Good morning, ma’am—nothing.—(Aside.) Besides, the old man must be a mile off by this time.

MIZ. Good by, ma’am.—(Aside.) I say, Bolt, I vote we go back to the shop; this may be a prelude to something further.

MRS. S. But one thing more. Miss Brown is an intimate friend of mine, as well as a customer—now I don’t think I ever saw you before!

BOLT. Very likely not, ma’am.

MIZ. It is exceedingly probable.

BOLT. The fact is—ahem!—the facts are these: there is no such person as Miss Brown; Miss Brown has ceased to be Miss Brown—and I’m a happy man.

MRS. S. What! do you mean that Miss Brown is married, and that you are—

BOLT. Precisely; I see she has not disclosed the tender secret.

MIZ. (Aside.) Ha, ha! it is funny, after all.

BOLT. Miss Brown, you see, is now Mrs. Steele. Yes—my name is Steele, and this gentleman’s name is Addison.

MIZ. Yes, ma’am, my name is Maddison—Ha, ha, ha!

Enter SERVANT, L. H.

SERV. Miss Brown, ma’am.

(Exit, L.)

BOLT. The devil! oh! he, he! the tender creature! Confusion! Petrifaction!

MIZ. (Whispering.) I say, Charley—how d’ye like that? Bother your long-winded stories!—Oh!

Enter MISS BROWN, L. H.

BOLT. (Aside.) Not remarkably handsome, either.

MRS. S. How d’ye do, Miss Brown?—I beg pardon, Mrs. Steele, I mean.

MISS B. Mrs. Steele! what d’ye mean?

MIZ. (Aside.) Ah, she wont swallow it—she’s not soft steel.

BOLT. Well, anything to get off. Good by, ladies,—good by.

MRS. S. What an ungallant husband!

MISS B. Husband?

MRS. S. Yes, yes, Mrs. Steele; that gentleman, Mr. Steele, has confessed all. You sly creature.

BOLT. Yes, yes!—good by! You may settle this discussion among yourselves.

MRS. S. Yes, yes! this gentleman told me he was your husband.

MIZ. True, madam; stick to that. He told you so; mind, I had nothing to do with it.

MISS B. (Aside.) It may be an eccentric method of making an offer. He is not bad looking, and opportunities are—alas!—not too frequent. I’ll humour it.—And so my dear Steele’s confess’d?

BOLT. Ha, ha, ha! Yes.—(Aside.) Dear Steele! She jumps at it.—I’m magnetic steel. (Whisper.) I say, what’s the meaning of this?

MIZ. Don’t ask me; you’re the man of talent—I know the meaning of nothing.

MISS B. Oh, you naughty man; when you so faithfully promised to keep it a secret.

BOLT. Well, as I said before, we must go. Farewell, my lo—o—ve!

MIZ. Farewell, Mrs. Steele.—(Aside.) Be divorced as soon as possible, Charley.

MISS B. But, my dearest, where are you going?

MIZ. (Aside.) To the devil, and taking me for company.

BOLT. Oh, for a holiday; just to get rid, ha, ha! of a few loose sovereigns.

MISS B. Are you, indeed? Then I’ll accompany you.—Now don’t look sulky, Steele; you know I will—positively I will.

BOLT. Well, my dear, if you will, I—heigho!—suppose you must.

MIZ. (Aside to BOLT.) I say, Bolt, that lady belongs to you, you know; if we’ve any refreshment, you pay the heads—we don’t go halves.

(MISS B. and MRS. S. have been conversing apart.)

MRS. S. Oh, I should be charmed—delighted!

MISS B. Here is my bosom friend, Mrs. Stitchley, says she would like to be of the party. This little gentleman will be a nice beau for her.

BOLT. (Whispers.) I say, Bob—we shall go halves.

MISS B. Lend me your arm, sir. We married folks lead the way. Two hearts lead.

MRS. S. Yes, my little gentleman, we can’t do better than follow suit.

MIZ. Oh, we’re a couple of trumps. I wish I could cut out of this game.

(Exeunt, two and two.)