Act 4 — SCENE 2.—The same.

Enter MISS KATE BLOGGS in full dinner toilet of Reseda silk, and carrying a dandelion and lily bouquet.

Miss Blaggs.—My cousin! oh, my cousin!

[Rushes excitedly forward and falls into hysterics on Miss BLOGGS' neck. The company gather round in great surprise.

Miss B.—Dear Orphea! Orphea, my dear! oh, water, gentlemen! Lay her upon the couch. See! see! she gasps! Orphea, dear girl!

[The ladies are much alarmed, but Miss BLAGGS soon gives signs of recovery, and sits up.

Orphea (in tears).—Oh, Kate! it struck me so to see you once again as you were wont to be; those nasty ugly pants forever gone, and you a girl again.

Kate.—Dear friends, you look surprised. Pray Heaven you'll not look worse when you know all. I am indeed a girl, though you have known Me hitherto as Thomas Christopher. Four years ago I passed the exams, for Us women, at your University. Once more I passed. But when again I would, I stumbled for the teaching that is chained— Like ancient scripture to the reading desk— Within your College walls. No word of mine Could move the flinty heads of College Council. Order and discipline forbade, they said, That women should sit-side by side with men Within their walls. At church, or concert, or At theatre, or ball, no separation's made Of sexes. And so I, being a girl Of firm and independent mind, resolved To do as many a one beside has done For lesser prize, and, as a man, sat at The feet of our Gamaliels until I got The learning that I love. That I may now Look you all in the face without a blush, save—that Which naturally comes at having thus To avow my hardihood, is praise, I trow, You will not think unworthy; and to me It forms a soft remembrance that will ever dwell Within my grateful heart. Can you forgive me?

Many Voices.—We do, we must. All honour to the brave! Speak for us, Biggs.

Mr. Biggs.—I cannot speak, except to ask the lady's pardon For our rough ways.

Kate.—No; pardon me.

Many Voices.—No! no! we ask your pardon.

Kate.—If that, indeed, as I must need believe From all your looks, you do not blame me much, Endue me with a favour. It is this:— Let every man and woman here to-night Look out for those petitions that will soon Be placed in many a store by those our friends Who in this city form a ladies' club, And each one sign. Nay more, to show you mean What I, with swelling heart have often heard You strongly urge, the rights of women to The College privileges, get all your friends To sign. Do what your judgment charges you To help so good a cause, and let the lists Of 1883 have no more names Set by themselves as women. Let us go In numbrous strength before the Parliament, And ask our rights in such a stirring sort, They shall be yielded. Then I shall know Your brotherly and pleasant words mean faith, And shall no more regret a daring act That else will fail of reason. May I thus trust?

All.—You may! You may.

Kate.—Then hands all round, my friends, till break of day.