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MRS. P.–Julia dear!

MISS P.–What is it, mamma?

MRS. P.–Your little sister wants some underclothing sadly, Julia dear, and poor Adolphus’s shoes are quite worn out.

MISS P.–I thought so; I have given you all I could, mamma.

MRS. P.–Yes, my love! you are a good love, and generous, heaven knows, to your poor old mother who has seen better days. If we had not wanted, would I have ever allowed you to be a governess–a poor degraded governess? If that brute O’Reilly who lived on our second floor had not behaved so shamefully wicked to you, and married Miss Flack, the singer, might you not have been Editress of the Champion of Liberty at this very moment, and had your Opera box every night? [She drinks champagne while talking, and excites herself.]

MISS P.–Don’t take that, mamma.

MRS. P.–Don’t take it? why, it costs nothing; Milliken can afford it. Do you suppose I get champagne every day? I might have had it as a girl when I first married your father, and we kep’ our gig and horse, and lived at Clapham, and had the best of everything. But the coal-trade is not what it was, Julia. We met with misfortunes, Julia, and we went into poverty: and your poor father went into the Bench for twenty-three months–two year all but a month he did–and my poor girl was obliged to dance at the “Coburg Theatre”–yes you were, at ten shillings a week, in the Oriental ballet of “The Bulbul and the Rose:” you were, my poor darling child.

MISS P.–Hush, hush, mamma!

MRS. P.–And we kep’ a lodging-house in Bury Street, St. James’s, which your father’s brother furnished for us, who was an extensive oil-merchant. He brought you up; and afterwards he quarrelled with my poor James, Robert Prior did, and he died, not leaving us a shilling. And my dear eldest boy went into a wine-merchant’s office: and my poor darling Julia became a governess, when you had had the best of education at Clapham; you had, Julia. And to think that you were obliged, my blessed thing, to go on in the Oriental ballet of “The Rose and the Bul–“

MISS P.–Mamma, hush, hush! forget that story.

Enter Page from dining-room.

PAGE.–Miss Prior! please, the ladies are coming from the dining-room. Mrs. B. have had her two glasses of port, and her ladyship is now a-telling the story about the Prince of Wales when she danced with him at Canton House. [Exit Page.]

MISS P.–Quick, quick! There, take your basket! Put on your bonnet, and good-night, mamma. Here, here is a half sovereign and three shillings; it is all the money I have in the world; take it, and buy the shoes for Adolphus.

MRS. P.–And the underclothing, my love–little Amelia’s underclothing?

MISS P.–We will see about it. Good-night [kisses her]. Don’t be seen here,–Lady K. doesn’t like it.

Enter Gentlemen and Ladies from dining-room.

LADY K.–We follow the Continental fashion. We don’t sit after dinner, Captain Touchit.

CAPTAIN T.–Confound the Continental fashion! I like to sit a little while after dinner [aside].

MRS. B.–So does my dear Mr. Bonnington, Captain Touchit. He likes a little port-wine after dinner.

TOUCHIT.–I’m not surprised at it, ma am.

MRS. B.–When did you say your son was coming, Lady Kicklebury?

LADY K.–My Clarence! He will be here immediately, I hope, the dear boy. You know my Clarence?

TOUCHIT.–Yes, ma’am.

LADY K.–And like him, I’m sure, Captain Touchit! Everybody does like Clarence Kicklebury.

TOUCHIT.–The confounded young scamp! I say, Horace, do you like your brother-in-law?

MILLIKEN.–Well–I–I can’t say–I–like him–in fact, I don’t. But that’s no reason why his mother shouldn’t. [During this, HOWELL, preceded by BULKELEY, hands round coffee. The garden without has darkened, as if evening. BULKELEY is going away without offering coffee to Miss PRIOR. JOHN stamps on his foot, and points to her. Captain TOUCHIT, laughing, goes up and talks to her now the servants are gone.]

MRS. B.–Horace! I must tell you that the waste at your table is shocking. What is the need of opening all this wine? You and Lady Kicklebury were the only persons who took champagne.