FullReads

MILLIKEN.–Ah, George! you’re not fit for domestic felicity.

TOUCHIT.–No, not exactly.

HOWELL enters.

MILLIKEN.–Lights and a whist-table. Oh, I see you bring ’em. You know everything I want. He knows everything I want, Howell does. Let us cut. Miss Prior, you and I are partners!

ACT II

SCENE.–As before.

LADY K.–Don’t smoke, you naughty boy. I don’t like it. Besides, it will encourage your brother-in-law to smoke.

CLARENCE K.–Anything to oblige you, I’m sure. But can’t do without it, mother; it’s good for my health. When I was in the Plungers, our doctor used to say, “You ought never to smoke more than eight cigars a day”–an order, you know, to do it–don’t you see?

LADY K.–Ah, my child! I am very glad you are not with those unfortunate people in the East.

K.–So am I. Sold out just in time. Much better fun being here, than having the cholera at Scutari. Nice house, Milliken’s. Snob, but good fellow–good cellar, doosid good cook. Really, that salmi yesterday,–couldn’t have it better done at the “Rag” now. You have got into good quarters here, mother.

LADY K.–The meals are very good, and the house is very good; the manners are not of the first order. But what can you expect of city people? I always told your poor dear sister, when she married Mr. Milliken, that she might look for everything substantial,–but not manners. Poor dear Arabella WOULD marry him.

K.–Would! that is a good one, mamma! Why, you made her! It’s a dozen years ago. But I recollect, when I came home from Eton, seeing her crying because Charley Tufton–

LADY K.–Mr. Tufton had not a shilling to bless himself with. The marriage was absurd and impossible.

K.–He hadn’t a shilling then. I guess he has plenty now. Elder brother killed, out hunting. Father dead. Tuf a baronet, with four thousand a year if he’s a shilling.

LADY K.–Not so much.

K.–Four thousand if it’s a shilling. Why, the property adjoins Kicklebury’s–I ought to know. I’ve shot over it a thousand times. Heh! I remember, when I was quite a young ‘un, how Arabella used to go out into Tufton Park to meet Charley–and he is a doosid good fellow, and a gentlemanlike fellow, and a doosid deal better than this city fellow.

LADY K.–If you don’t like this city fellow, Clarence, why do you come here? why didn’t you stop with your elder brother at Kicklebury?

K.–Why didn’t I? Why didn’t YOU stop at Kicklebury, mamma? Because you had notice to quit. Serious daughter-in-law, quarrels about management of the house–row in the building. My brother interferes, and politely requests mamma to shorten her visit. So it is with your other two daughters; so it was with Arabella when she was alive. What shindies you used to have with her, Lady Kicklebury! Heh! I had a row with my brother and sister about a confounded little nursery-maid.

LADY K.–Clarence!

K.–And so I had notice to quit too. And I’m in very good quarters here, and I intend to stay in ’em, mamma. I say–

LADY K.–What do you say?

K.–Since I sold out, you know, and the regiment went abroad, confound me, the brutes at the “Rag” will hardly speak to me! I was so ill, I couldn’t go. Who the doose can live the life I’ve led and keep health enough for that infernal Crimea? Besides, how could I help it? I was so cursedly in debt that I was OBLIGED to have the money, you know. YOU hadn’t got any.

LADY K.–Not a halfpenny, my darling. I am dreadfully in debt myself.

K.–I know you are. So am I. My brother wouldn’t give me any, not a dump. Hang him! Said he had his children to look to. Milliken wouldn’t advance me any more–said I did him in that horse transaction. He! he! he! so I did! What had I to do but to sell out? And the fellows cut me, by Jove. Ain’t it too bad? I’ll take my name off the “Rag,” I will, though.