FullReads

MILLIKEN.–My dear, darling boy! I left them at the office. What a silly papa I was to forget them! Parkins forgot them.

GEORGE.–Then turn him away, I say! Turn him away! [He stamps.]

MILLIKEN.–What! an old, faithful clerk and servant of your father and grandfather for thirty years past? An old man, who loves us all, and has nothing but our pay to live on?

ARABELLA.–Oh, you naughty boy!

GEORGE.–I ain’t a naughty boy.

ARABELLA.–You are a naughty boy.

GEORGE.–He! he! he! he! [Grins at her.]

MILLIKEN.–Hush, children! Here, Arabella darling, here is a book for you. Look–aren’t they pretty pictures?

ARABELLA.–Is it a story, Papa? I don’t care for stories in general. I like something instructive and serious. Grandmamma Bonnington and grandpapa say–

GEORGE.–He’s NOT your grandpapa.

ARABELLA.–He IS my grandpapa.

GEORGE.–Oh, you great story! Look! look! there’s a cab. [Runs out. The head of a Hansom cab is seen over the garden-gate. Bell rings. Page comes. Altercation between Cabman and Captain TOUCHIT appears to go on, during which]

MILLIKEN.–Come and kiss your old father, Arabella. He’s hungry for kisses.

ARABELLA.–Don’t. I want to go and look at the cab; and to tell Captain Touchit that he mustn’t use naughty words. [Runs towards garden. Page is seen carrying a carpet-bag.]

Enter TOUCHIT through the open window smoking a cigar.

TOUCHIT.–How d’ye do, Milliken? How are tallows, hey, my noble merchant? I have brought my bag, and intend to sleep–

GEORGE.–I say, godpapa–

TOUCHIT.–Well, godson!

GEORGE.–Give us a cigar!

TOUCHIT.–Oh, you enfant terrible!

MILLIKEN [wheezily].–Ah–ahem–George Touchit! you wouldn’t mind–a–smoking that cigar in the garden, would you? Ah–ah!

TOUCHIT.–Hullo! What’s in the wind now? You used to be a most inveterate smoker, Horace.

MILLIKEN.–The fact is–my mother-in-law–Lady Kicklebury–doesn’t like it, and while she’s with us, you know–

TOUCHIT.–Of course, of course [throws away cigar]. I beg her ladyship’s pardon. I remember when you were courting her daughter she used not to mind it.

MILLIKEN.–Don’t–don’t allude to those times. [He looks up at his wife’s picture.]

GEORGE.–My mamma was a Kicklebury. The Kickleburys are the oldest family in all the world. My name is George Kicklebury Milliken, of Pigeoncot, Hants; the Grove, Richmond, Surrey; and Portland Place, London, Esquire–my name is.

TOUCHIT.–You have forgotten Billiter Street, hemp and tallow merchant.

GEORGE.–Oh, bother! I don’t care about that. I shall leave that when I’m a man: when I’m a man and come into my property.

MILLIKEN.–You come into your property?

GEORGE.–I shall, you know, when you’re dead, Papa. I shall have this house, and Pigeoncot; and the house in town–no, I don’t mind about the house in town–and I shan’t let Bella live with me–no, I won’t.

BELLA.–No; I won’t live with YOU. And I’LL have Pigeoncot.

GEORGE.–You shan’t have Pigeoncot. I’ll have it: and the ponies: and I won’t let you ride them–and the dogs, and you shan’t have even a puppy to play with and the dairy and won’t I have as much cream as I like–that’s all!

TOUCHIT.–What a darling boy! Your children are brought up beautifully, Milliken. It’s quite delightful to see them together.

GEORGE.–And I shall sink the name of Milliken, I shall.

MILLIKEN.–Sink the name? why, George?

GEORGE.–Because the Millikens are nobodies–grandmamma says they are nobodies. The Kickleburys are gentlemen, and came over with William the Conqueror.

BELLA.–I know when that was. One thousand one hundred and one thousand one hundred and onety-one!

GEORGE.–Bother when they came over! But I know this, when I come into the property I shall sink the name of Milliken.

MILLIKEN.–So you are ashamed of your father’s name, are you, George, my boy?

GEORGE.–Ashamed! No, I ain’t ashamed. Only Kicklebury is sweller. I know it is. Grandmamma says so.

BELLA.–MY grandmamma does not say so. MY dear grandmamma says that family pride is sinful, and all belongs to this wicked world; and that in a very few years what our names are will not matter.

GEORGE.–Yes, she says so because her father kept a shop; and so did Pa’s father keep a sort of shop–only Pa’s a gentleman now.

TOUCHIT.–Darling child! How I wish I were married! If I had such a dear boy as you, George, do you know what I would give him?