The Two Story Mittens and the Little Play Mittens Part 8

SCENE VII.

MRS. L. You see, my son, though I do not wish the servants to be disrespectful to you, I require you to treat them with kindness. They are human beings like you.

EDWARD (_contemptuously_). Like _me_! I should think not.

MR. S. Yes, sir! They are not rich, to be sure, or born of a high family, nor is it likely that their heads will ever burst with the knowledge a fine, thorough education gives; but they are capable of every good and n.o.ble quality of the heart. Do you understand?

EDWARD. Yes, Mr. Sherwood.

MRS. L. Try to make everybody love you.

EDWARD. Dear mamma, I don't care for any love but yours.

MR. S. But you must care for the respect and friends.h.i.+p of others; which, as Addison says, "improves happiness and abates misery, by doubling our joys and dividing our griefs."

EDWARD (_sneeringly_). He talks like a book, don't he, mamma?

MRS. L. He does, indeed; and if you love me, you will profit by his advice and lessons. Perhaps you owe more to him than to me. Love him, and be grateful to him, for his constant endeavor to cultivate your virtues and talents.

EDWARD. Love him--I cannot promise that.

MRS. L. Why not, my son?

EDWARD. Because I have given all my love to my dear mamma (_kissing her_).

MRS. L. You darling! kiss me again! Ah, Mr. Sherwood! can you blame me if I almost adore him?

[_Exit_ MRS. L.

SCENE VIII.

MR. SHERWOOD. You are ungrateful, to vex and grieve a mother who loves you so dearly. If you loved her as much, you would obey her if she only held up her little finger; but it seems to me a cat-o'nine-tails flourished before you might have a very good effect.

EDWARD. I am sorry that--

MR. S. Did you take your writing lesson to-day?

EDWARD. No, sir. I don't like writing lessons. They are a perfect plague. They give me the cramp in my thumb, and kinks in my fingers.

MR. S. Essence of switch on the fingers is good for taking out kinks.

Has your dancing master been here?

EDWARD. Oh yes! I love him dearly, he is so funny! He tells me comical stories, and can imitate everybody in the house. Andrew's lumbering, poking walk, Jane's prinking ways, and even you, with your long dismal face, your eyes staring at a book like a cat looking at a fish, and your solemn walk, oh, it would make you die a-laughing! His lessons always seem too short.

MR. S. What is that sticking out of your pocket?

EDWARD (_pulling it out and looking at it_). Oh! ha, ha! It's a portrait I drew of you, as you look when I don't know my lessons.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

MR. S. Give it to me. (_He takes the caricature and looks at it, but shows no anger._) So you prefer to spend your time in an unamiable, contemptible occupation like this, to acquiring useful lessons.

EDWARD (_looking a little ashamed_). Well, I like to be amused. It was only a little fun. It was not meant for you to see.

MR. S. Will you give me an account of your reading to-day?

EDWARD. I--I--have not been reading, sir.

MR. S. Not reading? Why?

EDWARD. Because the book you gave me had so many long, stupid words, that I couldn't understand what it was all about, so I just pitched it out of the window.

MR. S. You call a book stupid which has such a thrilling account of the bombardment of Vera Cruz, with a fine engraving showing you the great General Scott and his brave soldiers? I wonder at you! You have a head, and so has a drum; both empty.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Bombardment of Vera Cruz.]

SCENE IX.--_Enter_ MRS. LANGDON, MARY BROWN, _and_ MORRIS, _her son_.

MRS. L. See, my son, I bring you one of your best friends--your dear old nurse Mary, and her son, who is almost your brother.

MARY (_running up to kiss him_). How do you do, dear, dear child! how handsome you are! Here's your old play-fellow, Morris; don't you remember him?

EDWARD. No!

MORRIS (_who has a nice little cream cheese wrapped up in a napkin_). I remember you. You're my dear brother Edward. See--I have brought you this cream cheese; my mother made it on purpose for you--take it--don't you know me now?

EDWARD (_who recoils, and takes twenty-five cents out of his pocket_).

Here, take this, Morris.

MORRIS (_coloring indignantly_). I did not ask you for money; I don't want it; I am not a beggar.

EDWARD. But I ought to pay you for the cheese.

MORRIS (_with emotion_). Do you think I brought it to you for money? I would rather have thrown it out of the window.

MRS. L. Never mind, Morris, take the cheese home to your father; it will do him good to eat it.

MORRIS (_taking it and giving it to his mother, and saying, in a disappointed tone_), Well, take it, mother.

MARY (_looking lovingly at Edward_). How handsome he is! how he has grown! My heart warms to him.

MRS. L. Well, Edward, your kind nurse must have some lunch--go and order some.

EDWARD (_scornfully_). Isn't Patrick here?

MARY. No, my son. I asked him to give my old pony some water.