The Wolves And The Lamb Part 3

TOUCHIT.--And this is the pa.s.s to which you have brought yourself, Horace Milliken! Why, in your wife's time, it was better than this, my poor fellow!

MILLIKEN.--Don't speak of her in THAT way, George Touchit!

TOUCHIT.--What have I said? I am only regretting her loss for our sake.

She tyrannized over you; turned your friends out of doors; took your name out of your clubs; dragged you about from party to party, though you can no more dance than a bear, and from opera to opera, though you don't know "G.o.d Save the Queen" from "Rule Britannia." You don't, sir; you know you don't. But Arabella was better than her mother, who has taken possession of you since your widowhood.

MILLIKEN.--My dear fellow! no, she hasn't. There's MY mother.

TOUCHIT.--Yes, to be sure, there's Mrs. Bonnington, and they quarrel over you like the two ladies over the baby before King Solomon.

MILLIKEN.--Play the satirist, my good friend! laugh at my weakness!

TOUCHIT.--I know you to be as plucky a fellow as ever stepped, Milliken, when a man's in the case. I know you and I stood up to each other for an hour and a half at Westminster.

MILLIKEN.--Thank you! We were both dragons of war! tremendous champions!

Perhaps I am a little soft as regards women. I know my weakness well enough; but in my case what is my remedy? Put yourself in my position.

Be a widower with two young children. What is more natural than that the mother of my poor wife should come and superintend my family? My own mother can't. She has a half-dozen of little half brothers and sisters, and a husband of her own to attend to. I dare say Mr. Bonnington and my mother will come to dinner to-day.

TOUCHIT.--Of course they will, my poor old Milliken, you don't dare to dine without them.

MILLIKEN.--Don't go on in that manner, George Touchit! Why should not my step-father and my mother dine with me? I can afford it. I am a domestic man and like to see my relations about me. I am in the city all day.

TOUCHIT.--Luckily for you.

MILLIKEN.--And my pleasure of an evening is to sit under my own vine and under my own fig-tree with my own olive-branches round about me; to sit by my fire with my children at my knees: to coze over a snug bottle of claret after dinner with a friend like you to share it; to see the young folks at the breakfast-table of a morning, and to kiss them and so off to business with a cheerful heart. This was my scheme in marrying, had it pleased heaven to prosper my plan. When I was a boy and came from school and college, I used to see Mr. Bonnington, my father-in-law, with HIS young ones cl.u.s.tering round about him, so happy to be with him! so eager to wait on him! all down on their little knees round my mother before breakfast or jumping up on his after dinner. It was who should reach his hat, and who should bring his coat, and who should fetch his umbrella, and who should get the last kiss.

TOUCHIT.--What? didn't he kiss YOU? Oh, the hard-hearted old ogre!

MILLIKEN.--DON'T, Touchit! Don't laugh at Mr. Bonnington! he is as good a fellow as ever breathed. Between you and me, as my half brothers and sisters increased and multiplied year after year, I used to feel rather lonely, rather bowled out, you understand. But I saw them so happy that I longed to have a home of my own. When my mother proposed Arabella for me (for she and Lady Kicklebury were immense friends at one time), I was glad enough to give up clubs and bachelorhood, and to settle down as a married man. My mother acted for the best. My poor wife's character, my mother used to say, changed after marriage. I was not as happy as I hoped to be; but I tried for it. George, I am not so comfortable now as I might be. A house without a mistress, with two mothers-in-law reigning over it--one worldly and aristocratic, another what you call serious, though she don't mind a rubber of whist: I give you my honor my mother plays a game at whist, and an uncommonly good game too--each woman dragging over a child to her side: of course such a family cannot be comfortable. [Bell rings.] There's the first dinner-bell. Go and dress, for heaven's sake.

TOUCHIT.--Why dress? There is no company!

MILLIKEN.--Why? ah! her ladys.h.i.+p likes it, you see. And it costs nothing to humor her. Quick, for she don't like to be kept waiting.

TOUCHIT.--Horace Milliken! what a pity it is the law declares a widower shall not marry his wife's mother! She would marry you else,--she would, on my word.

Enter JOHN.

JOHN.--I have took the Captain's things in the blue room, sir. [Exeunt gentlemen, JOHN arranges tables, &c.]

Ha! Mrs. Prior! I ain't partial to Mrs. Prior. I think she's an artful old dodger, Mrs. Prior. I think there's mystery in her unfathomable pockets, and schemes in the folds of her umbrella. But--but she's Julia's mother, and for the beloved one's sake I am civil to her.

MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you Charles [to the Page, who has been seen to let her in at the garden-gate], I am so much obliged to you! Good afternoon, Mr. Howell. Is my daughter--are the darling children well? Oh, I am quite tired and weary! Three horrid omnibuses were full, and I have had to walk the whole weary long way. Ah, times are changed with me, Mr.

Howell. Once when I was young and strong, I had my husband's carriage to ride in.

JOHN [aside].--His carriage! his coal-wagon! I know well enough who old Prior was. A merchant? yes, a pretty merchant! kep' a lodging-house, share in a barge, touting for orders, and at last a snug little place in the Gazette.

MRS. PRIOR.--How is your cough, Mr. Howell? I have brought you some lozenges for it [takes numberless articles from her pocket], and if you would take them of a night and morning--oh, indeed, you would get better! The late Sir Henry Halford recommended them to Mr. Prior. He was his late Majesty's physician and ours. You know we have seen happier times, Mr. Howell. Oh, I am quite tired and faint.

JOHN.--Will you take anything before the school-room tea, ma'am? You will stop to tea, I hope, with Miss Prior, and our young folks?

MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you: a little gla.s.s of wine when one is so faint--a little crumb of biscuit when one is so old and tired! I have not been accustomed to want, you know; and in my poor dear Mr. Prior's time--

JOHN.--I'll fetch some wine, ma'am. [Exit to the dining-room.]

MRS. PRIOR.--Bless the man, how abrupt he is in his manner! He quite shocks a poor lady who has been used to better days. What's here?

Invitations--ho! Bills for Lady Kicklebury! THEY are not paid. Where is Mr. M. going to dine, I wonder? Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson, Sir John and Lady Tomkinson, request the pleasure. Request the pleasure! Of course they do. They are always asking Mr. M. to dinner. They have daughters to marry, and Mr. M. is a widower with three thousand a year, every s.h.i.+lling of it. I must tell Lady Kicklebury. He must never go to these places--never, never--mustn't be allowed. [While talking, she opens all the letters on the table, rummages the portfolio and writing-box, looks at cards on mantelpiece, work in work-basket, tries tea-box, and shows the greatest activity and curiosity.]

Re-enter John, bearing a tray with cakes, a decanter, &c.

Thank you, thank you, Mr. Howell! Oh, oh, dear me, not so much as that!

Half a gla.s.s, and ONE biscuit, please. What elegant sherry! [sips a little, and puts down gla.s.s on tray]. Do you know, I remember in better days, Mr. Howell, when my poor dear husband--

JOHN.--Beg your pardon. There's Milliken's bell, going like mad. [Exit John.]

MRS. PRIOR.--What an abrupt person! Oh, but it's comfortable, this wine is! And--and I think how my poor Charlotte would like a little--she so weak, and ordered wine by the medical man! And when dear Adolphus comes home from Christ's Hospital, quite tired, poor boy, and hungry, wouldn't a bit of nice cake do him good! Adolphus is so fond of plum-cake, the darling child! And so is Frederick, little saucy rogue; and I'll give them MY piece, and keep my gla.s.s of wine for my dear delicate angel Shatty! [Takes bottle and paper out of her pocket, cuts off a great slice of cake, and pours wine from wine-gla.s.s and decanter into bottle.]

Enter PAGE.

PAGE.--Master George and Miss Bella is going to have their teas down here with Miss Prior, Mrs. Prior, and she's up in the school-room, and my lady says you may stay to tea.

MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you, Charles! How tall you grow! Those trousers would fit my darling Frederick to a nicety. Thank you, Charles. I know the way to the nursery. [Exit Mrs. P.]

PAGE.--Know the way! I believe she DO know the way. Been a having cake and wine. Howell always gives her cake and wine--jolly cake, ain't it!

and wine, oh, my!

Re-enter John.

JOHN.--You young gormandizing cormorant! What! five meals a day ain't enough for you! What? beer ain't good enough for you, hey? [Pulls boy's ears.]

PAGE [crying].--Oh, oh, do-o-n't, Mr. Howell. I only took half a gla.s.s, upon my honor.

JOHN.--Your a-honor, you lying young vagabond! I wonder the ground don't open and swallow you. Half a gla.s.s! [holds up decanter.] You've took half a bottle, you young Ananias! Mark this, sir! When I was a boy, a boy on my promotion, a child kindly took in from charity-school, a horphan in b.u.t.tons like you, I never lied; no, nor never stole, and you've done both, you little scoundrel. Don't tell ME, sir! there's plums on your coat, crumbs on your cheek, and you smell sherry, sir! I ain't time to whop you now, but come to my pantry to-night after you've took the tray down. Come without your jacket on, sir, and then I'll teach you what it is to lie and steal. There's the outer bell. Scud, you vagabond!

Enter LADY K.

LADY K.--What was that noise, pray?

JOHN.--A difference between me and young Page, my lady. I was instructing him to keep his hands from picking and stealing. I was learning him his lesson, my lady, and he was a-crying it out.

LADY K.--It seems to me you are most unkind to that boy, Howell. He is my boy, sir. He comes from my estate. I will not have him ill-used. I think you presume on your long services. I shall speak to my son-in-law about you. ["Yes, my lady; no, my lady; very good, my lady." John has answered each sentence as she is speaking, and exit gravely bowing.]

That man must quit the house. Horace says he can't do without him, but he must do without him. My poor dear Arabella was fond of him, but he presumes on that defunct angel's partiality. Horace says this person keeps all his accounts, sorts all his letters, manages all his affairs, may be trusted with untold gold, and rescued little George out of the fire. Now I have come to live with my son-in-law, I will keep his accounts, sort his letters, and take charge of his money: and if little Georgy gets into the grate, I will take him out of the fire. What is here? Invitation from Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson. Invitation from Sir John and Lady Tomkinson, who don't even ask me! Monstrous! he never shall go--he shall not go! [MRS. PRIOR has re-entered, she drops a very low curtsy to Lady K., as the latter, perceiving her, lays the cards down.]

MRS. PRIOR.--Ah, dear madam! how kind your ladys.h.i.+p's message was to the poor lonely widow woman! Oh, how thoughtful it was of your ladys.h.i.+p to ask me to stay to tea!

LADY K.--With your daughter and the children? Indeed, my good Mrs.

Prior, you are very welcome!